“The chete white loaf must weigh 12 oz.

“The chete white brown loaf must weigh 18 oz.”

After so much solid matter, our repast shall be completed with something of a lighter kind.  A list of “Divers good proverbs” is curious, as showing the long growth and long endurance of established maxims of practical wisdom.  They are written in a distinct and singular hand, not to be traced elsewhere in prose or poetry:—­

When ye proffer the pigge open the poke. 
Whyle the grasse growyth the hors stervyth. 
Sone it sherpyth that thorne wyll be. 
It ys a sotyll mouse that slepyth in the cattys ear. 
Nede makyth the old wyffe to trotte. 
A byrde yn honde ys better than three yn the wode
And hevyn fell we shall have meny larkys. 
A short hors ys sone curryed. 
Though peper be blek yt hath a gode smek. 
Of a rugged colte cumyth a gode hors. 
Fayre behestys makyth ffolys fayn. 
All thyngs hath a begynyng. 
Wepyn makyth pese dyvers tymes. 
Wynter etyth that somer getyth. 
He that ys warnyd beffore ys not begylyd. 
He that wyll not be warnyd by hys owne fader
He shell be wamyd by hys step fader. 
Pryde goeth beffore and shame comyth after. 
Oftyn tymys provyth the fruyght aftore,
The stok that hyt comyth off. 
Hyt ys a febyll tre thet fallyth at the fyrst strok. 
Hyt fallyth yn a day that fallyth not all the yere afore. 
Whyle the fote warmyth the shoe harmyth. 
A softe flyre makyth swete malte. 
When the stede ys stolen shyt the stabyll dore. 
Merry hondys makyth lyght werke. 
When thou hast well done hange up thy hachet. 
Yt ys not all gold that glowyth. 
Often tymys the arrow hyttyth the shoter. 
Yt ys comonly sayd that all men be not trew. 
That nature gevyth no man can tak away. 
Thys arrow comyth never owt of thyn ownne bow. 
Sone crokyth the tre that wyll be. 
When the hors walowyth some herys be loste. 
Thys day a man, to-morrow non. 
Seld sene sone forgotyn. 
When the bely ys ffull the bonys would have craft. 
Better yt ys to be unborn than untawght. 
He that no good can nor non wyll lern,
Yf he never thryve, who shall hym werne? 
He that all covetyth often all lesyth. 
Never hope, herte wold breste. 
Hasty man lakkyth never woo. 
A gode begynnyng makyth a gode endyng. 
Better yt ys late than never. 
Poverte partyth felyshype. 
Brente honde flyre dredyth. 
Non sygheth so sore as the gloton that may no more. 
He may lyghtly swym that ys held up by the chyn. 
Clyme not to hye lest chypys fall yn thyn eie. 
An skabbyd shepe ynfectyth all the ffolde. 
All the keys hange not by one manys gyrdyll. 
Better yt ys to lese cloth than brede. 
He that hath nede must blowe at the cole.

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Of all the treasures of the volume, the richest are perhaps the hymns and metrical prayers to the Virgin, of which there are great numbers and every variety.  Some are in English, some in English and Latin.  Here are three in different styles:—­