Oon Ere It Herde, At Tother Out

Forbid Us Something, And That Thing We Desire.

Time Lost, As Men May See, For Nothing May Recovered Be.

In The Stars Is Written The Death Of Every Man.

Whoso Will Pray, He Must Fast And Be Clean, And Fat His Soul, And Make His Body Lean.

Lat Take A Cat, And Fostre Him Wel With Milk, And Tendre Flesh, And Make His Couche Of Silk, And Let Him Seen A Mous Go By The Wal; Anon He Weyveth Milk, And Flesh, And Al, And Every Deyntee That Is In That Hous, Swich Appetyt Hath He To Ete A Mous.