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Geoffrey Chaucer quotes - page 4
For iii may keep a counsel if twain be away.
Geoffrey Chaucer
For him was lever han at his beddes hed A twenty bokes, clothed in black or red, Of Aristotle, and his philosophie, Than robes riche, or fidel, or sautrie. But all be that he was a philosophre, Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre.
Geoffrey Chaucer
For gold in phisike is a cordial; Therefore he loved gold in special.
Geoffrey Chaucer
They demen gladly to the badder end.
Geoffrey Chaucer
And for ther is so gret diversite In Englissh and in writyng of oure tonge, So prey I God that non myswrite the, Ne the mysmetre for defaute of tonge; And red wherso thow be, or elles songe, That thow be understonde, God I biseche!
Geoffrey Chaucer
For which he wex a litel red for shame, Whan he the peple upon him herde cryen, That to beholde it was a noble game, How sobreliche he caste doun his yen. Criseyda gan al his chere aspyen, And let so softe it in her herte sinke That to herself she seyde, "Who yaf me drinke?”.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Wide was his parish, and houses fer asonder.
Geoffrey Chaucer
The firste vertue, sone, if thou wilt lere, Is to restreine and kepen wel thy tonge.
Geoffrey Chaucer
He coude songes make, and wel endite.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Allas! allas! that evere love was synne!
Geoffrey Chaucer
What maketh this, but Juppiter the kyng, That is prince and cause of alle thyng Convertynge al unto his propre welle From which it is deryved, sooth to telle, And heer-agayns no creature on lyve Of no degree availleth for to strive. Thanne is it wysdom, as it thynketh me, To maken vertu of necessity, And take it weel, that we may nat eschue; And namely, that to us alle is due.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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 Bowe, For Frenssh of Parys was to hire unknowe.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Who so shall telle a tale after a man, He moste reherse, as neighe as ever he can, Everich word, if it be in his charge, All speke he never so rudely and so large; Or elles he moste tellen his tale untrewe, Or feinen thinges, or finden wordes newe.
Geoffrey Chaucer
And therfore, at the kynges court, my brother, Ech man for hymself, ther is noon other.
Geoffrey Chaucer
We little know the things for which we pray.
Geoffrey Chaucer
And she was fair as is the rose in May.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Men love newfangleness.
Geoffrey Chaucer
First he wrought, and afterwards he taught.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Whoso will pray, he must fast and be clean, And fat his soul, and make his body lean.
Geoffrey Chaucer
He was as fresh as is the month of May.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Life is short. Art long. Opportunity is fleeting. Expierience treacherous. Judgement difficult.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Noght o word spak he more than was nede, And that was seyd in forme and reverence, And short and quik, and ful of hy sentence. Souninge in moral vertu was his speche, And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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