With emptie hands men may no haukes lure.

Whoso will pray, he must fast and be clean, And fat his soul, and make his body lean.

Love will not be constrain'd by mastery. When mast'ry comes, the god of love anon Beateth his wings, and, farewell, he is gone. Love is a thing as any spirit free.

All good things must come to an end.

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.

With emptie hands men may no haukes lure.

Patience is a conquering virtue.