THE REVE'S PROLOGUE.

When all had laughed at this right foolish case
Of Absalom and credulous Nicholas, {49}
Diverse folk diversely their comments made.
But, for the most part, they all laughed and played,
Nor at this tale did any man much grieve,
Unless indeed 'twas Oswald, our good Reve.
Because that he was of the carpenter craft,
In his heart still a little ire is left.
He gan to grudge it somewhat, as scarce right;
"So aid me!" quoth he; "I could such requite
By throwing dust in a proud millers eye,
If that I chose to speak of ribaldry.
But I am old; I cannot play for age;
Grass-time is done--my fodder is now forage;
This white top sadly writeth mine old years;
Mine heart is also mouldy'd as mine hairs:
And since I fare as doth the medlar tree,
That fruit which time grows ever the worse to be
Till it be rotten in rubbish and in straw.

"We old men, as I fear, the same lot draw;
Till we be rotten can we not be ripe.
We ever hop while that the world will pipe;
For in our will there sticketh ever a nail,
To have a hoary head and a green tail,
As hath a leek; for though our strength be lame,
Our will desireth folly ever the same;