Purity in body and heart May please some--as for me, I make no boast. For, as you know, no master of a household Has all of his utensils made of gold; Some are wood, and yet they are of use.

So was hir jolly whistel wel y-wette.

Men sholde nat knowe of Goddes pryvetee Ye, blessed be alwey, a lewed man That noght but oonly his believe kan! So ferde another clerk with astromye, He walked in the feelds, for to prye Upon the sterres, what ther sholde bifalle, Til he was in a marle-pit yfalle.

First he wrought, and afterwards he taught.

Ther nis no werkman, whatsoevere he be, That may bothe werke wel and hastily.

Who then may trust the dice, at Fortune's throw?

Ful wys is he that kan hymselven knowe.