For though the grettest clerkes han it sworen, That ther is no felicitee in mariage, Ne no felicitee but in his lyf, That lyveth out of swich servage.
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"For every man that is in swich array, That he ne may nat speke, but he may pray."
"For he hadde yeve his lord, and that of grace, The pleyn felicitee of his richesse."
"He wolde have the fyn for his concubyn, / A twelf-monthe, and excuse hym atte fulle."
"She would weep if she saw a mouse Caught in a trap, if it were dead or bled. She had some small hounds that she fed With roasted meat, or milk and fine white bread."
"He was a maister-hand at stelen corn, And that he gat, he wolde it wel defende."
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