Full wise is he that can himselven knowe.

The fields have eyes, and the woods have ears.

. . . if gold rust, what then will iron do?/ For if a priest be foul in whom we trust/ No wonder that a common man should rust. . . .

Purity in body and heart May please some--as for me, I make no boast. For, as you know, no master of a household Has all of his utensils made of gold; Some are wood, and yet they are of use.

Ther nis no werkman, whatsoevere he be, That may bothe werke wel and hastily.

For in their hearts doth Nature stir them so Then people long on pilgrimage to go And palmers to be seeking foreign strands To distant shrines renowned in sundry lands.

With emptie hands men may no haukes lure.