"Whanne that Aprille with his postings sote / The droghte of Blogspot hath perced to the rote"

I had seen this a while back but not linked to it before: Geoffrey Chaucer Hath A Blog.

A sampling:

GALFRIDUS CHAUCERES LYNES OF PICKE-VPPE:

-Do sheriffs administere thee to those who breke the kinges peace? Bycause thou lookst “fyne.�

-Yf thou were a latyn tretise ich wolde putte thee in the vernacular.

-Ich do deuote myn diligence to studye of the anatomie of engendrure. Ich haue happed vpon an abstruse passage in the werke of Constantyne the Affrikan De Coitu, the which I kan nat construe. For lernynges sake and the goode of wisdom, woldstow performe the acte of venus withe me so that ich may interpret thys clause in propre wise?

-Ich loved thy papere, but yt wolde looke much better yscattred across the floore of myn rentede dorme roome at dawne.

-Art thou a disastrous poll tax? Bycause I feele a risynge comynge on.

-Nyce bootes. Wanna swyve?

-Thou lookst so mvch lyk an aungel that the friares haue lefte the roome yn terror!

-Shulle we maken the cindreblokke to synge?

-Woldstow haue me shyfte thyne voweles?

-Were thou yn my seisin, ich wolde nevir escheat on thee.

-Thy beaute ys more intoxicatyng than the OVP openne bar.

-Yf thy beautee were an poeme, yt wolde make Dante looke lyk Marcabru.

-The preeste telleth me that we aren more than VII degrees of consanguinitee. Game on!

-Ich notyce that myn demense and thyn do abutte. Wolde yt plese thee to consolidate ovre powere-base in the midlands?

-Makstow a pilgrymage heere often?

-Let vs breake oure mornyng faste togedir tomorrowe. Shal ich sende a page wyth a message for thee, or shal ich wake thee wyth an aubade composid ex tempore?

-Ich coude drynke a yearlye tun of thee.

-Ys thy father a makere of walles? For how else dide he gyve thee svch a tall and fayre forheed?

-Ich haue the tale of Lancelot yn myn roome. Woldstow rede of yt wyth me?

--By my soule, thou art a verye mappe of helle. For thy face lyk the rivere Styx wil make me swere oothes neuer to be fforsworn, and thy embrace lyk the Lethe shal make me foryet al else, and lyk vnto the Flegeton thyn arse ys ON FYRE!

-Woldstow be myn Gaveston?

-Howe abovte a blancmange and the acte of Venus? Whatte, blancmange pleseth thee nat?

-If ich sayde that thou hadde a bele chose, woldstow holde it ayeinst me?

If only I'd known about these lines when I took Chaucer in college, I might have had a better shot with that transfer student from Holyoke. Ah, well.

Yippes! to Lynn S.