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From The Monk's Tale, lines 575-662:
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From The Canterbury Tales:
The Monk's Tale
lines 663-686: De Oloferno


De Oloferno

       Was nevere capitayn under a kyng
That regnes mo putte in subjeccioun,
665Ne strenger was in feeld of alle thyng
As in his tyme, ne gretter of renoun,
Ne moore pompous in heigh presumpcioun,
Than Oloferne, which Fortune ay kiste
So likerously, and ladde hym up and doun
670Til that his heed was of er that he wiste.
       Was never captain, no, of any king's
That had more kingdoms in subjection thrown,
665Nor stronger was, in field; above all things,
Nor in his time a greater of renown,
Nor had more pomp with high presumption shown,
Than Holofernes, whom Dame Fortune kissed
Right lecherously, and led him up and down
670Until his head was off before 'twas missed.

Nat oonly that this world hadde hym in awe
For lesynge of richesse or libertee,
But he made every man reneyen his lawe.
"Nabugodonosor was god," seyde hee,
675"Noon oother god sholde adoure bee."
Agayns his heeste no wight dorste trespace,
Save in Bethulia, a strong citee,
Where Eliachim a preest was of that place.
Not only did this world hold him in awe
For taking all its wealth and liberty,
But he made every man renounce old law.
"Nebuchadnezzar is your god," said he,
675"And now no other god shall worshipped be."
Against his order no man dared to stand,
Except in Bethulia, a strong city,
Where Eliachim priest was of the land.

But taak kepe of the deeth of Oloferne;
680Amydde his hoost he dronke lay a-nyght,
Withinne his tente, large as is a berne;
And yet, for al his pompe and al his myght
Judith, a womman, as he lay upright
Slepynge, his heed of smoot, and from his tente
685Ful prively she stal from every wight,
And with his heed unto hir toun she wente.
But from the death of Holofernes learn.
680Amidst his host he lay drunk, on a night,
Within his tent, as large as ever barn,
And yet, for all his pomp and all his might,
Judith, a woman, as he lay upright,
Sleeping, smote off his head and from his tent
685Stole secretly away from every wight,
And with the head to her own town she went.




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From The Monk's Tale, lines 687-742:
De Rege Anthiocho illustri
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