. . . . Tak any bryd, and put it in a cage, And do al thyn entente, and thy corage, To fostre it tendrely with mete and drynke Of alle deyntees that thou kanst bithynke, And keep it al so clenly as thou may, Al though his cage of gold be never so gay, Yet hath this bird by twenty thousand foold Levere in a forest, that is rude and coold, Goon ete wormes and swich wrecchedness: For ever this brid wol doon his bisyness To escape out of his cage, if he may; His libertee this brid desireth ay. . . .

—Geoffrey Chaucer, from Canterbury Tales

. . . . Take any bird and put him in a cage And show your warmest kindness, to engage And raise him tenderly with food and drink And all the delicacies that you can think, And always keep it freshly swept and clean; Although his cage be gold of brightest sheen, Yet would the bird, by twenty-thousand-fold Rather into a forest dark and cold Go to eat worms and all such wretched fare: Forever he will struggle all he dare To find some way to break free of the wires; Above all else, liberty he desires. . . .

—Translated by Faith Bowman et al.

. . . . For lo! the gentil kind of the lioun; For whan a flye offendeth him, or byteth, He with his tayl away the flye smiteth, Al esily; for of his genterye Him deyneth nat to wreke him on a flye. . . .

—Geoffrey Chaucer, from The Legend of Good Women

. . . . Behold the noble lion, Aristocrat! For should a fly annoy him, bite his back, He flicks his tail, and thus with airy ease Brushes it off; why should the Monarch of Beasts Descend to wreak dread vengeance on a fly? . . .

—Translated by Faith Bowman