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...

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

O Yonge fresshe folkes, he or she… In which that love up groweth with… Repeyreth hoom from worldly vanite… And of your herte up-casteth the v… To thilke god that after his image

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…

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…

‘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…

This wrecched worldes transmutacio… As wele or wo, now povre and now h… Withouten ordre or wys discrecioun Governed is by Fortunes errour. But natheles, the lak of hir favou…

My Master Bukton, when of Christ… Was asked, What is truth or sooth… He not a word answer’d to that ask… As who saith, no man is all true,… And therefore, though I highte to…

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…

FLY from the press, and dwell wit… Suffice unto thy good, though it b… For hoard hath hate, and climbing… Preise hath envie, and weal is ble… Savor no more than thee behoven sh…

Prohemium. But al to litel, weylaway the whyl… Lasteth swich Ioye, y-thonked be… That semeth trewest, whan she wol… And can to foles so hir song entun…

Fle fro the pres, and dwelle with… Suffise thin owen thing, thei it b… For hord hath hate, and clymbyng t… Prees hath envye, and wele blent o… Savour no more thanne the byhove s…

Now welcome Summer with thy sunne… That hast this winter’s weathers o… And driven away the longe nighties… Saint Valentine, that art full hi… Thus singen smalle fowles for thy…

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