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…

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…

Madame, for youre newefangelnesse, Many a servant have ye put out of… I take my leve of your unstedefast… For wel I woot, whil ye have live… Ye can not love ful half yeer in a…

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…

Adam scriveyn, if ever it thee bif… Boece or Troylus for to wryten ne… Under thy long lokkes thou most ha… But after my makyng thow wryte mor… So ofte adaye I mot thy werk rene…

They had a cook with them who stood alone For boiling chicken with a marrow-bone, Sharp flavouring powder and a spice for savour. He could distinguish London ale by flavour, And he coul...

The double 12 sorwe of Troilus to… That was the king Priamus sone of… In lovinge, how his aventures fell… Fro wo to wele, and after out of… My purpos is, er that I parte fro…

Now welcome, somer, with thy sonne… That hast this wintres wedres over… And driven away the longe nyghtes… Saynt Valentyn, that art ful hy o… Thus syngen smale foules for thy s…

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.*…

WHEN ended was my tale of Melibe… And of Prudence and her benignity… Our Hoste said, 'As I am faithfu… And by the precious corpus Madria… I had lever* than a barrel of ale,…

Proverbe of Chaucer What shul these clothes thus manyf… Lo this hote somers day? After grete hete cometh cold; No man caste his pilche away.

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…

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…

In Oxford there once lived a rich… Who had some guest rooms that he r… And carpentry was this old fellow’… A poor young scholar boarded who h… His studies in the liberal arts, b…

I. 1. Youre two eyn will sle me sodenly I may the beaute of them not suste… So wendeth it thorowout my herte k… And but your words will helen hast…