The Gretteste Clerkes Been Noght Wisest Men.

Whan That Aprill With His Shoures Soote The Droghte Of March Hath Perced To The Roote.

In Love There Is But Little Rest.

At The Ches With Me She (fortune) Gan To Pleye; With Her False Draughts (pieces) Dyvers/she Staal On Me, And Took Away My Fers. And When I Sawgh My Fers Awaye, Allas! I Kouthe No Lenger Playe.

And Gladly Wolde He Lerne, And Gladly Teche.

To Keep Demands As Much Skill As To Win.