The Canterbury Tales of Chaucer :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Reve, a little, slender, chol'rick thing,
His Face shav'd close, and not a Hair on Chin.
His Locks above his Ears, an Inch at least,
And dock'd before like any Begging Priest.
His active Legs were very long and lean,
Streight as a Staff, no Calf was to be seen.
No Auditor e'er found him in the wrong,
A good Accomptant, tho' his Bills were long.

Well judg'd he by the Drought, and by the Rain,
The future Product of his Seed and Grain.
He kept due Tale of Oxen, Sheep and Swine,
His Lord's March Beer, and his more precious Wine.
All Rents receiv'd, for all things did engage,
And manag'd since his Master came to Age.
O'er ev'ry Under-Bailiff he had Spies,
Knew all their Cunning, all their Knaveries:
His House lay tight, and kept in good Repair,
Beside a Heath, and in a healthy Air;
Close in a Corner, couch'd behind a Row
Of spreading Trees; the Building snug and low.
The Man was warm, with Wealth in private stor'd,
And abler far to purchase than his Lord.
He knew his Honour's Humor to a Hair,
When it was fit to ask, or to forbear.
Whene'er his Lordship wanted a Supply,
He with a busy careful Face wou'd fly,
Run here and there, then bring the Luggage home,
And only help his Master to his own.

He (as those gen'rous Lords are us'd to do)
Not only thanks him, but rewards him too.
This Steward rode upon a sturdy Jade,
And on his Side he wore a rusty Blade.
A Wheelwright he had been, in Norfolk known,
In all the Villages near Baldswell Town.
Tuck'd round his Waist, like any Fry'r was he,
And still rode hindmost of the Company.