A close-cropped head had he, with a sun-browned face.
Of woodcraft he knew all the skills.
Upon his arm he bore a fine wrist guard,
And by his side a buckler and sword,
And on his other side a shining dagger,
Hafted well, and sharp as point of spear:
A silver Saint Christopher on his breast shone.
An horn he bar, the bawdrik was of grene;
A forster was he, soothly, as I gesse.

Ther was also a Nonne, a PRIORESSE,
That of hir smyling was ful simple and coy:
Hir gretteste ooth was but by sëynt Loy;
And she was cleped madame Eglentyne.
Ful wel she song the service divyne,
Entuned in hir nose ful semely;
And Frensh she spak ful faire and fetisly,
After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe,
For Frensh of Paris was to hir unknowe.
At mete wel y-taught was she with-alle;
She leet no morsel from hir lippes falle,
Ne wette hir fingres in hir sauce depe.
Wel coude she carie a morsel, and wel kepe,
That no drope ne fille up-on hir brest.
In curteisye was set ful muche hir lest.
Hir over lippe wyped she so clene,
That in hir coppe was no ferthing sene
Of grece, whan she dronken hadde hir draughte.
Ful semely after hir mete she raughte,
And sikerly she was of greet disport,
And ful plesaunt, and amiable of port,
And peyned hir to countrefete chere
Of court, and been estatlich of manere,
And to ben holden digne of reverence.
But, for to speken of hir conscience,
She was so charitable and so pitous,
She wolde wepe, if that she sawe a mous
Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.
Of smale houndes had she, that she fedde
With rosted flesh, or milk and wastel-breed,
But sore weep she if oon of hem were deed,
Or if men smoot it with a yerde smerte:
And al was conscience and tendre herte.
Ful semely hir wimpel pinched was;
Hir nose tretys; hir eyen greye as glas;
Hir mouth ful smal, and ther-to softe and reed;
But sikerly she hadde a fair forheed;
A horn he carried, with strap of green;
A forester was he in fact, as I guess.

There was also a Nun, a PRIORESSE,
Whose smile was full simple and modest—
Her greatest oath was but by Saint Eligius!—
And she was called Madame Eglentyne.
Full well she sang the service divine,
Intoning in her nose full seemly;
And French she spoke with elegant fluency,
After the School of Stratford at Bow, 6
For French of Paris was to her unknown.
At table well taught was she withal:
She let no morsel from her lips fall,
Nor wet her fingers in her sauce too deep.
Well could she convey a spoonful, and take care
That no drop fell upon her breast.
She took much pleasure in etiquette.
Her upper lip she wiped so clean,
That in her cup was no drop seen
Of grease, when she had drunk her draft.
Full politely for her food she reached,
And certainly she was a cheerful sort,
And full pleasant, nice deportment,
And she took pains to reflect the manners
Of court, and to be stately in her carriage,
And to be held worthy of reverence.
But, for to speak of her compassion,
She was so charitable and kind,
She would weep if she saw a mouse
Caught in a trap, or if it were dead or bleeding.
Some small hounds had she, that she fed
With roasted flesh, or milk and fine white bread.
But sorely wept she if one of them were dead,
Or if someone beat it with a stick;
She was all feeling and tender heart.
Full seemly her wimple pleated was,
Her nose graceful, her eyes gray as glass,
Her mouth full small, lips soft and red,
But certainly she had a fair forehead—
It was almost a spanne brood, I trowe;
For, hardily, she was nat undergrowe.
Ful fetis was hir cloke, as I was war.
Of smal coral aboute hir arm she bar
A peire of bedes, gauded al with grene;
And ther-on heng a broche of gold ful shene,
On which ther was first write a crowned A,
And after, Amor vincit omnia.

Another NONNE with hir hadde she,
That was hir chapeleyne, and PREESTES THREE.

A MONK ther was, a fair for the maistrye,
An out-rydere, that lovede venerye;
A manly man, to been an abbot able.
Ful many a deyntee hors hadde he in stable:
And, whan he rood, men mighte his brydel here
Ginglen in a whistling wind as clere,
And eek as loude as dooth the chapel-belle
Ther as this lord was keper of the celle.
The reule of seint Maure or of seint Beneit,
By-cause that it was old and som-del streit,
This ilke monke leet olde thinges pace,
And held after the newe world the space.
He yaf nat of that text a pulled hen,
That seith, that hunters been nat holy men;
Ne that a monk, whan he is cloisterlees,
Is lykned til a fish that is waterlees;
This is to seyn, a monk out of his cloistre.
But thilke text held he nat worth an oistre;
And I seyde, his opinioun was good.
What sholde he studie, and make himselven wood,
Upon a book in cloistre alwey to poure,
Or swinken with his handes, and laboure,
As Austin bit? How shal the world be served?
Lat Austin have his swink to him reserved.