The works of our ancient, learned, & excellent English poet, Jeffrey Chaucer as they have lately been compar'd with the best manuscripts, and several things added, never before in print : to which is adjoyn'd The story of the siege of Thebes, by John Lidgate ... : together with The life of Chaucer, shewing his countrey, parentage, education, marriage, children, revenues, service, reward, friends, books, death : also a table, wherein the old and obscure words in Chaucer are explained, and such words ... that either are, by nature or derivation, Arabick, Greek, Latine, Italian, French, Dutch, or Saxon, mark'd with particular notes for the better understanding of their original.

¶The Monke. 5.

A Monke there was, fair for the maistry, An out rider, that loved venery: A manly man, to been an abbot able, Full many a dainty horse had he in stable: And when he rode, men might his bridle here Gingeling in a whistling wind as clere, And eke as loud as doth the chappell bell: There as this lord was keeper of the sell, The rule of saint Maure and of saint Benet, Because it was old and somedele streit, This ilke Monke let old things to passe, And held after the new world the pace: He yave not of the text a pulled hen, That saith, that hunters be not holy men, Ne that a Monke, when he is recheless, Is like to a fish that is waterless: This to say, a Monke out of Cloystre: This ilke text yeeld he not worth an oystre. And I say his opinion was good, Whereto should he study, and make himselfe wood, Vpon a booke alway in Cloyster to pore, Or swinke with his hands, or to labore, As Austin bid, how shull the world be served? Let Austin haue his swinke to him reserved. Therefore he was a pricksoure aright, Greyhounds he had as swift as foul of flight: Of prickinge and of huntinge for the hare Was all his lust, for no coste would he spare. I sawe his sleves purfled at the hande With Grece, and that the finest in a lande;

And for to fast his hoode vnder the chinne, He had of golde wrought a curious pinne. A love knot in the greater ende there was, His hede was bald, and shone as any glas. And eke his face, as he had ben anointe, He was a lorde ful fat and in good pointe. His eyen slepe, and rolinge in his hede, That stemed as a furneis of a lead. His bootes sowple, his hors in great estate, Now certainly he was a fair prelate. He was not pale as a forpined ghost, A fatte Swan loued he best of any rost. His palfray was brown as is a berry.