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…

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…

Your two great eyes will slay me s… Their beauty shakes me who was onc… Straight through my heart the woun… Only your word will heal the injur… To my hurt heart, while yet the wo…

To yow, my purse, and to noon othe… Complayne I, for ye be my lady de… I am so sory, now that ye been lyg… For certes, but ye make me hevy ch… Me were as leef be layd upon my be…

‘IN faith, Squier, thou hast thee… And gentilly; I praise well thy w… Quoth the Franklin; 'considering… So feelingly thou speak’st, Sir,… *As to my doom,* there is none tha…

Syn I fro love escaped am so fat, I nere thinke to ben in his prison… Syn I am fre, I count hym not a b… He may answere, and sey this and t… I do no fors, I speke ryght as I…

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…

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;

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,…

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…

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…

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…

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;

‘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…

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…