And When A Beest Is

He That Loveth God Will Do Diligence To Please God By His Works, And Abandon Himself, With All His Might, Well For To Do.

Woe To The Cook Whose Sauce Has No Sting.

One Flesh They Are; And One Flesh, So I'd Guess, Has But One Heart, Come Grief Or Happiness.

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.

Mordre Wol Out, That Se We Day By Day.