He rood but hoomly in a medlee cote
Girt with a ceint of silk, with barres smale;
Of his array telle I no lenger tale.

A FRANKELEYN was in his companye;
Whyt was his berd, as is the dayesye.
Of his complexioun he was sangwyn.
Wel loved he by the morwe a sop in wyn.
To liven in delyt was ever his wone,
For he was Epicurus owne sone,
That heeld opinioun, that pleyn delyt
Was verraily felicitee parfyt.
An housholdere, and that a greet, was he;
Seint Julian he was in his contree.
His breed, his ale, was alwey after oon;
A bettre envyned man was no-wher noon.
With-oute bake mete was never his hous,
Of fish and flesh, and that so plentyous,
It snewed in his hous of mete and drinke,
Of alle deyntees that men coude thinke.
After the sondry sesons of the yeer,

A SERGEANT OF THE LAW,16 alert and wise,
Who had often been at the parvis,17
There was also, full rich of excellence.
Discreet he was and worthy of great respect:
He seemed such, his words were so wise.
Judge he was full often in assizes cases,18
With full authority from the king;
For his knowledge and for his high renown,
Of fees and robes had he many a one.
So sharp a wheeler-dealer was nowhere known:
All contracts were with no strings attached;
His ownership might not be attacked.
Nowhere so busy a man as he there was;
And yet he seemed busier than he was.
He knew the details of all the cases,
That from the time of King William had taken place.
Thereto he could write and draw up papers;
No one could find fault with his writing,
And every statute he knew by heart.
He rode unfancily in a multicolored coat,
Girt with a cinch of silk with stripes narrow;
Of his outfit I will no more tell.

A FRANKLIN19 was in his company.
White was his beard as is the daisy;
Of his temperament he was sanguine.20
Well he loved a breakfast cake soaked in wine.
To live in delight was ever his custom,
For he was Epicurus’ own son,
Who held opinion that complete delight
Was the true measure of perfection.
A householder, and a great one, was he;
Saint Julian21 he was in his country.
His bread, his ale were always good;
A better wine-cellared man was nowhere known.
Without meat pies was never his house,
Of fish and flesh, and that so plenteous
It rained in his house of meat and drink.
Of all delicacies that men could think,
According to the sundry seasons of the year,
So chaunged he his mete and his soper.
Ful many a fat partrich hadde he in mewe,
And many a breem and many a luce in stewe.
Wo was his cook, but-if his sauce were
Poynaunt and sharp, and redy al his gere.
His table dormant in his halle alway
Stood redy covered al the longe day.
At sessiouns ther was he lord and sire;
Ful ofte tyme he was knight of the shire.
An anlas and a gipser al of silk
Heng at his girdel, whyt as morne milk.
A shirreve hadde he been, and a countour;
Was no-wher such a worthy vavasour.

An HABERDASSHER and a CARPENTER,
A WEBBE, a DYERE, and a TAPICER,
Were with us eek, clothed in o liveree,
Of a solempne and greet fraternitee.
Ful fresh and newe hir gere apyked was;
Hir knyves were y-chaped noght with bras,
But al with silver, wroght ful clene and weel,
Hir girdles and hir pouches every-deel.
Wel semed ech of hem a fair burgeys,
To sitten in a yeldhalle on a deys.
Everich, for the wisdom that he can,
Was shaply for to been an alderman.