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Ther was also a Nonne, a Prioresse, That of her smyling was ful simple and coy; Hir grettest ooth was ne but by sëynt Loy; And she was cleped madame Eglentyne. Ful wel she song the service divyne, Entuned in hir nose ful semely; And Frensh she spak ful faire and fetisly, After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe, For Frensh of Paris was to hir unknowe.
Not one hope To bring me of? nothing reservd to cleere me From this cold Ignoraunce? Bar. But one way left, But that thy base feare dares not let thee look on; And that way will I take, though it seeme steepe And every step stuck with affrights and horrours, Yet on the end hangs smyling peace and honour, And I will on. Leid. Propound and take me with ye. Bar.
So he to the Exchange and buys me a piece of Paragon to a pettycote, and though it be not what I would have of my own choosing yet I do receive it with many goode words as hoping all will yet be as I desire. The which I receive smyling, but do think Lord! what fools men be that will have a woman so lightly deceived, fine wordes buttering no parsnips.
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