Bell's Edition, 3-4. kötet

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J. Bell, 1782
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204. oldal - ne wiste I what ye mente. But now, Aurelie, I knowe your entente, By thilke god that yaf me soule and lyf, Ne shal I never been untrewe wyf In word ne werk, as fer as I have wit: I wol ben his to whom that I am knit; Tak this for fynal answer as of me.
185. oldal - But rather ete the flesh upon us two. Our flesh thou yaf ' us, take our flesh us fro, And ete ynough...
87. oldal - His tendre limmes, delicat to sight, Fro foules and fro bestes for to save. But she non answer of him mighte have, He went his way, as him no thing ne rought, But to Boloigne he tendrely it brought. This markis wondreth ever lenger the more Upon...
159. oldal - And by his side a naked swerd hanging : And up he rideth to the highe bord. In all the halle ne was ther spoke a word, For mervaille of this knight ; him to behold Ful besily they waiten yong and old.
27. oldal - But I to you be al so good and trewe As ever was wif sin that the world was newe, And but I be to-morwe as faire to seen As any lady, emperice, or quene, That is betwix the est and eke the west, Doth with my lif and deth right as you lest Cast up the curtein, loke how that it is.
56. oldal - A, yeve that covent half a quarter otes; And yeve that covent four and twenty grotes; And yeve that frere a peny, and let him go: Nay, nay, Thomas, it may no thing be so. What is a ferthing worth parted on twelve ? Lo, eche thing that is oned in himselve Is more strong than whan it is yscatered.
163. oldal - Poileis courser were; For certes, fro his tayl unto his ere Nature ne art ne coud him not amend In no degree, as all the peple wend. But evermore hir moste wonder was, How that it coude gon, and was of bras; It was of faerie, as the peple semed. Diverse folk diversely han demed; As many heds, as many wittes ben.
103. oldal - The gold of hem hath now so bad alayes With bras, that though the coine be faire at eye, It wolde rather brast atwo than plie. For which here, for the wives love of Bathe, Whos lif and al hire secte God maintene In high maistrie, and elles were it scathe, I wol with lusty herte fresshe and grene, Say you a song to gladen you, I wene: And let us stint of ernestful matere.
39. oldal - Sompnour shope him for to wende, They saw a cart that charged was with hay, Which that a carter drove forth on his way. Depe was the way, for which the carte stood ; The carter smote, and cried as he were wood, Heit, Scot ; heit, Brok ; what, spare ye for the stones ? The fend...

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