- Who looks at me, beholdeth sorrows all,
											        
- All pain, all torture, woe and all distress;
											        
- I have no need on other harms to call,
											        
- As anguish, languor, cruel bitterness,
											        
- Discomfort, dread, and madness more and less;
											        
- Methinks from heaven above the tears must rain
											        
- In pity for my harsh and cruel pain.
										        
       
											   
												  
													  GEOFFREY CHAUCER, Troilus and Cressida 
											       
												  
													  
														   - For God's love, take things patiently, have sense, 
													      
- Think! We are prisoners and shall always be. 
													      
- Fortune has given us this adversity, 
													      
- Some wicked planetary dispensation, 
													      
- Some Saturn's trick or evil constellation 
													      
- Has given us this, and Heaven, though we had sworn 
													      
- The contrary, so stood when we were born. 
													      
- We must endure it, that's the long and short. 
												      
        
											       
												  
													  GEOFFREY CHAUCER, The Canterbury Tales 
											       
												  
													  
														   - Patience is a conquering virtue. 
													      
- The learned say that, if it not desert you, 
													      
- It vanquishes what force can never reach; 
													      
- Why answer back at every angry speech? 
													      
- No, learn forbearance or, I'll tell you what, 
													      
- You will be taught it, whether you will or not. 
												      
      
											       
												  
													  GEOFFREY CHAUCER, The Canterbury Tales 
											       
										      
											     Hold it wise ... To make a virtue of necessity.
											      
												  
													  GEOFFREY CHAUCER, "The Knight's Tale", The Canterbury Tales 
											       	
											      
											     If gold rusts, what then can iron do?
											      
												  
													  GEOFFREY CHAUCER, The Canterbury Tales 
											       													  
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