"The careyne in the bush, with throte y-corve: A thousand slayn, and nat of qualm y-storve; The tiraunt, with the prey by force y-raft; The toun destroyed, ther was no-thing laft. Yet saugh I brent the shippes hoppesteres; The hunte strangled with the wilde beres: The sowe freten the child right in the cradel; The cook y-scalded, for al his longe ladel."
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:There was the murdered corpse in covert laid, And violent death in thousand shapes displayed; The city to the soldier's rage resigned; Successless wars, and poverty behind: Ships burnt in fight, or forced on rocky shores, And the rash hunter strangled by the boars; The new-born babe by nurses overlaid; And the cook caught within the raging fire he made. (trans. Dryden)
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The Canterbury Tales
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