| | As of a fox and a cok and an hen | |
| 620 | Takith the moralite gode men | |
| | For saint Poule saith al that writyn is | |
| | To our doctryne is writyn y wis | |
| | Takith the fruyt & leet the chaf be stille | |
| | Now gode men yf that it be your wille | |
| 625 | As seith my lorde so make vs alle good men | |
| | And bringe vs to his high blisse amen | |
| | ¶ Here begynneth the Mauncipelis prolog . | |
| | W | Oot ye not where ther stōdith a litil toun | |
| | Whiche that is clepid bob vp and doun | |
| | Vnder the blee in Cauntirbery wey | |
| | There gan our oste to iape and to pley | |
| 5 | And sayde sires what don is in the myre | |
| | Is ther noman for praier ne for hire | |
| | That wol a wake our felaw behynde | |
| | A theef mighte hym ful lightly robbe & bynde | |
| | Se how he nappeth se for cokkis bonys | |
| 10 | How he wol falle from his hors attonys | |
| | Is that a cook of london with myschaunce | |
| | Do hym comfort he knoweth his penaunce | |
| | For he shal telle a tale be my fey | |
| | Al though it be not worth a botel hey | |
| 15 | Awake thou cook qd he god yeue the sorow | |
| | What eylith the to slepe be the morow | |
| | Hast thow had fleen al night or art thou dronk | |
| | Or hast thou al night with som quene y swonke | |
| | So that thow maist not holde vp thy hed | |
| 20 | This cook that was ful paal & no thing reed | |
