ſo moch his other wyf that ſhe deyde therof / And I am ſory therof / that yf ye ſhold falle in lyke caas / to whome the wydowe anſwerd and ſayd / Forſothe I wold be dede / For ther is but ſorowe and care in this world / This was a curteys excuſe of a wydowe
Ow thenne I wylle fynyſſhe alle
theſe fables wyth this tale that
foloweth whiche a worſhipful
preeſt and a parſone told me late /
he ſayd / that there were duellynge
in Oxenford two preſtes bothe mayſtres of
arte / of whome that one was quyck and coude
putte hym ſelf forth / And that other was a good
ſymple preeſt / And ſoo it happed that the
mayſter that was perte and quyck was anone
promoted to a benefyce or tweyne / and after to
prebendys / and for to be a Dene of a grete
prynces chappel / ſuppoſynge and wenynge that
his felaw the ſymple preeſt ſhold neuer haue be
promoted but be alwaye an Annuel / or at the
moſt a paryſſhe preeſt / So after longe tyme that
this worſhipful man this dene came rydynge in
to a good paryſſh with a x or xij horſes / lyke a
prelate / and came in to the chirche of the ſayd
paryſſhe / and fond there this good ſymple man
