WHANNE that April with his shoures sote The droughte of March hath perced to the rote.
And smale foules maken melodie, That slepen alle night with open eye, So priketh hem nature in hir corages; Than longen folk to gon on pilgrimages.
Ful wel she sange the service devine, Entuned in hire nose ful swetely; And Frenche she spake ful fayre and fetisly, After the scole of Stratford atte bowe, For Frenche of Paris was to hire unknowe.
For him was lever han at his beddes hed A twenty bokes, clothed in black or red, Of Aristotle, and his philosophie, Than robes riche, or fidel, or sautrie. But all be that he was a philosophre, Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre.
And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.
Nowher so besy a man as he ther n' as, And yet he semed besier than he was.
For gold in phisike is a cordial; Therefore he loved gold in special.
Wide was his parish, and houses fer asonder.
This noble ensample to his shepe he yaf,-- That first he wrought, and afterwards he taught.
But Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve, He taught; but first he folwed it himselve.
And yet he had a thomb of gold parde.[2-1]
Who so shall telle a tale after a man, He moste reherse, as neighe as ever he can, Everich word, if it be in his charge, All speke he never so rudely and so large; Or elles he moste tellen his tale untrewe, Or feinen thinges, or finden wordes newe.
For May wol have no slogardie a-night. The seson priketh every gentil herte, And maketh him out of his slepe to sterte.
_Canterbury Tales. The Knightes Tale. Line 1044._
That field hath eyen, and the wood hath ears.[2-2]
_Canterbury Tales. The Knightes Tale. Line 1524._
_Canterbury Tales. The Knightes Tale. Line 2275._
Min be the travaille, and thin be the glorie.
_Canterbury Tales. The Knightes Tale. Line 2408._
_Canterbury Tales. The Knightes Tale. Line 3044._
_Canterbury Tales. The Milleres Tale. Line 3497._
Ther n' is no werkman whatever he be, That may both werken wel and hastily.[3-2] This wol be done at leisure parfitly.[3-3]
_Canterbury Tales. The Marchantes Tale. Line 585._
Yet in our ashen cold is fire yreken.[3-4]
_Canterbury Tales. The Reves Prologue. Line 3880._
The gretest clerkes ben not the wisest men.
_Canterbury Tales. The Reves Tale. Line 4051._