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

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

The gentle minde by gentle deeds is knowne.

For evil deeds may better than bad words be borne.

Ah when will this long weary day have end, And lend me leave to come unto my love? How slowly do the hours their numbers spend! How slowly does sad Time his feathers move!

No daintie flowre or herbe that growes on grownd, No arborett with painted blossoms drest And smelling sweete, but there it might be fownd To bud out faire, and throwe her sweete smels al arownd.

Vaine is the vaunt, and victory unjust, that more to mighty hands, then rightfull cause doth trust.