Geoffrey Chaucer

Geoffrey Chaucer ( /ˈtʃɔːsər/; c. 1343 – 25 October 1400), known as the Father of English literature, is widely considered the greatest English poet of the Middle Ages and was the first poet to have been buried in Poet's Corner of Westminster Abbey. While he achieved fame during his lifetime as an author, philosopher, alchemist and astronomer, composing a scientific treatise on the astrolabe for his ten year-old son Lewis, Chaucer also maintained an active career in the civil service as a bureaucrat, courtier and diplomat. Among his many works, which include The Book of the Duchess, the House of Fame, the Legend of Good Women and Troilus and Criseyde, he is best known today for The Canterbury Tales. Chaucer is a crucial figure in developing the legitimacy of the vernacular, Middle English, at a time when the dominant literary languages in England were French and Latin.

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Famous quotes by geoffrey chaucer:

    Men may divine and glosen up and down,
    But wel I woot, expres, withouten lie,
    God bad us for to wexe and multiplye:
    That gentil text can I wel understonde.
    Geoffrey Chaucer (1340?–1400)

    So hideous was the noise, ah! benedicite!
    Certes, he Jacke Straw and his meinie
    Ne made never shoutes half so shrill
    When that they woulden any Fleming kill,
    As thilke day was made upon the fox.
    Geoffrey Chaucer (1340?–1400)

    Men may conseile a womman to be oon,
    But conseiling nis no comandement.
    He putte it in oure owene juggement.
    For hadde God comanded maidenhede,
    Thanne hadde he dampned wedding with the deede;
    Geoffrey Chaucer (1340?–1400)

    whan he rood, men myghte his brydel heere
    Gynglen in a whistlynge wynd als cleere
    And eek as loude as dooth the chapel belle.
    Geoffrey Chaucer (1340?–1400)

    For which he wex a litel red for shame,
    Whan he the peple upon him herde cryen,
    That to beholde it was a noble game,
    How sobreliche he caste doun his yen.
    Criseyda gan al his chere aspyen,
    And let so softe it in her herte sinke
    That to herself she seyde, ‘Who yaf me drinke?’
    Geoffrey Chaucer (1340–1400)