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 Prologue to the Story of THEBES.

WHen bright Phebus passed was the Ram Midde of Aprill, and into the Bull came, And Saturne old, with his frosty face, In Virgine taken had his place, Melancolike, and slough of motion, And was also in the opposition Of Lucina the Moone, moist and pale, That many shoure fro heauen made auaile, When Aurora was in the morrow redde, And Iupiter in the Crabs hedde Hath take his paleis and his mansion, The lusty time, and joly fresh season, When that Flora the noble mighty queene The so••le hath clad in new tender greene, With her floures craftely meint, Braunch & bough with red & white depeint, Fleeting the Baume on hils and on vales, The time in sooth, when Canterbury tales, Complet and told at many a sundry stage Of estates in the pilgrimage, Eueriche man like to his degree, Some of disport, some of moralitie, Some of knighthood, loue, and gentillesse, And some also of parfite holinesse, And some also, in sooth of ribaudry, To make laughter in the company, Ech admitted, for none would other greue, Like as the Cooke, the Miller, and the Reue, Aquite hemselfe, shortly to conclude Boistously in her tearmes rude, When they hadden well dronken of the boll, And eke also with his pilled noll, The Pardoner beardlesse all his chin, Glasie eyes, and face of Cherubin, Telling a tale, to anger with the Frere, As openly the story can you lere Word by word, with euery circumstance, Echone ywrit, and put in remembrance, By him that was, if I shall not faine, Floure of Poetes, throughout all Bretaine, Which soothly had most of excellence In Rhetorike, and in eloquence, Rede his making, who list the trouth find, Which neuer shall appallen in my mind, But alway fresh been in mine memory, To whom be youe prise, honour, and glory Of well seeing, first in our language, Cheef Registrer in this pilgrimage, All that was told, foryeting nought at all, Feined tales, nor thing historiall, With many Prouerbes diuers and vncouth, By rehearsaile of his sugred mouth, Of ech thing keeping in substaunce The sentence hole, without variaunce, Voiding the chaffe, soothly for to saine, Enlumining the true piked greine, By crafty writing of his sawes swete, Fro the time that they did mete. First the Pilgrimes soothly euerychone, At Tabarde assembled one by one, And fro Southwerke, soothly for to sey, To Canterbury riding on her wey, Telling a tale, as I rehearse can, Liche as the host assigned euery man, None so hardy, his bidding disobey, And thus while that the pilgrimes ley At Canterbury, well lodged one and all, I not in sooth what I may it call, Hap or Fortune, in conclusioun, That me befell, to enter into the toun, The holy saint plainely to visite, After my sickenesse vowes to acquite, In a Cope of blacke, and not of grene, On a palfray, slender, long, and lene, With rusty bridle, made not for the sale, My man toforne, with a void male, That of Fortune tooke mine Inne anone, Where y^• pilgrims were lodged euerychone, The same time her gouernour the host, Stonding in hall, full of wind and bost, Liche to a man wonder sterne and fers, Which spake to me, & saied anon dan Pers, Dan Dominike, dan Godfray, or Clement, Ye be welcome newly into Kent, Thogh your bridle haue nother boos ne bell, Beseeching you, that ye will tell First of your name, and what countre, Without more, shortly that ye be, That looke so pale, all deuoid of blood, Vpon your head a wonder thredbare hood, Well arrayed for to ride late? I answered, my name was Lidgate, Monke of Bury, nie fifty yeare of age, Come to this toune to doe my pilgrimage, As I haue hight, I haue thereof no shame. Dan Iohn (qd. he well brouke ye your name, Thogh ye be sole, beeth right glad and light, Praying you to soupe with vs this night, And ye shall haue made at your deuis A great pudding, or a round hagis, A franche moile, a tanse, or a froise, To been a Monke, slender is your coise,

Ye haue been sicke, I dare mine head assure, Or let feed in a faint pasture, Lift vp your head, be glad, take no sorrow, And ye should home ride with vs to morrow, I say, when ye rested haue your fill, After supper sleepe will done none ill, Wrap well your head clothes round about, Strong nottie ale will make you to rout, Take a pillow, that ye lie not low, If need be, spare not to blow, To hold wind, by mine opinion, Will engender Colles passion, And make men to greuen on her rops, When they haue filled her maws & her crops, But toward night eat some Fennell rede, Annis, Commin, or Coriander sede, And like as I power haue and might, I charge you rise not at midnight, Though it so be the Moone shine clere, I will my selfe be your Orlogere To morrow earely when I see my time, For we will forth parcell afore prime, Accompany parde shall doe you good, What looke vp Monke, for by Cockes blood Thou shalt be merry, who so that say nay, For to morrow anone as it is day, And that it ginne in the East to daw, Thou shalt be bound to a new law, At going out of Canterbury toun, And lien aside thy professioun, Thou shalt not chese, nor thy selfe withdraw, If any mirth be found in thy maw, Like the custome of this company, For none so proud, that dare me deny, Knight nor knaue, Chanon, Priest, ne Nonne To tell a tale plainely as they conne, When I assigne, and see time oportune, And for that we our purpose woll contune, We will homeward the same custome vse, And thou shalt not plainely thee excuse: Be now well ware, study well to night, But for all this, be of heart light, Thy wit shall be the sharper and the bet. And we anon were to supper set, And serued well vnto our pleasance, And soone after by good gouernance, Vnto bed goeth euery manner wight, And toward morrow, as soon as it was light, Euery pilgrime, both bet and wors, As bad our host, tooke anone his hors, When the Sunne rose in the East full clere, Fully in purpose to come to dinere Vnto Ospring, and breake there our fast. And when we werne fro Canterbury past, Nought the space of a bowe draught, Our host in hast hath my bridle raught, And to me saied, as it were in game, Come forth dan Iohn, by your christen name, And let vs make some manner mirth or play, * Shete your ports a twenty deuill way, Is no disport so to patere and say, It woll make your lips wonder dray, Tell some tale, and make thereof a jape, For by my Rouncie thou shalt it not escape, But preach not of none holinesse, Ginne some tale of mirth or of gladnesse, And nodde not with thine heauy becke, Tell vs some thing that draweth to effect, Onely of joy make no lenger let. And when I saw it would be no bet, I obeyed vnto his bidding, So as the law me bound in all thing, And as I coud, with a pale cheare, My tale I gan anone, as ye shall heare.

Finitur Prologus de Thebes. Et sequitur quoque pars prima libri.