Earlier this semester, you participated in a class discussion about the character of Bath de Chaucer’s wife. You are aware of the complexity of her as a resourceful, cunning, open and ambitious woman. For this essay, I would like you to write a comparison / contrast essay in which you discuss the Wife of Bath as you compare or contrast one or more of these three well-known modern American women: Beyoncé Lil ‘Kim, and / or Lady Gaga.Think beyond and below cliches and perceptions. The comparison should not be disrespectful to these modern iconic women. Obviously, times have changed, and I am in no way suggesting that these modern women share all or even some of the qualities of the Wife of Bath, aside from her drive for independence, sovereignty, and success.When developing the comparisons and contrasts of it, you should use AT LEAST THREE SOURCES to gather information and knowledge to support the claims and interpretations of it. These sources should be cited in the text and on a works cited page using a precise MLA documentation style.You will write one essay of 500 – 600 words for this paper . This essay must be formatted in MLA Paper form.Here is the reading about The character of Bath de Chaucer’s lifeFrom The Canterbury Tales:General PrologueHere bygynneth the Book of the Tales of CaunterburyWhan that Aprill, with his shoures sooteThe droghte of March hath perced to the rootAnd he bathed every veyne in swich liquor,Of which virtue begotten is the flour;5 Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breethInspired hath in every holt and heethThe tender croppes, and the yonge ringHath in the Ram his halfe cours yronne,And smale foweles maken melodye,10 That slepen al the nyght with open eye-(So priketh hem Nature in hir corages);Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimagesAnd palmeres for to seken straunge strondesTo ferne halwes, kowthe in probry londes;15 And specially from every shires endeOf Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,The hooly blisful martir for to sekeThat hem hath holpen, whan that they were seeke.Bifil that in that seson, on a day,20 In Southwerk at the Tabard as I layRedy to wenden on my pilgrymageTo Caunterbury with ful devout courage,At nyght was come into that hostelryeWel nyne and twenty in a compaignye25 Of Sondry folk, by aventure yfalleIn felaweshipe, and pilgrimes were they alle,That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde.The rooms and the stables weren wyde,And wel we weren esed att beste;30 And shortly, whan the sonne was to rest,So hadde I spoken with hem everichonThat I was of hir felaweshipe anon,And made forward erly for to ryseTo take our wey, ther as I yow devyse.35 But nathelees, whil I have tyme and space,Er that I ferther in this tale pace,Me thynketh it acordaunt to resounTo tel yow to the conditionOf ech of hem, so as it semed me,40 And whiche they weren, and of what degree,And eek in what array that they were not;And at a knyght than wol I first bigynne.A KNYGHT ther was, and that a worthy man,That fro the tyme that he first bigan45 To riden out, he loved chivalrie,Trouthe and honor, fredom and curteisie.Ful worthy was he in his lordes werre,And therto hadde he riden, no man ferre,As wel in cristendom as in hethenesse,50 And evere honored for his worthynesse of him.At Alisaundre he was, whan it was wonne.Ful ofte tyme he hadde the bord bigonneAboven alle nacions in Pruce;In Lettow hadde he reysed, and in Ruce,55 No Cristen man so ofte of his degree of him.In Gernade at the seege eek hadde he beOf Algezir, and riden in Belmarye.At Lyeys was he and at Satalye,Whan they were wonne; and in the Grete See60 At many a noble army hadde he be.At mortal battles hadde he been fiftene,And he foughten for oure feith at TramysseneIn lystes thries, and ay slayn his foo.This ilke worthy knyght hadde been also65 Somtyme with the lord of PalatyeAgayn another hethen in Turkye.And everemoore he hadde a sovereyn prys;And though that he were worthy, he was wys,And of his port de él as meeke as is a mayde.70 He nevere yet no vileynye ne saydeIn al his lyf de he unto no maner wight.He was a verray, parfit nice knyght.But, for to tellen yow of his array of him,His hors de él were goode, but he was nat gay.75 Of fustian he wered a gyponAl bismotered with his habergeoun de el,For he was late and come from his journey of him,And he wente for to doon his pilgrymage.With hym ther was his sone of him, a yong SQUIER,80 A lovyere and a lusty bacheler;With lokkes crulle, as they were leyd in press.Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gesse.Of his stature of him he was of evene lengthe,And wonderly delyvere, and of greet strengthens.85 And he had been somtyme in chyvachieIn Flaundres, in Artoys, and Pycardie,And born hym weel, as of so litel space,In hope to stonden in his lady grace of him.Embrouded was he, as it were a meede,90 Al ful of fresshe floures, whyte and reede;Syngynge he was, or floytynge, al the day,He was as fressh as is the mountain of May.Short was his gowne de él, with sleves longe and wyde.Wel koude he sitte on hors, and faire ryde.95 He koude songes make, and wel endite,Just, and eek daunce, and weel purtreye and write.So hoote he he lovede, that by nyghtertaleHe slepte namoore than dooth a nyghtyngale.Curteis he was, lowely, and servysable,100 And carf biforn his fader at the table.A YEMAN hadde he and servantz namoAt that tyme, for hym list ride soo;And he was clad in cote and hood of grene.A sheef of pecok arwes, bright and kene105 Under his belt of he he bar ful thriftily,(Wel koude he dresse his takel yemanly:Hise arwes drouped noght with fetheres lowe)And in his hand de he baar a myghty bowe.A not heed hadde he, with a broun face,110 Of woodecraft wel koude he al the usage.Upon his arm of him I have baar a gay bracer,And by his syde de él a swerd and a bokeler,And on that oother syde a gay daggereHarneised wel and sharpe as point of spere.115 A Cristopher on his brest of silver sheene.An horn he bar, the bawdryk was of grene;A forster was he, soothly, as I gesse.Ther was also a Nonne, a PRIORESSE,That of hir smylyng was ful symple and coy;120 Hir gretteste ooth was but by Seinte Loy;And she was cleped Madame Eglentyne.Ful weel she soong the service dyvyne,Entuned in hir nose ful semely,And Frenssh she spak ful faire and fetisly,125 After the school of Stratford-reached-Bowe,For Frenssh of Parys was to hir unknowe.At mete wel ytaught was she with alle:She leet no morsel from hir lippes fail,She ne wette hir fyngres in hir sauce depe;130 Wel koude she carie a morsel, and ella wel kepeThat no drope ne girl upon hir brist.In curteisie ella was ella set ful muche hir list.Hire over-lippe wyped she so cleneThat in hir coppe ther was no ferthyng sene135 Of greece, whan she dronken hadde hir draft.Ful semely after hir mete ella she raughte.And sikerly, she was of greet desport,And ful plesaunt, and amyable of port,And she peyned hir to countrefete cheere140 Of court, and been statlich of manere,And to ben holden worthy of reverence.But, for to speken of hir conscience,She was so charitable and so pitousElla she wolde wepe, if that she she saugh a mous145 ella Kaught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.Of smale houndes hadde she, that she she feddeWith rosted flessh, or milk and wastel-breed.But soore weep she if oon of hem were deed,Or if men smoot it with a yerde smerte;150 And al was conscience, and tender herte.Ful semyly hir wympul pynched was her,Hire nose tretys, hir eyen greye as glas,Hir mouth ful smal, and therto softe and reed;But sikerly she hadde a fair forheed;155 It was almoost a spanne brood, I trowe;For, hardily, she was nat undergrowe.Ful fetys was hir cloke, as I was war;Of smal coral butts hir arm she barA peire of bedes, gauded al with grene,160 An theron heng a brooch of gold ful sheene,On which ther was first write a crowned A,And after Amor vincit omnia.Another NONNE with hir hadde she,That was hire chapeleyne, and preestes theater.165 A MONK ther was, a fair for the maistrie,An outridere, that lovede venerie,A manly man, to been an abbot able.Ful many a deyntee hors hadde he in stable,And whan he rood, men myghte his brydel heere170 Gynglen in a whistlynge wynd als cleereAnd eek as loude, as dooth the chapel belle.Ther as this lord was keper of the one,The reule of Seint Maure, or of Seint Beneit,By cause that it was old and somdel streit175 This ilke Monk leet olde thynges pace,And he heeld after the newe world the space.He yaf nat of that text a pulled hen,That seith that hunters beth nat hooly men,Ne that a monk, whan he is recchelees,180 he Is likned til a fissh that is waterlees, -This is to seyn, a monk out of his cloisterBut thilke text heeld he nat worth an oystre;And I seyde his opinioun de él was good.What sholde he studie, and make hymselven wood,185 Upon a book in cloystre alwey to poure,Or swynken with his handes and labore,As Austyn bit? How shal the world be served?Lat Austyn have his swynk to him reserved!Therfore he was a prikasour he aright:190 Grehoundes he hadde, as swift as fowel in flight;Of prikyng and of huntyng for the hareWas al his lust de él, for no cost wolde he spare.I seigh his sleves purfiled at the hondWith grys, and that the fyneste of a lond;195 And, for to festne his hood under his chyn de él,He hadde of gold ywroght a curious pyn;A love-knotte in the gretter ende ther was.His heed de él was balled, that shoon as any glas,And eek his face de él, as it hadde been enoynt.200 He was a lord ful fat and in good poynt,Hise eyen stepe, and rollynge in his heed de el,That stemed as a forneys of a leed;His flexible bootes from him, his hors in greet estaat.Now certainly he was a fair prelaat;205 He was nat pale as a forpyned goost.A fat swan loved he best of any roost.His palfrey de él was as broun as is a berye,A FRERE ther was, a wantowne and a merye,A lymytour, a ful solempne man.210 In alle the orders foure is noon that kanSo muchel of daliaunce and fair language.He hadde maad ful many a marriageOf yonge wommen at his owene cost de él.Unto his order de el he was a noble post,215 And wel biloved and famulier was heWith frankeleyns overal in his contree of him,And eek with worthy wommen of the toun;For he hadde power of confessioun,As seyde hymself, more than a curat,220 For of his order of him he was license.Ful swetely herde he confessioun,And plesaunt was his absolucioun de el:He was an esy man to yeve penaunce,Ther as he wiste to have a good pitaunce.225 For unto a povre order for to yiveIs sign that a man is wel yshryve;For, if he yaf, he dorste make avaunt,He wiste that a man was repentaunt;For many a man so harde is of his herte de él,230 He may nat wepe, al thogh hym soore smerte;He therfore in stede of wepynge and preyeresMen moote yeve silver to the povre freres.His typet of him was ay farsed ful of knyvesAnd pynnes, for to yeven yonge wyves.235 And certainly I have hadde a murye note:Wel koude he synge, and pleyen on a rote;Of yeddynges he baar outrely the pris.His nekke whit de él was as the flour-de-lys;Therto he strong was as a champioun.240 He knew the taverns wel in every tounAnd everich hostiler and tappestereBet than a lazar or a beggestere;For unto swich a worthy man as heAcorded nat, as by his facultee of him,245 To have with sike lazars aqueyntaunce.It is nat honest, it may nat avaunce,For to deelen with no swich poraille,But al with riche and selleres of vitaille.And over al, ther as profit sholde arise,250 Curteis he was, and lowely of servyse.Ther nas no man nowher so virtuous.He was the best beggere in his hous of him;(And yaf a certeyn ferme for the grauntNoon of his brethren of him cam ther in his haunt of him;)255 For thogh a wydwe hadde noght a sho,So plesaunt was his of him “In principle”Yet wolde he have a ferthyng, er he wente;His purchaser de él was wel bettre than his rente de el.And rage he koude, as it were right a whelp.260 In love-dayes ther koude he muchel help,For there he was nat lyk a cloystererWith a thredbare cope, as is a povre scoler,But he was lyk a maister or a pope;Of double worstede was his semycope of him,265 That rounded as a belle out of the press.Somwhat he lipsed for his wantownesseTo make his Englissh sweete upon his tonge of him;And in his harpyng de el, whan that he hadde songe,Hise eyen twynkled in his heed aryght270 As doon the sterres in the frosty nyght.This worthy lymytour was cleped Huberd.A MARCHANT was ther with a forked berd,In mottelee, and hye on horse he sat;Upon his heed from him to Flaundryssh bever hat,275 His bootes of him clasped faire and fetisly.His resons of him he spak ful solempnely,Sownynge alway th’encrees of his wynnyng of him.He wolde the see were kept for any thyngBitwixe Middelburgh and Orewelle.280 Wel koude he in eschaunge sheeldes selle.This worthy man ful wel his wit bisette;Ther wiste no wight that he was in debt,So statly was he of his governaunceWith his bargaynes and with his chevyssaunce de él.285 For sothe, he was a worthy man with-alle,But, sooth to seyn, I noot how men hym calle.A CLERK ther was of Oxenford also,That unto logyk hadde along ygo.As leene was his hors of him as is a rake,290 And he nas nat right fat, I undertake,But he looked holwe and therto sobrely.Ful thredbare was his overeste courtepy of him;For he hadde geten hym yet no benefit,He ne was so worldly for to have office.295 For hym was levere have at his beddes heedTwenty bookes, clad in blak or reed,Of Aristotle and his philosophy of him,Than rich dresses, fithele gold, sautrie gay gold.But al be that he was a philosopher,300 Yet hadde he but litel gold in chest;But al that he myghte of his freendes hente de el,On bookes and on lernynge he it spente,And bisily gan for the soules preyeOf hem that yaf hym wherwith to scoleye.305 Of studie took he moost cure and moost heede.Noght o word spak he moore than he was neede,And that was seyd in form and reverence,And short and quyk, and ful of hy sentence;Sownynge in moral virtue was his speche of him,310 And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.A SERGEANT OF THE LAWE, war and wys,That often had been at the Parvys,Ther was also, ful riche of excellence.Discreet he was, and of greet reverence-315 He semed swich, hise wordes weren so wise.Justice he was ful often in assis,By patent, and by pleyn commissioun.For his science de él, and for his heigh renoun,Of fees and dresses hadde he many oon.320 So greet a purchasour was nowher noon:Al was fee symple to hym in effect,His purchasyng of him myghte nat been infected.Nowher so bisy a man as he ther nas,And yet he semed bisier than he was.325 In terms hadde he caas and doomes alleThat from the tyme of Kyng William were fail.Therto he koude endite and make a thyng,Ther koude no wight pynche at his writyng of him;And every koude status he pleyn by rote.330 He rood but hoomly in a medlee coteGirt with a belt of silk, with bars smale;Of his array of him such as I no lenger tale.A FRANKELEYN was in his compaignye de él.Whit was his berd of him as is a dayesye;335 Of his complexioun de él he was sangwyn.Wel loved he by the morwe a sope in wyn,;To lyven in delit was evere his wone of him,For he was Epicurus owene sone,That heeld opinioun that pleyn delit340 he Was verray felicitee parfit.An housholdere, and that a greet, was he;Seint Julian was he in his contree of him.His breed of him, his ale of him, was alweys after oon,A bettre envyned man was nowher noon.345 Withoute bake mete was nevere his housOf fissh and flessh, and that so plentevous,It snewed in his hous of mete and drynke,Of alle deyntees that men koude thynke.After the probry sesons of the yeer,350 So chaunged he his mete and his soper of him.Ful many a fat partrich hadde he in muwe,And many a breem and many a luce in stuwe.Wo was his cook from him, but if his sauce from him werePoynaunt and sharp, and redy al his geere de él.355 His table de él dormant in his halle de él alwayHe stood redy covered al the longe day.At sessiouns ther was he lord and sire;Ful ofte tyme he was knyght of the shire.An anlaas and a gipser al of silk360 Heeng at his girdel de el, whit as morne milk.A shirreve hadde have been, and a countour.He was nowher swich a worthy vavasour.An HABERDASSHERE and a CARPENTER,A WEBBE, a DYERE, and a TAPYCER, -365 And they were clothed alle in o lyvereeOf a solemn and a greet fraternitee.Ful fressh and newe hir geere apiked was;Hir knyves were chaped noght with bras,But al with silver; wroght ful clene and weel,370 Hire girdles and hir pouches everydeel.Wel semed ech of hem a fair burgeysTo sitten in a yeldehalle on a deys.Everich, for the wisdom that he kan,He was shaply for to been an alderman.375 For catel hadde they ynogh and rente,And eek hir wyves wolde it wel assente;And they certeyn, were they to blame.It is ful fair to been ycleped “madam,”And goon to vigilies al bifore,380 And have a mantel roialliche ybore.A COOK they hadde with hem for the nonesTo boille the chiknes with the marybones,And powder-walking tart, and galyngale.Wel koude I know a draft of London ale.385 He koude rooste, and sethe, and broille, and frye,Maken mortreux, and wel bake a pye.But greet harm was it, as it thoughte me,That on his shyne a mormal hadde he.For blankmanger, that made he with the beste.390 A SHIPMAN was ther, wonynge fer by weste;For aught I woot, he was of Dertemouthe.He rood upon a rouncy, as he kouthe,In a gowne of faldyng to the knee of him.At daggere hangynge we have laas hadde he395 he Aboute his nekke de el, under his arm adoun.The hoote somer hadde maad his hewe al broun,And certainly he was a good felawe.Ful many a draft of wyn had he ydraweFro Burdeux-ward, whil that the chapman sleep.400 Of nyce conscience took he no keep.If that he faught, and he hadde the hyer hond,By water he sente hem hoom to every london.But of his craft, to rekene wel his tydes,His stremes de él, and his daungers hym bisides,405 His herberwe de él and his moone de el, his lodemenage de el,Ther nas noon swich from Hulle to Cartage.Hardy he was, and wys to undertake;With many a tempest hadde his berd de he been shake.He knew alle the havenes as they were,410 From Gootlond to the Cape of Fynystere,And every cryke in Britaigne and in Spayne.His barge ycleped was the Maudelayne.With us ther was a DOCTOUR OF PHISIK;In al this world ne was ther noon hym lik,415 To speke of phisik and of surgerye,For he was grounded in astronomy.He kepte his pacient a ful greet deelIn houres, by his magyk natureel de él.Wel koude he fortunen the ascendent420 Of his ymages of him for his pacient of him.He knew the cause of everich maladye,Were it of hoot, or coold, or moyste, or drye,And where they generated, and of what humor.He was a verray parfit praktisour:425 The cause yknowe, and of his harm de él the roote,Anon he yaf the sike man his boote de el.Ful redy hadde he hise apothecariesTo sende him drugs and his letuaries,For ech of hem made oother for to wynne-430 Hir frendshipe nas nat newe to bigynne.Wel knew he the olde Esculapius,And Deyscorides and eek Rufus,Olde Ypocras, Haly, and Galyen,Serapioun, Razis, and Avycen,435 Averrois, Damascien, and Constantyn,Bernard, and Gatesden, and Gilbertyn.Of his measurable diet of he was he,For it was of no superfluitee,But of greet norissyng, and digestible.440 His studie de él was but litel on the Bible.In sangwyn and in pers he clad was al,Lyned with taffata and with sendal;And yet he was but esy of dispence;He kepte that he wan in pestilence.445 For gold in phisik is a cordial,Therfore he lovede gold in special.A good WIF was ther, OF biside BATHE,But she was somdel deef, and that was scathe.Of clooth-makyng she hadde swich an haunt,450 She passed hem of Ypres and of Gaunt.In al the parisshe wif ne was ther noonThat to the offrynge bifore hire sholde goon;And if she ther dide, certeyn so wrooth was she,That she was out of alle charitee.455 Hir coverchiefs ful fyne weren of ground;I dorste swere they weyeden ten poundThat on a Sonday weren upon hir heed.Hir hosen weren of fyn scarlet reed,Ful streite yteyd, and shoes ful moyste and newe.460 Boold was hir face, and fair, and reed of hewe.She was a worthy womman al hir lyve:Housbondes at chirche dore she hadde fyve,Withouthen oother compaignye in youthe, -But ella therof nedeth nat to speke as nowthe.465 And thries had been at Jerusalem;She hadde passed many a straunge strem;At Rome she had been, and at Boloigne,In Galicia at Seint-Jame, and at Coloigne.She koude muchel of wandrynge by the weye de ella.470 Gat-tothed was she, soothly for to seye.Upon an amblere esily she sat,Ella ywympled wel, and on hir heed an hatAs brood as she is a bokeler or a targe;A foot-tablecloth butts hir hipes large,475 And on hir feet de ella a pair of sharpe spores.In felaweshipe wel koude she laughe and carpe.Of remedies of love she knew per chaunce,For ella she koude of that art the olde daunce.A good man was ther of religioun,480 And he was a povre PERSOUN OF A TOUN,But riche he was of hooly thoght and werk.He was also a lerned man, a clerk,That Cristes gospel trewely wolde preche;His parisshens devoutly wolde he teche.485 Benynge he was, and wonder diligent,And in adversitee ful pacient,And swich he was ypreved ofte sithes.Ful looth were hym to cursen for his tithes de el,But rather wolde he yeven, out of doubt,490 Unto his povre parisshens buttOf his offryng and eek of his substaunce of him.He koude in litel thyng have sufficaunce.Wyd was his parisshe, and houses fer asonder,But he ne lefte nat, for reyn ne thonder,495 In siknesse nor in meschief to visitThe ferreste in his parisshe, muche and lite,Upon his feet, and in his hand a staf.This noble ensample to his sheep of him he yaf,That first he wroghte, and afterward he taughte.500 Out of the gosple he tho wordes caughte,And this figure he added eek therto,That if gold ruste, what shal iren do?For if a preest be foul, on whom we truste,No wonder is a lewed man to ruste;505 And shame it is, if a prest take keep,A shiten shepherde and a clene sheep.Wel oghte a preest ensample for to yive,By his clennesse de él, how that his sheep de él sholde lyve.He sette nat his benefit from him to hyre510 And he leet his sheep encombred in the myreAnd he ran to Londoun unto Seinte PoulesTo seken hym a chaunterie for soules,Or with a bretherhed to been witholde;But he dwelt at hoom, and kepte wel his folde de él,515 So that the wolf ne made it nat myscarie;He was a shepherde and noght a mercenarie.And though he hooly were and virtous,He was to synful men nat despitous,Ne of his speche daungerous ne worthy,520 But in his techyng discreet and benygne;To drawen folk to hevene by fairnesse,By good ensample, this was his bisynesse de él.But it were any persone obstinat,What so he were, of heigh or lough stat,525 Hym wolde he snybben sharply for the nonys.A bettre preest I trowe, that nowher noon ys.He waited after no pomp and reverence,Don’t maked him a spiced conscience,But Cristes loore, and Hise apostles twelve530 He taughte, but first he folwed it hymselve.With hym ther was a PLOWMAN, he was his brother,That he hadde ylad of dong ful many a fother;A trewe swynkere and a good was he,Lyvynge in pees and parfit charitee.535 God loved he best with al his hoole herteAt alle tymes, thogh him gamed or smerte,And thanne his neighebor right as hym-selve.He wolde thresshe, and therto dyke and delve,For Cristes sake, for every povre wight540 Withouten hire, if it lay in his myght of him.Hise tithes payed he ful faire and wel,Bothe of his own swynk and his catel de él.In a tabard he rood, upon a mere.Ther was also a REVE and a MILLERE,545 A SOMNOUR and a PARDONER also,A MAUNCIPLE, and myself – ther were namo.The MILLERE was a stout carl for the nones;Ful byg he was of brawn and eek of bones-That proved wel, for over al ther he cam550 At wrastlynge he wolde have alwey the ram.He was short-sholdred, brood, a thikke knarre,Ther was no dore that he nolde heve of harre,Or breke it at a rennyng with his heed de él.His berd de él as any sowe or fox was reed,555 And therto brood, as though it were a spade.Upon the cop right of his nose de él he hadeA werte, and thereon stood a toft of herys,Reed as the brustles of a sowes erys;Hise nosethirles blake were and wyde.560 A swerd and bokeler bar he by his syde de él.His mouth de él as greet was as a greet forneys.He was a janglere and a goliardeys,And that was moost of synne and harlotries.Wel koude he stelen corn, and tollen thries;565 And yet he hadde a thombe of gold, pardee.A whit cote and a blew hood wered he.A baggepipe wel koude he blowe and sowne,And therwithal he broghte us out of towne.A gentil MAUNCIPLE was ther of a temple,570 Of which venteours myghte take exampleFor to be wise in byynge of vitaille;For wheither that he payde or took by size,Algate he wayted so in his achaatThat he was ay biforn, and in good staat.575 Now is nat that of God a ful fair grace,That swich a lewed mannes wit shal paceThe wisdom of an heep of lerned men?Of maistres hadde he mo than thries ten,That weren of lawe expert and curious,580 Of whiche ther weren a duszeyne in that housWorthy to been stywardes of rente and londOf any lord that is in Engelond,To maken hym lyve by his own good of him,In honor dettelees (but if he were wood),585 Or lyve as scarsly as hym list desire,And able for to helpen al a shireIn any caas that myghte fails or happened-And yet this Manciple sette hir aller cappe.The REVE was a sclendre colerik man.590 His berd de él was shave as ny as ever he kan;His heer de él was by his erys ful round yshorn;His top of him was dokked lyk a preest biforn.Ful longe were his legges de él, and ful lene,Ylyk a staf, ther was no calf ysene.595 Wel koude he kepe a gerner and a bynne;Ther was noon auditour koude on him wynne.Wel wiste he by the droghte and by the reyn,The yeldynge of his seed and of his greyn.His lordes sheep, his neet, his dayerye,600 His swyn de él, his hors, his stoor, and his pultrye,Was hoolly in this Reves governynge,And by his covenant yaf the rekenynge,Syn that his lord de él was twenty yeer of age,Ther koude no man brynge hym in arrerage.605 Ther nas baillif, ne hierde, nor oother hyne,That he ne knew his sleighte and his covyne;They were adrad of hym as of the deeth.His wonyng of him was ful faire upon an heeth;With grene trees shadwed was his place.610 He koude bettre than his lord inconnce.Ful riche he was astored pryvely:His lord wel koude he plesen subtilly,To yeve and lene hym of his owene good from him,And have a thank, and yet a cote and hood.615 In youthe he hadde lerned a good myster;He was a wel good wrighte, a carpenter.This Reve sat upon a ful good stot,That was al pomely gray, and highte Scot.A long surcharge of pers upon he hade,620 And by his syde de él he baar a rusty blade.Of Northfolk was this Reve, of which I tel,Bisyde a toun men clepen Baldeswelle.Tukked he was as he is a frere aboute,And evere he rood the hyndreste of oure route.625 A SOMONOUR was ther with us in that place,That hadde a fyr-reed cherubynnes face,For saucefleem he was, with eyen narwe.As hoot he was and lecherous as a sparwe,With scalled browes blake, and piled berd,630 Of his face children of him were aferd.Ther nas quyk-silver, lytarge, ne brymstoon,Boras, ceruce, ne oille of tartre noon,Ne oynement, that wolde clense and byte,That hym myghte helpen of his whelkes white,635 Nor of the knobbes sittynge on his chekes de él.Wel loved he garleek, oynons, and eek lekes,And for to drynken strong wyn, reed as blood;Thanne wolde he speke and crie as he were wood.And whan that he wel dronken he hadde the wyn,640 Than wolde he speke no word but Latyn.A fewe terms hadde he, two or thre,That he had lerned out of som decree-No wonder is, I have herde it al the day,And eek ye knowen wel how that a jay645 Kan clepen “Watte” as wel as kan the pope.But whoso koude in oother thyng hym grope,Thanne hadde I have spent his philosophy on him;Ay “Questio quid iuris” wolde he shouts.He was a gentle harlot and a kynde;650 A bettre felawe sholde men noght fynde;He wolde suffre, for a quart of wyn,A good felawe to have his concubynA twelf-monthe, and excuse hym att fulle;Ful prively a fynch eek koude he pulle.655 And if he foond owher a good felawe,He wolde techen him to have noon awe,In swich caas, of the ercedekenes curs,But if a mannes soule were in his pures de él;For in his pure de él he sholde ypunysshed be.660 “Purs is the erchedekenes helle,” seyde he.But wel I woot he lyed right in dede;Of cursyng oghte ech gilty man him drede,For curs wol slee, right as assoillyng savith,And also war him of a Significavit.665 In daunger hadde he at his owene giseThe yonge girles of the diocise,And he knew hir board, and was al hir reed.A gerland hadde he set upon his heedAs greet as it were for an ale-stake;670 A bokeleer hadde he maad him of a cake.With hym ther rood a kind FORGIVENESSOf Rouncivale, his freend and his compeer,That streight was comer fro the court of Rome.Ful loude he soong “Com hider, love, to me!”675 This Somonour bar to hym a stif burdoun;He was nevere trompe of half so greet a soun.This Pardoner hadde heer as yelow as wex,But smothe it heeng as dooth a strike of flex;By ounces henge his lokkes that he hadde,680 And therwith he hise shuldres overspradde;But thynne it lay by colpons oon and oon.But hood, for jolitee, wered he noon,For it was trussed up in his walet.Hym thoughte he rood al of the newe jet;685 Dischevelee, save his cappe de el, he rood al bare.Swiche glarynge eyen hadde he as an hare.A vernycle hadde I have sowed upon his cappe of him.His walet de él lay biforn hym in his lappeBretful of pardoun come from Rome al hoot.690 A voys he hadde as smal as hath a goot,No berd hadde he, nevere sholde have;As smothe it was as it were late shave,I trowe he were a geldyng or a mare.But of his craft de él, from Berwyk into Ware,695 Ne was ther swich another pardoner;For in his male de él he hadde a pilwe-beer,Which that he seyde was Oure Lady veyl:He seyde he hadde a gobet of the seylThat Seint Peter hadde, whan that he wente700 Upon the see, til Jesu Crist hym hente.He hadde a beliefs of latoun ful of stones,And in a glas he hadde pigges bones.But with thise relikes, whan that he fondA povre persoun dwellyng upon london,705 Upon a day he gat hym moore moneyeThan that the person gat in monthes tweye;And thus, with feyned flaterye and japes,He made the persoun and the peple his apes.But trewely to tellen reach laste,710 He was in chirche a noble ecclesiast.Wel koude he rede a lessoun or a storie,But alderbest he song an offerory;For wel he wiste, whan that song was songe,He moste preche, and wel affile his tonge715 To wynne silver, as he ful wel koude;Therfore he song the murierly and loude.Now have I toold you shortly in a clause,Th’estaat, th’array, the number, and eek the causeWhy that assembled was this compaignye720 In Southwerk, at this gentle hostelryeThat highte the Tabard, faste by the Belle.But now is tyme to yow for to telHow that we baren us that ilke nyght,Whan we were in that hostelrie alyght;725 And after wol I tel of our viageAnd all the remenaunt of oure pilgrimage.But first I pray yow, of youre curteisye,That ye n’arette it nat my vileynye,Thogh that I pleynly speke in this mateere,730 To tel yow hir wordes and hir cheere,Ne thogh I speke hir wordes proprely.For this ye knowen also wel as I,Whoso shal such a tale after a man,He moot reherce as ny as evere he kan735 Everich a word, if it be in his charge of him,Al speke he never so rudeliche or large,Or ellis he moot such his tale of el untrewe,Or feyne thyng, or fynde wordes newe.He may nat spare, al thogh he were his brother of him;740 He moot as wel seye o word as another.Crist spak hymself ful brode in hooly writ,And, wel ye woot, no vileynye is it.Eek Plato seith, whoso kan hym rede,The wordes moote be cosyn to the dede.745 Also I prey yow to foryeve it me,Al have I nat set folk in hir degreeHeere in this tale, as that they sholde stonde.My wit is short, ye may wel understonde.Greet chiere made oure Hoost us everichon,750 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 leste.A semely man OURE HOOSTE was withalleFor to been a marchal in an halle.755 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,760 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;765 For by my trouthe, if that I shal nat lye,I saugh nat this yeer so myrie a compaignyeAtones in this herberwe, as is now.Fayn wolde I doon yow myrthe, wiste I how.And of a myrthe I am right now bythoght,770 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,775 For trewely, confort ne myrthe is noonTo 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 assent780 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!785 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.790 “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 tweye795 To Caunterbury-ward 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 caas800 Tales of best sentence and moost solaas,Shal have a soper at oure aller costHeere in this place, sittynge by this post,Whan that we come agayn fro Caunterbury.And for to make yow the moore mury,805 I wol myselven goodly with yow rydeRight at myn owene cost, and be youre gyde;And who so wole my juggement withseyeShal paye al that we spenden by the weye.And if ye vouche sauf that it be so,810 Tel me anon, withouten wordes mo,And I wol erly shape me therfore.”This thyng was graunted, and oure othes sworeWith ful glad herte, and preyden hym alsoThat he wolde vouche sauf for to do so,815 And that he wolde been oure governour,And of our tales juge and reportour,And sette a soper at a certeyn pris,And we wol reuled been at his devysIn heigh and lough; and thus by oon assent820 We been acorded to his juggement.And therupon the wyn was fet anon;We dronken, and to reste wente echon,Withouten any lenger taryynge.Amorwe, whan that day bigan to sprynge,825 Up roos oure Hoost, and was oure aller cok,And gadrede us to gidre alle in a flok,And forth we riden, a litel moore than paasUnto the wateryng of Seint Thomas;And there oure Hoost bigan his hors areste830 And seyde, “Lordynges, herkneth if yow leste.Ye woot youre foreward, and I it yow recorde.If even-song and morwe-song accorde,Lat se now who shal telle the firste tale.As evere mote I drynke wyn or ale,835 Whoso be rebel to my juggementShal paye for al that by the wey is spent.Now draweth cut, er that we ferrer twynne,He which that hath the shorteste shal bigynne.Sire Knyght,” quod he, “my mayster and my lord,840 Now draweth cut, for that is myn accord.Cometh neer,” quod he, “my lady Prioresse,And ye, Sir Clerk, lat be youre shamefastnesse,Ne studieth noght; ley hond to, every man!”Anon to drawen every wight bigan,845 And shortly for to tellen as it was,Were it by aventure, or sort, or cas,The sothe is this, the cut fil to the Knyght,Of which ful blithe and glad was every wyght.And telle he moste his tale, as was resoun,850 By foreward and by composicioun,-As ye han herd, what nedeth wordes mo?And whan this goode man saugh that it was so,As he that wys was and obedientTo kepe his foreward by his free assent,855 He seyde, “Syn I shal bigynne the game,What, welcome be the cut, a Goddes name!Now lat us ryde, and herkneth what I seye.”And with that word we ryden forth oure weye,And he bigan with right a myrie cheere860 His tale anon, and seyde as ye may heere.