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.

And painful pleasure turns to pleasing pain.

The fish once caught, new bait will hardly bite.

Each goodly thing is hardest to begin.

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.

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

The nightingale is sovereign of song.