The Prologue, the Knightes Tale, the Nonne Preestes Tale

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Page 9 - PERSOUN of a toun; But riche he was of holy thoght and werk. He was also a lerned man, a clerk, That Cristes gospel trewely wolde preche; His parisshens devoutly wolde he teche.
Page 4 - For his science, and for his heigh renoun Of fees and robes hadde he many oon. So greet a purchasour was nowher noon. Al was fee simple to him in effect, His purchasing mighte nat been infect. 320 Nowher so bisy a man as he ther nas, And yet he semed bisier than he was.
Page 11 - To drawen folk to heven by fairnesse By good ensample, this was his bisynesse...
Page lviii - 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 117 - 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 1 - 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 19 - Greet chere made our hoste us everichon, And to the soper sette he us anon ; And served us with vitaille at the beste. Strong was the wyn, and wel to drynke us leste. A semely man our hoste was withalle For to been a marshal in an halle ; A large man he was with eyen stepe...
Page 3 - But al be that he was a philosophre, Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre; But al that he mighte of his freendes hente...
Page lxii - But for to speken of hir conscience, She was so charitable and so pitous, She wolde wepe, if that she saugh a mous Kaught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde. Of smale houndes hadde she, that she fedde With rosted flessh, or milk and wastel-breed. But soore weep she if oon of hem were deed, Or if men smoot it with a yerde smerte; And al was conscience, and tendre herte.
Page lxiii - 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...

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