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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
False
Fortune
Took
Pieces
Away
Draughts
Draught
Queens
Chess
More quotes by Geoffrey Chaucer
Filth and old age, I'm sure you will agree, are powerful wardens upon chastity.
Geoffrey Chaucer
For many a pasty have you robbed of blood, And many a Jack of Dover have you sold That has been heated twice and twice grown cold. From many a pilgrim have you had Christ's curse, For of your parsley they yet fare the worse, Which they have eaten with your stubble goose For in your shop full many a fly is loose.
Geoffrey Chaucer
If were not foolish young, were foolish old.
Geoffrey Chaucer
He is gentle that doeth gentle deeds.
Geoffrey Chaucer
For tyme ylost may nought recovered be.
Geoffrey Chaucer
In love there is but little rest.
Geoffrey Chaucer
. . . 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. . . .
Geoffrey Chaucer
Murder will out, this my conclusion.
Geoffrey Chaucer
He that loveth God will do diligence to please God by his works, and abandon himself, with all his might, well for to do.
Geoffrey Chaucer
One eare it heard, at the other out it went.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Thou shalt make castels thanne in Spayne And dreme of joye, all but in vayne.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Fo lo, the gentil kind of the lioun! For when a flye offendeth him or byteth, He with his tayl awey the flye smyteth Al esily, for, of his genterye, Him deyneth net to wreke him on a flye, As cloth a curre or elles another beste.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Death is the end of every worldly pain.
Geoffrey Chaucer
To keep demands as much skill as to win.
Geoffrey Chaucer
The guilty think all talk is of themselves.
Geoffrey Chaucer
What's said is said and goes upon its way Like it or not, repent it as you may.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote The droghte of March hath perced to the roote.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Pitee renneth soone in gentil herte.
Geoffrey Chaucer
The bisy larke, messager of day.
Geoffrey Chaucer
If no love is, O God, what fele I so? And if love is, what thing and which is he? If love be good, from whennes cometh my woo? If it be wikke, a wonder thynketh me
Geoffrey Chaucer
