And through the hall there walked to and fro A jolly yeoman, marshall of the same, Whose name was Appetite; he did bestow Both guestes and meate, whenever in they came, And knew them how to order without blame.

For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.

And painefull pleasure turnes to pleasing paine.

Woe to the man that first did teach the cursed steel to bite in his own flesh, and make way to the living spirit!

And painful pleasure turns to pleasing pain.

Her angel's face, As the great eye of heaven shined bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place.

The poets scrolls will outlive the monuments of stone. Genius survives; all else is claimed by death.