Geoffrey Chaucer

O yonge, fresshe folkes, he or she,

And ther he saugh, with ful avysement

For of fortunes sharpe adversitee

That lyf so short,

And she was fayr as is the rose in May.

A likerous mouth moste han a likerous tayl.

Wommen desiren to have sovereynetee

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

Mordre wol out; that se we day by day.

Love wol nat been constreyned by maistrye.

This noble ensample to his sheep he yaf,

Housbondes at chirche dore she hadde fyve.

Nowher so bisy a man as he ther nas,

And theron heng a brooch of gold ful sheene,

And Frenssh she spak ful faire and fetisly,

And smale foweles maken melodye,

The wrastling for this world axeth a fal.

Reule wel thyself, that other folk canst rede. And trouthe thee shal delivere, it is no drede.

For the proverbe seith that “manye smale maken a greet.” 16

My sone, keep wel thy tonge, and keep thy freend.

Thing that is seyd is seyd; and forth it gooth.

For whan a man hath over-greet a wit, Ful oft hym happeth to mysusen it.

He was of knyghthod and of fredom flour.

Ful wys is he that kan hymselven knowe!

This may wel be rym dogerel.

Mordre wol out, certeyn, it wol nat faille. 15

For dronkenesse is verray sepulture Of mannes wit and his discrecioun.

It is agayns the proces of nature.

Trouthe is the hyeste thyng that men may kepe.

Pacience is an heigh vertu, certeyn.

Servant in love and lord in marriage.

Men loven of propre kynde newefangelnesse.

But if a man be vertuous withal.

Ther nys no werkman, whatsoevere he be, That may bothe werke wel and hastily; This wol be doon at leyser parfitly.

Therfore bihoveth hire a ful long spoon That shal ete with a feend. 14

To take a wyf withouten avysement.