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Whan that aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of march
hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich
licour
Of which vertu
engendred is the flour;
Whan zephirus eek with his
sweete breeth [5]
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the ram his halve cours yronne
And smale foweles
maken melodye,
That slepen al the nyght with open ye [10]
(So priketh hem nature in
hir corages);
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
And palmeres for to seken
straunge strondes,
To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;
And specially from every shires ende
Of engelond to caunterbury they wende,
The hooly blisful martir 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 was come into that hostelrye
Wel nyne and twenty in a compaignye,
Of sondry folk, by aventure
yfalle
In felaweshipe, and pilgrimes were they alle,
That toward caunterbury wolden ryde.
The chambres and the stables weren wyde,
And wel we weren esed atte beste.
And shortly, whan the sonne was to reste,
So hadde I spoken with hem everichon
That I was of hir felaweshipe anon,
And made forward erly for to ryse,
To take oure wey ther as I yow
devyse.
But nathelees, whil I have tyme and space,
Er that I ferther in this tale pace,
Me thynketh
it acordaunt to resoun
To telle yow al the condicioun
Of ech of hem, so as it semed me,
And whiche they weren, and of what degree,
And eek in what array that they were inne;
And at a knyght than wol I first
bigynne.
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