Ful Wys Is He That Kan Hymselven

The Guilty Think All Talk Is Of Themselves.

The Latter End Of Joy Is Woe.

Ful Wys Is He That Kan Hymselven Knowe.

. . . If Gold Rust, What Then Will Iron Do?/ For If A Priest Be Foul In Whom We Trust/ No Wonder That A Common Man Should Rust. . . .

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