Geoffrey Chaucer Quotes

For iii may keep a counsel if twain be away.

Why,” said this Summoner, “ride you then in sundry shapes, and not always in the same one?” “Because we will assume whatever form,” said the Fiend, “is most suitable to catch our prey.” “And what causes you to undertake all this labor?” asked the Summoner.

Ful craftier to pley she was Than Athalus, that made the game First of the ches: so was his name.

Three years went by in happiness and health; He bore himself so well in peace and war That there was no one Theseus valued more.

So astute was he in his buying and selling, and in his borrowings, that no one knew if he was in debt.

Time and Tide wait for no man

For he would rather have, by his bedside, twenty books, bound in black or red, of Aristotle and his philosophy, than rich robes or costly fiddles or gay harps.

Your duty is, as ferre as I can gesse.

Of Pride. And though it be so that no man can accurately tell the number of the twigs and the evils that come from Pride, yet will I show you a part of them, as you shall understand. There is Disobedience, Boasting, Hypocrisy, Contempt, Arrogance, Impudence, Swelling of Heart, Insolence, Elation, Impatience, Haughtiness, Presumption, Irreverence, Obstinacy, Vainglory, and many another twig that I can not declare.

The man who has no wife is no cuckold.

Her statue, glorious in majesty,
Stood naked, floating on a vasty sea,
And from the navel down there were a mass
Of green and glittering waves as bright as glass.
In her right hand a cithern carried she
And on her head, most beautiful to see,
A garland of fresh roses, while above
There circles round her many a flickering dove.

In general, my liege lady,’ he began, ‘Women desire to have dominion Over their husbands, and their lovers too; They want to have mastery over them. That’s what you most desire — even if my life Is forfeit. I am here; do what you like.

Therwith ye ben so mery and so iocounde, That at a revel whan that I see you daunce, It is an oynement unto my wounde, Thogh ye to me ne do no daliaunce.

And if that olde bokes were a-weye, Y-loren were of remembraunce the keye.

Ye sey right sooth; this Monk he clappeth lowde.
He spak how Fortune covered with a clowde
I noot nevere what; and als of a tragedie
Right now ye herde, and pardee, no remedie
It is for to biwaille ne compleyne
That that is doon, and als it is a peyne,
As ye han seyd, to heere of hevynesse.
Sire Monk, namoore of this, so God yow blesse!
Youre tale anoyeth al this compaignye.
Swich talkyng is nat worth a boterflye,