That Of All The Floures In The

Fo Lo, The Gentil Kind Of The Lioun! For When A Flye Offendeth Him Or Byteth, He With His Tayl Awey The Flye Smyteth Al Esily, For, Of His Genterye, Him Deyneth Net To Wreke Him On A Flye, As Cloth A Curre Or Elles Another Beste.

In Love There Is But Little Rest.

He Is Gentle That Doeth Gentle Deeds.

The Fields Have Eyes, And The Woods Have Ears.

Thou Shalt Make Castels Thanne In Spayne And Dreme Of Joye, All But In Vayne.