Soun is noght but air ybroken, And every speche that is spoken, Loud or privee, foul or fair, In his substaunce is but air; For as flaumbe is but lighted smoke, Right so soun is air ybroke.
Eke wonder last but nine deies never in toun.
To maken vertue of necessite.
And for to see, and eek for to be seie.
I hold a mouses wit not worth a leke, That hath but on hole for to sterten to.
But all thing which that shineth as the gold Ne is no gold, as I have herd it told.
And then the wren gan scippen and to daunce.
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.
If a man really loves a woman, of course he wouldn’t marry her for the world if he were not quite sure that he was the best person she could possibly marry.
Hyt is not al golde that glareth.
In general, women desire to rule over their husbands and lovers, to be the authority above them.
Who then may trust the dice, at Fortune’s throw?
For tyme y-lost may not recovered be.
He loved chivalrye Trouthe and honour, freedom and curteisye.
There’s never a new fashion but it’s old.
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.
In the stars is written the death of every man.
Filth and old age, I’m sure you will agree, are powerful wardens upon chastity.
Murder will out, this my conclusion.
Nowhere so busy a man as he than he, and yet he seemed busier than he was.