Was truly perfect but yet not gay canterbury tales

(10) He never yet had any vileness said, In all his life, to whatsoever wight. He was a truly perfect, gentle knight. But now, to tell you all of his array, His steeds were good, but yet he was not gay. (15) Of simple fustian wore he a jupon Sadly discoloured by his habergeon; For he had lately come from his voyage And now was going on this.

Borrow general prologue

He never yet had any vileness said, In all his life, to whatsoever wight. He was a truly perfect, gentle knight. But now, to tell you all of his array, His steeds were good, but yet he was not gay. Of simple fustian wore he a jupon Sadly discoloured by his habergeon; For he had lately come from his voyage And now was going on this pilgrimage.

In all his life, to whatsoever wight. He was a truly perfect, gentle knight. But now, to tell you all of his array, His steeds were good, but yet he was not gay. Of simple fustian wore he a jupon. tsoever wight. He was a truly perfect, gentle knight. But now, to tell you all of hi array, His steeds were good, but yet he was not gay. Of simple fustian wore he a jupon Sadly discoloured by his habergeon; For he had lately come.

He never yet had any vileness said, In all his life, to whatsoever wight. He was a truly perfect, noble knight. But now, to tell you all of his array, His steeds were good, but yet he was not gay. Of simple fustian wore he a jupon Sadly discoloured by his habergeon; For he had lately returned from his voyage And now was going on this pilgrimage. All was fee simple to him, in effect, Wherefore his claims could never be suspect.

For it was pimpled and discolored, with swollen eyelids. This is to say, a monk out of his cloister. There is nowhere a better priest, I trow. There their wheat and also their malt was ground. He sadly rode a hackney, in a gown, Of thick rough cloth falling to the knee. Thou art always joking, and this is nicely answered. She knew much about wandering by the way. As if he had hoarseness, or had a cold. Singing he was, or fluting, all the day; He was as fresh as is the month of May.

He knew how to have sufficiency in few possessions. Therefore he sang the more merrily and loud. And certainly he kept a merry note: Well could he sing and play upon the rote. Of double worsted was his semi-cope, That rounded like a bell, as you may guess. Of Norfolk was this reeve of whom I tell, From near a town that men call Badeswell. While coming from Bordeaux, while the merchant slept. In company well could she laugh her slurs.

And went to do his pilgrimage. Becomingly she reached for meat to dine. She surpassed them of Ypres and of Ghent. His beard had been shaken by many a tempest. His saddle horse was as brown as is a berry. Baked meat was never wanting in his house, Of fish and flesh, and that so plenteous It seemed to snow therein both food and drink Of every dainty that a man could think.

Nor though I speak their words accurately. Fragment 6. But greatly nourishing and digestible. All full of fresh flowers, white and red. Well could he read a lesson or a story, But best of all he sang an offertory; For well he knew that when that song was sung, Then might he preach, and all with polished tongue. This steward sat a horse that well could trot, And was all dapple-grey, and was named Scot.

I believe he was a eunuch or a homosexual.