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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.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Geoffrey Chaucer
Died: 1400
Died: October 25
Astrologer
Linguist
Lyricist
Philosopher
Poet
Politician
Translator
Writer
London
England
Chaucer
Geoffrey Chaucer
Away
Draughts
Draught
Queens
Chess
False
Fortune
Took
Pieces
More quotes by Geoffrey Chaucer
Forbid us something, and that thing we desire.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Min be the travaille, and thin be the glorie.
Geoffrey Chaucer
One shouldn't be too inquisitive in life Either about God's secrets or one's wife.
Geoffrey Chaucer
In general, women desire to rule over their husbands and lovers, to be the authority above them.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Ther nis no werkman, whatsoevere he be, That may bothe werke wel and hastily.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Time lost, as men may see, For nothing may recovered be.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Pitee renneth soone in gentil herte.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Thou shalt make castels thanne in Spayne And dreme of joye, all but in vayne.
Geoffrey Chaucer
The greatest scholars are not usually the wisest people.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Nowhere so busy a man as he there was And yet he seemed busier than he was.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Look up on high, and thank the God of all.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Patience is a conquering virtue.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Trouthe is the hyest thyng that man may kepe.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Who then may trust the dice, at Fortune's throw?
Geoffrey Chaucer
Men sholde nat knowe of Goddes pryvetee Ye, blessed be alwey, a lewed man That noght but oonly his believe kan! So ferde another clerk with astromye, He walked in the feelds, for to prye Upon the sterres, what ther sholde bifalle, Til he was in a marle-pit yfalle.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Truth is the highest thing that man may keep.
Geoffrey Chaucer
The smylere with the knyf under the cloke.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Fie on possession, But if a man be vertuous withal.
Geoffrey Chaucer
This world nys but a thurghfare ful of wo, And we been pilgrymes, passynge to and fro.
Geoffrey Chaucer
In April the sweet showers fall And pierce the drought of March to the root, and all The veins are bathed in liquor of such power As brings about the engendering of the flower.
Geoffrey Chaucer
