I rede Chaucer.
He bigynneth withe the tale of Thopas, a goode tale withe faiste rym, but the Hoost, he stynteth hym and sayd, he lyketh ne the rym. So than began Chaucer to telle the tale of Melibeus.
These tale was nat rym, but sloue pros. Melibeus hadde a doghter and a wyf, and upon a day whan he went into the feeldes, his olde foes entred his hous, betten his wyf and wounded his doghter.
The reste of the tale is nothyng moore than discuccion fro what he shoode do, withe muchel quotaccion fro the grete wryters and the hooly boke. I foond it verily boryng, and wol sayn, "Halt, Chaucer, thy newe tale is worse! Thou makest me so wery of thy speche." I lyk betre his rym thanne his pros.
I wol a litel lesse conversaccion, a litel moore accion.
These tale was nat rym, but sloue pros. Melibeus hadde a doghter and a wyf, and upon a day whan he went into the feeldes, his olde foes entred his hous, betten his wyf and wounded his doghter.
The reste of the tale is nothyng moore than discuccion fro what he shoode do, withe muchel quotaccion fro the grete wryters and the hooly boke. I foond it verily boryng, and wol sayn, "Halt, Chaucer, thy newe tale is worse! Thou makest me so wery of thy speche." I lyk betre his rym thanne his pros.
I wol a litel lesse conversaccion, a litel moore accion.