The Poetical Works of Geoffrey Chaucer: To which are Appended Poems Attributed to Chaucer, Volume 1

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Houghton, Osgood, 1879 - English poetry

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Page 2 - Me thinketh it acordaunt to resoun, To telle yow al the condicioun Of ech of hem, so as it semed me, And whiche they weren, and of what degree ; 40 And eek in what array that they were inne : And at a knight than wol I first biginne.
Page 3 - Ful worthy was he in his lordes werre, And therto hadde he riden, no man ferre, As wel in Cristendom as in Hethenesse, And evere honoured for his worthynesse.
Page 6 - And sikerly she was of greet desport, And ful plesaunt and amyable of port, And peyned hire to countrefete cheere Of Court, and been estatlich of manere, And to ben holden digne of reverence.
Page 19 - Boold was hir face, and fair and reed of hewe. She was a worthy womman al hir lyve. Housbondes at chirche dore she hadde fyve, 460 Withouten oother compaignye in youthe — But therof nedeth nat to speke as nowthe.
Page 18 - And if ther dide, certeyn so wrooth was she, That she was out of alle charitee. Hir coverchiefs...
Page 1 - Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote, And bathed every veyne in swich licour. Of which vertu engendred is the flour; Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The tendre croppes...
Page 4 - Somtyme with the lord of Palatye Agayn another hethen in Turkye, And everemoore he hadde a sovereyn prys. And though that he were worthy, he was wys, And of his port as meeke as is a mayde; He nevere yet no vileynye ne sayde In al his lyf unto no maner wight; He was a verray parfit gentil knyght.
Page 31 - That ech of yow, to shorte with oure weye, In this viage shal telle tales tweye To Caunterbury-ward, I mene it so, And homward he shal tellen othere two, Of aventures that whilom han bifalle.
Page 9 - For if he yaf, he dorste make avaunt, He wiste that a man was repentaunt; For many a man so hard is of his herte, He may nat wepe, althogh hym soore smerte.
Page 437 - It tikleth me aboute myn herte roote ! Unto this day it dooth myn herte boote That I have had my world, as in my tyme. But Age, alias ! that al wole envenyme, Hath me biraft my beautee and my pith...

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