Oon Ere It Herde, At Tother Out

That Of All The Floures In The Mede, Thanne Love I Most These Floures White And Rede, Suche As Men Callen Daysyes In Her Toune.

'my Lige Lady, Generally,' Quod He, 'wommen Desyren To Have Sovereyntee As Well Over Hir Housbond As Hir Love.'

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

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

The Cat Would Eat Fish But Would Not Get Her Feet Wet.