The Vision of William Concerning Piers the Plowman: In Three Parallel Texts; Together with Richard the Redeless, Volume 1

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Clarendon Press, 1886 - English poetry
 

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Page 18 - In a somer seson • whan soft was the sonne, I shope me in shroudes • as I a shepe were, In habite as an heremite • vnholy of workes, Went wyde in this world • wondres to here.
Page 18 - In A somer sesun • whon softe was the sonne, I schop me in-to a schroud • A scheep as I were ; In Habite of an Hermite • vn-holy of werkes, Wende I wydene in this world • wondres to here.
Page 18 - I was wery forwandred . and went me to reste Vnder a brode banke . bi a bornes side, And as I lay and lened . and loked in the wateres, I slombred in a slepyng . it sweyued so merye.
Page 20 - Manye of this maistres freris mowe clothen hem at lykyng, For here money and marchandise marchen togideres.
Page 598 - Bi Cryste,' quod Conscience tho, 'I wil bicome a pilgryme, And walken as wyde as al the worlde lasteth, To seke Piers the Plowman that Pryde may destruye, And that freres hadde a fyndyng that for nede flateren And contrepleteth me, Conscience; now kynde me auenge, And sende me happe and hele til I haue Piers the Plowman!
Page 132 - And carefullich mea culpa • he comsed to shewe. He was as pale as a pelet • in the palsye he semed, And clothed in a caurimaury • I couthe it noujte discreue ; In kirtel and kourteby • and a knyf bi his syde, 80 Of a freres frokke • were the forsleues.
Page 117 - Whanne ich yong was," quath ich, "meny yer hennes*, My fader and my frendes founden me to scole, Tyl ich wiste wyterliche' what holy wryt menede*, And what is best for the body, as the Bok telleth, And sykerest* for the soule ; by so10 ich wolle continue.
Page 164 - If I shulde deye bi this day • me liste noujte to loke; 400 I can noujte perfitly my pater-noster • as the prest it syngeth, But I can rymes of Robyn Hood • and Randolf erle of Chestre, Ac neither of owre lorde ne of owre lady • the leste that euere was made.
Page 242 - I shal cessen of my sowyng, quod Pieres • ' and swynk noujt so harde, Ne about my bely-ioye • so bisi be namore ! Of preyers and of penaunce • my plow shal ben herafter, And wepen whan I shulde slepe • though whete-bred me faille. The prophete his payn...
Page 444 - And leveth" and loveth alle that owre lorde made. Curseth he no creature, ne he can bere no wratthe, Ne no lykynge hath to lye ne laughe men to scorne. Al that men seith, he let it soth...

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