1.  Thanne telle I hem ensamples many oon

Of olde stories longe tyme agoon.

For lewed peple loven tales olde;

Swiche thynges kan they wel reporte and holde.

What, trowe ye, that whiles I may preche,

And wynne gold and silver for I teche,

That I wol lyve in poverte wilfully?

Nay, nay, I thoghte it nevere, trewwly!

For I wol preche and begge in sondry landes;

I wol nat do no labour with myne handes,

Ne make baskettes, and lyve therby,

By cause I wol nat beggen ydelly.

I wol noon of the apostles countrefete;

I wol have moneie, wolle, chese, and whete,

Al were it yeven of the povereste page,

Or of the povereste wydwe in a village,

Al sholde hir children sterve for famyne.

Nay, I wol drynke licour of the vyne,

And have a joly wenche in every toun.

2.  Namely a bedde hadden they meschaunce;

Ther wolde I chide and do hem no plesaunce,

I wolde no lenger in the bed abyde,

If that I felte his arm over my syde

Til he had maad his raunsoun unto me;

Thanne wolde I suffre hym do his nycetee.

And therfore every man this tale I telle,

Wynne who so may, for al is for to selle;

With empty hand men may none haukes lure.