Where justice grows, there grows eke greater grace.
Hasty wrath and heedless hazardy do breed repentance late and lasting infamy.
Who would ever care to do brave deed, Or strive in virtue others to excel, If none should yield him his deserved meed Due praise, that is the spur of doing well? For if good were not praised more than ill, None would choose goodness of his own free will.
The nightingale is sovereign of song.
Fierce warres and faithfull loves shall moralize my song.
A Gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine.
Is not short paine well borne, that brings long ease,And layes the soul to sleepe in quiet grave?Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas,Ease after warre, death after life does greatly please.
The Patron of true Holinesse, Foule Errour doth defeate: Hypocrisie him to entrappe, Doth to his home entreate.
I trow that countenance cannot lie,Whose thoughts are legible in the eie.
I learned have, not to despise,What ever thing seemes small in common eyes.
Greatest god below the sky.
From good to bad, and from bad to worse, From worse unto that is worst of all, And then return to his former fall.
This iron world bungs down the stoutest hearts to lowest state; for misery doth bravest minds abate.
For take thy ballaunce if thou be so wise, And weigh the winds that under heaven doth blow; Or weigh the light that in the east doth rise; Or weigh the thought that from man's mind doth flow.
There is no disputing about taste.
Foul jealousy! that turnest love divine to joyless dread, and makest the loving heart with hateful thoughts to languish and to pine.
So passeth, in the passing of a day, Of mortal life, the leaf, the bud, the flower; No more doth flourish after first decay, That erst was sought to deck both bed and bower Of many a lady and many a paramour. Gather therefore the rose whilst yet in prime, For soon comes age that will her pride deflower. Gather the rose of love whilst yet in time, Whilst loving thou mayst loved be with equal crime.
There learned arts do flourish in great honour And poets's wits are had in peerless price; Religion hath lay power, to rest upon her, Advancing virtue, and suppressing vice. For end all good, all grace there freely grows, Had people grace it gratefully to use: For God His gifts there plenteously bestows, But graceless men them greatly do abuse.
Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled,On Fames eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.
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