Explore Quotes by Geoffrey Chaucer

Women desire six things: They want their husbands to be brave, wise, rich, generous, obedient to wife, and lively in bed.

The life so short, the crafts so long to learn.

He was as fresh as is the month of May.

First he wrought, and afterward he taught.

Nowhere so busy a man as he than he, and yet he seemed busier than he was.

By nature, men love newfangledness.

. . . if gold rust, what then will iron do?/ For if a priest be foul in whom we trust/ No wonder that a common man should rust. . . .

Ful wys is he that kan hymselven knowe.

The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne.

For hym was levere have at his beddes heed Twenty bookes, clad in blak or reed, Of Aristotle and his philosophie, Than robes riche, or fithele, or gay sautrie.

Purity in body and heart May please some--as for me, I make no boast. For, as you know, no master of a household Has all of his utensils made of gold; Some are wood, and yet they are of use.

But manly set the world on sixe and sevene; And, if thou deye a martir, go to hevene.

I wol yow telle, as was me taught also,_x000D__x000D_The foure spirites and the bodies sevene,_x000D__x000D_By ordre, as ofte I herde my lord hem nevene._x000D__x000D_The firste spirit quiksilver called is,_x000D__x000D_The second orpiment, the thridde, ywis,_x000D__x000D_Sal armoniak, and the firthe brimstoon._x000D__x000D_The bodies sevene eek, lo! hem heer anoon:_x000D__x000D_Sol gold is, and Luna silver we threpe,_x000D__x000D_Mars yron, Mercurie quiksilver we clepe,_x000D__x000D_Saturnus leed, and Jupiter is tin,_x000D__x000D_And Venus coper, by my fader kin!

All good things must come to an end.

It is nought good a sleping hound to wake.

And as for me, thogh that I can but lyte, On bakes for to rede I me delyte, And to hem yeve I feyth and ful credence, And in myn herte have hem in reverence So hertely, that ther is game noon, That fro my bokes maketh me to goon, But hit be seldom, on the holyday; Save, certeynly, when that the month of May Is comen, and that I here the foules singe, And that the floures ginnen for to springe, Farwel my book and my devocion.

At the ches with me she (Fortune) gan to pleye; With her false draughts (pieces) dyvers/She staal on me, and took away my fers. And when I sawgh my fers awaye, Allas! I kouthe no lenger playe.

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... For out of olde feldes, as men seith, Cometh al this new corn fro yeer to yere; And out of olde bokes, in good feith, Cometh al this newe science that men lere.

Lat take a cat, and fostre him wel with milk, And tendre flesh, and make his couche of silk, And let him seen a mous go by the wal; Anon he weyveth milk, and flesh, and al, And every deyntee that is in that hous, Swich appetyt hath he to ete a mous.

I gave my whole heart up, for him to hold.

Who then may trust the dice, at Fortune's throw?