HYD, Absolon, thy gilte tresses… Ester, ley thou thy meknesse al a-… Hyd, Jonathas, al thy frendly man… Penalopee, and Marcia Catoun, Mak of your wyfhod no comparisoun;

With this he took his leve, and ho… And lord, so he was glad and wel b… Criseyde aroos, no lenger she ne s… But streght in-to hire closet went… And set hire doun as stylle as any…

Thou ferse god of armes, Mars the… That in the frosty contre called… Within thy grisly temple ful of dr… Honoured art as patroun of that pl… With thy Bellona, Pallas, ful of…

Adam Scrivener, if ever it thee b… Boece or Troilus for to write ane… Under thy long locks thou may’st h… But after my making thou write mor… So oft a day I must thy work rene…

THE PROEM I have gret wonder, be this lighte… How that I live, for day ne night… I may nat slepe wel nigh noght, I have so many an ydel thoght

Incipit Prohemium Secundi Libri. Out of these blake wawes for to sa… O wind, O wind, the weder ginneth… For in this see the boot hath swic… Of my conning, that unnethe I it…

THE Cook of London, while the R… For joy he laugh’d and clapp’d him… ‘Aha!’ quoth he, 'for Christes pa… This Miller had a sharp conclusio… Upon this argument of herbergage.*…

The firste stock-father of gentlen… What man desireth gentle for to be… Must follow his trace, and all his… Virtue to love, and vices for to f… For unto virtue longeth dignity,

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;

Incipit carmen secundum ordinem li… Almighty and al merciable queene, To whom that al this world fleeth… To have relees of sinne, of sorwe,… Glorious virgine, of alle floures…

Sometime this world was so steadfa… That man’s word was held obligatio… And now it is so false and deceiva… That word and work, as in conclusi… Be nothing one; for turned up so d…

This worthy limitour, this noble… He made always a manner louring ch… Upon the Sompnour; but for honest… No villain word as yet to him spak… But at the last he said unto the…

Flee from the press, and dwell wit… Suffice thee thy good, though it b… For hoard hath hate, and climbing… Press hath envy, and weal is blent… Savour no more than thee behove sh…

Incipit Liber Quintus. Aprochen gan the fatal destinee That Ioves hath in disposicioun, And to yow, angry Parcas, sustren… Committeth, to don execucioun;

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…