The Prologue, the Knightes Tale, the Nonne Preestes Tale, from the Caterbury Tales

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Clarendon Pres, 1903 - 262 pages

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Page 11 - But al be that he was a philosophre, Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre...
Page 2 - In felawshipe, and pilgrims were they alle, That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde; The chambres and the stables weren wyde, And wel we weren esed atte beste.
Page 8 - A love-knotte in the gretter ende ther was. His heed was balled, that shoon as any glas, And eek his face, as he had been anoint.
Page 18 - Up-on his feet, and in his hand a staf. This noble ensample to his sheep he yaf, That first he wroghte, and afterward he taughte ; Out of the gospel he tho wordes caughte ; And this figure he added eek ther-to, That if gold ruste, what shal iren do ? For if a preest be foul, on whom we truste, No wonder is a lewed man to ruste ; And shame it is, if a preest take keep, A shiten shepherde and a clene sheep.
Page 125 - The gees for fere flowen over the trees; Out of the hyve cam the swarm of bees; So hidous was the noyse, a! benedicite! Certes, he Jakke Straw, and his meynee...
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 al-thogh him sore smerte. 230 Therfore, in stede of weping and preyeres, Men moot yeve silver to the povre freres.
Page 6 - Hir nose tretys; hir eyen greye as glas; Hir mouth ful smal, and ther-to softe and reed; But sikerly she hadde a fair forheed; It was almost a spanne brood, I trowe; For, hardily, she was nat undergrowe.
Page 7 - The reule of seint Maure or of seint Beneit, By-cause that it was old and som-del streit, This ilke monk leet olde thinges pace, And held after the newe world the space. He yaf nat of that text a pulled hen, That seith, that hunters been nat holy men...
Page 21 - Wel coude he kepe a gerner and a binne; Ther was noon auditour coude on him winne. Wel wiste he, by the droghte, and by the reyn, The yelding of his seed, and of his greyn. His lordes sheep, his neet...
Page 114 - The wind gan chaunge, and blew right as hem leste. Jolif and glad they wente un-to hir reste, And casten hem ful erly for to saille; But to that oo man fil a greet mervaille.

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