It is the Romance of the Rose, / In which al the art of love I close. / The mater fair is of to make; / God graunte in gree that she it take / For whom that it begonnen is! (Lines 39-43.)

Love, as him lyketh it to be. / But he can cherles daunten, he, / And maken folkes pryde fallen. / And he can wel these lordes thrallen, / And ladies putte at lowe degree, / Whan he may hem to proude see. (Lines 879-884.)

This is the mirour perilous...For who-so loke in that mirour / Ther may no-thing ben his socour/ That he ne shal ther seen som thing / That shal him lede into loving. (Lines 1601-1608.)

Whan I had smelled the savour swote, / No wille hadde I fro thens yit go, / But somdel neer it went I tho / To take it. (Lines 1706-1709.)

He took an arowe fu sharply whet, / And in...