He Loved Chivalrye Trouthe And Honour, Freedom

But All Thing Which That Shineth As The Gold Ne Is No Gold, As I Have Herd It Told.

The Latter End Of Joy Is Woe.

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

Full Wise Is He That Can Himselven Knowe.

Thus With Hir Fader For A Certeyn Space Dwelleth This Flour Of Wyfly Pacience, That Neither By Hir Wordes Ne Hir Face Biforn The Folk, Ne Eek In Her Absence, Ne Shewed She That Hir Was Doon Offence.