the sign of the Tabard, in Southwark, ready to set forth on my pilgrimage to Canterbury. In the evening a company of about nine and twenty persons, bound on the same errand, had assembled in the inn; with all of whom I had made acquaintance before sun-set, and had agreed to journey in their company the following day. Before I enter upon my tale, the reader may desire to know what were the character, condition, and exterior accomplishments of my fellow travellers. These, as they appeared to me, I supply as follows.

The first in order was a worthy Knight, a worshipper from his youth of chivalrous and all gallant deeds; a lover of truth and honour, frankness and courtesy. He had served with renown in his Lord's wars against the Heathen, the Russian, and the Turk; had fought in fifteen battles, and in three tilting matches had slain his foe. With all these rough and unchamber-like accomplishments, he was in his demeanour and address as meek as a young maiden. No villainous or injurious speech was ever heard to pass his lips—in short, he was a perfect knight of gentle blood. As regards his