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They demen gladly to the badder end.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Right as an aspen lefe she gan to quake.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Of studie took he most cure and most hede. 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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The firste vertue, sone, if thou wilt lere, Is to restreine and kepen wel thy tonge.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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O little booke, thou art so unconning, How darst thou put thy-self in prees for drede?
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Nowhere so busy a man as he than he, and yet he seemed busier than he was.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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For tyme y-lost may not recovered be.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Truth is the highest thing that man may keep.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Love is a thyng as any spirit free. Wommen, of kynde, desiren libertee, And nat to been constreyned as a thral; And so doon men, if I sooth seyen shal.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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For iii may keep a counsel if twain be away.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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This flour of wifly patience.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Filth and old age, I'm sure you will agree, are powerful wardens upon chastity.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Time and tide wait for no man.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Forbid us something, and that thing we desire.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Of harmes two the lesse is for to cheese.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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We know little of the things for which we pray.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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But all thing which that shineth as the gold Ne is no gold, as I have herd it told.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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He was a verray, parfit gentil knyght.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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He was as fresh as is the month of May.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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His studie was but litel on the Bible.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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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
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So was hire joly whistle wel ywette.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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And therfore, at the kynges court, my brother, Ech man for hymself, ther is noon other.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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That well by reason men it call may The daisie, or els the eye of the day, The emprise, and floure of floures all.
Geoffrey Chaucer
