THE CANTERBURY TALES
might not be made null. Nowhere was so busy a man as he, and yet he seemed busier than he was. He had in set terms all the cases and judgments that had befallen since the time of King William. He could eke compose and make a deed; no wight could pick a flaw in his forms, and he knew every statute in full by heart. He rode simply in a motley coat, girt with a silk girdle with narrow bosses. Of his garb I tell no longer tale.
With him there was a Franklin; white was his beard as the daisy, and ruddy he was of complexion. He loved well of a morning a sop in wine. To live in delight was ever his wont, for he was the own son of Epicurus, who held the opinion that the highest good verily standeth in pleasure. He was a householder, and that a great,—a very Saint Julian in his own country. His bread and ale were alway of one excellence; was nowhere a man with a better store of wine. His house was never without great pasties of fish and flesh, and that so plentiful that in his house it snowed meat and drink and all dainties men could devise. According to the sundry seasons of the year, so he changed his fare. Many a fat partridge had he in mew, and in his pond many a bream and luce. Woe to his cook, if his sauce were not poignant and sharp and all his gear ready. All the long day his solid board stood ready covered in his hall. At sessions he was lord and master, and full oft he was knight of the shire in Parliament. At his girdle hung a dagger and a silken pouch, white as morning mink. He had been an auditor and a sheriff; nowhere was there such a worthy country gentleman.
An Haberdasher, a Carpenter, a Weaver, a Dyer and a Draper were also with us, clothed all in the like livery of a great and important guild. Full fresh and new their gear was trimmed, their girdles and their pouches. Their knives were not capped
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