This iron world bungs down the stoutest hearts to lowest state; for misery doth bravest minds abate.
Who will not mercy unto others show, How can he mercy ever hope to have?
A circle cannot fill a triangle, so neither can the whole world, if it were to be compassed, the heart of man; a man may as easily fill a chest with grace as the heart with gold. The air fills not the body, neither doth money the covetous mind of man.
Then came October, full of merry glee.
For easy things, that may be got at will, Most sorts of men do set but little store.
The gentle minde by gentle deeds is knowne.