THE PROLOGUE
Thrice she had been at Jerusalem; she had passed many a far stream. She had been at Rome and Bologna, at Saint James in Galicia, and at Cologne. She knew much of wandering by the way. To speak the sooth, she was gap-toothed. She sat easily upon an ambler, well wimpled, and on her head an hat as broad as a buckler or a target, a foot-mantle about her large hips and on her feet a pair of sharp spurs. Well could she laugh and banter in company. I dare adventure she knew of remedies of love, for she knew the old dance in that art.
A good man of religion there was, a poor Parson of a town, but rich in holy thought and labour. He was also a learned man, a clerk, that would preach truly Christ's gospel, and devoutly instruct his parishioners. Benign he was, wondrous diligent and full patient in adversity; and such he was proved oftentimes. Full hateful it were to him to excommunicate for his tithes, and rather in truth would he give unto his poor parishioners of the offerings at church,—yea, and of his own substance. In scanty goods he could find sufficiency. His parish was wide and the houses far apart, but rain or thunder stayed him not, in sickness or misfortune, to visit the farthest in his parish, great and small, on foot and in his hand a staff. This noble ensample he gave to his sheep, that he wrought first and afterward taught. These words he took from the Gospel, and thereto he added eke this figure, that if gold rust what shall iron do? For if a priest be foul, in whom we confide, no wonder a layman rusteth; and let a priest take heed how shameful is a defiled shepherd and a clean sheep. A priest ought well to show by the good ensample of his cleanness how his sheep should live. He let not his benefice out for gold, nor left his sheep cumbered in the mire, nor ran unto Saint Paul's in London, to seek a chantry for rich men's souls,
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