Geoffrey Chaucer Quotes & Sayings

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

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

Though Plente that is goddesse of rychesses hielde adoun with ful horn, and withdraweth nat hir hand, as many richesses as the see torneth upward sandes whan it is moeved with ravysshynge blastes, or elles as manye rychesses as ther schynen bryghte sterres in hevene on the sterry nyghtes; yit, for al that, mankende nolde nat cese to wepe wrecchide pleyntes. And al be it so that God resceyveth gladly hir preiers, and yyveth hem, as fool-large, moche gold, and apparayleth coveytous folk with noble or cleer honours; yit semeth hem haven igeten nothyng, but alwey hir cruel ravyne, devourynge al that they han geten, scheweth othere gapynges (that is to seyn, gapyn and desiren yit after mo rychesses.) What brydles myghte withholden to any certeyn ende the disordene covetise of men, whan evere the rather that it fletith in large yiftes, the more ay brenneth in hem the thurst of havynge? Certes he that qwakynge and dredful weneth hymselven nedy, he ne lyveth nevermo ryche. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Many a true word is spoken in jest — Geoffrey Chaucer

A whetstone is no carving instrument, And yet it maketh sharp the carving tool; And if you see my efforts wrongly spent, Eschew that course and learn out of my school; For thus the wise may profit by the fool, And edge his wit, and grow more keen and wary, For wisdom shines opposed to its contrary. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Patience is a conquering virtue. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Who shall give a lover any law?' Love is a greater law, by my troth, than any law written by mortal man. — Geoffrey Chaucer

The smylere with the knyf under the cloke. — Geoffrey Chaucer

By nature, men love newfangledness. — Geoffrey Chaucer

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. — Geoffrey Chaucer

3440 An hole he fond3440, ful lowe upon a bord, Theras3441 the cat was wont in for to crepe, And at that hole he looked in ful depe3442, And atte laste he hadde of him a sighte. — 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

Or as an ook comth of a litel spir, So thorugh this lettre, which that she hym sente, Encressen gan desir, of which he brente. — Geoffrey Chaucer

What's said is said and goes upon its way Like it or not, repent it as you may. — Geoffrey Chaucer

He kept his tippet stuffed with pins for curls, And pocket-knives, to give to pretty girls. — Geoffrey Chaucer

we know little of the things for which we pray — Geoffrey Chaucer

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. — Geoffrey Chaucer

He who repeats a tale after a man,
Is bound to say, as nearly as he can,
Each single word, if he remembers it,
However rudely spoken or unfit,
Or else the tale he tells will be untrue,
The things invented and the phrases new. — Geoffrey Chaucer

So was hir jolly whistel wel y-wette. — 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

Ne nevere mo ne lakked hire pite;
Tendre-herted, slydynge of corage;
But trewely, I kan nat telle hire age. — Geoffrey Chaucer

people have managed to marry without arithmetic — Geoffrey Chaucer

That field hath eyen, and the wood hath ears. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Hyt is not al golde that glareth. — Geoffrey Chaucer

The cat would eat fish but would not get her feet wet. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Out of the gosple he tho wordes caughte,
And this figure he added eek therto,
That if gold ruste, what shal iren do?
For if a preest be foul, on whom we truste,
No wonder is a lewed man to ruste;
And shame it is, if a prest take keep,
A shiten shepherde and a clene sheep.
Wel oghte a preest ensample for to yive,
By his clennesse, how that his sheep sholde lyve. — Geoffrey Chaucer

A bettre preest, I trowe that nowher noon is. He wayted after no pompe and reverence, 525 Ne maked him a spyced conscience, But Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve, He taughte, and first he folwed it him-selve. — Geoffrey Chaucer

And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche. — Geoffrey Chaucer

And for to see, and eek for to be seie. — Geoffrey Chaucer

The latter end of joy is woe. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Right as an aspen lefe she gan to quake. — Geoffrey Chaucer

And once he had got really drunk on wine,
Then he would speak no language but Latin. — Geoffrey Chaucer

This flour of wifly patience. — Geoffrey Chaucer

I know that my singing doesn't make the moon rise, nor does it make the stars shine. But without my song, the night would seem empty and incomplete. There is more to daybreak than light, just as there is more to nighttime than darkness. — Geoffrey Chaucer

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

Make a virtue of necessity. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Whoso will pray, he must fast and be clean, And fat his soul, and make his body lean. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Thus in this heaven he took his delight And smothered her with kisses upon kisses Till gradually he came to know where bliss is. — Geoffrey Chaucer

For I have seyn of a ful misty morwe Folowen ful ofte a myrie someris day. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Ye knowe eek, that in forme of speche is chaunge
With-inne a thousand yeer, and wordes tho
That hadden prys, now wonder nyce and straunge
Us thinketh hem; and yet they spake hem so,
And spedde as wel in love as men now do. — Geoffrey Chaucer

He hath considered shortly, in a clause1763, The trespas 1764 of hem bothe, and eek the cause, 1765 And althogh that his ire hir gilt accused, Yet in his resoun he hem bothe excused, As thus: he thoghte wel that every man Wol helpe himself in love if that he kan, And eek delivere himself out of prisoun; — Geoffrey Chaucer

Yow loveres axe I now this questioun, Who hath the worse, Arcite or Palamoun? 490 That oon may seen his lady day by day, But in prison he moot dwelle alway. That other wher him list may ryde or go, But seen his lady shal he never-mo. Now demeth as yow liste, ye that can, 495 For I wol telle forth as I bigan. Explicit prima Pars. Sequitur pars secunda. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Thus with hir fader for a certeyn space
Dwelleth this flour of wyfly pacience,
That neither by hir wordes ne hir face
Biforn the folk, ne eek in her absence,
Ne shewed she that hir was doon offence. — Geoffrey Chaucer

For there is one thing I can safely say: that those bound by love must obey each other if they are to keep company long. Love will not be constrained by mastery; when mastery comes, the God of love at once beats his wings, and farewell he is gone. Love is a thing as free as any spirit; women naturally desire liberty, and not to be constrained like slaves; and so do men, if I shall tell the truth. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Truth is the highest thing that man may keep. — Geoffrey Chaucer

And so it is in politics, dear brother, Each for himself alone, there is no other. — Geoffrey Chaucer

That he is gentil that doth gentil dedis. — Geoffrey Chaucer

And she was fair as is the rose in May. — Geoffrey Chaucer

The fields have eyes, and the woods have ears. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Be nat wrooth, my lord, though that I pleye. Ful ofte in game a sooth I have herd seye! — Geoffrey Chaucer

Youth may outrun the old, but not outwit. — Geoffrey Chaucer

The gretteste clerkes been noght wisest men. — Geoffrey Chaucer

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

people can die of mere imagination — Geoffrey Chaucer

I will eviscerate you in fiction. Every pimple, every character flaw. I was naked for a day; you will be naked for eternity.
A Knight's Tale — Geoffrey Chaucer

A love grown old is not the love once new. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Ek gret effect men write in place lite; Th'entente is al, and nat the lettres space. — Geoffrey Chaucer

For sondry scoles maken sotile clerkis;
Womman of manye scoles half a clerk is. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Throgh me men gon into that blysful place
Of hertes hele and dedly woundes cure;
Thorgh me men gon unto the welle of grace,
There grene and lusty May shal evere endure.
This is the wey to al good aventure.
Be glad, thow redere, and thy sorwe of-caste;
Al open am I - passe in, and sped thee faste!'
'Thorgh me men gon,' than spak that other side,
'Unto the mortal strokes of the spere
Of which Disdayn and Daunger is the gyde,
There nevere tre shal fruyt ne leves bere.
This strem yow ledeth to the sorweful were
There as the fish in prisoun is al drye;
The'eschewing is only the remedye! — Geoffrey Chaucer

It is ful fair a man to bere him evene,/For alday meeteth men at unset stevene. — Geoffrey Chaucer

you will not be master of my body & my property — Geoffrey Chaucer

For in their hearts doth Nature stir them so Then people long on pilgrimage to go And palmers to be seeking foreign strands To distant shrines renowned in sundry lands. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Men may the wise atrenne, and naught atrede. — Geoffrey Chaucer

This Nicholas anon leet fle a fart
As greet as it had been a thonder-dent,
That with the strook he was almoost yblent;
And he was redy with his iren hoot,
And Nicholas amydde the ers he smoot.
Of gooth the skyn an hande-brede aboute,
The hoote kultour brende so his toute,
And for the smert he wende for to dye. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Take a cat, nourish it well with milk and tender meat, make it a couch of silk ... — Geoffrey Chaucer

One cannot be avenged for every wrong; according to the occasion, everyone who knows how, must use temperance. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Lo, which a greet thing is affeccioun!
Men may die of imaginacioun,
So depe may impressioun be take. — Geoffrey Chaucer

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. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Life is short. Art long. Opportunity is fleeting. Expierience treacherous. Judgement difficult. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Mordre wol out, that se we day by day. — Geoffrey Chaucer

First he wrought, and afterwards he taught. — Geoffrey Chaucer

And after winter folweth grene May. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Love will not be constrain'd by mastery.
When mast'ry comes, the god of love anon
Beateth his wings, and, farewell, he is gone.
Love is a thing as any spirit free. — Geoffrey Chaucer

If were not foolish young, were foolish old. — Geoffrey Chaucer

I am not the rose, but I have lived near the rose. — Geoffrey Chaucer

By God," quod he, "for pleynly, at a word,
Thy drasty rymyng is nat worth a toord! — Geoffrey Chaucer

And when a beest is deed, he hath no peyne; But man after his deeth moot wepe and pleyne. — Geoffrey Chaucer

There's never a new fashion but it's old. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Abstinence is approved of God. — Geoffrey Chaucer

But for to telle yow al hir beautee,
It lyth nat in my tonge, n'yn my konnyng;
I dar nat undertake so heigh a thyng.
Myn Englissh eek is insufficient.
It moste been a rethor excellent
That koude his colours longynge for that art,
If he sholde hire discryven every part.
I am noon swich, I moot speke as I kan. — Geoffrey Chaucer

And as for me, though that I konne but lyte,
On bokes for to rede I me delyte,
And to hem yive 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 yt be seldom on the holyday,
Save, certeynly, whan that the month of May
Is comen, and that I here the foules synge,
And that the floures gynnen for to sprynge,
Farewel my bok and my devocioun! — Geoffrey Chaucer

The bisy larke, messager of day. — Geoffrey Chaucer

By God, if women had written stories,
As clerks had within here oratories,
They would have written of men more wickedness
Than all the mark of Adam may redress. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Death is the end of every worldly pain. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Then the Miller fell off his horse. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Until we're rotten, we cannot be ripe. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Then you compared a woman's love to Hell,
To barren land where water will not dwell,
And you compared it to a quenchless fire,
The more it burns the more is its desire
To burn up everything that burnt can be.
You say that just as worms destroy a tree
A wife destroys her husband and contrives,
As husbands know, the ruin of their lives. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Well is it said that neither love nor power Admit a rival, even for an hour. — Geoffrey Chaucer

the guilty think all talk is of themselves. — Geoffrey Chaucer

For out of old fields, as men saith, Cometh all this new corn from year to year; And out of old books, in good faith, Cometh all this new science that men learn. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Yblessed be god that I have wedded fyve! Welcome the sixte, whan that evere he shal. — Geoffrey Chaucer

A priest should take to heart the shameful scene of shepards filthy while the sheep are clean. — 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

Go, little booke! go, my little tragedie! — Geoffrey Chaucer

The greatest scholars are not usually the wisest people — Geoffrey Chaucer

By Pluto sent at the request of Saturn. Arcita's horse in terror danced a pattern And leapt aside and foundered as he leapt, And ere he was aware Arcite was swept Out of the saddle and pitched upon his head Onto the ground, and there he lay for dead; His breast was shattered by the saddle-bow. — Geoffrey Chaucer

Of harmes two the lesse is for to cheese. — Geoffrey Chaucer

'My lige lady, generally,' quod he, 'Wommen desyren to have sovereyntee As well over hir housbond as hir love.' — Geoffrey Chaucer

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

Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in switch licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his half cours yronne,
And smale foweles maken melodye,
That slepen al the nyght with open ye
(So Priketh hem Nature in hir corages),
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,
To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;
And specially from every shires ende
Of Engelond to Caunterbury they wende,
The hooly blisful martir for to seke,
That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke — Geoffrey Chaucer