And as for me, though than I konne but lyte, On bokes for to rede I me delyte, And to hem yeve I feyth and ful credence, And in myn herte have hem in reverence So hertely, that ther is game noon. That fro my bokes maketh me to goon, But yt be seldome on the holy day. Save, certeynly, when that the monthe of May Is comen, and that I here the foules synge, And that the floures gynnen for to sprynge, Farwel my boke, and my devocion.
Good Frend for Jesvs Sake Forbeare, To Digg the Dvst Encloased Heare. Blese be ye Man yt Spares Thes Stones. And Cvrst be he yt Moves my Bones.