The Canterbury Tales: General Prologue

BY GEOFFREY CHAUCER

Here bygynneth the Book of the tales of Caunterbury

Whan that Aprille with his shouressoote, 

The droghte of March hath perced to the roote, 

And bathed every veyne in swichlicóur 

Of which vertúengendred is the flour; 

WhanZephirus eek with his swete breeth 

Inspired hath in every holt and heeth 

The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne

Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne, 

And smale fowelesmakenmelodye, 

That slepen al the nyght with open ye, 

So priketh hem Natúre in hircorages, 

Thannelongen folk to goon on pilgrimages, 

And palmeres for to sekenstraunge strondes, 

To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondrylondes; 

And specially, from every shires ende

Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende, 

The hoolyblisfulmartir for to seke, 

That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke. 

Bifil that in that seson on a day, 

In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay, 

Redy to wenden on my pilgrymage

To Caunterbury with ful devout corage, 

At nyght were come into that hostelrye

Welnyne and twenty in a compaignye

Of sondry folk, by áventure y-falle

In felaweshipe, and pilgrimes were they alle, 

That toward Caunterburywoldenryde. 

The chambres and the stables werenwyde, 

And wel we werenesedatte beste. 

And shortly, whan the sonne was to reste, 

So hadde I spoken with hem everychon, 

That I was of hirfelaweshipe anon, 

And made forward erly for to ryse, 

To take ourewey, ther as I yow devyse.