Chaucer: Truth
Truth (circa late 14 C) by Geoffrey Chaucer Flee fro the prees and dwelle with sothfastnesse; Suffyce unto thy thing, though it be smal, For hord hath hate, and climbing tikelnesse, Prees hath envye, and wele blent overal. Savour no more than thee bihove shal, Reule wel thyself that other folk canst rede, And trouthe thee shal delivere, it is no drede. Tempest thee noght al croked to redresse In trust of hir that turneth as a bal; Gret reste stant in litel besinesse. Be war therfore to sporne ayeyns an al, Stryve not, as doth the crokke with the wal. Daunte thyself, that dauntest otheres dede, And trouthe thee shal delivere, it is no drede. That thee is sent, receyve in buxumnesse; The wrastling for this world axeth a fal. Her is non hoom, her nis but wildernesse: Forth, pilgrim, forth! Forth, beste, out of thy stal! Know thy contree, look up, thank God of al; Hold the heye wey and lat thy gost thee lede, And trouthe thee shal delivere, it is no drede. Therfore, thou Vache, leve th...