It Is Nought Good A

Lat Take A Cat, And Fostre Him Wel With Milk, And Tendre Flesh, And Make His Couche Of Silk, And Let Him Seen A Mous Go By The Wal; Anon He Weyveth Milk, And Flesh, And Al, And Every Deyntee That Is In That Hous, Swich Appetyt Hath He To Ete A Mous.

Murder Will Out, This My Conclusion.

And So It Is In Politics, Dear Brother, Each For Himself Alone, There Is No Other.

All Good Things Must Come To An End.

That Field Hath Eyen, And The Wood Hath Ears.