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Ci commence le fablel e la cointise de dame Siriz

As I com bi an waie,
Hof on Ich herde saie -
Ful modi mon and proud.
Wis he wes of lore,
And gouþlich vnder gore,
And cloþed in fair sroud.

To louien he begon,
On wedded wimmon;
þerof he heuede wrong!
His herte hire wes al on,
þat reste neuede he non -
þe loue wes so strong
(Dame Sirith Vv. 1-12)

Whilom ther was dwellynge at Oxenford
A riche gnof, that gestes heeld to bord,
And of his craft he was a carpnter.
With hym ther was dwellynge a poure scoler,
[...]
This clerk was cleped hende Nicholas.
Of deerne love he coude and of solas;
And therto he was sleigh and ful privee,
And lyk a mayden meke for to see;
[...]
This carpenter hadde wedded newe a wyf,
Which that he lovede moore than his lyf;
Of eighteteene yeer she was of age.
Jalous he was, and heeld hire narwe in cage,
For she was wylde and yong, and he was old,
And demed hymself been lik a cokewold.
(Geoffrey Chaucer, CT, Mil, Vv. 3187-3226)

Dame Sirith

The Miller's Tale