Quote #11

And for ther is so gret diversite In Englissh and in writyng of oure tonge, So prey I God that non myswrite the, Ne the mysmetre for defaute of tonge; And red wherso thow be, or elles songe, That thow be understonde, God I biseche!

More from Geoffrey Chaucer

  1. Oon ere it herde, at tothir out it wente.
  2. O yonge fresshe folkes, he or she, In which that love up-groweth with your age, Repeyreth hoom fro worldly vanitee, And of your herte up-ca…
  3. For of fortunes sharp adversitee The worst kynde of infortune is this, A man to han ben in prosperitee, And it remembren, whan it passed is.
  4. Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote The droghte of March hath perced to the roote, And bathed every veyne in swych licour Of which vert…
  5. It is nought good a slepyng hound to wake.
  6. And of his port as meke as is a mayde.
  7. 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.
  8. He was a verray, parfit gentil knyght.

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