some but two, and some three.' This is most probably the edition printed in 1532 by Thomas Godfrey, which has Thynne's dedication to the king prefixed; it is printed in double columns, and not with ‘one columne on a side,' as Francis Thynne describes his father's edition to bave been; but no other edition has yet been discovered which more exactly answers to his description.

It is with this edition, and that of 1542, which are in general very correctly printed, that the minor poems of Chaucer have been collated for the present impression, with the exception of a few which appeared for the first time in Spegbt's edition of 1597. • The Flower and the Leaf' is given from Mr. Todd's collation of Speght and Urry. "The Canterbury Tales' are given from Mr. Tyrwhitt's edition, who, 'has taken much pains, and in many instances to excellent purposes, with the text.' How much it is to be desired that the remaining works of Chaucer should meet with similar collation and correction at the hands of some skilful editor! The unwarrantable liberties wbich have been taken in Urry's edition, in order to make the verse read smoothly to the modern unpractised ear, render that edition of little value. The time which a collation of manuscript copies with the printed text would occupy precluded the possibility of having recourse to their aid upon the present occasion; yet it is hoped, that the reader is here presented with a more correct copy of the minor poems than has been hitherto given to the public.



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As wel his wordes, as his contenance.
And I so loved him for his obeisance,
And for the trouthe I demed in his herte,
That if so were that any thing him smerte,
Al were it never so lite, and I it wist,
Me thought I felt deth at myn herte twist.
And shortly, so ferforth this thing is went,


will was his willes instrument;
This is to say, my will obeied his will
In alle thing, as fer as reson fill,
Keping the boundes of my worship ever:
Ne never had I thing se lefe, ne lever,
As him, God wot, ne never shal no mo.

This lasteth lenger than a yere or two,
That I supposed of him nought but good.
But finally, thus at the last it stood,
That fortune wolde that he muste twin
Out of that place, which that I was in.
W,her me was wo, it is no question;
I cannot make of it description.
For o thing dare I tellen boldely,
I know what is the peine of deth therby,
Swiche harme I felt, for he ne might byleve.

So on a day of me he toke his leve,
So sorweful eke, that I wend veraily,
That he had felt as mochel harme as I,
Whan that I herd him speke, and saw his hewe.
But natheles, I thought he was so trewe,
And eke that he repairen shuld again
Within a litel while, soth to sain,
And reson wold eke that he muste go
For his honour, as often happeth so,
That I made vertue of necessitee,
And toke it wel, sin that it muste be.


As I best might, I hid fro him my sorwe,
And toke him by the hond, Seint John to borwe,
And said him thus; lo, I am youres all,
Beth swiche as I have ben to you and shall.

What he answerd, it nedeth not reherse;
Who can say bet than be, who can do werse?
Whan he hath al wel said, than hath he done.
Therfore behoveth him a ful long spone,
That shal ete with a fend; thus herd I say,

So at the last he muste forth his way, And forth he fleeth, til he come ther him lest. Whan it came him to purpos for to rest, I trow that he had thilkeltext in mind, That alle thing repairing to his kind Gladeth himself, thus sain menas I gesse: Men loven of propre kind newefangelnesse, As briddes don, that men in cages fede. For though thou night and day take of hem hede, And strew hir cage faire and soft as silke, And give hem sugre, hony, bred, and milke, Yet right anon as that his dore is up, He with his feet wol spurnen doun his cup, And to the wood he wol, and wormes ete; So newefangel ben they of hir mete, And loven noveltees of propre No gentillesse of blood ne may hem bind.

So ferd this tercelet, alas the day! Though he were gentil borne, and fresh, and gay, And goodly for to seen, and humble, and free, He saw upon a time a kite flee, And sodenly he loved this kite so, That all his love is clene fro me ago: And hath his trouthe falsed in this wise. Thus hath the kite my love in hire service,



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