|
Thanne telle I hem ensamples many oon |
| 150 | Of olde stories longe tyme agoon. |
| For lewed peple loven tales olde; |
| Swiche thynges kan they wel reporte and holde. |
| What, trowe ye, the whiles I may preche, |
| And wynne gold and silver for I teche, |
| 155 | That I wol lyve in poverte wilfully? |
| Nay, nay, I thoghte it nevere, trewely! |
| For I wol preche and begge in sondry landes, |
| I wol nat do no labour with myne handes, |
| Ne make baskettes, and lyve therby, |
| 160 | By cause I wol nat beggen ydelly. |
| I wol noon of the apostles countrefete; |
| I wol have moneie, wolle, chese, and whete, |
| Al were it yeven of the povereste page, |
| Or of the povereste wydwe in a village, |
| 165 | Al sholde hir children sterve for famyne. |
| Nay, I wol drynke licour of the vyne, |
| And have a joly wenche in every toun. |
| But herkneth, lordynges, in conclusioun: |
| Your likyng is, that I shal telle a tale. |
| 170 | Now have I dronke a draughte of corny ale, |
| By God, I hope I shal yow telle a thyng |
| That shal by resoun been at youre likyng. |
| For though myself be a ful vicious man, |
| A moral tale yet I you telle kan, |
| 175 | Which I am wont to preche, for to wynne. |
| Now hoold youre pees! My tale I wol bigynne." |
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"Then do I cite examples, many a one, |
| 150 | Out of old stories and of time long gone, |
| For vulgar people all love stories old; |
| Such things they can re-tell well and can hold. |
| What? Think you that because I'm good at preaching |
| And win me gold and silver by my teaching |
| 155 | I'll live of my free will in poverty? |
| No, no, that's never been my policy! |
| For I will preach and beg in sundry lands; |
| I will not work and labour with my hands, |
| Nor baskets weave and try to live thereby, |
| 160 | Because I will not beg in vain, say I. |
| I will none of the apostles counterfeit; |
| I will have money, wool, and cheese, and wheat, |
| Though it be given by the poorest page, |
| Or by the poorest widow in village, |
| 165 | And though her children perish of famine. |
| Nay! I will drink good liquor of the vine |
| And have a pretty wench in every town. |
| But listen, masters, to conclusion shown: |
| Your wish is that I tell you all a tale. |
| 170 | Now that I've drunk a draught of musty ale, |
| By God, I hope that I can tell something |
| That shall, in reason, be to your liking. |
| For though I am myself a vicious man, |
| Yet I would tell a moral tale, and can, |
| 175 | The which I'm wont to preach more gold to win. |
| Now hold your peace! My tale I will begin." |
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