No fors of wikked tonges Ianglerye,
For ever on love han wrecches had envye.
109. For who-so wole of every word take hede,
Or rewlen him by every wightes wit,
Ne shal he never thryven, out of drede.
760
For that that som men blamen ever yit,
Lo, other maner folk commenden it.
And as for me, for al swich variaunce,
[Felicitee clepe I] my suffisaunce.