Nature, The Vicar Of The Almighty Lord.

Trouthe Is The Hyest Thyng That Man May Kepe.

In April The Sweet Showers Fall And Pierce The Drought Of March To The Root, And All The Veins Are Bathed In Liquor Of Such Power As Brings About The Engendering Of The Flower.

Forbid Us Something, And That Thing We Desire.

One Eare It Heard, At The Other Out It Went.

Strike While The Iron Is Hot.