Quote

Certes, they been lye to hounds, for an hound when he cometh by the roses, or by other bushes, though he may nat pisse, yet wole he heve up his leg and make a countenance to pisse.

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
Make
Bushes
Hounds
Countenance
Roses
Legs
Rose
Though
Hound
May
Cometh

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And then the wren gan scippen and to daunce.
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If gold rusts, what then can iron do?
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The life so brief, the art so long in the learning, the attempt so hard, the conquest so sharp, the fearful joy that ever slips away so quickly - by all this I mean love, which so sorely astounds my feeling with its wondrous operation, that when I think upon it I scarce know whether I wake or sleep.
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And so it is in politics, dear brother, Each for himself alone, there is no other.
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The guilty think all talk is of themselves.
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The smylere with the knyf under the cloke.
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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.
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Time lost, as men may see, For nothing may recovered be.
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Trouthe is the hyest thyng that man may kepe.
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He who accepts his poverty unhurt I'd say is rich although he lacked a shirt. But truly poor are they who whine and fret and covet what they cannot hope to get.
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There's no workman, whatsoever he be, That may both work well and hastily.
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With emptie hands men may no haukes lure.
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But all thing which that shineth as the gold Ne is no gold, as I have herd it told.
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Yet in our ashen cold is fire yreken.
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Woe to the cook whose sauce has no sting.
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Drunkenness is the very sepulcher Of man's wit and his discretion.
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Who looks at me, beholdeth sorrows all, All pain, all torture, woe and all distress I have no need on other harms to call, As anguish, languor, cruel bitterness, Discomfort, dread, and madness more and less Methinks from heaven above the tears must rain In pity for my harsh and cruel pain.
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Patience is a conquering virtue. The learned say that, if it not desert you, It vanquishes what force can never reach Why answer back at every angry speech? No, learn forbearance or, I'll tell you what, You will be taught it, whether you will or not.
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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.
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To keep demands as much skill as to win.
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