A litel writyng...
Go, litel bok, go, litel myn tragedye...
(Lovely mental picture of author standing in a racecourse crowd urging on fiction to go and conquer the world...)
I have to admit I have a soft spot for Geoffrey Chaucer although I also have to admit that I find him much easier to read in translation. I pulled a fast one on my very square school years ago by managing to wangle a translation of the Canterbury Tales as a prize (for academic merit, not good conduct, although that won't surprise you in the slightest) including the wonderful Miller's Tale with its naughty goings-on out of windows.
He knew full well a woman has no beard,
Yet something rough and hairy had appeared.
'What's this, my sweet?' he cried. 'Can this be you?'
'Tee hee,' quoth she, and clapped the window to...
Tee hee indeed. Score one for English Literature.
Actually of course it is a great work of English Literature as well as having plenty of rude parts delivered in full measure and with relish (including that joke about a woman's 'nether eye' that is briefly and hilariously alluded to in AotB... kids' TV, my foot); and yes, I did read the rest of it when I'd stopped giggling.
We've been debating the spelling of names in our fanfiction recently so this little quote seemed apposite. Spelling of course was a big issue in Chaucer's time because so few people could - and regional differences in vocabulary and pronunciation must have been greater then too - so this is a heartfelt plea on behalf of his 'litel bok' that it should still be understood wherever English is spoken - or sung...
And for ther is so gret diversite
In Englissh and in writyng of oure tonge...
And red wherso thow be, or elles songe,
That thow be understonde, God I biseche!
Amen to that. We all want to be understood. Although I doubt my writing will ever have more than a fraction of his audience - and I don't suppose anyone will try setting it to music, either...