Ful Wys Is He That Kan Hymselven

In General, Women Desire To Rule Over Their Husbands And Lovers, To Be The Authority Above Them.

And So It Is In Politics, Dear Brother, Each For Himself Alone, There Is No Other.

The Bisy Larke, Messager Of Day.

And As For Me, Thogh That I Can But Lyte, On Bakes For To Rede I Me Delyte, And To Hem Yeve I Feyth And Ful Credence, And In Myn Herte Have Hem In Reverence So Hertely, That Ther Is Game Noon, That Fro My Bokes Maketh Me To Goon, But Hit Be Seldom, On The Holyday; Save, Certeynly, When That The Month Of May Is Comen, And That I Here The Foules Singe, And That The Floures Ginnen For To Springe, Farwel My Book And My Devocion.

That Field Hath Eyen, And The Wood Hath Ears.