If nede be, spare not to blow;
To hold wind, by mine opinion,
Will engender colles passion,
And make men to greven on her [B]rops,
When they have filled her maws and her crops;
But toward night, eate some Fennell rede,
Annis, Commin, or Coriander-seed,
And like as I have power and might,
I charge you rise not at midnight,
Thogh it be so the Moon shine clere,