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类型【址:a g 9 559⒐ v i p】1:黄艺 大小:1QanPyiQ17187KB 下载:TBZHqsJx80777次
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日期:2020-08-03 17:57:18
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1.【址:a g 9 559⒐ v i p】1  This false thief, the Sompnour (quoth the Frere), Had always bawdes ready to his hand, As any hawk to lure in Engleland, That told him all the secrets that they knew, -- For their acquaintance was not come of new; They were his approvers* privily. *informers He took himself at great profit thereby: His master knew not always what he wan.* *won Withoute mandement, a lewed* man *ignorant He could summon, on pain of Christe's curse, And they were inly glad to fill his purse, And make him greate feastes at the nale.* *alehouse And right as Judas hadde purses smale,* *small And was a thief, right such a thief was he, His master had but half *his duety.* *what was owing him* He was (if I shall give him his laud) A thief, and eke a Sompnour, and a bawd. And he had wenches at his retinue, That whether that Sir Robert or Sir Hugh, Or Jack, or Ralph, or whoso that it were That lay by them, they told it in his ear. Thus were the wench and he of one assent; And he would fetch a feigned mandement, And to the chapter summon them both two, And pill* the man, and let the wenche go. *plunder, pluck Then would he say, "Friend, I shall for thy sake Do strike thee out of oure letters blake;* *black Thee thar* no more as in this case travail; *need I am thy friend where I may thee avail." Certain he knew of bribers many mo' Than possible is to tell in yeare's two: For in this world is no dog for the bow,<3> That can a hurt deer from a whole know, Bet* than this Sompnour knew a sly lechour, *better Or an adult'rer, or a paramour: And, for that was the fruit of all his rent, Therefore on it he set all his intent.
2.  The crane, the giant, with his trumpet soun'; The thief the chough; and eke the chatt'ring pie; The scorning jay; <26> the eel's foe the heroun; The false lapwing, full of treachery; <27> The starling, that the counsel can betray; The tame ruddock,* and the coward kite; *robin-redbreast The cock, that horologe* is of *thorpes lite.* *clock *little villages*
3.  (Dame Prudence, seeing her husband's resolution thus taken, in full humble wise, when she saw her time, begins to counsel him against war, by a warning against haste in requital of either good or evil. Meliboeus tells her that he will not work by her counsel, because he should be held a fool if he rejected for her advice the opinion of so many wise men; because all women are bad; because it would seem that he had given her the mastery over him; and because she could not keep his secret, if he resolved to follow her advice. To these reasons Prudence answers that it is no folly to change counsel when things, or men's judgements of them, change -- especially to alter a resolution taken on the impulse of a great multitude of folk, where every man crieth and clattereth what him liketh; that if all women had been wicked, Jesus Christ would never have descended to be born of a woman, nor have showed himself first to a woman after his resurrection and that when Solomon said he had found no good woman, he meant that God alone was supremely good; <3> that her husband would not seem to give her the mastery by following her counsel, for he had his own free choice in following or rejecting it; and that he knew well and had often tested her great silence, patience, and secrecy. And whereas he had quoted a saying, that in wicked counsel women vanquish men, she reminds him that she would counsel him against doing a wickedness on which he had set his mind, and cites instances to show that many women have been and yet are full good, and their counsel wholesome and profitable. Lastly, she quotes the words of God himself, when he was about to make woman as an help meet for man; and promises that, if her husband will trust her counsel, she will restore to him his daughter whole and sound, and make him have honour in this case. Meliboeus answers that because of his wife's sweet words, and also because he has proved and assayed her great wisdom and her great truth, he will govern him by her counsel in all things. Thus encouraged, Prudence enters on a long discourse, full of learned citations, regarding the manner in which counsellors should be chosen and consulted, and the times and reasons for changing a counsel. First, God must be besought for guidance. Then a man must well examine his own thoughts, of such things as he holds to be best for his own profit; driving out of his heart anger, covetousness, and hastiness, which perturb and pervert the judgement. Then he must keep his counsel secret, unless confiding it to another shall be more profitable; but, in so confiding it, he shall say nothing to bias the mind of the counsellor toward flattery or subserviency. After that he should consider his friends and his enemies, choosing of the former such as be most faithful and wise, and eldest and most approved in counselling; and even of these only a few. Then he must eschew the counselling of fools, of flatterers, of his old enemies that be reconciled, of servants who bear him great reverence and fear, of folk that be drunken and can hide no counsel, of such as counsel one thing privily and the contrary openly; and of young folk, for their counselling is not ripe. Then, in examining his counsel, he must truly tell his tale; he must consider whether the thing he proposes to do be reasonable, within his power, and acceptable to the more part and the better part of his counsellors; he must look at the things that may follow from that counselling, choosing the best and waiving all besides; he must consider the root whence the matter of his counsel is engendered, what fruits it may bear, and from what causes they be sprung. And having thus examined his counsel and approved it by many wise folk and old, he shall consider if he may perform it and make of it a good end; if he be in doubt, he shall choose rather to suffer than to begin; but otherwise he shall prosecute his resolution steadfastly till the enterprise be at an end. As to changing his counsel, a man may do so without reproach, if the cause cease, or when a new case betides, or if he find that by error or otherwise harm or damage may result, or if his counsel be dishonest or come of dishonest cause, or if it be impossible or may not properly be kept; and he must take it for a general rule, that every counsel which is affirmed so strongly, that it may not be changed for any condition that may betide, that counsel is wicked. Meliboeus, admitting that his wife had spoken well and suitably as to counsellors and counsel in general, prays her to tell him in especial what she thinks of the counsellors whom they have chosen in their present need. Prudence replies that his counsel in this case could not properly be called a counselling, but a movement of folly; and points out that he has erred in sundry wise against the rules which he had just laid down. Granting that he has erred, Meliboeus says that he is all ready to change his counsel right as she will devise; for, as the proverb runs, to do sin is human, but to persevere long in sin is work of the Devil. Prudence then minutely recites, analyses, and criticises the counsel given to her husband in the assembly of his friends. She commends the advice of the physicians and surgeons, and urges that they should be well rewarded for their noble speech and their services in healing Sophia; and she asks Meliboeus how he understands their proposition that one contrary must be cured by another contrary. Meliboeus answers, that he should do vengeance on his enemies, who had done him wrong. Prudence, however, insists that vengeance is not the contrary of vengeance, nor wrong of wrong, but the like; and that wickedness should be healed by goodness, discord by accord, war by peace. She proceeds to deal with the counsel of the lawyers and wise folk that advised Meliboeus to take prudent measures for the security of his body and of his house. First, she would have her husband pray for the protection and aid of Christ; then commit the keeping of his person to his true friends; then suspect and avoid all strange folk, and liars, and such people as she had already warned him against; then beware of presuming on his strength, or the weakness of his adversary, and neglecting to guard his person -- for every wise man dreadeth his enemy; then he should evermore be on the watch against ambush and all espial, even in what seems a place of safety; though he should not be so cowardly, as to fear where is no cause for dread; yet he should dread to be poisoned, and therefore shun scorners, and fly their words as venom. As to the fortification of his house, she points out that towers and great edifices are costly and laborious, yet useless unless defended by true friends that be old and wise; and the greatest and strongest garrison that a rich man may have, as well to keep his person as his goods, is, that he be beloved by his subjects and by his neighbours. Warmly approving the counsel that in all this business Meliboeus should proceed with great diligence and deliberation, Prudence goes on to examine the advice given by his neighbours that do him reverence without love, his old enemies reconciled, his flatterers that counselled him certain things privily and openly counselled him the contrary, and the young folk that counselled him to avenge himself and make war at once. She reminds him that he stands alone against three powerful enemies, whose kindred are numerous and close, while his are fewer and remote in relationship; that only the judge who has jurisdiction in a case may take sudden vengeance on any man; that her husband's power does not accord with his desire; and that, if he did take vengeance, it would only breed fresh wrongs and contests. As to the causes of the wrong done to him, she holds that God, the causer of all things, has permitted him to suffer because he has drunk so much honey <4> of sweet temporal riches, and delights, and honours of this world, that he is drunken, and has forgotten Jesus Christ his Saviour; the three enemies of mankind, the flesh, the fiend, and the world, have entered his heart by the windows of his body, and wounded his soul in five places -- that is to say, the deadly sins that have entered into his heart by the five senses; and in the same manner Christ has suffered his three enemies to enter his house by the windows, and wound his daughter in the five places before specified. Meliboeus demurs, that if his wife's objections prevailed, vengeance would never be taken, and thence great mischiefs would arise; but Prudence replies that the taking of vengeance lies with the judges, to whom the private individual must have recourse. Meliboeus declares that such vengeance does not please him, and that, as Fortune has nourished and helped him from his childhood, he will now assay her, trusting, with God's help, that she will aid him to avenge his shame. Prudence warns him against trusting to Fortune, all the less because she has hitherto favoured him, for just on that account she is the more likely to fail him; and she calls on him to leave his vengeance with the Sovereign Judge, that avengeth all villainies and wrongs. Meliboeus argues that if he refrains from taking vengeance he will invite his enemies to do him further wrong, and he will be put and held over low; but Prudence contends that such a result can be brought about only by the neglect of the judges, not by the patience of the individual. Supposing that he had leave to avenge himself, she repeats that he is not strong enough, and quotes the common saw, that it is madness for a man to strive with a stronger than himself, peril to strive with one of equal strength, and folly to strive with a weaker. But, considering his own defaults and demerits, -- remembering the patience of Christ and the undeserved tribulations of the saints, the brevity of this life with all its trouble and sorrow, the discredit thrown on the wisdom and training of a man who cannot bear wrong with patience -- he should refrain wholly from taking vengeance. Meliboeus submits that he is not at all a perfect man, and his heart will never be at peace until he is avenged; and that as his enemies disregarded the peril when they attacked him, so he might, without reproach, incur some peril in attacking them in return, even though he did a great excess in avenging one wrong by another. Prudence strongly deprecates all outrage or excess; but Meliboeus insists that he cannot see that it might greatly harm him though he took a vengeance, for he is richer and mightier than his enemies, and all things obey money. Prudence thereupon launches into a long dissertation on the advantages of riches, the evils of poverty, the means by which wealth should be gathered, and the manner in which it should be used; and concludes by counselling her husband not to move war and battle through trust in his riches, for they suffice not to maintain war, the battle is not always to the strong or the numerous, and the perils of conflict are many. Meliboeus then curtly asks her for her counsel how he shall do in this need; and she answers that certainly she counsels him to agree with his adversaries and have peace with them. Meliboeus on this cries out that plainly she loves not his honour or his worship, in counselling him to go and humble himself before his enemies, crying mercy to them that, having done him so grievous wrong, ask him not to be reconciled. Then Prudence, making semblance of wrath, retorts that she loves his honour and profit as she loves her own, and ever has done; she cites the Scriptures in support of her counsel to seek peace; and says she will leave him to his own courses, for she knows well he is so stubborn, that he will do nothing for her. Meliboeus then relents; admits that he is angry and cannot judge aright; and puts himself wholly in her hands, promising to do just as she desires, and admitting that he is the more held to love and praise her, if she reproves him of his folly)
4.  OUR Hoste gan to swear as he were wood; "Harow!" quoth he, "by nailes and by blood, <1> This was a cursed thief, a false justice. As shameful death as hearte can devise Come to these judges and their advoca's.* *advocates, counsellors Algate* this sely** maid is slain, alas! *nevertheless **innocent Alas! too deare bought she her beauty. Wherefore I say, that all day man may see That giftes of fortune and of nature Be cause of death to many a creature. Her beauty was her death, I dare well sayn; Alas! so piteously as she was slain. [Of bothe giftes, that I speak of now Men have full often more harm than prow,*] *profit But truely, mine owen master dear, This was a piteous tale for to hear; But natheless, pass over; 'tis *no force.* *no matter* I pray to God to save thy gentle corse,* *body And eke thine urinals, and thy jordans, Thine Hippocras, and eke thy Galliens, <2> And every boist* full of thy lectuary, *box <3> God bless them, and our lady Sainte Mary. So may I the',* thou art a proper man, *thrive And like a prelate, by Saint Ronian; Said I not well? Can I not speak *in term?* *in set form* But well I wot thou dost* mine heart to erme,** *makest **grieve<4> That I have almost caught a cardiacle:* *heartache <5> By corpus Domini <6>, but* I have triacle,** *unless **a remedy Or else a draught of moist and corny <7> ale, Or but* I hear anon a merry tale, *unless Mine heart is brost* for pity of this maid. *burst, broken Thou *bel ami,* thou Pardoner," he said, *good friend* "Tell us some mirth of japes* right anon." *jokes "It shall be done," quoth he, "by Saint Ronion. But first," quoth he, "here at this ale-stake* *ale-house sign <8> I will both drink, and biten on a cake." But right anon the gentles gan to cry, "Nay, let him tell us of no ribaldry. Tell us some moral thing, that we may lear* *learn Some wit,* and thenne will we gladly hear." *wisdom, sense "I grant y-wis,"* quoth he; "but I must think *surely Upon some honest thing while that I drink."
5.  4. Oliveres: olive trees; French, "oliviers."
6.  This knight adviseth* him and sore he siketh,** *considered **sighed But at the last he said in this mannere; "My lady and my love, and wife so dear, I put me in your wise governance, Choose for yourself which may be most pleasance And most honour to you and me also; I *do no force* the whether of the two: *care not For as you liketh, it sufficeth me." "Then have I got the mastery," quoth she, "Since I may choose and govern as me lest."* *pleases "Yea, certes wife," quoth he, "I hold it best." "Kiss me," quoth she, "we are no longer wroth,* *at variance For by my troth I will be to you both; This is to say, yea, bothe fair and good. I pray to God that I may *sterve wood,* *die mad* But* I to you be all so good and true, *unless As ever was wife since the world was new; And but* I be to-morrow as fair to seen, *unless As any lady, emperess or queen, That is betwixt the East and eke the West Do with my life and death right as you lest.* *please Cast up the curtain, and look how it is."

计划指导

1.  WHEN ended was my tale of Melibee, And of Prudence and her benignity, Our Hoste said, "As I am faithful man, And by the precious corpus Madrian,<1> I had lever* than a barrel of ale, *rather That goode lefe* my wife had heard this tale; *dear For she is no thing of such patience As was this Meliboeus' wife Prudence. By Godde's bones! when I beat my knaves She bringeth me the greate clubbed staves, And crieth, 'Slay the dogges every one, And break of them both back and ev'ry bone.' And if that any neighebour of mine Will not in church unto my wife incline, Or be so hardy to her to trespace,* *offend When she comes home she rampeth* in my face, *springs And crieth, 'False coward, wreak* thy wife *avenge By corpus Domini, I will have thy knife, And thou shalt have my distaff, and go spin.' From day till night right thus she will begin. 'Alas!' she saith, 'that ever I was shape* *destined To wed a milksop, or a coward ape, That will be overlad* with every wight! *imposed on Thou darest not stand by thy wife's right.'
2.  "I am mine owen woman, well at ease, I thank it God, as after mine estate, Right young, and stand untied in *lusty leas,* *pleasant leash Withoute jealousy, or such debate: (of love)* Shall none husband say to me checkmate; For either they be full of jealousy, Or masterful, or love novelty.
3.  Twelve years he reigned, as saith Maccabee Philippe's son of Macedon he was, That first was king in Greece the country. O worthy gentle* Alexander, alas *noble That ever should thee falle such a case! Empoison'd of thine owen folk thou were; Thy six <22> fortune hath turn'd into an ace, And yet for thee she wepte never a tear.
4.  Cecile answer'd anon right in this wise; "If that you list, the angel shall ye see, So that ye trow* Of Christ, and you baptise; *know Go forth to Via Appia," quoth she, That from this towne stands but miles three, And to the poore folkes that there dwell Say them right thus, as that I shall you tell,
5.  "The tree," quoth she, "the gallows is to mean, And Jupiter betokens snow and rain, And Phoebus, with his towel clear and clean, These be the sunne's streames* sooth to sayn; *rays Thou shalt y-hangeth be, father, certain; Rain shall thee wash, and sunne shall thee dry." Thus warned him full plat and eke full plain His daughter, which that called was Phanie.
6.  They had not danced but a *little throw,* *short time* When that I hearde far off, suddenly, So great a noise of thund'ring trumpets blow, As though it should departed* have the sky; *rent, divide And after that, within a while, I sigh,* *saw From the same grove, where the ladies came out, Of men of armes coming such a rout,* *company

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1.  I cannot say, if that the cause were, For* I had read of Africane beforn, *because That made me to mette that he stood there; But thus said he; "Thou hast thee so well borne In looking of mine old book all to-torn, Of which Macrobius *raught not a lite,* *recked not a little* That *somedeal of thy labour would I quite."* *I would reward you for some of your labour* Cytherea, thou blissful Lady sweet! That with thy firebrand dauntest *when thee lest,* *when you please* That madest me this sweven* for to mette, *dream Be thou my help in this, for thou may'st best! As wisly* as I saw the north-north-west, <8> *surely When I began my sweven for to write, So give me might to rhyme it and endite.* *write down
2.  This maiden bright Cecile, as her life saith, Was come of Romans, and of noble kind, And from her cradle foster'd in the faith Of Christ, and bare his Gospel in her mind: She never ceased, as I written find, Of her prayere, and God to love and dread, Beseeching him to keep her maidenhead.
3.  Thus plained Dorigen a day or tway, Purposing ever that she woulde dey;* *die But natheless upon the thirde night Home came Arviragus, the worthy knight, And asked her why that she wept so sore. And she gan weepen ever longer more. "Alas," quoth she, "that ever I was born! Thus have I said," quoth she; "thus have I sworn. " And told him all, as ye have heard before: It needeth not rehearse it you no more. This husband with glad cheer,* in friendly wise, *demeanour Answer'd and said, as I shall you devise.* *relate "Is there aught elles, Dorigen, but this?" "Nay, nay," quoth she, "God help me so, *as wis* *assuredly* This is too much, an* it were Godde's will." *if "Yea, wife," quoth he, "let sleepe what is still, It may be well par'venture yet to-day. Ye shall your trothe holde, by my fay. For, God so wisly* have mercy on me, *certainly *I had well lever sticked for to be,* *I had rather be slain* For very love which I to you have, But if ye should your trothe keep and save. Truth is the highest thing that man may keep." But with that word he burst anon to weep, And said; "I you forbid, on pain of death, That never, while you lasteth life or breath, To no wight tell ye this misaventure; As I may best, I will my woe endure, Nor make no countenance of heaviness, That folk of you may deeme harm, or guess." And forth he call'd a squier and a maid. "Go forth anon with Dorigen," he said, "And bringe her to such a place anon." They take their leave, and on their way they gon: But they not wiste why she thither went; He would to no wight telle his intent.
4.  When Dame Prudence had heard the answer of these men, she bade them go again privily, and she returned to her lord Meliboeus, and told him how she found his adversaries full repentant, acknowledging full lowly their sins and trespasses, and how they were ready to suffer all pain, requiring and praying him of mercy and pity. Then said Meliboeus, "He is well worthy to have pardon and forgiveness of his sin, that excuseth not his sin, but acknowledgeth, and repenteth him, asking indulgence. For Seneca saith, 'There is the remission and forgiveness, where the confession is; for confession is neighbour to innocence.' And therefore I assent and confirm me to have peace, but it is good that we do naught without the assent and will of our friends." Then was Prudence right glad and joyful, and said, "Certes, Sir, ye be well and goodly advised; for right as by the counsel, assent, and help of your friends ye have been stirred to avenge you and make war, right so without their counsel shall ye not accord you, nor have peace with your adversaries. For the law saith, 'There is nothing so good by way of kind, [nature] as a thing to be unbound by him that it was bound.'"
5.   29. "Nigellus Wireker," says Urry's Glossary, "a monk and precentor of Canterbury, wrote a Latin poem intituled 'Speculum Speculorum,' ('The mirror of mirrors') dedicated to William Longchamp, Bishop of Ely, and Lord Chancellor; wherein, under the fable of an Ass (which he calls 'Burnellus') that desired a longer tail, is represented the folly of such as are not content with their own condition. There is introduced a tale of a cock, who having his leg broke by a priest's son (called Gundulfus) watched an opportunity to be revenged; which at last presented itself on this occasion: A day was appointed for Gundulfus's being admitted into holy orders at a place remote from his father's habitation; he therefore orders the servants to call him at first cock-crowing, which the cock overhearing did not crow at all that morning. So Gundulfus overslept himself, and was thereby disappointed of his ordination, the office being quite finished before he came to the place." Wireker's satire was among the most celebrated and popular Latin poems of the Middle Ages. The Ass was probably as Tyrwhitt suggests, called "Burnel" or "Brunel," from his brown colour; as, a little below, a reddish fox is called "Russel."
6.  THE CUCKOO AND THE NIGHTINGALE.

应用

1.  And as the *new abashed* nightingale, *newly-arrived and timid* That stinteth,* first when she beginneth sing, *stops When that she heareth any *herde's tale,* *the talking of a shepherd* Or in the hedges any wight stirring; And, after, sicker* out her voice doth ring; *confidently Right so Cressida, when *her dreade stent,* *her doubt ceased* Open'd her heart, and told him her intent.* *mind
2.  A poor widow, *somedeal y-stept* in age, *somewhat advanced* Was whilom dwelling in a poor cottage, Beside a grove, standing in a dale. This widow, of which I telle you my tale, Since thilke day that she was last a wife, In patience led a full simple life, For little was *her chattel and her rent.* *her goods and her income* By husbandry* of such as God her sent, *thrifty management She found* herself, and eke her daughters two. *maintained Three large sowes had she, and no mo'; Three kine, and eke a sheep that highte Mall. Full sooty was her bow'r,* and eke her hall, *chamber In which she ate full many a slender meal. Of poignant sauce knew she never a deal.* *whit No dainty morsel passed through her throat; Her diet was *accordant to her cote.* *in keeping with her cottage* Repletion her made never sick; Attemper* diet was all her physic, *moderate And exercise, and *hearte's suffisance.* *contentment of heart* The goute *let her nothing for to dance,* *did not prevent her Nor apoplexy shente* not her head. from dancing* *hurt No wine drank she, neither white nor red: Her board was served most with white and black, Milk and brown bread, in which she found no lack, Seind* bacon, and sometimes an egg or tway; *singed For she was as it were *a manner dey.* *kind of day labourer* <2> A yard she had, enclosed all about With stickes, and a drye ditch without, In which she had a cock, hight Chanticleer; In all the land of crowing *n'as his peer.* *was not his equal* His voice was merrier than the merry orgon,* *organ <3> On masse days that in the churches gon. Well sickerer* was his crowing in his lodge, *more punctual* Than is a clock, or an abbay horloge.* *clock <4> By nature he knew each ascension Of th' equinoctial in thilke town; For when degrees fiftene were ascended, Then crew he, that it might not be amended. His comb was redder than the fine coral, Embattell'd <5> as it were a castle wall. His bill was black, and as the jet it shone; Like azure were his legges and his tone;* *toes His nailes whiter than the lily flow'r, And like the burnish'd gold was his colour, This gentle cock had in his governance Sev'n hennes, for to do all his pleasance, Which were his sisters and his paramours, And wondrous like to him as of colours. Of which the fairest-hued in the throat Was called Damoselle Partelote, Courteous she was, discreet, and debonair, And companiable,* and bare herself so fair, *sociable Since the day that she sev'n night was old, That truely she had the heart in hold Of Chanticleer, locked in every lith;* *limb He lov'd her so, that well was him therewith, But such a joy it was to hear them sing, When that the brighte sunne gan to spring, In sweet accord, *"My lefe is fare in land."* <6> *my love is For, at that time, as I have understand, gone abroad* Beastes and birdes coulde speak and sing.
3.  12. Orleans: Where there was a celebrated and very famous university, afterwards eclipsed by that of Paris. It was founded by Philip le Bel in 1312.
4、  Then came the seventh rout anon, And fell on knees ev'ry one, And saide, "Lady, grant us soon The same thing, the same boon, Which *this next folk* you have done." *the people just before us* "Fy on you," quoth she, "ev'ry one! Ye nasty swine, ye idle wretches, Full fill'd of rotten slowe tetches!* *blemishes <75> What? false thieves! ere ye would *Be famous good,* and nothing n'ould *have good fame* Deserve why, nor never raught,* *recked, cared (to do so) Men rather you to hangen ought. For ye be like the sleepy cat, That would have fish; but, know'st thou what? He woulde no thing wet his claws. Evil thrift come to your jaws, And eke to mine, if I it grant, Or do favour you to avaunt.* *boast your deeds Thou Aeolus, thou King of Thrace, Go, blow this folk a *sorry grace,"* *disgrace Quoth she, "anon; and know'st thou how? As I shall telle thee right now, Say, these be they that would honour Have, and do no kind of labour, Nor do no good, and yet have laud, And that men ween'd that Belle Isaude <76> *Could them not of love wern;* *could not refuse them her love* And yet she that grinds at the quern* *mill <77> Is all too good to ease their heart." This Aeolus anon upstart, And with his blacke clarioun He gan to blazen out a soun' As loud as bellows wind in hell; And eke therewith, the sooth to tell, This sounde was so full of japes,* *jests As ever were mows* in apes; *grimaces And that went all the world about, That ev'ry wight gan on them shout, And for to laugh as they were wood;* *mad *Such game found they in their hood.* <78> *so were they ridiculed*
5、  13. One of the greatest authors that men read: Cicero, who in his book "De Divinatione" tells this and the following story, though in contrary order and with many differences.

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  • 斯薇 08-02

      82. Couthe more than the creed: knew more than the mere elements (of the science of Love).

  • 兰勇 08-02

      For, shortly for to tell it at a word, The Soudan and the Christians every one Were all *to-hewn and sticked* at the board, *cut to pieces* But it were only Dame Constance alone. This olde Soudaness, this cursed crone, Had with her friendes done this cursed deed, For she herself would all the country lead.

  • 安阳钢铁 08-02

       3. Chaucer here again refers to the superstition, noticed in "The Cuckoo and the Nightingale," that it was of good omen to hear the nightingale before the cuckoo upon the advent of both with spring.

  • 丁玥 08-02

      5. "Yede" or "yead," is the old form of go.

  • 范尽显 08-01

    {  THE PROLOGUE.

  • 艾尔摩 07-31

      54. Lapidaire: a treatise on precious stones.}

  • 王华华 07-31

      The Friar laugh'd when he had heard all this: "Now, Dame," quoth he, "so have I joy and bliss, This is a long preamble of a tale." And when the Sompnour heard the Friar gale,* *speak "Lo," quoth this Sompnour, "Godde's armes two, A friar will intermete* him evermo': *interpose <33> Lo, goode men, a fly and eke a frere Will fall in ev'ry dish and eke mattere. What speak'st thou of perambulation?* *preamble What? amble or trot; or peace, or go sit down: Thou lettest* our disport in this mattere." *hinderesst "Yea, wilt thou so, Sir Sompnour?" quoth the Frere; "Now by my faith I shall, ere that I go, Tell of a Sompnour such a tale or two, That all the folk shall laughen in this place." "Now do, else, Friar, I beshrew* thy face," *curse Quoth this Sompnour; "and I beshrewe me, But if* I telle tales two or three *unless Of friars, ere I come to Sittingbourne, That I shall make thine hearte for to mourn: For well I wot thy patience is gone." Our Hoste cried, "Peace, and that anon;" And saide, "Let the woman tell her tale. Ye fare* as folk that drunken be of ale. *behave Do, Dame, tell forth your tale, and that is best." "All ready, sir," quoth she, "right as you lest,* *please If I have licence of this worthy Frere." "Yes, Dame," quoth he, "tell forth, and I will hear."

  • 吴某洋 07-31

      "For a vaunter and a liar all is one; As thus: I pose* a woman granteth me *suppose, assume Her love, and saith that other will she none, And I am sworn to holden it secre, And, after, I go tell it two or three; Y-wis, I am a vaunter, at the least, And eke a liar, for I break my hest.*<44> *promise

  • 郭进 07-30

       2. La Priere De Nostre Dame: French, "The Prayer of Our Lady."

  • 墨翁 07-28

    {  69. Claudian of Alexandria, "the most modern of the ancient poets," lived some three centuries after Christ, and among other works wrote three books on "The Rape of Proserpine."

  • 潘德政 07-28

      21. "Toteler" is an old form of the word "tatler," from the Anglo-Saxon, "totaelan," to talk much, to tattle.

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