The fields have eyes, and the woods have ears.

For tyme y-lost may not recovered be.

The lyf so short, the craft so longe to lerne. Th' assay so hard, so sharp the conquerynge, The dredful joye, alwey that slit so yerne; Al this mene I be love... For out of olde feldes, as men seith, Cometh al this new corn fro yeer to yere; And out of olde bokes, in good feith, Cometh al this newe science that men lere.

My house is small, but you are learned men And by your arguments can make a place Twenty foot broad as infinite as space.

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

At the ches with me she (Fortune) gan to pleye; With her false draughts (pieces) dyvers/She staal on me, and took away my fers. And when I sawgh my fers awaye, Allas! I kouthe no lenger playe.

One flesh they are; and one flesh, so I'd guess, Has but one heart, come grief or happiness.