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A SOMNOUR was ther with us in that place, That hadde a fyr-reed cherubinnes face, For sawcefleem he was, with eyen narwe. As hoot he was, and lecherous, as a sparwe; With scalled browes blake, and piled berd; Of his visage children were aferd. Ther nas quik-silver, litarge, ne brimstoon, Boras, ceruce, ne oille of tartre noon, Ne oynement that wolde dense and byte, That him mighte helpen of his whelkes whyte, Nor of the knobbes sittinge on his chekes. Wel loved he garleek, oynons, and eek lekes, And for to drinken strong wyn, reed as blood. Thanne wolde he speke, and crye as he were wood. And whan that he wel dronken hadde the wyn, Than wolde he speke no word but Latyn. A fewe termes hadde he, two or three, That he had lerned out of som decree; No wonder is, he herde it al the day; And eek ye knowen wel, how that a Iay Can clepen ‘Watte,’ as well as can the pope. But who-so coude in other thing him grope, Thanne hadde he spent al his philosophye; Ay ‘Questio quid iuris’ wolde he crye. He was a gentil harlot and a kinde; A bettre felawe sholde men noght finde. He wolde suffre, for a quart of wyn, A good felawe to have his concubyn A twelf-month, and excuse him atte fulle: Ful prively a finch eek coude he pulle. And if he fond o-wher a good felawe, He wolde techen him to have non awe, In swich cas, of the erchedeknes curs, But-if a mannes soule were in his purs; For in his purs he sholde y-punisshed be. ‘Purs is the erchedeknes helle,’ seyde he. But wel I woot he lyed right in dede; Of cursing oghte ech gilty man him drede— For curs wol slee, right as assoilling saveth— And also war him of a significavit. In daunger hadde he at his owne gyse The yonge girles of the diocyse, And knew hir counseil, and was al hir reed. A gerland hadde he set upon his heed, As greet as it were for an ale-stake; A bokeler hadde he maad him of a cake. A SOMNOUR was ther with us in that place, That hadde a fyr-reed cherubinnes face, For sawcefleem he was, with eyen narwe. As hoot he was, and lecherous, as a sparwe; With scalled browes blake, and piled berd; Of his visage children were aferd. Ther nas quik-silver, litarge, ne brimstoon, Boras, ceruce, ne oille of tartre noon, Ne oynement that wolde dense and byte, That him mighte helpen of his whelkes whyte, Nor of the knobbes sittinge on his chekes. Wel loved he garleek, oynons, and eek lekes, And for to drinken strong wyn, reed as blood. Thanne wolde he speke, and crye as he were wood. And whan that he wel dronken hadde the wyn, Than wolde he speke no word but Latyn. A fewe termes hadde he, two or three, That he had lerned out of som decree; No wonder is, he herde it al the day; And eek ye knowen wel, how that a Iay Can clepen ‘Watte,’ as well as can the pope. But who-so coude in other thing him grope, Thanne hadde he spent al his philosophye; Ay ‘Questio quid iuris’ wolde he crye. He was a gentil harlot and a kinde; A bettre felawe sholde men noght finde. He wolde suffre, for a quart of wyn, A good felawe to have his concubyn A twelf-month, and excuse him atte fulle: Ful prively a finch eek coude he pulle. And if he fond o-wher a good felawe, He wolde techen him to have non awe, In swich cas, of the erchedeknes curs, But-if a mannes soule were in his purs; For in his purs he sholde y-punisshed be. ‘Purs is the erchedeknes helle,’ seyde he. But wel I woot he lyed right in dede; Of cursing oghte ech gilty man him drede— For curs wol slee, right as assoilling saveth— And also war him of a significavit. In daunger hadde he at his owne gyse The yonge girles of the diocyse, And knew hir counseil, and was al hir reed. A gerland hadde he set upon his heed, As greet as it were for an ale-stake; A bokeler hadde he maad him of a cake.

Original Text

Modern Text

A SOMNOUR was ther with us in that place, That hadde a fyr-reed cherubinnes face, For sawcefleem he was, with eyen narwe. As hoot he was, and lecherous, as a sparwe; With scalled browes blake, and piled berd; Of his visage children were aferd. Ther nas quik-silver, litarge, ne brimstoon, Boras, ceruce, ne oille of tartre noon, Ne oynement that wolde dense and byte, That him mighte helpen of his whelkes whyte, Nor of the knobbes sittinge on his chekes. Wel loved he garleek, oynons, and eek lekes, And for to drinken strong wyn, reed as blood. Thanne wolde he speke, and crye as he were wood. And whan that he wel dronken hadde the wyn, Than wolde he speke no word but Latyn. A fewe termes hadde he, two or three, That he had lerned out of som decree; No wonder is, he herde it al the day; And eek ye knowen wel, how that a Iay Can clepen ‘Watte,’ as well as can the pope. But who-so coude in other thing him grope, Thanne hadde he spent al his philosophye; Ay ‘Questio quid iuris’ wolde he crye. He was a gentil harlot and a kinde; A bettre felawe sholde men noght finde. He wolde suffre, for a quart of wyn, A good felawe to have his concubyn A twelf-month, and excuse him atte fulle: Ful prively a finch eek coude he pulle. And if he fond o-wher a good felawe, He wolde techen him to have non awe, In swich cas, of the erchedeknes curs, But-if a mannes soule were in his purs; For in his purs he sholde y-punisshed be. ‘Purs is the erchedeknes helle,’ seyde he. But wel I woot he lyed right in dede; Of cursing oghte ech gilty man him drede— For curs wol slee, right as assoilling saveth— And also war him of a significavit. In daunger hadde he at his owne gyse The yonge girles of the diocyse, And knew hir counseil, and was al hir reed. A gerland hadde he set upon his heed, As greet as it were for an ale-stake; A bokeler hadde he maad him of a cake. A SOMNOUR was ther with us in that place, That hadde a fyr-reed cherubinnes face, For sawcefleem he was, with eyen narwe. As hoot he was, and lecherous, as a sparwe; With scalled browes blake, and piled berd; Of his visage children were aferd. Ther nas quik-silver, litarge, ne brimstoon, Boras, ceruce, ne oille of tartre noon, Ne oynement that wolde dense and byte, That him mighte helpen of his whelkes whyte, Nor of the knobbes sittinge on his chekes. Wel loved he garleek, oynons, and eek lekes, And for to drinken strong wyn, reed as blood. Thanne wolde he speke, and crye as he were wood. And whan that he wel dronken hadde the wyn, Than wolde he speke no word but Latyn. A fewe termes hadde he, two or three, That he had lerned out of som decree; No wonder is, he herde it al the day; And eek ye knowen wel, how that a Iay Can clepen ‘Watte,’ as well as can the pope. But who-so coude in other thing him grope, Thanne hadde he spent al his philosophye; Ay ‘Questio quid iuris’ wolde he crye. He was a gentil harlot and a kinde; A bettre felawe sholde men noght finde. He wolde suffre, for a quart of wyn, A good felawe to have his concubyn A twelf-month, and excuse him atte fulle: Ful prively a finch eek coude he pulle. And if he fond o-wher a good felawe, He wolde techen him to have non awe, In swich cas, of the erchedeknes curs, But-if a mannes soule were in his purs; For in his purs he sholde y-punisshed be. ‘Purs is the erchedeknes helle,’ seyde he. But wel I woot he lyed right in dede; Of cursing oghte ech gilty man him drede— For curs wol slee, right as assoilling saveth— And also war him of a significavit. In daunger hadde he at his owne gyse The yonge girles of the diocyse, And knew hir counseil, and was al hir reed. A gerland hadde he set upon his heed, As greet as it were for an ale-stake; A bokeler hadde he maad him of a cake.