¶ The prologe / of the Marchantes tale. [folio 137b]
IN feith squyer/ thow hast thee wel yquyt
And gentilly / I preise wel thy wit
Quod the Marchant considerynge thy youthe
So feelyngly thow spekest sire I allowthe
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As to my doom / ther is noon þat is heere
Of eloquence / þat shal be thy peere
If þat thow lyue / god yeue thee good chaunce
And in vertu / sende thee continuaunce
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ffor of thy speche / I haue gret deyntee
I haue a sone / and by the Trinitee
I hadde leuere / than .xx.ti pound worth lond
Thogh it right now ./ were fallen in myn hond
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He were a man / of swich discrecion
As þat ye ben / fy on possession
But if a man / be vertuous with al
I haue my sone snybbed / and yit shal
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ffor he to vertu / lusteth nat entende
But for to pleye at dees / and to despende
And lese al that he hath / is his vsage
And he hath leuere / talken with a page
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Than to commune / with any gentil wight
Where he myghte lerne / gentillesse aright
¶ Straw for youre gentillesse / quod oure hoost
What Marchant / pardee sire wel thow woost
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That ech of yow / moot tellen atte leeste
A tale / or two / or breken his biheste
¶ That knowe I wel sire / quod the Marchant certeyn
I prey yow / haueth me nat in desdeyn
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