Blowyng was mad for gret game

I hold hym wyse and wel i-tau3t,
Can bar an horn and blow it nau3t.

Blowyng was mad for gret game;
Of thi blowyng cometh mekell grame;
Therfor I hold it for no schame,
    To ber a horne and blow it nou3t.

Hornes are mad both loud and shyll,
Whan tym ys, blow thou thi fyll,
And whan ned is, hold the styll,
    And ber a horne and blow it nou3t.

What so ever be in thi thou3t,
Her and se and sey ry3t nou3t;
Than schall men sey thou art well tou3t,
    To bere, etc.

Of al the ryches under the son,
Than was there never beter wonne,
Than is a tau3t man for to konne,
    To bere, etc.

Whatsoever be in thi brest,
Stop thi mou3t with thi fyst,
And lok thou thynk well of had-i-wyst,
    And bere, etc.

And whan thou syttyst at the ale,
And cryyst lyk an ny3ttyngale,
Be war to whom thou tellist thi tale,
    But bere, etc.