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Стр. 86 - 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.
Стр. 267 - The first line that Sir Patrick red, A loud lauch lauched he ; The next line that Sir Patrick red, The teir blinded his ee. " O wha is this has don this deid, This ill deid don to me, To send me out this time o' the yeir, To sail upon the se ! " Mak hast, mak haste, my mirry men all.
Стр. 301 - So thus did both these nobles die, Whose courage none could stain. An English archer then perceived The noble earl was slain ; He had a bow bent in his hand, Made of a trusty tree; An arrow of a cloth-yard long To the hard head drew he. Against Sir Hugh Mountgomery So right the shaft he set, The gray goose-wing that was thereon In his heart's blood was wet. This fight did last from break of day Till setting of the sun; For when they rung the evening-bell The battle scarce was done.
Стр. 84 - After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe, For Frensh of Paris was to hir unknowe. At mete wel y-taught was she with-alle; She leet no morsel from hir lippes falle, Ne wette hir fingres in hir sauce depe.
Стр. 248 - And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife, Edward, Edward? And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife, Whan ye gang ovir the sea O? " " The warldis room, late them beg thrae life, Mither, mither, The warldis room, late them beg thrae life, For thame nevir mair wul I see O." 7. " And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir, Edward, Edward ? And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir ? My deir son, now tell me O." " The curse of hell f rae me sail ye beir, Mither, mither, The...
Стр. 89 - He sette nat his benefice to hyre, And leet his sheep encombred in the myre, And ran to London, un-to seynt Poules, To seken him a chaunterie for soules...
Стр. 92 - Now, lordynges, trewely Ye been to me right welcome hertely : For by my trouthe, if that I shal nat lye, I ne saugh this yeer so mery a compaignye At ones in this herberwe as is now. Fayn wolde I doon yow mirthe, wiste I how. And of a mirthe I am right now bithoght, To doon yow ese, and it shal coste noght.
Стр. 86 - A CLERK ther was of Oxenford also That un-to logik hadde longe y-go. As lene was his hors as is a rake, And he nas nat right fat, I undertake, But loked holwe, and ther-to soberly. Ful thredbar was his overest courtepy; For he had geten him yet no benefyce, Ne was so worldly for to have offyce.
Стр. 252 - In behint yon auld fail dyke I wot there lies a new-slain knight ; And naebody kens that he lies there But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair. " His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, His lady's ta'en another mate, So we may mak our dinner sweet. " Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, And I'll pike out his bonny blue een : Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.