65
My mayster Chaucer, god his soulë have!
That in his langage was so curious,
He sayde, the fader whiche is deed and grave,
Biquath nothing his vertue with his hous
Unto his sone; therfore laborious
70
Ought ye to be, beseching god, of grace,
To yeve you might for to be vertuous,
Through which ye might have part of his fayr place.