¶Here endeth the Reues tale, and here foloweth the Cokes prologue.
THe Coke of London, whyle that the Reue spake
For ioye hym thought he claude hym on the bake
A ha ({quod} he) for Christes passyon
This myller hath a sharpe conclusyon
Vpon his argument of herby gage
Wel sayd Salomon in hys langage
Ne bryng not euery man in to thyn hous
For herbrowyng by nyght is perelous
Wel ought a man auysed for to be
Whom that he brought in to hys pryuete
I pray to god so yeue me sorowe and care
If euer sythen I hyght Hodge of ware
Herde I myller bette ysette awerke
He had a iape of malyce in the derke.
But god forbyd that we stynten here
And therfore yf ye vouche safe to here
A tale of me, that am a poore man
I wol you tel as wel as I can
A lytel iape, that fel in our cyte
¶Our host sayd, syr a graunte it the
Nowe tel on Rodger, loke that it be good
For many a pasty haste thou letten blood
And many a Iacke of Douer hast thou solde
That hath be twyse hotte and twyse colde
Of many a pilgrym hast thou Christes curse
For of thy parsse yet fare they the worse
That they haue eaten wyth thy stobel goos
For in thy shoppe is manye a slye loos
Nowe tel on gentle Rogere by thy name
But yet I pray the be not wrothe for game
A man may say ful sothe in game and play.
¶Thou sayst ful sothe ({quod} Roger) by my say
But soth play, quade play, as ye sleming saith
And therfore Henry Baylly by thy fayth
Be thou not wrothe, or we departen here
Though that my tale ben of an hostelere
But nathelesse, I wol not tellen it yet
But er we parte, ywys thou shalte be quyt
And therwithal he lough and made chere
And sayd his tale, as ye shullen after here.