The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems by Geoffrey Chaucer
page 451 of 1215 (37%)
page 451 of 1215 (37%)
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And though that I be old, and may not see,
Be to me true, and I will tell you why. Certes three thinges shall ye win thereby: First, love of Christ, and to yourself honour, And all mine heritage, town and tow'r. I give it you, make charters as you lest; This shall be done to-morrow ere sun rest, So wisly* God my soule bring to bliss! *surely I pray you, on this covenant me kiss. And though that I be jealous, wite* me not; *blame Ye be so deep imprinted in my thought, That when that I consider your beauty, And therewithal *th'unlikely eld* of me, *dissimilar age* I may not, certes, though I shoulde die, Forbear to be out of your company, For very love; this is withoute doubt: Now kiss me, wife, and let us roam about." This freshe May, when she these wordes heard, Benignely to January answer'd; But first and forward she began to weep: "I have," quoth she, "a soule for to keep As well as ye, and also mine honour, And of my wifehood thilke* tender flow'r *that same Which that I have assured in your hond, When that the priest to you my body bond: Wherefore I will answer in this mannere, With leave of you mine owen lord so dear. I pray to God, that never dawn the day That I *no sterve,* as foul as woman may, *do not die* |
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