Takamiya_MS_32_f._107v

Chauceris tale

His bryghtte helm was his wonger And by hym baytede his desterer Of Eerbis fyne and goode Hym self drank water of thee well As dede thee knyght sire p[er]civall So worthilye under wede Tille it was on aday Namoore of this for goddis dignitee Quod owre Ooste for thow makist mee So weri of thy verry lewednesse That al so wistly god my sowle blesse Myne eeris aken of thy drasty speche That swich arymere thee devell I bee teche This may weell bee ryim dogerell quod hee Why soo quod I why wilt thow lette mee More of my tale thanne another man Seyn that it is thee beste ryime that I can By god q[uo]d hee for pleynlie atte oo woord Thy drasty ryim is nowt worht a toord Thow doost nowght ellis but desspendist tyme Sire atte oo word thow schalt no longere ryme Lett see wheyther thow canst telle owght i[n] geeste Ore telle svmwhat in prose atte thee leste In wiche theer bee svm merthe or svm doct'rine Gladly quod I bee goddis swete pyne I wole yow telle a lytell thyng in prose That awghtte to lyke yow as I suppose Or ellis certis yee been to daungerous