And A Man's Life's No More Than

On Pain Of Death, No Person Be So Bold.

Here Is A Rural Fellow That Will Not Be Denied Your Highness' Presence: He Brings You Figs.

Thus May Poor Fools Belive False Teachers.

I Have Sounded The Very Base-string Of Humility.

May Never Glorious Sun Reflex His Beams Upon The Country Where You Make Abode! But Darkness And The Gloomy Shade Of Death Environ You Till Mischief And Despair Drive You To Break Your Necks Or Hang Yourselves.