The mooste fals and churlische Marco Polo, thatte jerke, hath a posse. And thys posse doth proclaim the falsnesse of Marco Polo's supposed travels in a presentacioun of some kynde. But yt ys nat soth, that Marco Polo crossed the saltee see as have I! Marco Polo could nat swym across the Grand Canale, much the lesse come hither to Cathay!
Sothliche, I met Marco Polo at a taverene yclept Harries in Venice, long ago. Marco Polo--thatte wrecche!--was a washere of dishes and stemwarre at Harries, and after I had ydronke much Tuscan wyne that Marco ystole myne manuscriptes and claimed them as hys owne! O Marco Polo, I schal myself avenge upon yow when I retourn from the wynter home of the good General Toe!
Until then, good readeres, boy-cott the fals posse of Marco Polo! They claimeth that they would speke of theyre lies at the "Medieval Clubbe of Newe York," but thys proveth their unconnyng: there beeth nat no Newe York, and they be nat in the myddle of no thynge or tyme but rather they dryve me to the ende of my wittes!