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Page xlii - Somtyme with the lord of Palatye, Ageyn another hethen in Turkye : And evermore he hadde a sovereyn prys. And though that he were worthy, he was wys, And of his port as meke as is a mayde. He never yet no vileinye ne sayde 70 In al his lyf, un-to no maner wight. He was a verray parfit gentil knight.
Page 2 - 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.
Page 5 - Ful swetely herde he confessioun, And plesaunt was his absolucioun; He was an esy man to yeve penaunce Ther as he wiste...
Page 20 - Ther nas no dore that he nolde heve of harre, 550 Or breke it, at a renning, with his heed. His berd as any sowe or fox was reed, And ther-to brood, as though it were a spade. Up-on the cop...
Page 78 - Ligurge him-self, the grete king of Trace; Blak was his berd, and manly was his face. The cercles of his eyen in his heed, They gloweden...
Page 6 - For if he yaf, he dorste make avaunt, He wiste that a man was repentaunt. For many a man so hard is of his herte, He may nat wepe al-thogh him sore smerte. 230 Therfore, in stede of weping and preyeres, Men moot yeve silver to the povre freres.
Page 103 - What is this world? what asketh men to have? Now with his love, now in his colde grave Allone, withouten any compaignye.
Page 7 - But he was lyk a maister or a pope. Of double worstede was his semycope, That rounded as a belle out of the presse. Somwhat he lipsed for his wantownesse To make his Englissh sweete upon his tonge.