If Love Be Good, From Whence Cometh

And Brought Of Mighty Ale A Large Quart.

The Bisy Larke, Messager Of Day.

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

What's Said Is Said And Goes Upon Its Way Like It Or Not, Repent It As You May.

Who Looks At Me, Beholdeth Sorrows All, All Pain, All Torture, Woe And All Distress; I Have No Need On Other Harms To Call, As Anguish, Languor, Cruel Bitterness, Discomfort, Dread, And Madness More And Less; Methinks From Heaven Above The Tears Must Rain In Pity For My Harsh And Cruel Pain.