“Wel can the wise poet of Florence,

That highte Dant, speken of this sentence:

Lo, in swiche maner rime is Dantes tale.

Ful selde up riseth by his branches smale

Prowesse of man, for God of his goodnesse

Wol that we claime of him our gentillesse:

For of our elders may we nothing claime

But temporel thing, that man may hurt and maime.”