I Gave My Whole Heart Up, For

This World Nys But A Thurghfare Ful Of Wo, And We Been Pilgrymes, Passynge To And Fro.

Forbid Us Something, And That Thing We Desire.

Men Love Newfangleness.

Whan That Aprill With His Shoures Soote The Droghte Of March Hath Perced To The Roote.

For Many A Pasty Have You Robbed Of Blood, And Many A Jack Of Dover Have You Sold That Has Been Heated Twice And Twice Grown Cold. From Many A Pilgrim Have You Had Christ's Curse, For Of Your Parsley They Yet Fare The Worse, Which They Have Eaten With Your Stubble Goose; For In Your Shop Full Many A Fly Is Loose.