The Prioresses Tale: Sir Thopas, the Monkes Tale, the Clerkes Tale, the Squieres Tale from the Canterbury Tales

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Clarendon Press, 1880 - 316 pàgines

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Pàgina 194 - A jest's prosperity lies in the ear • Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it : then, if sickly ears, Deaf 'd with the clamours of their own dear groans.
Pàgina 188 - Now had they waken'd; and the hour drew near When they were wont to bring us food; the mind Of each misgave him through his dream, and I Heard at its outlet underneath lock'd up The horrible tower : whence, uttering not a word, I look'd upon the visage of my sons.
Pàgina 9 - Parfourned is by men of dignitee, But by the mouth of children thy bountee Parfourned is, for on the brest soukynge Somtyme shewen they thyn heriynge.
Pàgina 188 - These weeds of miserable flesh we wear; And do thou strip them off from us again.' Then, not to make them sadder, I kept down My spirit in stillness. That day and the next We all were silent. Ah, obdurate earth!
Pàgina 185 - HENRY and King Pedro clasping, Hold in straining arms each other; Tugging hard, and closely grasping, Brother proves his strength with brother Harmless pastime, sport fraternal, Blends not thus their limbs in strife : Either aims, with rage infernal, Naked dagger, sharpened knife.
Pàgina 190 - Yet he did cast down their frontiers, and cut down their groves: for he had decreed to destroy all the gods of the land, that all nations should worship Nabuchodonosor only, and that all tongues and tribes should call upon him as god.
Pàgina xlviii - And Solomon was David's heir; and he said, O men, we have been taught the speech of birds, and have had all things bestowed on us ; this is manifest excellence.
Pàgina 139 - All the brethren of the poor do hate him; how much more do his friends go far from, him? he pursueth them with words, yet they are wanting to him.
Pàgina 60 - I wol yow telle a tale which that I Lerned at Padowe of a worthy clerk, As preved by his wordes and his werk. He is now deed and nayled in his cheste, I prey to god so yeve his soule reste.
Pàgina 100 - Beth egre as is a tygre yond in Ynde, Ay clappeth as a mille, I yow consaille. Ne dreed hem nat, doth hem no reverence, For though thyn housbonde armed be in maille, The arwes of thy crabbed eloquence Shal perce his brest and eek his aventaille.

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