Here bigynneth the Prologe / of the tale of the Reeue
Hic incipit prologus fabule prepositi
et Incipit prologus de le Reeue
Whan folk hadde laughen / at this nyce cas
Of Absolon / and hende Nicholas
Diuerse folk / diuersely they seyde
But for the moore part they lowe and pleyde
Ne at his tale / I seigh no man hym greue
But it were oonly / Osewold the Reue
By cause he was / of Carpenters craft
A litel Ire / is in his herte ylaft
He gan to grucche / and blamed it alite
So the ik quod he / ful wel koude I thee quyte
With bleryng of a proud Millerys Iye
If that me liste / speke of ribaudye
But ik am oold / me list no pleye for age
Gras tyme is doon / my fodder is now forage
This white top / writeth myne olde yerys
Myn herte / is also mowled / as myne herys
But if ik fare / as dooth an Openers
That ilke fruyt is euer lenger the wers
Til it be roten / in Mollok or in stree
We olde men / I drede so fare we
Til we be roten / kan we noght be rype
We hoppe alwey / whil that the world wol pipe
For in oure wil / ther stiketh euere a nayl
To haue an hoor heer / and a grene tayl
As hath a leek / for thogh oure myght be goon
Oure wil desireth folie / euere in oon
For whan we may noght doon / than wol we speke
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Whenne folke hadde laughed at this nyce cas
Of Absoloune and hiende Nicholas
Diuers fokke diuersly seyden
But for the more parte thei lough and pleyden
Ne at this tale I sawe no manne him greve
But ytte were onely Oswolde the reve
Be cause he was of carpenters crafte
A litell yre is in his herte y lafte
And ganne to gruche and blamed it a lyte
Sothe ys quod hee full wele I couth the quyte
With bleringe of a proude myllers yie
Iff that me liste speke of ribauderye
But I am olde me liste nat pley for age
Grasse tyme ys doone my foder ys forage
This white toppe writeth myne olde yeres
Myn herte ys as mowled as myn heres
But I fare as doth an open ers
That ilke fruyte is euer lenger the wers
Tille it bee roten in mullok or in stree
We olde menne I drede soo faren wee
Tille we bee roten we can nat be rype
We hoppen alwey while the werld doth pype
For in oure wille there stiketh euer a nayle
To haue an hore hede and a grene tayle
As hath a leke for though oure might be goone
Oure wille desireth foly euer in one
For whenne we may nat doo then wolle we speke
Here begynneth þe Reves prolog
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Whanne folk hadde lawȝyn at þis nyce caas
Of Absolon and of end gentil Nicholas
Diuers folk dyuersli þey saiden
But for þe more part þey lawȝte and pleydon̄
Ne at þis tale y saw noman him greve
But if it were onli Oswold þe Reve
Be cause he was of carpenteris craft
A litil ire is in his herte y laft
He gan to grucche and blame it a lite
Si the quod he ful wel I coude þe I quyte
With bleryng of a proud mylleres ye
Yf þat me list to speke of rebaudrie
But y am old me list not to pleye for Age
Gras tyme is doon̄ my fodder is forage
This white top writith my olde ȝeris
Myn herte also moulid as myn heris
But if I fare as doth an open ars
That ilke fruyt is euer lenger þe wers
Til it be rotyn in mullok or in stre
We olde men I drede so fare we
Til we be rotyn can we not be ripe
We hopyn alwey while þe worlde wol pipe
For in our wil þer stikith euer a nayl
To haue an hoore hed and a grene tayl
As hath a leek for þouȝ our myȝt begon̄
Our wil desirith fulli euer in one
For whan we may nouȝt do þan wol we speken̄
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WWhan folke hadde laughen at this nyce caas
Of absolon and of hende nycholas
Dyuerse folke diuersely thy sayden
But for the more part they lough and pleyden
Ne at this tale I sawe noman hym greue
But if it were only Oswalde the Reue
Bicause he was of carpenters craft
A lytel Ire ther is in his hert there laft
He gan to grutche and blame it a lyte
Sy the quod he ful wele I coude the quyte
With bleryng of a proude myllers eye
If that me lyst to speke of rebaudrye
But I am olde me lyst nat pley for age
Gras tyme is done my fodre is now forage
This white top writeth my olde yeres
Myn hert also moulyd is as my here is
But yet I fare as doth an open ers
For that ilke frute is euer lengre the wers
Tyl it be rotyn in mulloke or in stre
We olde men I drede so faren we
Tyl we be rotyn can we nat be rype
We hopen alwey while the worlde wil pype
For in oure wille ther stekith euir a nayle
To haue an hore hede and a grene tayle
As hath a leeke for though oure myght be gone
Oure wil desireth foly euir in one
For whan we may do naught than wille we speken