If Love Be Good, From

Go, Little Booke! Go, My Little Tragedie!

Whoso Will Pray, He Must Fast And Be Clean, And Fat His Soul, And Make His Body Lean.

What Is Better Than Wisdom? Woman. And What Is Better Than A Good Woman? Nothing.

He Loved Chivalrye Trouthe And Honour, Freedom And Curteisye.

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.