Quotes from Geoffrey Chaucer

Looke who that is moost vertuous alway,Pryvee and apert, and most entendeth ayTo do the gentil dedes that he kan;Taak hym for the grettest gentil man.

"My lige lady, generally," quod he,"Wommen desiren have sovereyneteeAs well over hir housbond as hir love."

Ful weel she soong the service dyvyne,Entuned in hir nose ful semely;And Frenssh she spak ful faire and fetisly,After the scole of Stratford atte BoweFor Frenssh of Parys was to hir unknowe.

So was hir joly whistle wel ywet.

It is no childes pleyTo take a wyf withouten avysement.

What thyng we may nat lightly have,Thereafter wol we crie al day and crave.

And smale foweles maken melodye,That slepen al the nyght with open yë,(So priketh hem nature in hit corages);Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages.

His studie was but litel on the Bible.

Ther nys no werkman, whatsoevere he be,That may bothe werke wel and hastily;This wol be doon at leyser parfitly.

The smylere with the knyf under the cloke.

For whan a man hath over-greet a wit,Ful oft hym happeth to mysusen it.

That, of al the floures in the mede,Thanne love I most thise floures white and rede,Swiche as men callen daysyes in our toun.

Pacience is an heigh vertu, certeyn.

For nakid as a worm was she.

For tyme ylost may nought recovered be.

Hard is the herte that loveth noughtIn May.

Thurgh thikke and thurgh thenne.

For he was Epicurus owene sone.

Wel loved he garleek, oynons, and eek lekes,And for to drynken strong wyn, reed as blood.

And yet he hadde a thombe of gold.

A Clerk ther was of Oxenford also.

But the Troian gestes, as they felle,In Omer, or in Dares, or in Dite,Whoso that kan may rede hem as they write.

If gold ruste, what shal iren do?

As round as appil was his face.