Flee from the press, and dwell with soothfastness; <br />Suffice thee thy good, though it be small; <br />For hoard hath hate, and climbing tickleness, <br />Press hath envy, and weal is blent o'er all, <br />Savour no more than thee behove shall; <br />Read well thyself, that other folk canst read; <br />And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread. <br /> <br />Paine thee not each crooked to redress, <br />In trust of her that turneth as a ball; <br />Great rest standeth in little business: <br />Beware also to spurn against a nail; <br />Strive not as doth a crocke with a wall; <br />Deeme thyself that deemest others' deed, <br />And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread. <br /> <br />What thee is sent, receive in buxomness; <br />The wrestling of this world asketh a fall; <br />Here is no home, here is but wilderness. <br />Forth, pilgrim! Forthe beast, out of thy stall! <br />Look up on high, and thank thy God of all! <br />Weive thy lust, and let thy ghost thee lead, <br />And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.<br /><br />Geoffrey Chaucer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/good-counsel-of-chaucer/
