'No more of this, for Godde’s dignity! ' Quoth oure Hoste; 'for thou makest me So weary of thy very lewedness,* *stupidity, ignorance <1> That, all so wisly* God my soule bless, *surely Mine eares ache for thy drafty* speech.
*worthless <2> Now such a rhyme the devil I beteche:* *commend to This may well be rhyme doggerel,' quoth he. 'Why so? ' quoth I; 'why wilt thou lette* me *prevent More of my tale than any other man, Since that it is the best rhyme that I can?
'* *know 'By God! ' quoth he, 'for, plainly at one word, Thy drafty rhyming is not worth a tord: Thou dost naught elles but dispendest* time. *wastest Sir, at one word, thou shalt no longer rhyme.
Let see whether thou canst tellen aught *in gest,* *by way of Or tell in prose somewhat, at the least, narrative* In which there be some mirth or some doctrine.
' 'Gladly,' quoth I, 'by Godde’s sweete pine,* *suffering I will you tell a little thing in prose, That oughte like* you, as I suppose, *please Or else certes ye be too dangerous.
* *fastidious It is a moral tale virtuous, *All be it* told sometimes in sundry wise *although it be* By sundry folk, as I shall you devise.
As thus, ye wot that ev’ry Evangelist, That telleth us the pain* of Jesus Christ, *passion He saith not all thing as his fellow doth; But natheless their sentence is all soth,* *true And all accorden as in their sentence,* *meaning All be there in their telling difference; For some of them say more, and some say less, When they his piteous passion express; I mean of Mark and Matthew, Luke and John; But doubteless their sentence is all one.
Therefore, lordinges all, I you beseech, If that ye think