| The Millere that for dronken was al pale, |
| So that unnethe upon his hors he sat, |
| He nolde avalen neither hood ne hat, |
| 15 | Ne abyde no man for his curteisie, |
| But in Pilates voys he gan to crie, |
| And swoor, "By armes and by blood and bones, |
| I kan a noble tale for the nones, |
| With which I wol now quite the Knyghtes tale." |
| 20 | Oure Hooste saugh that he was dronke of ale, |
| And seyde, "Abyd, Robyn, my leeve brother, |
| Som bettre man shal telle us first another, |
| Abyd, and lat us werken thriftily." |
|
| The miller, who of drinking was all pale, |
| So that unsteadily on his horse he sat, |
| He would not take off either hood or hat, |
| 15 | Nor wait for any man, in courtesy, |
| But all in Pilate's voice began to cry, |
| And "By the arms and blood and bones," he swore, |
| "I have a noble story in my store, |
| With which I will requite the good knight's tale." |
| 20 | Our host saw, then, that he was drunk with ale, |
| And said to him: "Wait, Robin, my dear brother, |
| Some better man shall tell us first another: |
| Submit and let us work on profitably." |
|
