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.

The handsome gifts that fate and nature lend us Most often are the very ones that end us.

'My lige lady, generally,' quod he, 'Wommen desyren to have sovereyntee As well over hir housbond as hir love.'

Many a true word is spoken in jest

Truth is the highest thing that man may keep.

Harde is his heart that loveth nought In May.

Great peace is found in little busy-ness.