If Love Be Good, From

One Eare It Heard, At The Other Out It Went.

Soun Is Noght But Air Ybroken, And Every Speche That Is Spoken, Loud Or Privee, Foul Or Fair, In His Substaunce Is But Air; For As Flaumbe Is But Lighted Smoke, Right So Soun Is Air Ybroke.

That He Is Gentil That Doth Gentil Dedis.

Alas, Alas, That Ever Love Was Sin! I Ever Followed Natural Inclination Under The Power Of My Constellation And Was Unable To Deny, In Truth, My Chamber Of Venus To A Likely Youth.

The Smylere With The Knyf Under The Cloke.