Moryshe myne owne shelfe, the costermonger sayth;[46]
Fate, fate, fate, ye Irysh[47] water lag;
In flattryng fables men fynde but lyttyl fayth:
But moveatur terra, let the world wag; 90
Let syr Wrig wrag[48] wrastell with syr Delarag;[49]
Euery man after his maner of wayes,
Pawbe une aruer, so the Welche man sayes.
Suche shredis of sentence, strowed in the shop
Of auncyent Aristippus and such other mo,
I gader togyther and close in my crop,[50]