For May wol have no slogardie a-night. The seson priketh every…

For May wol have no slogardie a-night.
The seson priketh every gentil herte,
And maketh him out of his slepe to sterte.

Sourced, The Canterbury Tales

General Prologue, l. 1044

Other Geoffrey Chaucer Quotes

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. - View Quote Details on Soun is noght but air ybroken,
And every speche that is…
He was a verray, parfit gentil knyght. - View Quote Details on He was a verray, parfit gentil knyght.
Mordre wol out, that se we day by day. - View Quote Details on Mordre wol out, that se we day by day.
And yet he had a thomb of gold parde. - View Quote Details on And yet he had a thomb of gold parde.
Allas! allas! that evere love was synne! - View Quote Details on Allas! allas! that evere love was synne!
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 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 halve 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. - View Quote Details on Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of March…
For out of olde feldes, as men seith,
Cometh al this new corn fro yeer to yere;
And out of olde bokes, in good feith,
Cometh al this newe science that men lere. - View Quote Details on For out of olde feldes, as men seith,
Cometh al this…
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-casteth the visage
To thilke God that after his image
Yow made, and thynketh al nis but a faire
This world, that passeth sone as floures faire. - View Quote Details on O yonge fresshe folkes, he or she,
In which that love…
For I am shave as neigh as any frere.
But yit I praye unto youre curteisye:
Beeth hevy again, or elles moot I die. - View Quote Details on For I am shave as neigh as any frere.
But yit…
A Clerk ther was of Oxenforde also. - View Quote Details on A Clerk ther was of Oxenforde also.