Forbid Us Something, And That Thing We

Ther Nis No Werkman, Whatsoevere He Be, That May Bothe Werke Wel And Hastily.

Every Honest Miller Has A Golden Thumb.

Pitee Renneth Soone In Gentil Herte.

So Was Hir Jolly Whistel Wel Y-wette.

If No Love Is, O God, What Fele I So? And If Love Is, What Thing And Which Is He? If Love Be Good, From Whennes Cometh My Woo? If It Be Wikke, A Wonder Thynketh Me