Whan that cliente, with hise offeres soote,
The droghte of cashe hath perced to the roote
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
At nyght al come to that hostelrye
Wel nyne and twenty in a compaignye
Of sondry folk, by aventure yfalle
In felaweshipe, an droydes were we alle,
The Captain's Logue
A knyght ther was, and that a worthy man,
That fro the tyme that he first bigan
To riden out, followed chivalrie,
Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisie.
Ful worthy was he in partneres werre,
And therto hadde he riden, no man ferre
And tho his port not meeke as a mayde
He nevere yet no vileynye ne sayde.
For by my trouthe, if that I shal nat lye,
I saugh nat this yeer so myrie a compaignye
The sothe is this: the cut fil to this knyght,
Of which ful blithe and glad was every wyght.
So lat me wend, and herkneth what I seye.
And with that word I ryde forth aweye,
As we bigan with right a myrie cheere
Our tale anon, and seyde in this manere.