Whan the sunne shinth make hay, whiche is to say

Let the world slide, let the world go; A fig for care, and a fig for woe! If I can't pay, why I can owe, And death makes equal the high and low.

Beware of, Had I wist.

Beaten with his owne rod.

The loss of wealth is loss of dirt, As sages in all times assert; The happy man's without a shirt.

All a green willow, willow, All a green willow is my garland.

Som thingis that prouoke young men to wed in haste, Show after weddyng, that hast maketh waste.