In Southwerk, at this gentil hostelrye,
     That highte the Tabard, faste by the Belle.
     But now is tyme to yow for to telle
      
     How that we baren us that ilke nyght
     Whan we were in that hostelrie alyght,
     And after wol I telle of our viage,
     And all the remenaunt of oure pilgrimage.
     But first I pray yow, of youre curteisye,
     
     That ye narette it nat my vileynye,
     Thogh that I pleynly speke in this mateere
     To telle yow hir wordes and hir cheere,
     Ne thogh I speke hir wordes proprely.
     For this ye knowen also wel as I,
     
     Who-so shal telle a tale after a man,
     He moot reherce as ny as evere he kan
     Everich a word, if it be in his charge,
     Al speke he never so rudeliche or large;
     Or ellis he moot telle his tale untrewe,
     
     Or feyne thyng, or fynde wordes newe.
     He may nat spare, al thogh he were his brother,
     He moot as wel seye o word as another.
     Crist spak hym-self ful brode in Hooly Writ,
     And, wel ye woot, no vileynye is it.
     
     Eek Plato seith, who so kan hym rede,
     The wordes moote be cosyn to the dede.
     Also I prey yow to foryeve it me,
     Al have I nat set folk in hir degree
     Heere in this tale, as that they sholde stonde-
     
     My wit is short, ye may wel understonde.
     Greet chiere made oure hoost us everichon,
     And to the soper sette he us'anon.
     He served us with vitaille at the beste;
     Strong was the wyn, and wel to drynke us lestel
     
     A semely man oure Hooste was withalle
     For to been a marchal in an halle.
     A large man he was, with eyen stepe,
     A fairer burgeys was ther noon in Chepe;
     Boold of his speche, and wys, and well ytaught,
     
     And of manhod hym lakkede right naught.
     Eek therto he was right a myrie man;
     And after soper pleyen he bigan,
     And spak of myrthe amonges othere thynges,
     Whan that we hadde maad our rekenynges,
     
     And seyde thus: "Now lordynges, trewely,
     Ye been to me right welcome hertely,
     For by my trouthe, if that I shal nat lye,
     I saugh nat this yeer so myrie a compaignye
     Atones in this herberwe, as is now.
     
     Fayn wolde I doon yow myrthe, wiste I how-
     And of a myrthe I am right now bythoght
     To doon yow ese, and it shal coste noght.
     Ye goon to Caunterbury, God yow speede-
     The blisful martir quite yow youre meede-
     
     And wel I woot, as ye goon by the weye,
     Ye shapen yow to talen and to pleye,
     For trewely, confort ne myrthe is noon
     To ride by the weye doumb as stoon,
     And therfore wol I maken yow disport,
      
     As I seyde erst, and doon yow som confort;
     And if yow liketh alle by oon assent
     For to stonden at my juggement,
     And for to werken as I shal yow seye,
     To-morwe, whan ye riden by the weye,
     
     Now, by my fader soule that is deed,
     But ye be myrie I wol yeve yow myn heed!
     Hoold up youre hond, withouten moore speche."
     Oure conseil was nat longe for to seche-
     Us thoughte it was noght worth to make it wys-
     
     And graunted hym, withouten moore avys,
     And bad him seye his voirdit, as hym leste.
     "Lordynges," quod he, "now herkneth for the beste,
     But taak it nought, I prey yow, in desdeyn.
     This is the poynt, to speken short and pleyn,
     
     That ech of yow, to shorte with oure weye,
     In this viage shal telle tales tweye,
     To Caunterburyward I mene it so,
     And homward he shal tellen othere two,
     Of aventures that whilom han bifalle.
     
     And which of yow that bereth hym best of alle-
     That is to seyn, that telleth in this caas
     Tales of best sentence and moost solaas-
     Shal have a soper at oure aller cost,
     Heere in this place, sittynge by this post,