The Canterbury Tales · The Franklin’s Tale · The Prologue 3205

The Prologue3205

“In faith, Squiër, thou hast thee well acquit,

And gentilly; I praisë well thy wit,”

Quoth the Franklin; “considering thy youthë

So feelingly thou speak’st, Sir, I aloue3206 thee,

As to my doom,3207 there is none that is here

Of eloquencë that shall be thy peer,

If that thou live; God give thee goodë chance,

And in virtúe send thee continuánce,

For of thy speaking I have great daintý.3208

I have a son, and, by the Trinitý;

It were me lever3209 than twenty pound worth land,

Though it right now were fallen in my hand,

He were a man of such discretión

As that ye be: fy on possessión,

But if3210 a man be virtuous withal.

I have my sonë snibbed,3211 and yet shall,

For he to virtue listeth not t’ intend,3212

But for to play at dice, and to dispend,

And lose all that he hath, is his uságe;

And he had lever talkë with a page,

Than to commune with any gentle wight,

There he might learen gentilless aright.”

“Straw for your gentillessë!” quoth our Host.

“What? Frankëlin, pardie, Sir, well thou wost3213

That each of you must tellen at the least

A tale or two, or breakë his behest.”3214

“That know I well, Sir,” quoth the Frankëlin;

“I pray you havë me not in disdain,

Though I to this man speak a word or two.”

“Tell on thy tale, withoutë wordës mo’.”

“Gladly, Sir Host,” quoth he, “I will obey

Unto your will; now hearken what I say;

I will you not contráry in no wise,

As far as that my wittës may suffice.

I pray to God that it may pleasë you,

Then wot I well that it is good enow.

“These oldë gentle Bretons, in their days,

Of divers áventúrës madë lays,3215

Rhymeden in their firstë Breton tongue;

Which layës with their instruments they sung,

Or ellës readë them for their pleasánce;

And one of them have I in remembránce,

Which I shall say with good will as I can.

But, Sirs, because I am a borel3216 man,

At my beginning first I you beseech

Have me excused of my rudë speech.

I learned never rhetoric, certáin;

Thing that I speak, it must be bare and plain.

I slept never on the mount of Parnassó,

Nor learned Marcus Tullius Cicero.

Coloúrës know I none, withoutë dread,3217

But such coloúrs as growen in the mead,

Or ellës such as men dye with or paint;

Coloúrs of rhetoric be to me quaint;3218

My spirit feeleth not of such mattére.

But, if you list, my talë shall ye hear.”