The Harleian ms. 7334 of Chaucer's Canterbury tales. Ed. by Frederick J. Furnivall.

                                
                                     [6-text p 347] 
                                  
                                  how couþe I daunce to an harpe smale
                                
                                  And synge y-wys as eny nightyngale
                                
                                  whan I had dronke a draught of swete wyn
                                
                                  Metillius þe foule cherl þe swyn
                                  Line 460 
                                
                                  That with a staf byraft his wyf hir lyf
                                
                                  For sche drank wyn þough I had ben his wif
                                
                                  Ne schuld nouȝt haue daunted me fro drink
                                
                                  And after wyn on venus most I þink
                                  Line 464 
                                
                                  For also siker as cold engendrith hayl
                                
                                  A likorous mouth most haue a licorous tail
                                
                                  In wymmen vinolent is no defens
                                
                                  This knowen lecchours by experiens
                                  Line 468 
                                
                                  But lord crist whan þat it remembrith me
                                
                                  vpon my ȝouthe and on my iolite
                                
                                  It tikelith me aboute myn herte roote
                                
                                  Vnto þis day it doþ myn herte boote
                                  Line 472 
                                
                                  That I haue had my world as in my tyme
                                
                                  But age allas þat al wol enuenyme
                                
                                  Haþ me bireft my beaute and my pith
                                
                                  Let go far wel . þe deuyl go þer wiþ
                                  Line 476 
                                
                                  The flour is goon þer nis no more to telle
                                
                                  The bran as I best can now mot I selle
                                
                                  But ȝit to be mery wol I fonde /
                                
                                  Now wol I telle of my fourt housbonde
                                  Line 480 
                                
                                  I say I had in herte gret despyt
                                
                                  That he of eny oþer had delit
                                
                                  But he was quit/ by god and by seint Ioce
                                
                                  I made him of þe same woode a croce
                                  Line 484 
                                
                                  Nought of my body in no foul manere
                                
                                  But certeynly I made folk such chere
                                
                                  That in his owne grees I made him frie [folio 93a] 
                                
                                  For anger and for ialousie
                                  Line 488 
                                
                                  By god in erþe I was his purgatory
                                
                                  For which I hope his soule be in glory
                                
                                  For god it wot . he sat ful stille and song
                                
                                  whan þat his scho ful bitterly him wrong

                                  Line 492

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Title: The Harleian ms. 7334 of Chaucer's Canterbury tales. Ed. by Frederick J. Furnivall.
Author: Chaucer, Geoffrey, d. 1400.
Canvas: Page 207
Publication: London,: Pub. for the Chaucer society by N. Trübner & co.,; 1885.

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Collection: Corpus of Middle English Prose and Verse
Link to this Item: https://name.umdl.umich.edu/agz8246.0001.001
Link to this scan: https://quod.lib.umich.edu/c/cme/agz8246.0001.001/219:5

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Full citation: "The Harleian ms. 7334 of Chaucer's Canterbury tales. Ed. by Frederick J. Furnivall." In the digital collection Corpus of Middle English Prose and Verse. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/agz8246.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 7, 2025.

The Harleian ms. 7334 of Chaucer's Canterbury tales. Ed. by Frederick J. Furnivall.

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