of beheste, Or elles thei take ate leste Out of hir hand or ring or glove, So nyh the weder thei wol love, As who seith sche schal noght forgete, Nou I this escort magyar tokne of hire have gete.
And thus the thurst of gold was queynt, With gold which hadde ben atteignt.
Org/hardcore hardcore /URL hardcore URLtatuto.
For this I finde of Hanybal, That he of Romeins in a dai, Whan he hem fond out of arai, So gret a multitude slowh, That of gold ringes, whiche he drowh Of gentil handes that ben dede, Buisshelles fulle thre, I rede, He felde, and made a bregge also, That he mihte over Tibre go Upon the corps that dede were Of the Romeins, whiche he slowh there.I wot the time is ofte cursed, That evere was the gold unpursed, The which was leid upon the bok, Whan that alle othre sche forsok For love of him. .Tale of Midas Bachus, which is the god of wyn, Acordant unto his divin A prest, the which Cillenus hihte, He hadde, and fell so that be nyhte This prest was drunke and goth astraied, Wherof the men were evele apaied In Frigelond, whereas he wente.For this avou to God I make, After this day if I thee take, Thou schalt ben honged and todrawe.A riche marchant of the lond Hir fader was, and hire fond So worthily, and such richesse Of worldes good and such largesse With hire he gaf in mariage, That only for donne che cercano altre donne thilke avantage Of good this steward hath hire take, For lucre and noght for loves sake, And that was afterward wel seene.Non sine vindicta periurus abibit in eius Visu, qui cordis intima cuncta videt.
Thus hope I wel, if that I go, That sche for me wol so ordeine, That thei matiere for to pleigne Schul have, er that I come agein.Nou schape ye the beste weie.' Whan Hector hath seid his avis, Next after him tho spak Paris, Which was his brother, and alleide What him best thoghte, and thus he seide: 'Strong thing it is to soffre wrong, And suffre schame is more strong, Bot we have suffred bothe tuo; And for al that yit have we do What so we mihte to reforme The pes, whan we in such a forme Sente Anthenor, as ye wel knowe.Forevere it duelleth in here mynde Of that thei founde a man unkinde, And that was false Tereus.And wel I wot that he ne may Amende his wrong, it is so gret; For he to lytel of me let, Whan he myn oughne soster tok, And me that am his wif forsok.' Lo, thus to Venus and Cupide Sche preide, and furthermor sche cride Unto Appollo the hiheste, And seide, 'O myhti god of reste, Thou do vengance of this debat.6 "Mi sone, thou schalt understonde Hou Coveitise hath yit on honde In special tuo conseilours, That ben also hise procurours.Bot who sche was he knew nothing.Bot whan that sche cast up hire lok Toward the stronde and sih no wyht, Hire herte was so sore aflyht, That sche ne wiste what to thinke, Bot drouh hire to the water brinke, Wher sche behield the see at large.This faire maiden cleped is Criseide, douhter of Crisis, Which was that time in special Of thilke temple principal, Wher Phebus hadde his sacrifice, So was it wel the more vice.
Forthi, mi fader, as of this I wot noght I have don amis.