THE PROLOGUE. ‘Ho! ’ quoth the Knight, 'good si… That ye have said is right enough,… And muche more; for little heavine… Is right enough to muche folk, I…

THE PROLOGUE. WHEN ended was the life of Sain… Ere we had ridden fully five mile, At Boughton-under-Blee us gan o’e… A man, that clothed was in clothes…

Compleyne ne koude, ne might myn h… My peynes halve, ne what torment… Though that I sholde in your pres… Myn hertes lady, as wisly he me sa… That Bountee made, and Beautee li…

Fle fro the pres, and dwelle with… Suffise thin owen thing, thei it b… For hord hath hate, and clymbyng t… Prees hath envye, and wele blent o… Savour no more thanne the byhove s…

And so bifel, whan comen was the t… Of Aperil, whan clothed is the me… With newe grene, of lusty Veer th… And swote smellen floures white an… In sondry wises shewed, as I rede…

BOOK I Incipit liber primus. God turne us every dreem to gode! For hit is wonder, be the rode, To my wit, what causeth swevens Either on morwes, or on evens;

A. Almighty and all-merciable Queen, To whom all this world fleeth for… To have release of sin, of sorrow,… Glorious Virgin! of all flowers f…

Alone walking In thought plaining, And sore sighing; All desolate, Me rememb’ring

My son, keep well thy tongue, and… A wicked tongue is worse than a fi… My son, from a fiend men may them… My son, God of his endless goodne… Walled a tongue with teeth and lip…

A Balade. Ma dame, ye ben of al beaute shryn… As fer as cercled is the mapamonde… For as the cristall glorious ye sh… And lyke ruby ben your chekys roun…

‘HEY! Godde’s mercy!' said our H… ‘Now such a wife I pray God keep… Lo, suche sleightes and subtilitie… In women be; for aye as busy as be… Are they us silly men for to decei…

Your yën two wol sle me soden… I may the beaute of hem not susten… So woundeth hit through-out my her… And but your word wol helen hastil… My hertes wounde, whyl that hit is…

PROLOGUE Here bygynneth the Book of the ta… Whan that Aprille, with hise shou… The droghte of March hath perced… And bathed every veyne in swich li…

THE PROLOGUE. WHEN ended was the life of Sain… Ere we had ridden fully five mile, At Boughton-under-Blee us gan o’e… A man, that clothed was in clothes…

Madame, ye ben of al beaute shryne As fer as cercled is the mapamound… For as the cristal glorious ye shy… And lyke ruby ben your chekes roun… Therwith ye ben so mery and so joc…