To yow my purse, and to noon other wight
    To you my purse, and to no other wight
    Complayne I, for ye by my lady dere;
    Complain I, for ye be my lady dear;
    I am so sorry now that ye been lyght,
    I am so sorry now that ye be light,
    For certes, but yf ye make me hevy chere
    For certainly, but if ye make me heavy cheer
    Me were as leef be layde upon my bere;
    I would as soon be laid upon my bier;
    For which unto your mercy thus I crye,
    For which unto your mercy thus I cry,
    Beeth hevy ageyne, or elles mote I dye. 
    Be heavy again, or else must I die.

    Now voucheth-sauf this day or hyt by nyght
    Now vouchsafe this day before it be night
    That I of you the blisful sovne may here,
    That I of you the blissful sound may hear,
    Or see your colour lyke the sonne bryght,
    Or see your colour like the sun bright,
    That of yelownesse hadde neuer pere. 
    That of yellowness had never peer. 
    Ye be my lyfe, ye be myn hertys stere,
    Ye be my life, ye be my heart’s guide,
    Quene of comfort, and of good companye,
    Queen of comfort, and of good company,
    Beth heuy ageyne, or elles moote I dye. 
    Be heavy again, or else must I die.

    Now purse that ben to me my lyves lyght
    Now purse that art to me my life’s light
    And saveour as down in this worlde here,
    And saviour as down in this world here,
    Oute of this tovne helpe me thrugh your myght,
    Out of this town help me through your might,
    Syn that ye wole nat bene my tresorere,
    Since that ye will not be my treasurer,
    For I am shave as nye as is a ffrere;
    For I am shaven as close as is a friar;
    But yet I pray vnto your curtesye,
    But yet I pray unto your courtesy,
    Bethe hevy agen or elles moote I dye. 
    Be heavy again or else must I die.

        L’ENVOY* DE CHAUCER

    O conquerour of Brutes albyon,
    O conqueror of Brutus’ Albion
    Whiche that by lygne and free leccion
    Who that by line and free election
    Been verray kynge, this song to yow I sende;
    Art very king, this song to you I send;
    And ye that mowen alle myn harme amende,
    And ye that art able all my harm amend,
    Haue mynde vpon my supplicacion. 
    Have mind upon my supplication.

This is from a French word, meaning “to send,” and is still often used for the last verse of a poem.  It is, as it were, a “sending off.”

In reading this you must sound the final “e” in each word except when the next word begins with an “h” or with another vowel.  You will then find it read easily and smoothly.

BOOKS TO READ

Stories from Chaucer (prose), by J. H. Kelman.  Tales from
Chaucer (prose), by C. L. Thomson.  Prologue to the Canterbury
Tales and Minor Poems (poetry), done into Modern English by W. W.
Skeat.  Canterbury Tales (poetry), edited by A. W. Pollard (in
Chaucer’s English, suitable only for grown-up readers).