Here begins the Book of the Tales of Canterbury.

The Prologue
When the sweet showers of April have pierced to the root the dryness of March and bathed
every vein in moisture by which strength are the flowers brought forth; when Zephyr also
with his sweet breath has given spirit to the tender new shoots in the grove and field, and the
young sun has run half his course through Aries the Ram, and little birds make melody and
sleep all night with an open eye, so nature pricks them in their hearts; then people long to go
on pilgrimages to renowned shrines in various distant lands, and palmers to seek foreign
shores. And especially from every shires end in !ngland they make their way to "anterbury,
to seek the holy blessed martyr who helped them when they were sick. #$
%ne day in that season, as & was waiting at the 'abard &nn at (outhwark, about to make my
pilgrimage with devout heart to "anterbury, it happened that there came at night to that inn a
company of twenty)nine various people, who by chance had *oined together in fellowship.
All were pilgrims, riding to "anterbury. 'he chambers and the stables were spacious, and
we were lodged well. +ut in brief, when the sun had gone to rest, & had spoken with every
one of them and was soon a part of their company, and agreed to rise early to take our way
to where & have told you. ,-
.evertheless, while & have time and space, before this tale goes further, & think it is
reasonable to tell you all the /ualities of each of them, as they appeared to me, what sort of
people they were, of what station and how they were fashioned. & will begin with a knight.
-0
'here was a 1night and a worthy man, who, from the time when he first rode abroad, loved
chivalry, faithfulness and honor, liberality and courtesy. 2e was valiant in his lords war and
had campaigned, no man farther, in both "hristian and heathen lands, and ever was honored
for his worth. 2e was at Ale3andria when it was won; many times in 4russia he sat in the
place of honor above knights from all nations; he had fought in 5ithuania and in Russia, and
no "hristian man of his did so more often; he had been in 6ranada at the siege of Algeciras
and in +elmaria; he was at 5yeys and in Attalia when they were won, and had landed with
many noble armies in the 5evant. 2e had been in fifteen mortal battles, and had thrice
fought for our faith in the lists at 'remessen and always slain his foe; he had been also, long
before, with the lord of 4alathia against another heathen host in 'urkey; and ever he had
great renown. And though he was valorous, he was prudent, and he was as meek as a maiden
in his bearing. &n all his life he never yet spoke any discourtesy to any living creature, but
was truly a perfect gentle knight. 'o tell you of his e/uipment, his horses were good but he
was not gaily clad. 2e wore a *erkin of coarse cloth all stained with rust by his coat of mail,
for he had *ust returned from his travels and went to do his pilgrimage. 7$
2is son was with him, a young (/uire, a lover and a lusty young soldier. 2is locks were
curled as if laid in a press. 2e may have been twenty years of age, of average height,
ama8ingly nimble and great of strength. 2e had been, at one time, in a campaign in
9landers, Artois, and 4icardy, and had borne himself well, in so little time, in hope to stand
in his ladys grace. 2is clothes were embroidered, red and white, like a meadow full of fresh
flowers. All the day long he was singing or playing upon the flute; he was as fresh as the
month of May. 2is coat was short, with long, wide sleeves. Well could he sit a horse and
ride, make songs, *oust and dance, draw and write. 2e loved so ardently that at night)time he
slept no more than a nightingale. 2e was courteous, modest and helpful, and carved before
his father at table. #::
'hey had a ;eoman with them; on that *ourney they would have no other servants. 2e was
clad in a coat and hood of green, and in his hand he bore a mighty bow and under his belt a
neat sheaf of arrows, bright and sharp, with peacock feathers. 2e knew how to handle his
gear like a good yeoman; his arrows did not fall short on account of any poorly ad*usted
feathers. 2is head was cropped and his face brown. 2e understood well all the practice of
woodcraft. 2e wore a gay arm)guard of leather and at one side a sword and buckler; at the
other a fine dagger, well fashioned and as sharp as a spear)point; on his breast an image of
(t. "hristopher in bright silver, and over his shoulder a horn on a green baldric. 2e was a
woodsman indeed, & believe. ##7
'here was also a nun, a 4rioress, /uiet and simple in her smiling; her greatest oath was <by
(aint 5oy.< (he was named Madame !glantine. Well she sang the divine service, intoned in
a seemly manner in her nose, and spoke 9rench elegantly, after the manner of (tratford)atte)
+ow, for of 4arisian 9rench she knew nothing. (he had been well taught the art of eating,
and let no morsel fall from her lips, and wet but her finger)tips in the sauce. (he knew how
to lift and how to hold a bit so that not a drop fell upon her breast. 2er pleasure was all in
courtesy. (he wiped her upper lip so well that no spot of grease was to be seen in her cup
after she had drunk; and very dainty she was in reaching for her food. And surely she was of
fine behavior, pleasant and amiable of bearing. (he took pains to imitate court manners, to
be stately in her demeanor and to be held worthy of reverence. +ut to tell you of her
character, she was so charitable and so tender)hearted she would weep if she saw a mouse
caught in a trap if it were dead or bleeding. (he had certain small dogs, which she fed upon
roasted meat or milk and finest wheaten bread. (he would weep sorely if one of them died
or was struck at sharply with a stick. (he was all warm feeling and tender heart. 2er wimple
was pleated neatly. 2er nose was slender, her eyes gray as glass, her mouth small and soft
and red. "ertainly she had a fine forehead, almost a span high; truly she was not undersi8ed.
2er cloak was neatly made, & could tell. About her arm was a coral rosary, the larger beads
of green, upon which hung a brooch of shining gold; on it was engraved first an A with a
crown, and after that Amor vincit omnia. #=0
Another .un, her chaplain, was with her, and three 4riests. #=,
'here was a Monk, a very fine and handsome one, a great rider about the country)side and a
lover of hunting, a manly man in all things, fit to be an abbot. 2e had many fine horses in
his stable, and when he rode, men could hear his bridle *ingling in a whistling wind as clear
and loud as the chapel)bell where this lord was prior. +ecause the rule of (t. Maurus or of
(t. +enedict was old and something austere, this same monk let such old things pass and
followed the ways of the newer world. 2e gave not a plucked hen for the te3t that hunters
are not holy, or that a careless monk >that is to say, one out of his cloister? is like a fish out
of water; for that te3t he would not give a herring. And & said his opinion was right; why
should he study and lose his wits ever poring over a book in the cloister, or toil with his
hands and labor as (t. Augustine bids@ 2ow shall the world be served@ 5et (t. Augustine
have his work to himself. 'herefore he rode hard, followed greyhounds as swift as birds on
the wing. All his pleasure was in riding and hunting the hare, and he spared no cost on those.
& saw his sleeves edged at the wrist with fine dark fur, the finest in the country, and to fasten
his hood under his chin he had a finely)wrought brooch of gold; in the larger end was a
love)knot. 2is bald head shone like glass; so did his face, as if it had been anointed. 2e was
a sleek, fat lord. 2is bright eyes rolled in his head, glowing like the fire under a cauldron.
2is boots were of rich soft leather, his horse in e3cellent condition. .ow certainly he was a
fine prelate. 2e was not pale, like a wasted spirit; best of any roast he loved a fat swan. 2is
palfrey was as brown as a berry. 0:7
'here was a begging 9riar, lively and *olly, a very dignified fellow. &n all the four orders
there is not one so skilled in gay and flattering talk. 2e had, at his own e3pense, married off
many young women; he was a noble pillar of his orderA 2e was well beloved and familiar
among franklins everywhere in his countryside, and also with worthy town women, for he
had, as he said himself, more virtue as confessor than a parson, for he held a papal license.
Bery sweetly he heard confession, and his absolution was pleasant; he was an easy man to
give penance, when he looked to have a good dinner. 6ifts to a poor order are a sign that a
man has been well confessed, he maintained; if a man gave, he knew he was contrite. 9or
many people are so stern of heart that they cannot weep, though they suffer sorely;
therefore, instead of weeping and praying, men may give silver to the poor friars. 'he tip of
his hood was stuffed full of knives and pins as presents to fine women. And certainly he had
a pleasant voice in singing, and well could play the fiddle; in singing ballads he bore off the
pri8e. 2is neck was as white as the fleur)de)lis, and he was as strong as a champion. 2e
knew all the town taverns, and every inn)keeper and bar)maid, better than the lepers and
beggar)women. 9or it accorded not with a man of his importance to have ac/uaintance with
sick lepers; it was not seemly, it profited not, to deal with any such poor trash, but all with
rich folk and sellers of victual. +ut everywhere that advantage might follow he was
courteous, lowly and serviceable. .owhere was any so capable; he was the best beggar in
his house, and gave a certain yearly payment so that none of his brethren might trespass on
his routes. 'hough a widow might not have an old shoe to give, so pleasant was his <&n
principio,< he would have his farthing before he went. 2e gained more from his begging
than he ever needed, & believeA 2e would romp about like a puppy)dog. %n days of
reconciliation, or love)days, he was very helpful, for he was not like a cloister)monk or a
poor scholar with a threadbare cope, but like a Master of Arts or a cardinal. 2is half)cope
was of double worsted and came from the clothes)press rounding out like a bell. 2e pleased
his whim by lisping a little, to make his !nglish sound sweet upon his tongue, and in his
harping and singing his eyes twinkled in his head like the stars on a frosty night. 'his
worthy friar was named 2ubert. 0=C
'here was a Merchant with a forked beard, in parti)colored garb. 2igh he sat upon his horse,
a 9landers beaver)hat on his head, and boots fastened neatly with rich clasps. 2e uttered his
opinions pompously, ever tending to the increase of his own profit; at any cost he wished the
sea were safeguarded between Middleburg and %rwell. &n selling crown)pieces he knew
how to profit by the e3change. 'his worthy man employed his wit cunningly; no creature
knew that he was in debt, so stately he was of demeanor in bargaining and borrowing. 2e
was a worthy man indeed, but, to tell the truth, & know not his name. 0$-
'here was also a "lerk from %3ford who had long gone to lectures on logic. 2is horse was
as lean as a rake, and he was not at all fat, & think, but looked hollow)cheeked, and grave
likewise. 2is little outer cloak was threadbare, for he had no worldly skill to beg for his
needs, and as yet had gained himself no benefice. 2e would rather have had at his beds
head twenty volumes of Aristotle and his philosophy, bound in red or black, than rich robes
or a fiddle or gay psaltery. !ven though he was a philosopher, he had little gold in his
money)bo3A +ut all that he could get from his friends he spent on books and learning, and
would pray diligently for the souls of who gave it to him to stay at the schools. %f study he
took most heed and care. .ot a word did he speak more than was needed, and the little he
spoke was formal and modest, short and /uick, and full of high matter. All that he said
tended toward moral virtue. 6ladly would he learn and gladly teach. ,:$
'here was also a (ergeant of the 5aw, an e3cellent man, wary and wise, a fre/uenter of the
porch of 4auls "hurch. 2e was discreet and of great distinction; or seemed such, his words
were so sage. 2e had been *udge at court, by patent and full commission; with his learning
and great reputation he had earned many fees and robes. (uch a man as he for ac/uiring
goods there never was; anything that he desired could be shown to be held in unrestricted
possession, and none could find a flaw in his deeds. .owhere was there so busy a man, and
yet he seemed busier than he was. 2e knew in precise terms every case and *udgment since
1ing William the "on/ueror, and every statute fully, word for word, and none could chide at
his writing. 2e rode in simple style in a parti)colored coat and a belt of silk with small
cross)bars. %f his appearance & will not make a longer story. ,,:
'raveling with him was a 9ranklin, with a beard as white as a daisy, a ruddy face and a
sanguine temper. Well he loved a sop of wine of a morning. 2e was accustomed to live in
pleasure, for he was a very son of !picurus, who held the opinion that perfect felicity stands
in pleasure alone. 2e ever kept an open house, like a true (t. Dulian in his own country)side.
2is bread and his wine both were always of the best; never were a mans wine)vaults better
stored. 2is house was never without a huge supply of fish or meat; in his house it snowed
meat and drink, and every fine pleasure that a man could dream of. According to the season
of the year he varied his meats and his suppers. Many fat partridges were in his cage and
many bream and pike in his fishpond. Woe to his cook unless his sauces were pungent and
sharp, and his gear ever in orderA All the long day stood a great table in his hall fully
prepared. When the *ustices met at sessions of court, there he lorded it full grandly, and
many times he sat as knight of the shire in parliament. A dagger hung at his girdle, and a
pouch of taffeta, white as mornings milk. 2e had been sheriff and auditor; nowhere was so
worthy a vassal. ,=:
A 2aberdasher, a "arpenter, a Weaver, a Eyer, and an Fpholsterer were with us also, all in
the same dress of a great and splendid guild. All fresh and new was their gear. 'heir knives
were not tipped with brass but all with fine)wrought silver, like their girdles and their
pouches. !ach of them seemed a fair burgess to sit in a guildhall on a dais. !ach for his
discretion was fit to be alderman of his guild, and had goods and income sufficient for that.
'heir wives would have consented, & should think; otherwise, they would be at fault. &t is a
fair thing to be called madame, and to walk ahead of other folks to vigils, and to have a
mantle carried royally before them. ,7$
'hey had a "ook with them for that *ourney, to boil chickens with the marrow)bones and
tart powder)merchant and cyprus)root. Well he knew a draught of 5ondon aleA 2e could
roast and fry and broil and stew, make dainty pottage and bake pies well. &t was a great pity,
it seemed to me, that he had a great ulcer on his shin, for he made capon)in)cream with the
best of them. ,$7
'here was a (hipman, from far in the West; for anything & know, he was from Eartmouth.
2e rode a nag, as well as he knew how, in a gown of coarse wool to the knee. 2e had a
dagger hanging on a lace around his neck and under his arm. 'he hot summer had made his
hue brown. &n truth he was a good fellowG many draughts of wine had he drawn at +ordeau3
while the merchant slept. 2e paid no heed to nice conscience; on the high seas, if he fought
and had the upper hand, he made his victims walk the plank. +ut in skill to reckon his moon,
his tides, his currents and dangers at hand, his harbors and navigation, there was none like
him from 2ull to "arthage. &n his undertakings he was bold and shrewd. 2is beard had been
shaken by many tempests. 2e knew the harbors well from 6othland to "ape 9inisterre, and
every creek in (pain and in +rittany. 2is ship was called the Maudelayne. -#:
With us was a Eoctor, a 4hysician; for skill in medicine and in surgery there was no peer in
this entire world. 2e watched sharply for favorable hours and an auspicious ascendant for
his patients treatment, for he was well grounded in astrology. 2e knew the cause of each
malady, if it was hot, cold, dry or moist, from where it had sprung and of what humor. 2e
was a thorough and a perfect practitioner. 2aving found the cause and source of his trouble,
/uickly he had ready the sick mans cure. 2e had his apothecaries all prepared to send him
electuaries and drugs, for each helped the others gain; their friendship was not formed of
lateA 2e knew well the old Aesculapius, Eioscorides and Rufus, 2ippocrates, 2aly and
6alen, (erapion, Rhasis and Avicenna, Averroes, Eamascene and "onstantine, +ernard,
6atisden and 6ilbertine. 2is own diet was moderate, with no e3cess, but nourishing and
simple to digest. 2is study was only a little on (cripture. 2e was clad in red and blue)gray
cloth, lined with taffeta and sendal silk. ;et he was but moderate in spending, and kept what
he gained during the pestilence. 6old is a medicine from the heart in physicians terms;
doubtless that was why he loved gold above all else. ---
'here was a 6ood Wife from near +ath, but she was somewhat deaf, and that was pity. (he
was so skilled in making cloth that she surpassed those of ;pres and 6hent. &n all the parish
there was no wife who should march up to make an offering before her, and if any did, so
angered she was that truly she was out of all charity. 2er kerchiefs were very fine in te3ture;
and & dare swear those that were on her head for (unday weighed ten pounds. 2er hose were
of a fine scarlet and tightly fastened, and her shoes were soft and new. 2er face was bold
and fair and red. All her life she was a worthy woman; she had had five husbands at the
church)door, besides other company in her youth, but of that there is no need to speak now.
(he had thrice been at Derusalem; many distant streams had she crossed; she had been on
pilgrimages to +oulogne and to Rome, to (antiago in 6alicia and to "ologne. 'his
wandering by the way had taught her various things. 'o tell the truth, she was gap)toothed;
she sat easily on an ambling horse, wearing a fair wimple and on her head a hat as broad as a
buckler or target. About her broad hips was a short riding skirt and on her feet a pair of
sharp spurs. Well could she laugh and prattle in company. 5ove and its remedies she knew
all about, & dare give my word, for she had been through the old dance. -77
'here was a good man of religion, a poor 4arson, but rich in holy thought and deed. 2e was
also a learned man, a clerk, and would faithfully preach "hrists gospel and devoutly instruct
his parishioners. 2e was benign, wonderfully diligent, and patient in adversity, as he was
often tested. 2e was loath to e3communicate for unpaid tithes, but rather would give to his
poor parishioners out of the church alms and also of his own substance; in little he found
sufficiency. 2is parish was wide and the houses far apart, but not even for thunder or rain
did he neglect to visit the farthest, great or small, in sickness or misfortune, going on foot, a
staff in his hand. 'o his sheep did he give this noble e3ample, which he first set into action
and afterward taught; these words he took out of the gospel, and this similitude he added
also, that if gold will rust, what shall iron do@ 9or if a priest upon whom we trust were to be
foul, it is no wonder that an ignorant layman would be corrupt; and it is a shame >if a priest
will but pay attention to it? that a shepherd should be defiled and the sheep clean. A priest
should give good e3ample by his cleanness how his sheep should live. 2e would not farm
out his benefice, nor leave his sheep stuck fast in the mire, while he ran to 5ondon to (t.
4auls, to get an easy appointment as a chantry)priest, or to be retained by some guild, but
dwelled at home and guarded his fold well, so that the wolf would not make it miscarry. 2e
was no hireling, but a shepherd. And though he was holy and virtuous, he was not pitiless to
sinful men, nor cold or haughty of speech, but both discreet and benign in his teaching; to
draw folk up to heaven by his fair life and good e3ample, this was his care. +ut when a man
was stubborn, whether of high or low estate, he would scold him sharply. 'here was
nowhere a better priest than he. 2e looked for no pomp and reverence, nor yet was his
conscience too particular; but the teaching of "hrist and his apostles he taught, and first he
followed it himself. H0$
With him was his brother, a 4loughman, who had drawn many cartloads of dung. 2e was a
faithful and good toiler, living in peace and perfect charity. 2e loved 6od best at all times
with all his whole heart, in good and ill fortune, and then his neighbor even as himself. 2e
would thresh and ditch and delve for every poor person without pay, but for "hrists sake, if
he were able. 2e paid his tithes fairly and well on both his produce and his goods. 2e wore
a ploughmans frock and rode upon a mare. H-#
'here was a Reeve also and a Miller, a (ummoner and a 4ardoner, a Manciple and myself.
'here were no more. H==
'he Miller was a stout fellow, big of bones and brawn; and well he showed them, for
everywhere he went to a wrestling match he would always carry off the pri8e ram. 2e was
short)shouldered and broad, a thick, knotty fellow. 'here was no door that he could not
heave off its hinges, or break with his head at a running. 2is beard was as red as any sow or
fo3, and broad like a spade as well. Fpon the very tip of his nose he had a wart, and on it
stood a tuft of red hair like the bristles on a sows ears, and his nostrils were black and wide.
At his thigh hung a sword and buckler. 2is mouth was as great as a great furnace. 2e was a
teller of dirty stories and a buffoon, and it was mostly of sin and obscenity. 2e knew well
how to steal corn and take his toll of meal three times over; and yet he had a golden thumb,
by 6odA 2e wore a white coat and a blue hood. 2e could blow and play the bagpipe well,
and with its noise he led us out of town. H==
'here was a gentle Manciple of an &nn of "ourt, of whom other stewards might take
e3ample for craftiness in buying victuals. Whether he paid in cash or took on credit, he was
so watchful in his buying that he was always ahead and in good standing. .ow is it not a full
fair gift of 6od that the wit of such an unlettered man shall surpass the wisdom of a great
body of learned men@ 2e had more than a score of masters, e3pert and diligent in law, of
whom in that house there were a do8en worthy to be stewards of lands and revenues of any
lord in !ngland, to let him live upon his income, honorably, free from debt, unless he were
mad, or live as plainly as he would; or able to help a whole shire in any case that might
occur. And yet this Manciple hoodwinked all of them. H$=
'he Reeve was a slender, bilious man. 2is beard was shaven as close as could be, and his
hair was cut short around his ears and docked in front like a priests. 2is legs were full and
lean like a stick; & could see no calf. 2e could well keep a bin and a garner and no inspector
could get the best of him. &n the drought or in the wet he could foretell the yield of his grain
and seed. 2is lords sheep, poultry and cattle, his dairy and swine and horses and all his
stock, this Reeve had wholly under his governance, and submitted his accounts thereon ever
since his lord was twenty years of age; and none could ever find him out in arrears. 'here
was no bailiff nor herdsman nor other churl whose tricks and craftiness he didnt know. 'hey
were as afraid of him as of the plague. 2is dwelling)place was a pleasant one on a heath, all
shaded with green trees. +etter than his lord he knew how to pick up wealth, and had a rich
private hoard; he knew how to please his master cunningly by giving and lending him out of
what was his masters by right, and to win thanks for that, and a coat and hood as a reward
too. &n his youth he had learned a good trade and was a fine carpenter and workman. 'his
Reeve sat upon a fine dapple gray cob named (cot. 2e wore a long surcoat of blue and at his
side a rusty blade. 2e was from .orfolk, near a town they call +aldeswell. 2is coat was
tucked up around him like a friars, and he always rode last of us all. =00
A (ummoner was with us there, a fire)red cherubim)faced fellow, salt)phlegmed and pimply,
with slits for eyes, scabby black eyebrows and thin ragged beard, and as hot and lecherous
as a sparrow. "hildren were terrified at his visage. .o /uicksilver, white)lead, brimstone,
bora3 nor ceruse, no cream of tartar nor any ointment that would clean and burn, could help
his white blotches or the knobs on his chaps. 2e loved garlic, onions and leeks too well, and
to drink strong wine as red as blood, and then he would talk and cry out like mad. And after
drinking deep of wine he would speak no word but 5atin, in which he had a few terms, two
or three, learned out of some canon. .o wonder was that, for he heard it all day long, and
you know well how a *ay can call <Walter< after hearing it a long time, as well as the pope
could. +ut if he were tested in any other point, his learning was found to be all spent.
Iuestio /uid *uris, he was always crying. 2e was a kind and gentle rogue; a better fellow &
never knew; for a /uart of wine he would allow a good fellow to have his concubine for a
year and completely e3cuse him. (ecretly he knew how to swindle anyone. And if anywhere
he found a good fellow, he would teach him in such case to have no fear of the archdeacons
e3communication, unless a mans soul is in his purse, for it was in his purse he should be
punished. <'he Archdeacons hell is your purse,< he said. >+ut well & know he lied in his
teeth; every guilty man should fear the churchs curse, for it will slay, *ust as absolution
saves, and also let him beware of a significavit.? Within his *urisdiction on his own terms he
held all the young people of the diocese, knew their guilty secrets, and was their chief
adviser. 2e had a garland on his head large enough for an ale)house sign, and carried a
round loaf of bread as big as a buckler. ==$
With him rode a gentle 4ardoner, of Roncesvalles, his friend and companion, who had come
straight from the court of Rome. 2e sang loudly, <"ome here, love, to me,< while the
(ummoner *oined him with a stiff bass; never was there a trumpet of half such a sound. 'his
4ardoner had wa3y)yellow hair, hanging smooth, like a hank of fla3, spread over his
shoulders in thin strands. 9or sport he wore no hood, which was trussed up in his wallet;
riding with his hair disheveled, bareheaded e3cept for his cap, he thought he was all in the
latest fashion. 2is eyes were glaring like a hares. 2e had a veronica sewed on his cap, and
his wallet, brimful of pardons hot from Rome, lay before him on his saddle. 2is voice was
as small as a goats. 2e had no beard nor ever would have, his face was as smooth as if
lately shaven; & believe he was a mare or a gelding. +ut as for his trade, from +erwick to
Eover there was not such another pardoner. &n his bag he had a pillow)case which he said
was our 5adys kerchief, and a small piece of the sail which he said (t. 4eter had when he
walked upon the sea and Desus "hrist caught him. 2e had a cross of latoun, set full of false
gems, and pigs bones in a glass. +ut with these relics, when he found a poor parson
dwelling in the country, in one day he gained himself more money than the parson gained in
two months. And thus, with flattering deceit and tricks, he made the parson and the people
his dupes. +ut to give him his due, after all he was a noble ecclesiastic in church; he could
read well a lesson or legend and best of all sing an offertory. 9or he knew well that when
that was done he must preach and file his tongue smooth, to win silver as he well knew how.
'herefore he sang merrily and loud. 7#-
.ow & have told you in few words the station, the array, the number of this company and
why they were assembled in (outhwark as well, at this noble inn, the 'abard, close to the
+ell tavern. +ut now it is time to say how we behaved that same evening, when we had
arrived at that inn; and afterward & will tell you of our *ourney and the rest of our
pilgrimage. 70-
+ut first & pray that by your courtesy you ascribe it not to my ill manners if & speak plainly in
this matter, telling you their words and cheer, and if & speak their very words as they were.
9or this you know as well as &, that whoever tells a tale that another has told, he must repeat
every word, as nearly as he can, although he may speak ever so rudely and freely.
%therwise, he must tell his tale falsely, or pretend, or find new words. 2e may not spare any,
even if it were his own brother; he is bound to say one word as well as the ne3t. "hrist
himself spoke plainly in 2oly (criptures and you know well there is no baseness in that.
And 4lato, whoever can read him, says that the word must be cousin to the deed. 7-0
& also pray you to forgive me though & have not set folk here in this tale according to their
station, as they should be. My wit is short, you can well understand. 7-=
%ur host put us all in good spirits, and soon brought us to supper and served us with the best
of provisions. 'he wine was strong and very glad we were to drink. %ur 2ost was a seemly
man, fit to be marshal in a ban/uet)hall, a large man with bright eyes, bold in speech, wise
and discreet, lacking nothing of manhoodG there is not a fairer burgess in "heapside. 2e was
in all things a very merry fellow, and after supper, when we had paid our bills, he began to
*est and speak of mirth among other things. 7=:
<.ow gentle people,< he said, <truly you are heartily welcome to me, for, by my word, if &
shall tell the truth, & have not seen this year so merry a company at this inn at once. & would
gladly make mirth if & only knew how. And & have *ust now thought of a mirthful thing to
give you pleasure, which shall cost nothing. ;ou go to "anterbury, 6od speed you, and may
the blessed martyr duly reward youA & know full well, along the way you mean to tell tales
and amuse yourselves, for in truth it is no comfort or mirth to ride along dumb as a
stone.77-
<And therefore, as & said, & will make you a game. &f it please you all by common consent to
stand by my words and to do as & shall tell you, now, by my fathers soul >and he is in
heaven?, tomorrow as you ride along, if you are not merry, & will give you my head. 2old up
your hands, without more wordsA< 7$,
%ur mind was not long to decide. We thought it not worth debating, and agreed with him
without more thought, and told him to say his verdict as he wished. 7$7
<6entle people,< said he, <please listen now, but take it not, & pray you, disdainfully. 'o
speak briefly and plainly, this is the point, that each of you for pastime shall tell two tales in
this *ourney to "anterbury, and two others on the way home, of things that have happened in
the past. And whichever of you bears himself best, that is to say, that tells now tales most
instructive and delighting, shall have a supper at the e3pense of us all, sitting here in this
place, beside this post, when we come back from "anterbury. And to add to your sport & will
gladly go with you at my own cost, and be your guide. And whoever opposes my *udgment
shall pay all that we spend on the way. &f you agree that this will be so, tell me now, without
more words, and without delay & will plan for that.< $:C
We agreed to this thing and pledged our word with glad hearts, and prayed him to do so, and
to be our ruler and to remember and *udge our tales, and to appoint a supper at a certain
price. We would be ruled at his will in great and small, and thus with one voice we agreed to
his *udgment. At this the wine was fetched, and we drank and then each went to rest without
a longer stay. $0#
&n the morning, when the day began to spring, our host arose and played rooster to us all,
and gathered us in a flock. 9orth we rode, a little faster than a walk, to (t. 'homas)a)
Watering. 'here our 2ost drew up his horse and said, <5isten, gentle people, if you will. ;ou
know your agreement; & remind you of it. &f what you said at the hour of evensong last night
is still what you agree to this morning at the time of matins, let us see who shall tell the first
tale. (o may & ever drink beer or wine, whoever rebels against my *udgment shall pay all
that is spent on the *ourney. .ow draw cuts, before we depart further; he who has the
shortest shall begin the tales. (ir 1night, my master and my lord,< said he, <now draw your
lot, for this is my will, "ome nearer, my lady 4rioress, and you, sir "lerk, be not shy, study
not; set your hands to them, every one of you.< $-#
Without delay every one began to draw, and in short, whether it were by chance or not, the
truth is, the lot fell to the 1night, at which every one was merry and glad. 2e was to tell his
tale, as was reasonable, according to the agreement that you have heard. What need is there
for more words@ $-C
When this good man saw it was so, as one discreet and obedient to his free promise he said,
<(ince & begin the game, what, in 6ods name, welcome be the cutA .ow let us ride on, and
listen to what & say.< And at that word we rode forth on our *ourney. And he soon began his
tale with a cheerful spirit, and spoke in this way. $H$
2ere ends the 4rologue of this book.