From Geoffrey Chaucer's "The Canterbury Tales", The Cook's Tale, lines 41-98

From The Canterbury Tales:
The Cook's Tale
lines 41-98: About an apprentice called Perkin Reveller

	A prentys whilom dwelled in oure citee,
	And of a craft of vitailliers was hee.
	Gaillard he was as goldfynch in the shawe,
	Broun as a berye, a propre short felawe,
45	With lokkes blake, ykembd ful fetisly.
	Dauncen he koude so wel and jolily
	That he was cleped Perkyn Revelour.
	He was as ful of love and paramour
	As is the hyve ful of hony sweete:
50	Wel was the wenche with hym myghte meete.
	At every bridale wolde he synge and hoppe;
	He loved bet the taverne than the shoppe.
	For whan ther any ridyng was in Chepe,
	Out of the shoppe thider wolde he lepe -
55	Til that he hadde al the sighte yseyn,
	And daunced wel, he wolde nat come ayeyn -
	And gadered hym a meynee of his sort
	To hoppe and synge and maken swich disport;
	And ther they setten stevene for to meete
60	To pleyen at the dys in swich a streete.
	For in the toune nas ther no prentys
	That fairer koude caste a paire of dys
	Than Perkyn koude, and therto he was free
	Of his dispense, in place of pryvetee.
65	That fond his maister wel in his chaffare;
	For often tyme he foond his box ful bare.
	For sikerly a prentys revelour
	That haunteth dys, riot, or paramour,
	His maister shal it in his shoppe abye,
70	Al have he no part of the mynstralcye.
	For thefte and riot, they been convertible
	Al konne he pleye on gyterne or ribible.
	Revel and trouthe, as in a lowe degree,
	They been ful wrothe al day, as men may see.

	There lived a 'prentice, once, in our city,
	And of the craft of victuallers was he;
	Happy he was as goldfinch in the glade,
	Brown as a berry, short, and thickly made,
45	With black hair that he combed right prettily.
	He could dance well, and that so jollily,
	That he was nicknamed Perkin Reveller.
	He was as full of love, I may aver,
	As is a beehive full of honey sweet;
50	Well for the wench that with him chanced to meet.
	At every bridal would he sing and hop,
	Loving the tavern better than the shop.
	When there was any festival in Cheap,
	Out of the shop and thither would he leap,
55	And, till the whole procession he had seen,
	And danced his fill, he'd not return again.
	He gathered many fellows of his sort
	To dance and sing and make all kinds of sport.
	And they would have appointments for to meet
60	And play at dice in such, or such, a street.
	For in the whole town was no apprentice
	Who better knew the way to throw the dice
	Than Perkin; and therefore he was right free
	With money, when in chosen company.
65	His master found this out in business there;
	For often-times he found the till was bare.
	For certainly a revelling bond-boy
	Who loves dice, wine, dancing, and girls of joy -
	His master, in his shop, shall feel the effect,
70	Though no part have he in this said respect;
	For theft and riot always comrades are,
	And each alike he played on gay guitar.
	Revels and truth, in one of low degree,
	Do battle always, as all men may see.

75	This joly prentys with his maister bood,
	Til he were ny out of his prentishood,
	Al were he snybbed bothe erly and late,
	And somtyme lad with revel to Newegate.
	But atte laste his maister hym bithoghte,
80	Upon a day, whan he his papir soughte,
	Of a proverbe that seith this same word,
	'Wel bet is roten appul out of hoord
	Than that it rotie al the remenaunt.'
	So fareth it by a riotous servaunt;
85	It is ful lasse harm to lete hym pace,
	Than he shende alle the servantz in the place
	Therfore his maister yaf hym acquitance,
	And bad hym go, with sorwe and with meschance!
	And thus this joly prentys hadde his leve.
90	Now lat hym riote al the nyghte or leve.
	And for ther is no theef withoute a lowke,
	That helpeth hym to wasten and to sowke
	Of that he brybe kan or borwe may,
	Anon he sente his bed and his array
95	Unto a compeer of his owene sort,
	That lovede dys, and revel, and disport,
	And hadde a wyf that heeld for contenance
	A shoppe, and swyved for hir sustenance.

75	This 'prentice shared his master's fair abode
	Till he was nigh out of his 'prenticehood,
	Though he was checked and scolded early and late,
	And sometimes led, for drinking, to Newgate;
	But at the last his master did take thought,
80	Upon a day, when he his ledger sought,
	On an old proverb wherein is found this word:
	"Better take rotten apple from the hoard
	Than let it lie to spoil the good ones there."
	So with a drunken servant should it fare;
85	It is less ill to let him go, apace,
	Than ruin all the others in the place.
	Therefore he freed and cast him loose to go
	His own road unto future care and woe;
	And thus this jolly 'prentice had his leave.
90	Now let him riot all night long, or thieve.
	But since there's never thief without a buck
	To help him waste his money and to suck
	All he can steal or borrow by the way,
	At once he sent his bed and his array
95	To one he knew, a fellow of his sort,
	Who loved the dice and revels and all sport,
	And had a wife that kept, for countenance,
	A shop, and whored to gain her sustenance.

(Chaucer did not finish this tale.)

Next:
From The Canterbury Tales, The Man Of Law's Tale