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Greet chere made our hoste us everichon, And to the soper sette he us anon; And served us with vitaille at the beste. Strong was the wyn, and wel to drinke us leste. A semely man our hoste was with-alle For to han been a marshal in an halle; A large man he was with eyen stepe, A fairer burgeys is ther noon in Chepe: Bold of his speche, and wys, and wel y-taught, And of manhod him lakkede right naught. Eek therto he was right a mery man, And after soper pleyen he bigan, And spak of mirthe amonges othere thinges, Whan that we hadde maad our rekeninges; And seyde thus: ‘Now, lordinges, trewely, Ye been to me right welcome hertely: For by my trouthe, if that I shal nat lye, I ne saugh this yeer so mery a companye At ones in this herberwe as is now. Fayn wolde I doon yow mirthe, wiste I how. And of a mirthe I am right now bithoght, To doon yow ese, and it shal coste noght. Our HOST, the owner of the Tabard Inn, welcomed all of us and served us dinner right away. The food was really good and the wine really strong, which we all were grateful for. The host seemed like he was a good enough innkeeper to have even been a butler in some great house. He was 100% man, big and with bulging eyes—bigger than any of the merchants in the markets of London, that’s for sure. He spoke in a straightforward manner that conveyed his wisdom and his learning. He was also pretty jolly, and after dinner he started telling jokes and funny stories—after we’d paid the bill, of course—and said, “Gentlemen, I welcome you from the bottom of my heart. To tell you the truth, we haven’t had as large a group of people all year who seem as happy as you. I wish I could think of some way to entertain you, and—oh, wait! I’ve thought of something and, best of all, it won’t cost you a penny!
Ye goon to Caunterbury; God yow spede, The blisful martir quyte yow your mede. And wel I woot, as ye goon by the weye, Ye shapen yow to talen and to pleye; For trewely, confort ne mirthe is noon To ryde by the weye doumb as a stoon; And therfore wol I maken yow disport, As I seyde erst, and doon yow som confort. And if yow lyketh alle, by oon assent, Now for to stonden at my Iugement, And for to werken as I shal yow seye, To-morwe, whan ye ryden by the weye, Now, by my fader soule, that is deed, But ye be merye, I wol yeve yow myn heed. Hold up your hond, withouten more speche.’ “You are all going to Canterbury, where the martyr, Thomas Becket will hear your prayers and bless you. God be with you and speed you on your way! Well, I figure that you’ll probably tell stories and whatnot to pass the time during your journey because it’d be pretty boring otherwise. I said before that I want to entertain you, so with your permission, I ask that you listen to what I have to say. And I swear on my father’s grave that if you aren’t entertained as you ride off to Canterbury tomorrow, you can have my own head! Now hold up your hands, and don’t say another word!”

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Greet chere made our hoste us everichon, And to the soper sette he us anon; And served us with vitaille at the beste. Strong was the wyn, and wel to drinke us leste. A semely man our hoste was with-alle For to han been a marshal in an halle; A large man he was with eyen stepe, A fairer burgeys is ther noon in Chepe: Bold of his speche, and wys, and wel y-taught, And of manhod him lakkede right naught. Eek therto he was right a mery man, And after soper pleyen he bigan, And spak of mirthe amonges othere thinges, Whan that we hadde maad our rekeninges; And seyde thus: ‘Now, lordinges, trewely, Ye been to me right welcome hertely: For by my trouthe, if that I shal nat lye, I ne saugh this yeer so mery a companye At ones in this herberwe as is now. Fayn wolde I doon yow mirthe, wiste I how. And of a mirthe I am right now bithoght, To doon yow ese, and it shal coste noght. Our HOST, the owner of the Tabard Inn, welcomed all of us and served us dinner right away. The food was really good and the wine really strong, which we all were grateful for. The host seemed like he was a good enough innkeeper to have even been a butler in some great house. He was 100% man, big and with bulging eyes—bigger than any of the merchants in the markets of London, that’s for sure. He spoke in a straightforward manner that conveyed his wisdom and his learning. He was also pretty jolly, and after dinner he started telling jokes and funny stories—after we’d paid the bill, of course—and said, “Gentlemen, I welcome you from the bottom of my heart. To tell you the truth, we haven’t had as large a group of people all year who seem as happy as you. I wish I could think of some way to entertain you, and—oh, wait! I’ve thought of something and, best of all, it won’t cost you a penny!
Ye goon to Caunterbury; God yow spede, The blisful martir quyte yow your mede. And wel I woot, as ye goon by the weye, Ye shapen yow to talen and to pleye; For trewely, confort ne mirthe is noon To ryde by the weye doumb as a stoon; And therfore wol I maken yow disport, As I seyde erst, and doon yow som confort. And if yow lyketh alle, by oon assent, Now for to stonden at my Iugement, And for to werken as I shal yow seye, To-morwe, whan ye ryden by the weye, Now, by my fader soule, that is deed, But ye be merye, I wol yeve yow myn heed. Hold up your hond, withouten more speche.’ “You are all going to Canterbury, where the martyr, Thomas Becket will hear your prayers and bless you. God be with you and speed you on your way! Well, I figure that you’ll probably tell stories and whatnot to pass the time during your journey because it’d be pretty boring otherwise. I said before that I want to entertain you, so with your permission, I ask that you listen to what I have to say. And I swear on my father’s grave that if you aren’t entertained as you ride off to Canterbury tomorrow, you can have my own head! Now hold up your hands, and don’t say another word!”

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