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

There was with these a Nun, a Prioress,
A Lady of no ord'nary Address.
Her Smiles were harmless, and her Look was coy,
She never Swore an Oath, but by St. Loye;
Known by the Name of Lady Eglantine,
She sung the Office with a Grace Divine.
She spoke the French of Stratford-School, by Bow,
The French of Paris She did never know.
The French of Paris did to her appear
Strange, as our Law-French to a Frenchman's Ear.
At Meals she sat demure, carv'd neat, and well,
No Morsel from her Lips unseemly fell.
She never dipp'd her Finger in the Mess,
Nor with one Drop defil'd her holy Dress:

With a becoming Grace, and smiling Eye,
She gain'd Respect from all the Company;
Easy and free, still pleasant at her Meat,
And held it no small pain to Counterfeit.
She hated Stateliness, yet wisely knew
What fit Regard was to her Title due.
She pity'd ev'ry Creature in Distress,
Devout, and charitable to Excess;
Her tender Heart, with such Compassion fill'd,
She'd weep to see a poor Mouse caught and kill'd.
Her Lap-dogs still with her fair Hand she fed,
With Milk, and Roast-meat, mixt with Crumbs of read;
In her own Chamber, on her Bed they slept,
If any dy'd, most bitterly she wept.
Well set her Wimple, nicely pinch'd it was;
Her Nose was straight, her Eyes were grey as Glass.
Small was her Mouth, her Lips were red and soft;
A beauteous Forehead, always borne aloft;
Broad, smooth and shining Eye-brows, neat and small,
A slender Waist, inclining to be tall.

A curious Garment, wond'rous neat, she wore,
A Pair of Beads, with Green enamel'd o'er,
Of shining Coral, did her Arm infold,
Grac'd with an Ornament of beaten Gold.
Upon it was engrav'd; a circling Wreath,
And Amor vincit omnia writ beneath.
A Nun, who seldom from her Sight did stir,
Her Chaplain, and three Priests attended her.