Geoffrey Chaucer Quotes
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Soun is noght but air ybroken, And every speche that is spoken, Loud or privee, foul or fair, In his substaunce is but air; For as flaumbe is but lighted smoke, Right so soun is air ybroke.
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A Clerk ther was of Oxenforde also.
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His studie was but litel on the Bible.
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Ye knowe eek, that in forme of speche is chaunge Withinne a thousand yeer, and wordes tho That hadden prys, now wonder nyce and straunge Us thinketh hem; and yet they spake hem so, And spedde as wel in love as men now do; Eek for to winne love in sondry ages, In sondry londes, sondry ben usages.
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Allas! allas! that evere love was synne!
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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.
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For of fortunes sharp adversitee The worst kynde of infortune is this, A man to han ben in prosperitee, And it remembren, whan it passed is.
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For gold in phisike is a cordial; Therefore he loved gold in special.
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What is this world? what asketh men to have? Now with his love, now in his colde grave Allone, withouten any compaignye.
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The lyf so short, the craft so longe to lerne. Th’ assay so hard, so sharp the conquerynge, The dredful joye, alwey that slit so yerne; Al this mene I be love.
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Oon ere it herde, at tothir out it wente
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For I am shave as neigh as any frere. But yit I praye unto youre curteisye: Beeth hevy again, or elles moot I die.
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For May wol have no slogardie a-night. The seson priketh every gentil herte, And maketh him out of his slepe to sterte.
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And for to see, and eek for to be seie.