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The Poetical Works of Geoffrey Chaucer, Vol. 4 (Classic Reprint)
No preview available - 2017
The Poetical Works of Geoffrey Chaucer, Vol. 6 (Classic Reprint)
No preview available - 2017
ageyn Allas alwey anoon certes chere clothes coude Daunger dede deed dere doon doth doun drede fair fals finde folk fond Fortune foules freend grace greet gret harm hast hath helpe herde holde honde joye kepe kinde knew knowe lady laste leve light litel live lord lovers maner myn herte Nature never night no-thing noon nought ofte peyne pite pleyne quene quod rede riche richesse rose seen seide seyde seye seyn shal shame shulde Sith slepe sone song sore sorwe speke swete swich thee ther therfor thing thou thou shalt thought thurgh thyn took trewe trouthe trowe tyme unto wente whan who-so wight withoute withouten wolde wonder wyse y-wis yeve
Page 297 - But-if he can, by som collusioun, Don his neighbour wrong or oppressioun. What causeth this, but wilful wrecchednesse, That al is lost, for lak of stedfastnesse...
Page 297 - Son tyme this world was so stedfast and stable, That mannes word was obligacioun, And now hit is so fals and deceivable, That word and deed, as in conclusioun, Ben no-thing lyk, for turned up so doun Is al this world for mede and wilfulnesse, That al is lost for lak of stedfastnesse.
Page 292 - So greet beaute, that no man may atteyne To mercy, though he sterve for the peyne. So hath your beaute fro your herte chaced Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne ; For Daunger kait your mercy in his cheyne.
Page 248 - For out of olde feldes, as men seith, Cometh al this newe corn fro yeer to yere ; And out of olde bokes, in good feith, Cometh al this newe science that men lere.
Page 306 - For whiche un-to your mercy thus I crye : Beth hevy ageyn, or elles mot I dye ! Now voucheth sauf this day, or...
Page 300 - But al shal passe that men prose or ryme ; Take every man his turn, as for his tyme. Envoy. Scogan, that knelest at the stremes heed Of grace, of alle honour and worthinesse, In thende of which streme...
Page 293 - Thogh ye to me ne do no daliaunce. Nas never pyk walwed in galauntyne As I in love am walwed and y-wounde; For which full ofte I of my-self divyne That I am trewe Tristam the secounde.
Page 248 - The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne, Th'assay so hard, so sharp the conquerynge, The dredful joye, alwey that slit so yerne: Al this mene I by Love, that my...
Page 294 - Werk wel thy-self, that other folk canst rede; And trouthe shal delivere, hit is no drede. Tempest thee noght al croked to redresse, In trust of hir that turneth as a bal : Gret reste stant...