)
Perchance if now I went to school,
And sought its culture wide,
Of _coiffures_ strange I'd learn the rule,
And scorn what was inside.
Oh, gentle Chaucer, could you see
The world around us here,
Perhaps you'd change your poetry
And call no pilgrim _queer_
And could you see the ladies' dress,
And what they wear the while,
You'd know what made the critics guess
You had a _simple style_.
WIFE. (_to_ EMILY)
Look at her smile upon that silly miss!
Look, Emilye, did we come here for this?
As to her singing, well, I have heard worse!
I fear her verses will make her perverse.
PRIORESS. (_to_ HIPPOLYTA)
To punish her would make my conscience prick.
GRISELDA. O Madame, be not flattered, think of _stick_.
PRIORESS. Alas 'tis true!
EMILY. Fire up your dying wrath.
WIFE. (_to_ JUNIOR)
What can you say about the Wife of Bath?
JUNIOR. I don't know. I can't remember anything.
WIFE. (_severely_)
Did you not say my hosen were of red?
JUNIOR. Well, they are, aren't they?
WIFE. And what of that? Is that a case for scorn?
My gear is eke as fine as e'er was worn.
EMILY. What about me?
JUNIOR. (_puzzled_) Who are you? I just _can't_ remember.
HIPPOLYTA. Do you not recognize her by her hair?
EMILY.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25