It Is Nought Good A Sleping Hound

I Gave My Whole Heart Up, For Him To Hold.

Right As An Aspen Lefe She Gan To Quake.

Pitee Renneth Soone In Gentil Herte.

For Hym Was Levere Have At His Beddes Heed Twenty Bookes, Clad In Blak Or Reed, Of Aristotle And His Philosophie, Than Robes Riche, Or Fithele, Or Gay Sautrie.

The Fields Have Eyes, And The Woods Have Ears.