Yet In Our Ashen Cold Is Fire

The Guilty Think All Talk Is Of Themselves.

Forbid Us Something, And That Thing We Desire.

Ther Nis No Werkman, Whatsoevere He Be, That May Bothe Werke Wel And Hastily.

Thus With Hir Fader For A Certeyn Space Dwelleth This Flour Of Wyfly Pacience, That Neither By Hir Wordes Ne Hir Face Biforn The Folk, Ne Eek In Her Absence, Ne Shewed She That Hir Was Doon Offence.

Of Harmes Two The Lesse Is For To Cheese.