Geoffrey Chaucer

And yet he hadde "a thombe of gold" pardee.

And yet he hadde "a thombe of gold" pardee.

That of all the floures in the mede,
Thanne love I most these floures white and rede,
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That of all the floures in the mede,
Thanne love I most these floures white and rede,
Suche as men callen daysyes in her toune.

In jalousie I rede eek thou hym bynde
And thou shalt make him couche as doeth a quaille.

In jalousie I rede eek thou hym bynde
And thou shalt make him couche as doeth a quaille.

The thrustelcok made eek hir lay,
The wode dove upon the spray
She sang ful loude and read more

The thrustelcok made eek hir lay,
The wode dove upon the spray
She sang ful loude and cleere.

The guilty think all talk is of themselves

The guilty think all talk is of themselves