For deeds to die, however nobly done, And thoughts of men to as themselves decay, But wise words taught in numbers for to run, Recorded by the Muses, live for ay.

Ill can he rule the great that cannot reach the small.

What more felicity can fall to creature, than to enjoy delight with liberty?

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 easy things, that may be got at will, Most sorts of men do set but little store.

And painefull pleasure turnes to pleasing paine.

He oft finds med'cine, who his griefe imparts; But double griefs afflict concealing harts, As raging flames who striveth to supresse.