For Tyme Ylost May Nought

If Love Be Good, From Whence Cometh My Woe?

All Good Things Must Come To An End.

If Gold Ruste, What Shall Iren Do?

And For To See, And Eek For To Be Seie.

For Out Of Old Fields, As Men Saith, Cometh All This New Corn From Year To Year; And Out Of Old Books, In Good Faith, Cometh All This New Science That Men Learn.