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From The Tale of Sir Thopas, lines 143-166:
Sir Thopas goes home to prepare for the fight
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From The Canterbury Tales:
The Tale of Sir Thopas
lines 167-200: The clothes and equipment of Sir Thopas

       He dide next his white leere
Of clooth of lake, fyn and cleere,
       A breech, and eek a sherte,
170And next his sherte an aketoun,
And over that an haubergeoun,
       For percynge of his herte.
       He drew on, next his white skin clear,
Of finest linen, clean and sheer,
       His breeches and a shirt;
170And next the shirt a stuffed acton,
And over that a habergeon
       'Gainst piercing of his heart.

       And over that a fyn hawberk,
Was al ywroght of Jewes werk,
175       Ful strong it was of plate.
And over that his cote-armour
As whit as is a lilye flour,
       In which he wol debate.
       And over that a fine hauberk
That was wrought all of Jewish work
175       And reinforced with plate;
And over that his coat-of-arms,
As white as lily-flower that charms,
       Wherein he will debate.

       His sheeld was al of gold so reed,
180And therinne was a bores heed,
       A charbocle bisyde;
And there he swoor on ale and breed,
How that "the geaunt shal be deed
       Bityde what bityde!"
       His shield was all of gold so red,
180And thereon was a wild boar's head
       A carbuncle beside;
And now he swore, by ale and bread,
That soon "this giant shall be dead,
       Betide what may betide!"

185        Hise jambeux were of quyrboilly,
His swerdes shethe of yvory,
       His helm of laton bright,
His sadel was of rewel-boon,
His brydel as the sonne shoon,
190       Or as the moone light.
185        His jambeaux were of cuir-bouilli,
His sword sheath was of ivory,
       His helm of latten bright,
His saddle was of rewel bone,
And as the sun his bridle shone,
190       Or as the full moonlight.

       His spere it was of fyn ciprees,
That bodeth werre, and no thyng pees,
       The heed ful sharpe ygrounde;
His steede was al dappull-gray,
195It gooth an ambil in the way
       Ful softely and rounde
                     In londe.
       Loo, lordes myne, heere is a fit;
If ye wol any moore of it,
200       To telle it wol I fonde.
       His spear was of fine cypress wood,
That boded war, not brotherhood,
       The head full sharply ground;
His steed was all a dapple grey
195       Whose gait was ambling, on the way,
       Full easily and round
                     In land.
       Behold, my lords, here is a fit!
If you'll have any more of it,
200       You have but to command.

Next Next:
From The Tale of Sir Thopas, lines 201-228:
Sir Thopas rides out again