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Out of his bosom took a bechen cole, In which ful subtilly was maad an hole, And therinne put was of silver lemaille An ounce, and stoppéd was withouten faille The hole with wex, to kepe the lemaille in. The "false chanoun" pretended to be sorry for the priest, who was so busily blowing the fire: Ye been right hoot, I se wel how ye swete; Have heer a clooth, and wipe awey the we't.

Fro that abbeye men gon up the mountayne of Moyses, be many degrees: and there men fynden first a Chirche of oure Lady, where that sche mette the monkes, whan thei fledden awey for the vermyn aboveseyd. And more highe upon that mountayne is the chapelle of Helye the prophete. And that place thei clepen Oreb, where of Holy Writt spekethe.

Also a 5 myle fro Naym, is the cytee of Jezreel, that sometyme was clept Zarym; of the which cytee Jezabel the cursed queen was lady and queen, that toke awey the vyne of Nabaothe, be hire strengthe. Faste by that cytee, is the Feld Magede, in the whiche the Kyng Joras was slayn of the Kyng of Samarie, and aftre was translated and buryed in the Mount Syon.

And thoughe there be nevere so moche taken awey there of, on the day, at Morwe it is as fulle azen as evere it was. And that is a gret mervaille. And there is evermore gret wynd in that fosse, that sterethe everemore the gravelle, and makethe it trouble. And zif ony man do thereinne ony maner metalle, it turnethe anon to glasse.

The first sitiation iver I held it was a hold hancient habbey, wi' the biggest orchard o' apples an' pears you ever see there was a French valet, an' he stool silk stoockins, an' shirts, an' rings, an' iverythin' he could ley his hands on, an' run awey at last wi' th' missis's jewl-box. They're all alaike, them furriners. It roons i' th' blood. 'Well, said Mrs.

Dryden's verdict on Chaucer's poetry is: "Here is God's plenty." V. His love of nature is noteworthy for that early age. Such lines as these manifest something more than a desire for rhetorical effect in speaking of nature's phenomena: "Now welcom somer, with thy sonne softe, That hast this wintres weders over-shake, And driven awey the longe nightes blake !"

And whan he was upon his coursere, and wente to the castelle, and entred into the cave, the dragoun lifte up hire hed azenst him. And whan the knyghte saw hire in that forme so hidous and so horrible, he fleyghe awey. And the dragoun bare the knyghte upon a roche, mawgre his hede; and from that roche, sche caste him in to the see: and so was lost bothe hors and man.

Whan his felaw sawe that, he ran awey as he were wood, for fere of the horryble strokes, & laucelot after hym with al his myzt & smote hym on the sholder, and clafe hym to the nauel. Thenne Syre Launcelot went in to the halle, and there came afore hym thre score ladyes and damoysels, and all kneled unto hym, and thanked God and hym of their delyveraunce."