"No more of this, for Godde's dignity!"
Geoffrey Chaucer
WHEN said was this miracle, every man
WHEN ended was the life of Saint Cecile,
"SIR Clerk of Oxenford," our Hoste said,
THE Cook of London, while the Reeve thus spake,
["YEA, let that passe," quoth our Host, "as now.
"IN faith, Squier, thou hast thee well acquit,
This worthy limitour, this noble Frere,
WHILOM, as olde stories tellen us,
Our Hoste saw well that the brighte sun
WEET ye not where there stands a little town,
"Weeping and wailing, care and other sorrow,
When that the Knight had thus his tale told
WHEN ended was my tale of Melibee,
"Ho!" quoth the Knight, "good sir, no more of this;
OUR Hoste gan to swear as he were wood;
By that the Manciple his tale had ended,
"WELL said, by corpus Domini," quoth our Host;
WHEN that Aprilis, with his showers swoot,
WHEN folk had laughed all at this nice case
The minister and norice unto vices,
Our Host upon his stirrups stood anon,
The Sompnour in his stirrups high he stood,
"HEY! Godde's mercy!" said our Hoste tho,
Experience, though none authority
The double sorwe of Troilus to tellen,
Out of these blake wawes for to sayle,
O blisful light of whiche the bemes clere
But al to litel, weylaway the whyle,
Aprochen gan the fatal destinee