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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395657" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Truth</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fle fro the pres, and dwelle with sothefastnesse,<br>Suffise thin owen thing, thei it be smal;<br>For hord hath hate, and clymbyng tykelnesse,<br>Prees hath envye, and wele blent overal.<br>Savour no more thanne the byhove schal;<br>Reule weel thiself, that other folk canst reede;<br>And trouthe schal delyvere, it is no drede.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tempest the nought al croked to redresse,<br>In trust of hire that tourneth as a bal.<br>Myche wele stant in litel besynesse;<br>Bywar therfore to spurne ayeyns an al;<br>Stryve not as doth the crokke with the wal.<br>Daunte thiself, that dauntest otheres dede;<br>And trouthe shal delyvere, it is no drede.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That the is sent, receyve in buxumnesse;<br>The wrestlyng for the worlde axeth a fal.<br>Here is non home, here nys but wyldernesse.<br>Forth, pylgryme, forth! forth, beste, out of thi stal!<br>Know thi contré! loke up! thonk God of al!<br>Hold the heye weye, and lat thi gost the lede;<br>And trouthe shal delyvere, it is no drede.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">[L'envoy.] <br>Therfore, thou Vache, leve thine olde wrechednesse;<br>Unto the world leve now to be thral.<br>Crie hym mercy, that of hys hie godnesse<br>Made the of nought, and in espec{.i}al<br>Draw unto hym, and pray in general<br>For the, and eke for other, hevenelyche mede;<br>And trouthe schal delyvere, it is no drede.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Geoffrey+Chaucer">Geoffrey Chaucer</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395657" data-title="Truth de Geoffrey Chaucer" data-description="Fle fro the pres, and dwelle with sothefastnesse,
Suffise thin owen thing, thei it be smal;
For hord hath hate, and clymbyng tykelnesse,
Prees hath envye, and wele blent overal.
Savour no more thanne the byhove schal;
Reule weel thiself, that othe..."></div>
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