He Must Needs Go That The Devil

Through Tattered Clothes Great Vices Do Appear; Robes And Furred Gowns Hide All. Plate Sin With Gold And The Strong Lance Of Justice Hurtless Breaks. Arm It In Rags, A Pigmy's Straw Does Pierce It.

Obey Thy Parents, Keep Thy Word Justly; Swear Not; Commit Not With Man's Sworn Spouse; Set Not Thy Sweet Heart On Proud Array. * * * Keep Thy Foot Out Of Brothels, Thy Pen From Lenders' Books.

The Wind-shak'd Surge, With High And Monstrous Main, Seems To Cast Water On The Burning Bear, And Quench The Guards Of The Ever-fixed Pole.

This Night I Hold An Old Accustomed Feast, Whereto I Have Invited Many A Guest, Such As I Love; And You Among The Store, One More, Most Welcome, Makes My Number More.

My Crown Is Called Content, A Crown That Seldom Kings Enjoy.