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.

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

Harde is his heart that loveth nought In May.

If were not foolish young, were foolish old.

Look up on high, and thank the God of all.

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

We little know the things for which we pray.