baby don’t hurt me.

titsay

Kiana Khansmith
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ojovivo
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
One Nice Bug Per Day
Game of Thrones Daily
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
d e v o n
Misplaced Lens Cap

Love Begins

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
noise dept.
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Cosmic Funnies

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Discoholic 🪩
$LAYYYTER
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izzy's playlists!

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@mediaevalfollies
baby don’t hurt me.
missfolly:
Perindens, a magic tree and keeper of the birds, ca. 1220
Les moissons Heures de Marguerite d’Orléans, XVe siècle Paris, BnF, département des Manuscrits, Latin 1156 B, fol. 161v.
@credits
Next to the baptism of the Christ, farmers are harvesting. Women, a basket in their hand, bring them food.
Woman with baby cooking, child with bellows. detail. Ghent c.1320-30. bodl_Douce6 by tony harrison on Flickr.
Geoffrey Chaucer (ca. 1343-1400) from 'The Parliament of Fowls'
A garden saw I, full of blossomy boughs Upon a river, in a green mead, There as sweetness evermore enough is, With flowers white, blue, yellow, and red, And cold well-streams, nothing dead, That swimming full of small fishes light, With fins red and scales silver bright.
On every bough the birds heard I sing, With voice of angels in their harmony; Some busied themselves birds forth to bring; The little coneys to here play did hie. And further all about I could see The dread filled roe, the buck, the hart and hind, Squirrels, and beasts small of gentle kind.
Of instruments of strings in accord Heard I so play a ravishing sweetness, That God, that maker is of all and lord, Had heard never better, as I guess. Therewith a wind, scarcely it might be less, Made in the leaves green a noise soft Accordant to the fowls' song aloft.
Th'air of that place so a-temperate was That never was grievance of hot nor cold. There wax also every wholesome spice and grass; No man may there wax sick nor old; Yet was there joy more a thousandfold Than man can tell; never would it be night, But always clear day to any man's sight.
shuddhi:
DÜRER, Albrecht
Paumgartner Altar (left wing)
c. 1503
visuallycurious:
Francesco del Cossa, Saint Lucy, c. 1473-74
She refused to compromise.
They gouged out her eyes, yet she can see just fine.
Piero della Francesca (c. 1415 - 1492) Augustinian Nun, 15th century tempera on poplar panel 15 1/4 x 11 in. (38.7 x 27.9 cm) Purchased by The Frick Collection, 1950 Accession number: 1950.1.158
"Unknown Artist. Minstrels with a Rebec & a Lute. 13th c. Manasseh Codex. El Escorial, Madrid."
Medical and herbal texts, in Latin
England; 12th century, late MS. Ashmole 1462
fol. 16r
"Framed miniature: below, mad dog (white with blue head) running away; recumbent figure of man it has bitten, with doctor. At top, a hen: if its appetite is good, it is an omen of recovery."
Bodleian Library Manuscript Archives
mediumaevum:
And those people should not be listened to who keep saying the voice of the people is the voice of God, since the riotousness of the crowd is always very close to madness.
Alcuin in a letter to Charlemagne
meadowfoam:
A creature with two heads, one of a wolf, the other human. Woodcut, c.1495. Credit: Wellcome Library, London
(via Stained-Glass Panel [France] (37.173.3) | Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History | The Metropolitan Museum of Art)
Stained-Glass Panel, ca. 1245–1248 France, Tours, Ambulatory of the Cathedral of Saint-Gatien Pot-metal glass and vitreous paint
King Louis IX of France (r. 1226–70), later Saint Louis, undertook two crusades to the Holy Land. He acquired relics of Christ's passion from his cousin, the Latin emperor of Constantinople Baldwin II, most notably a piece of the True Cross and also the Crown of Thorns. He brought these relics to Paris and installed them in the Sainte-Chapelle, a church that he had built to house them. According to a contemporary chronicle, on the way to Paris Louis stopped at Sens, where the Crown of Thorns was placed in the cathedral overnight. This panel shows Louis at Sens with his brother and some courtiers. Clad in simple clothes, the crowned King Louis carries the extraordinary relic atop a chalice.
Source: Stained-Glass Panel [France] (37.173.3) | Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History | The Metropolitan Museum of Art
William Dunbar | A Brash of Wowing
In secreit place this hyndir nycht, I hard ane beyrne say till ane bricht, 'My huny, my hart, my hoip, my heill, I have bene lang your luifar leill And can of yow get confort nane; How lang will ye with denger deill? Ye brek my hart, my bony ane!' His bony berd was kemmit and croppit, Bot all with cale it was bedroppit; And he wes townysche, peirt and gukit, He clappit fast, he kist and chukkit As with the glaikis he wer ouirgane; Yit be his feirris he wald have fukkit; 'Ye brek my hart, my bony ane!' Quod he, 'My hairt, sweit as the hunye, Sen that I borne wes of my mynnye, I never wowit ane uder bot yow; My wambe is of your luif sa fow, That as ane gaist I glour and grane, I trymble sa, ye will nocht trow; Ye brek my hart, my bony ane!' 'Tehe!' quod scho, and gaif ane gawfe, 'Be still my tuchan and my calfe, My new spanit howffling fra the sowk, And all the blythnes of my bowk; My sweit swanking, saif yow allane, Na leyd I luffit all this owk; Full leifis me your graceless gane.' Quod he, 'My claver, my curledodie, My huny soppis, my sweit possodie, Be not our bosteous to your billie, Be warme hairtit and not ewill willie; Your hals, quhyt as quhalis bane, Garris ryis on loft my quhillielillie: Ye brek my hart, my bony ane!' Quod scho, 'My clype my unspaynit gyane, With moderis mylk yit in your mychane, My belly-huddrun, my swete hurle bawsy, My huny gukkis, my slawsy gawsy, Your musing waild perse ane hairt of stane, Tak gud confort, my grit heidit slawsy: Full leifis me your graceles gane.' Quod he, 'My kid, my capirculyoun, My bony baib with the ruch brilyoun, My tendir gyrle, my wallie gowdye, My tirlie mirlie, my crowdie mowdie; Quhone that oure mouthis dois meit at ane, My stang dois storkyn with your towdy: Ye brek my hart, my bony ane.' Quod scho, 'Now tak me be the hand, Welcum, my golk of Marie land, My chirrie, and my maikles munyoun, My sowklar sweit as ony unyoun, My strwmill stirk, yit new to spane, I am applyit to your opunyoun: I luif rycht weill your graceles gane.' He gaiff to hir ane apill rubye; Quod scho 'Grammercye,my sweit cowhubye.' And thai twa to ane play began, Quhilk men dois call the dery dan; Quhill bayth thair bewis did meit in ane. 'Wo is me!' quod scho, 'quhair will ye, man? Best now I luif that graceles gane.'
hyndir, recent; beyrne, fellow; bricht, pretty girl; cale, cabbage soup; townysche, cheaply smart; gukit, foolish; clappit, fondled; chukkit, chucked under the chin; glaikis, desire; feirris, behaviour; wambe, belly; fow, full; gawfe, guffaw; tuchan, stuffed calf-skin; spanit, weaned; howffling, stupid fellow; sowk, milk; bowk, body; swanking, smart young fellow; leyd, person; owk, week; leifis me, is dear to me; gane, ugly mug; claver, clover; curldodie, ribwort plantain; possodie, sheep's head broth; billie, lover; ewill willie, unkind; quhillielillie, penis; clype, silly fellow; unspaynit, unweaned; gyane, giant; mychane, mouth; huddrun, glutton; hurle bawsy, obscure term of endearment; huny gukkis, sweet fool; slawsy gawsy, jolly sloven; capirculyoun, woodgrouse; ruch brylyoun, hairy private parts; wallie, fine; gowdye, piece of gold; tyrlie myrlie, crowdie mowdie, obscure (and probably obscene) terms of endearment; stang, penis; towdie, buttocks; golk, cuckoo; maikles munyoun, matchless darling; sowklar, sucking child; unyoun, onion; strwmill stirk, ugly young bullock; applyit, inclined; cowhubye, fool; dery dan, copulation; bewis, limbs
(via The Womens Room: Things to do at Christmas: The V&A's new Medieval and Renaissance galleries)
These socks, knitted sometime between 300-500 A.D, were meant to be worn with sandals.
(via The Luck of Edenhall: history & myths - Victoria and Albert Museum)
The Luck of Edenhall: A glass beaker decorated with gold and coloured enamels, produced in Syria in the 13th century.
The first printed account of the Luck appeared in The Gentleman's Magazine for August 1791. Sir William Musgrave wrote
'The late agent of the family had such a reverential regard for this glass that he would not suffer any person to touch it, and few to see it. When the family, or other curious people, had a desire to drink out of it, a napkin was held underneath, lest any accident should befall it; and it is still carefully preserved, in a case made on purpose... Tradition our only guide here, says, that a party of Fairies were drinking and making merry round a well near the Hall, called St. Cuthbert's well; but being interrupted by the intrusion of some curious people, they were frightened, and made a hasty retreat, and left the cup in question: one of the last screaming out, If this cup should break or fall, Farewell the Luck of Edenhall.'