of his ample fare, for he was fat and rosy, and rode merrily along
with his bridle bells jingling clearly in the wind. "Some say that
hunters can't be holy men," he said, "but I can't agree with those
that would make monks madden themselves with study and tire
themselves with labour. What good comes of it all?" "What good
indeed?" said I.

The Friar, Hubert, was a gay fellow too. I daresay that in all
the Four Orders of Friars you would not find a more pleasing
talker--especially in matters of love. He sang lustily, played the
harp, and kept us merry with his jesting.

Not so the Clerk from Oxford. He was a serious student. For many
years he had devoted himself to logic and philosophy, yet little gold
had got thereby! His horse was lean as a rake, and he himself was by
no means fat. His threadbare cloak hung limply on his shoulders. Had
he been more worldly-minded, he might have gained a rich benefice;
but all his treasure was in the twenty red and black books at his
bedside, where he found the rich thought of Aristotle--more
satisfying to the Clerk than gold, or robes or sweet music. All the
money he was given he spent on books, praying eagerly for the souls
of them that helped him to buy more. He spoke but little. His speech
then was quick and packed with thought, and he loved best to talk of
moral virtue. Glad he was to learn, and glad to teach.

One man among the company was terrible to look upon. His face was
fiery red with black brows and scabbed skin. He had crowned himself
with a great garland. It was no wonder that even children were afraid
of him. This man, I learned, was a Summoner, who brought up
offenders before the Church courts.