The Canterbury Tales: The Knight's Tale
'And if so be my destynee be shapen
By eterne word to dyen in prisoun,
Of oure lynage have som compassioun,
That is so lowe ybroght by tirranye.'
'The fresshe beautee sleeth me sodeynly
Of hire, that rometh in the yonder place,
And but I may seen hir atte leeste weye,
I nam but deed, ther is namoore to seye.'
'Som man desireth for to han richesse,
That cause is of his mordre of greet siknesse.
And som man wolde out of his prisoun fayn,
That in his hous is of his meynee slayn.'