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SO whan þe knyght hath þus hese tale told [folio 175a]
In al þe route nas þere ȝyng ne old
That he ne seyde it nas a noble story
And worthy for to drawe to memory
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And nameli þe gentilis euerychon
Our ost lough and swor so mote I gon
Thys goth aryght onbokeled is the male
Let sen now who schal telle a noþer tale
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ffor trewely the game is wel begunne
Now tellyth ȝe sere monk ȝyf þat ȝe cunne
Sumwhat to quite with þe knyghtis tale
The mellere that dronke was al pale
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So that a-nethe vp on his hors he sat
He nulde a-vale neythyr hod ne hat
Ne abyde no man for hese curteysye
But in pilat voys he gan to crye
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And swor by armys & by blod & bonys
I can a noble tale for thenonys
With whiche he wele now quyte þe knyȝtis tale
Oure ost saw þat he was dronke of ale
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And seyde a-byd Robyn myn leue brothyr
Sum betere man schal telle vs fyrst a nothyr
Onbyd & lat vs werke thryftyly
By goddys soule / quod he þat wele nat I
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ffor I wele speke or ellys gon myn wey
Oure ost answerde telle on a delewey
Thow art a fol thy wit is ouercome
Now herkenygh quod the mellere alle & some
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But fyrst I make a protestacyoun
That I am dronke I knowe it be myn soun
And þerfore ȝif I mys speke or seye
Wite it the ale of Southwerk I preye
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