Abak he sterte, and thoghte it was amis,
For wel he wiste a womman hath no berd;
He felte a thing al rough and long y-herd,
And seyde, ‘fy! allas! what have I do?’
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Abak he sterte, and thoghte it was amis,
For wel he wiste a womman hath no berd;
He felte a thing al rough and long y-herd,
And seyde, ‘fy! allas! what have I do?’
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‘A berd, a berd!’ quod hende Nicholas,
‘By Goddes corpus, this goth faire and weel!’
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‘A berd, a berd!’ quod hende Nicholas,
‘By Goddes corpus, this goth faire and weel!’
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This sely Absolon herde every deel,
And on his lippe he gan for anger byte;
And to him-self he seyde, ‘I shal thee quyte!’
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This sely Absolon herde every deel,
And on his lippe he gan for anger byte;
And to him-self he seyde, ‘I shal thee quyte!’
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Who rubbeth now, who froteth now his lippes
With dust, with sond, with straw, with clooth, with chippes,
But Absolon, that seith ful ofte, ‘allas!
My soule bitake I unto Sathanas,
But me wer lever than al this toun,’ quod he,
‘Of this despyt awroken for to be!
Allas!’ quod he, ‘allas! I ne hadde y-bleynt!’
His hote love was cold and al y-queynt;
For fro that tyme that he had kiste hir ers,
Of paramours he sette nat a kers,
For he was heled of his maladye;
Ful ofte paramours he gan deffye,
And weep as dooth a child that is y-bete.
A softe paas he wente over the strete
Un-til a smith men cleped daun Gerveys,
That in his forge smithed plough-harneys;
He sharpeth shaar and culter bisily.
This Absolon knokketh al esily,
And seyde, ‘undo, Gerveys, and that anon.’
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Who rubbeth now, who froteth now his lippes
With dust, with sond, with straw, with clooth, with chippes,
But Absolon, that seith ful ofte, ‘allas!
My soule bitake I unto Sathanas,
But me wer lever than al this toun,’ quod he,
‘Of this despyt awroken for to be!
Allas!’ quod he, ‘allas! I ne hadde y-bleynt!’
His hote love was cold and al y-queynt;
For fro that tyme that he had kiste hir ers,
Of paramours he sette nat a kers,
For he was heled of his maladye;
Ful ofte paramours he gan deffye,
And weep as dooth a child that is y-bete.
A softe paas he wente over the strete
Un-til a smith men cleped daun Gerveys,
That in his forge smithed plough-harneys;
He sharpeth shaar and culter bisily.
This Absolon knokketh al esily,
And seyde, ‘undo, Gerveys, and that anon.’
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