ath of_ Hector, _pag._ 316 and 317.

I am a Monk by my profession,
In _Berry_, call'd _John Lydgate_ by my name,
And wear a habit of perfection;
(Although my life agree not with the same)
That meddle should with things spiritual,
As I must needs confess unto you all.

But seeing that I did herein proceed
[A]At his command, whom I could not refuse,
I humbly do beseech all those that read,
Or leisure have, this story to peruse,
If any fault therein they find to be,
Or error, that committed is by me;

That they will of their gentleness take pain,
The rather to correct and mend the same,
Than rashly to condemn it with disdain,
For well I wot it is not without blame,
Because I know the Verse therein is wrong,
As being some too short and some too long.

For _Chaucer_, that my Master was, and knew
What did belong to writing Verse and Prose,
Ne're stumbled at small faults, nor yet did view
With scornful eye the Works and Books of those
That in his time did write, nor yet would taunt
At any man, to fear him or to daunt.

[Footnote A: _Hen._ 5.]

Now if you would know further of him, hear him in his Prologue to the
Story of _Thebes_, a Tale (as his Fiction is) which (or some other) he
was constrained to tell, at the command of mine Host of the _Tabard_ in
_Southwark_, whom he found in _Canterbury_, with the rest of the
Pilgrims which went to visit Saint _Thomas_ shrine.

This Story was first written in _Latine_ by _Geoffry Chaucer_, and
translated by _Lydgate_ into _English_ Verse, but of the Prologue of
his own making, so much as concerns himself, thus:

----While that the Pilgrims lay
At _Canterbury_, well lodged one and all,
I not in sooth what I may it call,
Hap or fortune, in conclusioun,
That me befell to enter into the Toun,
The holy Sainte plainly to visite,
After my sicknesse, vows to acquite.
In a Cope of blacke, and not of greene,
On a Palfrey slender, long, and lene,
With rusty Bridle, made not for the sale,
My man to forne with a voyd Male,
That by Fortune tooke my Inne anone
Where the Pilgrimes were lodged everichone,
The same time her governour the host
Stonding in Hall, full of wind and bost,
Liche to a man wonder sterne and fers,
Which spake to me, and said anon Dan _Pers_,
Dan _Dominick_, Dan _Godfray_, or _Clement_,
Ye be welcome newly into _Kent_:
Thogh your bridle have nother boos ne