Geoffrey Chaucer — "He was a maister of his craft, I dar wel seye."
He was a maister of his craft, I dar wel seye.
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More from Geoffrey Chaucer
"Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote, The droghte of March hath perced to the roote, And bathed every veyne in swich licour Of which vertu engendred is the flour;"
"If gold rusts, what then can iron do?"
"As for to speke of innocence, I woot no man that may be exempt from it."
"he pricked her hard and deep, like one gone mad."
"And everich of us to lighten his herte, And of his tale anothere for to telle."