So was hir jolly whistel wel y-wette.

And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.

By nature, men love newfangledness.

Murder will out, this my conclusion.

If a man really loves a woman, of course he wouldn't marry her for the world if he were not quite sure that he was the best person she could possibly marry.

He loved chivalrye Trouthe and honour, freedom and curteisye.

Of alle the floures in the mede, Than love I most these floures whyte and rede, Swiche as men callen daysies in our toun. . . . . Til that myn herte dye. . . . . That wel by reson men hit calle may The 'dayesye' or elles the 'ye of day,' The emperice and flour of floures alle. I pray to god that faire mot she falle, And alle that loven floures, for hir sake!