The Canterbury tales
General prologue
Therefore he was a prickasour aright.
190 Greyhounds he had as swift as fowl in flight.
Of pricking and of hunting for the hare
Was all his lust, for no cost would he spare.
I saw his sleevès purfled at the hand
With gris, and that the finest of the land,
195 And for to fasten his hood under his chin
He had of gold y-wrought a full curious pin —
A love knot on the greater end there was.
