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That was wel twight, 44) min owen Liard 45), Chaucer.

boy,
I pray God save thy body and Seint Eloy.
Now is my cart out of the flough parde!
Lo, brother, quod the fend, what told I

thee?
Here may ye seen, min owen dere brother,
The cherl spake o thing, but he thought another.
Let us go forth abouten our viage;
Here win I nothing upon this cariage.

Whan that they comen som what out of toun,
This Sompnour to his brother gan to roune;
Brother, quod he, here woneth 46) an old rebekke,
That had almost as lefe to lese 47) her nekke
As for to yeve a penny of hire good.
I wol have twelf pens though that she be wood,
Or I wol fomone 48) hire to our office,
And yet, God wot, of hire know I no vice;,
But for thou canst not as in this contree
Winnen thy cost, take her ensample 49) of me.

This Sompnour clappeth at the widewes gate;
Come out, he sayd, thou olde very trate; 50)
I trow thou hast some frere or preeft with thee.

Who clappeth? said this wif, benedicite!
God save you, Sire, what is your swete will?

I have, quod be, of fomons here a bill:
Up peine of cursing loke that thou be
To-morwe before the archedekenes knee,
To answere to the court of certain thinges.
Now Lord, quod she, Crist Jesu, King of kin

ges,
So wisly helpe me as I ne may:
I have ben sike, and that ful many a day:
I may not go fo fer (quod fhe) ne ride,
But I be ded, so priketh it in my side.
May I not axe a libel, Sir Sompnour,

1

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And

44) pulled. plucked. 45) An appellation of the horse
from it's grey colour. 46) dwells. 47) to lose. 48)
fummon. 49) example. 50) trot; old woman,

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Chaucer.

my hold.

And answere ther by my procuratour,
To swiche thing as men wold apposen me?

Yes, quod this Sompnour, pay anon, let fee,
Twelf pens to me, and I wol thee acquite:
I shal' no profit han therby but lite; 51)
My maister hath the profit and not I.
Come of, and let me riden hastily;
Yeve me twelf pens, I may no lenger tarie.
Twelf pens! quod she; now Lady Seint Ma-

rie
So willy helpe me out of care and sinne,
This wide world though that I fhuld it winne,
Ne have I not twelf pens within
Ye knowen wel that I am poure and old;
Kithe 52) your

almesle

upon me poure wretche. Nay than, quod he, the foule fend me

fetche,
If I thee excuse, though thou shaldest be spilt.

Alas! quod she, God wot I have no gilt.
Pay me, quod he, or by the swete Seinte

Anne
As I wol bere away thy newe panne
For dette which thou owest me of old
Whan that thou madest thyn husbond coke-

wold
I paied at home for thy correction.

Thou lieft, quod fhe, by my salvation;
Ne was I never or now, widew ne wif,
Sompned unto your court in ail my lif,
Ne never I n'as but of my body trewe.
Unto the devil rough and blake of hewe
Yeve I the body and my panne also.

And whan the devil herd hire cursen fo,
Upon hire knees, he fayd in this maere :

Now Mabily, min moder dere,
Is this your will in ernest that ye sey ?

The devil, quod fhe, fo fetche him or he dey,
And panne and all, but he wol him repent.

Nay,

51) little. 52) Show,

Chaucer.

Nay, olde stot, that is not min entent,
Quod this Sompnour, for to repenten me
For any thing that I have had of thee: -
I wold I had thy smock and every cloth.

Now brother, quod the devil, be not wroth;
Thy body and this panne ben min by right;
Thou shalt with me to helle yet to-night,
Wher thou shalt knowen of our privetee
More than a maister of divinitee.

And with that word the foule fend him hent
Body and foule: he with the devil went
Wher as thise Sompnours han hir heritage:
And God, that maked after his image
Mankinde, save and gide us all and some,
And lene this Sompnour good man to become.

Dry:

Dr y d e n.

Dryden.

(Folyn Dryden, einer der fruchtbarften englischen Poer ten, geboren 1631, gestorben 1701. Seine Fables, oder Ers gåhlungen, aus dem Somer, Ovid, Boccaz und Chaucer geschöpft, schrieb er erft in seinen lerten Lebensjahren; fie. gehdren aber zu seinen besten Arbeiten, und verrathen durch: aus einen sehr gebildeten Geschmack und wahres dichtrisches Gefühl. Man darf folgende Erzählung nur mit der Novelle im Boccaz vergleichen, aus welcher ihr Stoff genommen ifto um des englischen Dichters Ueberlegenheit in der Erz&hlungs gabe, und den mannichfachen Antheil reines Genies an der ganzen Ausführung überall wahrzunehmen. Besonders ben die beschreibenden Stellen auffallende Vorzüge.)

THEODORE AND HONORIA,

FROM BOCCACE.

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Of all the cities in Romanian lands
The chief, and most renown'd, 'Ravenna ftands,
Adorn'd in ancient times with arms and arts,
And rich inhabitants, with gen'rous hearts.
But Theodore, the brave, above the rest
With gifts of fortune and of nature bless'd,
The foremost place for wealth and honour held,
And all in feats of chivalry excell'd.

This noble youth to niadness lov'd a dame
Of high degree, Honoria was her name;
Fair as the fairest, but of haughty mind,
And fiercer than became fo soft a kind,
Proud of her birth; (for equal Che had none;)
The rest she scorn'd; but hated him alone,
His gifts, his constant courtship, nothing gain'd;
For she, the more he lov'd, the more disdain'd.
He liv'd with all the pomp he could devise,
At tilts and tournaments obtain'd the prize;
But found no favour in his lady's eyes:

Re.

Dryden.

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Relentless as a rock, the lofty maid
Turn'd all to poison, that he did or said:
Nor pray’rs, nor tears, nor offer'd yows, could

move;
The work went backward; and the more he-

strove
T'advance his suit, the farther from her love.

Weary'd at last, and wanting remedy,
He doubted oft, and oft refolv'd to die.
But pride stood ready to prevent the blow,
For who would die to gratify a foe?
His gen'rous mind dis dain'd so mean a fate;
That pass’d, his next endeavour was to hate.
But vainer that relief than all the rest,
The lefs he hop'd, with more desire poffefs’d;
Love stood the fiege, and would not yield his

breast.
Change was the next; but change deceiv'd his

care;
He fought a fairer, but found none fo fair.
He would have worn her out by flow degrees in
As men by fasting starve th' untam'd disease:
But present love requir'd a present ease.
Looking he feeds alone his famish'd eyes,
Feeds ling'ring death, but looking not he dies.
Yet still he chose the longest way to fate,
Wasting at once his life and his eftate.

His friends beheld, and pity'd him in vain,
For what advice can ease a lover's pain?
Absence, the best expedient they could find,
Might save the fortune, if not cure the mind:
This means they long purpos'd, but little gain'd,
Yet after much pursuit, at length obtain'd.

Hard you may think it was to give consent,
But Itruggling with his own desires he went,
With large expence, and with a pompous train,
Provided as to visit France or Spain,
Or for some distant yoyage o'er the main.
But love had clipp'd his wings, and eut him shortag
Confin'd within the purlieus of the court,

Three

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