Geoffrey Chaucer

He koude songes make and well endite.

He koude songes make and well endite.

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.

Ther n' is no werkman whatever he be,
That may both werken wel and hastily.
This wol read more

Ther n' is no werkman whatever he be,
That may both werken wel and hastily.
This wol be done at leisure parfitly.

Mordre wol out, that see we day by day.

Mordre wol out, that see we day by day.

For of Fortune's sharpe adversite,
The worste kynde of infortune is this,
A man to hav bent read more

For of Fortune's sharpe adversite,
The worste kynde of infortune is this,
A man to hav bent in prosperite,
And it remembren whan it passed is.