----While that the Pilgrims lay At _Canterbury_, well lodged one and all, I not in sooth what I may it call, Hap or fortune, in conclusioun, That me befell to enter into the Toun, The holy Sainte plainly to visite, After my sicknesse, vows to acquite. In a Cope of blacke, and not of greene, On a Palfrey slender, long, and lene, With rusty Bridle, made not for the sale, My man to forne with a voyd Male, That by Fortune tooke my Inne anone Where the Pilgrimes were lodged everichone, The same time her governour the host Stonding in Hall, full of wind and bost, Liche to a man wonder sterne and fers, Which spake to me, and said anon Dan _Pers_, Dan _Dominick_, Dan _Godfray_, or _Clement_, Ye be welcome newly into _Kent_: Thogh your bridle have nother boos ne bell; Beseeching you, that ye will tell First of your name, and what cuntre Without more shortly that ye be, That looke so pale, all devoid of bloud, Upon your head a wonder thred-bare Hood, Well arrayed for to ride late: I answered my Name was _Lydgate_ Monke of _Bury_, me fifty yeare of age, Come to this Town to do my Pilgrimage As I have hight, I have thereof no shame: Dan _John_ (quoth he) well brouke ye your name, Thogh ye be sole, beeth right glad and light, Praying you to soupe with us this night; And ye shall have made at your devis, A great Pudding, or a round hagis, A _Franche_ Moile, a Tanse, or a Froise, To been a Monk slender is your [A]coise, Ye have been sick I dare mine head assure, Or let feed in a faint pasture. Lift up your head, be glad, take no sorrow, And ye should ride home with us to morrow, I say, when ye rested have your fill. After supper, sleep will doen none ill, Wrap well your head, clothes round about, Strong nottie Ale will make a man to rout; Take a Pillow, that ye lye not low; If nede be, spare not to blow; To hold wind, by mine opinion, Will engender colles passion, And make men to greven on her [B]rops, When they have filled her maws and her crops; But toward night, eate some Fennell rede, Annis, Commin, or Coriander-seed, And like as I have power and might, I charge you rise not at midnight, Thogh it be so the Moon shine clere, I will my self be your [C]Orlogere, To morrow early, when I see my time, For we will forth parcel afore prime, Accompanie [D]parde shall do you good. [Footnote A: Countenance.] [Footnote B: Guts.] [Footnote C: Clock.] [Footnote D: Verily.]