A WHORE ther was, a verray lusty tart,
Whiche hadd nathelees a goldene hart.
Fair was hir face, hir lipps reed of hewe
And many were the gentils that she knewe.
Amongst hir customeers ther was a Knyght,
A Somonour, a Palmer and a right
Ryche Merchaunt, then a Miller and a Reeve,
And eek a Pardoner I do beleeve.
And soo that someone hir travail might bless
She ministerd to a Prioresse.
Hir form was of parfait proporcioun
For to it gav she greet attencioun.
Hir breests, as to you I can wel owne
Were ful and firm and they were alle hir owne.
Hir hipps weren lithe, hir waist thynne
The better to entyse a man to synne.
Hir thighs were al silken smooth and swete
And nestling inbetwixt hem as is mete
The tendrest softness that has ever been
And eek the wetteste I have ever seen.
Ful versd was she in alle Ovids Arts
And wel she coud play the divers parts
Of Venus, after the needs of hir clienteel
In silken hos, or au natureel.
And readyly she wolde hirself entwyne
With hir fond lovere, makyng sixty-nyne.
Ful dominaunt was she whanne she was bid
And fel the tormentises that she did
To hir gallant, al bound in leather strong
As she did flail and whip him with a thong.
She oftentims lovd more than one
Stowt gentil atte a time, and everichon
Receivd greete and various pleasure
And alway didde they cum in greete measure.
And she wolde eek hir arsenhool dispense
For whiche she bad som extra recompense.
But for hir own pleasure she did most oft
With yong damsels go, for that theyre soft
And tendr bodies made hir passions rise
In higher degree than man can yet devise.
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