Harde is his heart that loveth nought In May.
Patience is a conquering virtue.
Habit maketh no monk, ne wearing of gilt spurs maketh no knight.
He loved chivalrye Trouthe and honour, freedom and curteisye.
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.
All good things must come to an end.