Classic Poem

"In faith, Squier, thou hast thee wel yquit
And gentilly. I praise wel thy wit,"
Quod the Frankelain. "Considering thy youthe,
So feelingly thou spekest, sire, I allowe thee:
As to my doom ther is noon that is heer
Of eloquence that shal be thy peer,
If that thou live. God yive thee good chaunce,
And in vertue sende thee continaunce,
For of thy speeche I have greet daintee.
I have a sone, and by the Trinitee,
I hadde levere than twenty pound worth land,
Though it right now were fallen in myn hand,
He were a man of swich discrecioun
As that ye been. Fy on possessioun
But if a man be vertuous withal!
I have my sone snibbed and yit shal
For he to vertu listeth nat entende,
But for to playe at dees and to dispende,
And lese al that he hath is his usage.
And he hath levere talken with a page
Than to commune with any gentil wight,
Where he mighte lerne gentilesse aright."
"Straw for thy gentilesse!" quod oure Host.
"What, Frankelain, pardee sire, wel thou woost
That eech of you moot tellen atte leeste
A tale or two, or breken his biheeste."
"That knowe I wel, sire," quod the Frankelain.
"I praye you, haveth me nat in desdain,
Though to this man I speke a word or two."
"Tel on thy tale withouten wordes mo."
"Gladly, sire Host," quod he, "I wol obeye
Unto youre wil. Now herkneth what I saye.
I wol you nat contrarien in no wise
As fer as that my wittes wol suffise.
I praye to God that it may plesen you:
Thanne woot I wel that it is good ynow."