That Of All The Floures In The

Mordre Wol Out, That Se We Day By Day.

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

That Of All The Floures In The Mede, Thanne Love I Most These Floures White And Rede, Suche As Men Callen Daysyes In Her Toune.

If Gold Ruste, What Shall Iren Do?

For Hym Was Levere Have At His Beddes Heed Twenty Bookes, Clad In Blak Or Reed, Of Aristotle And His Philosophie, Than Robes Riche, Or Fithele, Or Gay Sautrie.