All is lost. Monks, monks, monks!

You have sent me a Flanders mare.

All is lost! Monks, Monks, Monks! So, now all is gone - Empire, Body, and Soul!.

I see and hear daily that you of the Clergy preach one against another, teach one contrary to another, inveigh one against another without charity or discretion. Some be too stiff in their old mumpsimus, others be too busy and curious in their new sumpsimus. Thus all men almost be in variety and discord.

I beseech you now with all my heart definitely to let me know your whole mind as to the love between us.

My heart is set. All goodly sport For my comfort Who shall me let?