| | I coude neuer leue it in no wyse | |
| | Now wolde to god my wit wolde suffise | |
| | To tellyn al that longith to that art | |
| | But natheles you wol I telle a part | |
| 165 | Syn that my lord is goon I wol not spare | |
| | Suche thing as I knowe I wol declare | |
| | ¶ Here endith the prolog And begynneth | |
| | the tale of the Chanons yeman . | |
| | W | Ith this Chanon I duellid . vij . yeer | |
| | And of his science am I neuer the neer | |
| | That I hadde I haue lost ther by | |
| | And god woot so haue mo than I | |
| 5 | There as I was wont to be right fresh & gay | |
| | Of clothinge and of other good aray | |
| | Now may I were an hose vp on myn hed | |
| | And there my colour was bothe fressh & reed | |
| | Now it is wan and of a ledyn hewe | |
| 10 | Who so it vsith sore shal he rewe | |
| | And of my swynk y blent is myn ye | |
| | Lo suche auauntage it is to multiplye | |
| | That slidynge science hath made me so bare | |
| | That I haue no good where that euer I fare | |
| 15 | And yet I am endettid so sore ther by | |
| | Of gold that I borowed trewly | |
| | That whyle I lyue I shal it quyte neuer | |
| | Let euery man bewar by me for euyr | |
| | What maner man that castith hym therto | |
| 20 | If he continue I holde his thrift y do | |
| | For helpe me god ther by shal he not wynne | |
