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.

By God, if women had written stories, As clerks had within here oratories, They would have written of men more wickedness Than all the mark of Adam may redress.

The guilty think all talk is of themselves.

Many a true word is spoken in jest

Abstinence is approved of God.

There's no workman, whatsoever he be, That may both work well and hastily.

Woe to the cook whose sauce has no sting.