If Love Be Good, From Whence Cometh

A Whetstone Is No Carving Instrument, And Yet It Maketh Sharp The Carving Tool; And If You See My Efforts Wrongly Spent, Eschew That Course And Learn Out Of My School; For Thus The Wise May Profit By The Fool, And Edge His Wit, And Grow More Keen And Wary, For Wisdom Shines Opposed To Its Contrary.

One Cannot Scold Or Complain At Every Word. Learn To Endure Patiently, Or Else, As I Live And Breathe, You Shall Learn It Whether You Want Or Not.

Harde Is His Heart That Loveth Nought In May.

Go, Little Booke! Go, My Little Tragedie!

Til That The Brighte Sonne Loste His Hewe; For Th'orisonte Hath Reft The Sonne His Lyght; This Is As Muche To Seye As It Was Nyght!