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Noght

Noght \Noght\, adv. Not. [Obs.]
--Chaucer.

Usage examples of "noght".

Ful fressh and newe hir geere apiked was, Hir knyves were chaped noght with bras, But al with silver wroght ful clene and weel, Hir girdles and hir pouches everydeel.

Hir thoughte hir cursed herte brast atwo, She wolde noght hir sone had do so, Hir thoughte a despit, that he sholde take So strange a creature unto his make.

Thre strokes in the nekke he smoot hir tho, The tormentour, but for no maner chaunce He myghte noght smyte al hir nekke atwo.

Oure conseil was nat longe for to seche- Us thoughte it was noght worth to make it wys- And graunted hym, withouten moore avys, And bad him seye his voirdit, as hym leste.

And whan it fil that he myghte hire espye, He noght with wantowne lookyng of folye Hise eyen caste on hir, but in sad wyse, Upon hir chiere he wolde hym ofte avyse, Commendynge in his herte hir wommanhede And eek hir vertu, passynge any wight Of so yong age, as wel in chiere as dede.

Stibourne I was as is a leonesse, And of my tonge a verray jangleresse, And walke I wolde, as I had doon biforn, From hous to hous, although he had it sworn, For which he often-tymes wolde preche, And me of olde Romayn geestes teche, How he Symplicius Gallus lefte his wyf, And hir forsook for terme of al his lyf, Noght but for open-heveded he hir say, Lookynge out at his dore, upon a day.

Noght oonly of Saluces in the toun Publiced was the bountee of hir name, But eek biside in many a regioun, If oon seide wel, another seyde the same.

Myn herte may myne harmes nat biwreye, I am so confus that I kan noght seye.

Oure blissed lordes body they to-tere, Hem thoughte that Jewes rente hym noght ynough, And ech of hem at otheres synne lough.

I kepe noght of armes for to yelpe, Ne I ne axe nat tomorwe to have victorie, Ne renoun in this cas, ne veyne glorie Of pris of armes blowen up and doun, But I wolde have fully possessioun Of Emelye, and dye in thy servyse.

The wikked nest was werker of this nede, Noght Charles Olyvver, that took ay heede Of trouthe and honour, but of Armorike Genyloun Olyver, corrupt for meede, Broghte this worthy kyng in swich a brike.

Crist, which that is to every harm triacle, By certeine meenes ofte, as knowen clerkis, Dooth thyng for certein ende, that ful derk is To mannes wit, that for oure ignorance Ne konne noght knowe his prudent purveiance.

Me were looth be likned, doutelees, To Muses that men clepe Pierides- Methamorphosios woot what I mene- But nathelees, I recche noght a bene Though I come after hym with hawebake, I speke in prose, and lat him rymes make.

I blame hym thus, that he considereth noght In tyme comynge what hym myghte bityde, But in his lust present was al his thoght, As for to hauke and hunte on every syde.

Noght fer fro thilke paleys honurable Ther as this markys shoop his mariage, Ther stood a throop, of site delitable, In which that povre folk of that village Hadden hir beestes and hir herbergage, And of hir lobour tooke hir sustenance, After that the erthe yaf hem habundance.