CHAUCER
Silence, loons! And thou, wife, hold thy tongue
And know thy betters. As for you, ye lummocks,
You need be proud as water in a ditch
To glass this lady’s image even in your eyes,
So, look ye muddy not her sandal-tips.
Begone! And mind when next you laugh the same,
That all the saints, to whom you bumpkins pray,
Dance with the Virgin round the throne of God.
Begone, and do your reverences.