The Prologue of Sir Thopas
The Host asks Chaucer to tell the next tale
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The Canterbury Tales
The Tale of Sir Thopas
lines 22-57: About a knight called Sir Thopas
Heere bigynneth Chaucers Tale of Thopas.
The First Fit
Listeth, lordes, in good entent,
And I wol telle verrayment
Of myrthe and of solas,
Al of a knyght was fair and gent
and in tourneyment,
His name was Sire Thopas.
Listen, lords, with good intent,
I truly will a tale present
Of mirth and of solace;
All of a knight was fair and gent
In battle and in tournament.
His name was Sir Thopas.
Yborn he was in fer
In Flaundres, al biyonde the
At Poperyng in the place;
His fader was a man
And lord he was of that
As it was Goddes grace.
Born he was in a far country,
In Flanders, all beyond the sea,
And Poperinghe the place;
His father was a man full free,
And lord he was of that countree,
As chanced to be God's grace.
Sir Thopas wax a doghty
Whit was his face as payndemayn,
His rode is lyk scarlet in grayn,
And I yow telle, in good certayn,
He hadde a semely nose.
Sir Thopas was a doughty swain,
White was his brow as paindemaine,
His lips red as a rose;
His cheeks were like poppies in grain,
And I tell you, and will maintain,
He had a comely nose.
, his berd, was lyk saffroun,
That to his
Hise shoon of Cordewane.
Of Brugges were his hosen broun,
His robe was of syklatoun
That coste many a jane.
His hair and beard were like saffron
And to his girdle reached adown,
His shoes were of cordwain;
From Bruges were come his long hose brown,
His rich robe was of ciclatoun-
And cost full many a jane.
hunte at wilde deer,
And ride an haukyng for river,
With grey goshauk on honde,
Therto he was a good archeer,
Of wrastlyng was ther noon his peer,
Ther any ram shal stonde.
Well could he hunt the dim wild deer
And ride a-hawking by river,
With grey goshawk on hand;
Therewith he was a good archer,
At wrestling was there none his peer
Where any ram did stand.
Ful many a
, bright in bour,
They moorne for hym
were bet to slepe;
But he was chaast and no lechour,
And sweete as is the brembul flour
That bereth the rede hepe.
Many many virgins, bright in bower,
Did long for him for paramour
When they were best asleep;
But chaste he was, no lecher sure,
And sweet as is the bramble-flower
That bears a rich red hepe.
The Tale of Sir Thopas
Sir Thopas wishes to marry an elf-queen