In love there is but little rest.

What is better than wisdom? Woman. And what is better than a good woman? Nothing.

For many a pasty have you robbed of blood, And many a Jack of Dover have you sold That has been heated twice and twice grown cold. From many a pilgrim have you had Christ's curse, For of your parsley they yet fare the worse, Which they have eaten with your stubble goose; For in your shop full many a fly is loose.

For tyme y-lost may not recovered be.

The guilty think all talk is of themselves.

Habit maketh no monk, ne wearing of gilt spurs maketh no knight.

He that loveth God will do diligence to please God by his works, and abandon himself, with all his might, well for to do.