n hir corages;
Than longen folk to gon on pilgrimages.

_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 9._

And of his port as meke as is a mayde.

_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 69._

He was a veray parfit gentil knight.

_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 72._

He coude songes make, and wel endite.

_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 95._

Ful wel she sange the service devine,
Entuned in hire nose ful swetely;
And Frenche she spake ful fayre and fetisly,
After the scole of Stratford atte bowe,
For Frenche of Paris was to hire unknowe.

_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 122._

A Clerk ther was of Oxenforde also.

_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 287._

For him was lever han at his beddes hed
A twenty bokes, clothed in black or red,
Of Aristotle, and his philosophie,
Than robes riche, or fidel, or sautrie.
But all be that he was a philosophre,
Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre.

_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 295._

And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.

_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 310._

Nowher so besy a man as he ther n' as,
And yet he semed besier than he was.

_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 323._

His studie was but litel on the Bible.

_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 440._

For gold in phisike is a cordial;
Therefore he loved gold in special.

_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 445._

Wide was his parish, and houses fer asonder.

_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 493._

This noble ensample to his shepe he yaf,--
That first he wrought, and afterwards he taught.

_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 498._

But Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve,
He taught; but first he folwed it himselve.

_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 529._

And yet he had a thomb of gold parde.[2-1]

_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 565._

Who so shall telle a tale after a man,
He moste reherse, as neighe as ever he can,
Everich word, if it be in his charge,
All speke he never so rudely and so large;
Or elles he moste tellen his tale untrewe,
Or feinen thinges, or finden wordes newe.

_Canterbury Tales. Prologue. Line 733._

For May wol have no slogardie a-night.
The seson priketh every gentil herte,
And maketh him out of his slepe to sterte.

_Canterbury Tales. The Knightes Tale. Line 1044._

That