Very popular in the later Middle Ages in England and elsewhere, Margaret probably never existed as a historical person, but only as a character in pious fiction. . . . At the end of her life, she promised, as the Sarum breviary relates: that those who write or read her "history" will receive an unfading crown in heaven, that those who invoke her on their death-beds will enjoy divine protection and escape from the devils, that those who dedicate churches or burn lights in her honour will obtain anything useful they pray for, and that pregnant women who invoke her will escape the dangers of childbirth, as will their infants. These apocryphal promises contributed powerfully to the spread of her cult. This can be traced back before the Norman Conquest in England, when the first of seven vernacular Lives were [sic] written. Well over 200 ancient English churches were dedicated to her, including fifty-eight in Norfolk. She was frequently depicted in wall paintings and stained-glass windows. . . .

The reference to the olde clothes is puzzling, and there must be something wrong with the last sentence. It seems that the author has in mind a passage in Joshua (9. 5), telling how the inhabitants of Gibeon, desiring a covenant with the Israelites, went to their camp in old garments and with dry bread (callide cogitantes . . . induti veteribus vestimentis: panes quoque . . . durierant) in order to make them believe that they came from a far off country (otherwise no covenant would be possible). This act appears in the commentaries of some of the Fathers as a symbol of false spiritual friendship; those coming to the Church in their "old garments" are the people who do not seriously seek the Christian truth but are full of their old vices; who do not really want the friendship of God . . . those, in other words, who have outward friendship only and none in the heart. Hence, probably, Usk's reflection, about the false friend, that the soul of friendship is Ydrawn out from his other spirits. The passage should probably read: But ever, me thinketh, he wereth his olde clothes, and that soule in the whiche the lyfe of frendship was in, is drawen out from his other spirites.

Than seyde he thus, "O Love, O Charite!
Thi moder ek, Citheria the swete,
After thiself next heried be she
-- Venus mene I, the wel-willy planete! --
And next that, Imeneus, I the grete,
For nevere man was to yow goddes holde
As I, which ye han brought fro cares colde."

Favus distillans labra tua sponsa, mel et lac sub lingua tua; et odor vestimentorum tuorum sicut odor thuris. Hortus conclusus, fons signatus! [Thy lips, my spouse, are as a dropping honeycomb, honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the smell of thy garments, as the smell of frankincense. My sister, my spouse, is a garden enclosed, a fountain sealed up.]

For wel sit it, the sothe for to seyne,
A woful wight to han a drery feere,
And to a sorwful tale, a sory chere.

For the specific gravity of a body is, in a manner, its love, whether a body tends downwards by reason of its heaviness or strives upwards because of its lightness. A material body is borne along by its weight in a particular direction, as a soul is by its love. (p. 463)

"But kanstow playen raket, to and fro,
Netle in, dok out, now this, now that, Pandare?"

In suche tyme of plentee he that hath an home and is wyse, list not to wander mervayles to seche, but he be constrayned or excited. Oft the lothe thing is doon, by excitacion of other mannes opinion, whiche wolde fayne have myn abydinge take in herte of luste to travayle. . . . (Schaar, p. 10)

Ye Joves first to thilke effectes glade, . . .
Ye fierse Mars apaisen of his ire,
And as yow list, ye maken hertes digne;
Algates hem that ye wol sette a-fyre,
They dreden shame, and vices they resygne;
Ye do hem corteys be, fresshe and benigne;
And heighe or lowe, after a wight entendeth,
The joies that he hath, youre myght him sendeth.

"Departe it so, for wyde-wher is wist
How that ther is diversite requered
Bytwixen thynges like, as I have lered."

By wisedom, manhede, and by greet labour,
From humble bed to roial magestee
Up roos he Julius, the conquerour.

Caesar's first home was a modest house . . . one story goes, he found certain features in [a house he built] to his dislike, so that, although poor at the time and heavily in debt, he tore the whole place down.

He was pressed to confess so that he would have his life and freedom. / He considered it his duty to help the city. / His soul would have been lost if he had died in falseness. / He did not deserve hatred except insofar as he upheld the errors of the Northampton group and kept their secrets. / All the Northampton faction were prejudiced against their opponents, so that they created broils in order to destroy them. / If he had not exposed the faction, the peace of the city of London, which he dearly loved, would have been broken. / Peace is enjoined on us by Scripture and the example of history.

[Athena's] central concern is the well-being of the community. "Cities are," it was said, "the gifts of Athena." She nurtures the children on whom the city's future depends and encourages its citizens in the arts and crafts so integral to civilized existence.

So, when the free election was held, by clamor of many people because of great injury from misgovernance, they (i.e., Northampton and his associates) remained so steadfast in their choice that they underwent every kind of fate rather than allow the hated regimen to rule. Nevertheless, many of the common mass, who have consideration only to their wilful desires, without reason, held to the contrary (i.e., the Northampton faction lost their popular following).

(to the whiche naciouns . . .) nat only the names of singuler men ne may nat strecchen, but eek the fame of citees ne may nat strecchen.

ad quas (nationes) . . . non modo fama hominum singulorum, sed ne urbium quidem peruenire queat. (lines 26 ff)

shal benommen from thylke perle/ al the vertues that firste here were taken/ for she hath hem forfeyted/ by that on the my seruaunt in thy lyue she wolde not suffre to worche al vertues with order whiche to me was ordayned/ sothely none age/ none ouertournynge tyme/ but withdrawen/ by might of the hygh bodyes: Why than shuldest thou wene so any more. And if the lyste to loke vpon the lawe<334vb> <335ra> of kynde/ and hytherto had no tyme ne power to chaunge the weddyng/ ne the knotte to vnbynde of two hertes thorowe one assent in my presence/ togyther accorden to endure tyl dethe hem departe.

shal ben[i]men from thylke perle al the vertues that firste her were taken, for she hath hem forfeyted by that on the, my servaunt, in thy lyve, she wolde not suffre to worche al vertues [with order whiche to me was ordayned. Sothely none age, none ouertournynge but] withdrawen by might of the hygh bodyes. Why, than, shuldest thou wene so any more, and, if the lyste to loke upon the lawe of kynde, and hyt herto had no tyme ne power to chaunge the weddyng, ne the knotte to unbynde of two hertes thorowe one assent in my presence togyther accorden to enduren tyl dethe hem departe?

"But wene ye that every wrecche woot
The parfite blisse of love? Why, nay, iwys!
They wenen all be love, if oon be hoot.
Do wey, do wey, they woot no thyng of this!"