Chaucer's England, المجلد 1

الغلاف الأمامي
Hurst and Blackett, 1869
 

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مقاطع مشهورة

الصفحة 47 - That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.
الصفحة 59 - Mulier est hominis confusio,— Madame, the sentence of this Latyn is, "Womman is mannes joye, and al his blis...
الصفحة 41 - Phlegra with the heroic race were join'd That fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each side Mix'd with auxiliar gods ,• and what resounds In fable or romance of Uther's son Begirt with British and Armoric knights...
الصفحة 178 - But sore weep she if oon of hem were deed, Or if men smoot it with a yerde smerte : And al was conscience and tendre herte.
الصفحة 92 - The MILLER was a stout carl for the nones: Ful big he was of braun and eek of bones; That proved wel, for over-al ther he cam, At wrastling he wolde have alwey the ram.
الصفحة 42 - Glittering in golden coats, like images; As full of spirit as the month of May, And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer; Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
الصفحة 281 - For this ye knowen al so wel as I, Whoso shal telle a tale after a man, He moot reherce as ny as evere he kan Everich a word, if it be in his charge, Al speke he never so rudeliche and large, Or ellis he moot telle his tale untrewe, Or feyne thyng, or fynde wordes newe.
الصفحة 191 - Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand: Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back; Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind For which thou whipp'st her.
الصفحة 167 - Thou shalt not' writ over the door; So I turned to the Garden of Love, That so many sweet flowers bore. And I saw it was filled with graves, And tomb-stones where flowers should be, And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds, And binding with briars my joys and desires.
الصفحة 42 - As full of spirit as the month of May, And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer; Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls. I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship.

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