Read the excerpt from the General Prolgue to the Canterbury Tales.The pardon-seller’s hair was yellow as wax,And sleekly hanging, like a hank of flax.In meagre clusters hung what hair he had;Over his shoulders a few strands were spread,But they lay thin, in rat’s tails, one by one.As for a hood, for comfort he wore none,For it was stowed away in his knapsack. Save for a cap, he rode with head all bare,Hair loose; he thought it was the dernier cri.He had big bulging eyes, just like a hare.He’d sewn a veronica on his cap.His knapsack lay before him, on his lap,Chockful of pardons, all come hot from Rome.His voice was like a goat’s, plaintive and thin.