But ne'er the rose without the thorn.

Each must in virtue strive for to excel; That man lives twice that lives the first life well.

Thus times do shift, each thing his turn does hold; New things succeed, as former things grow old.

Seldom comes Glory till a man be dead.

Here a pretty Baby lies Sung asleep with Lullabies: Pray be silent, and not stirre The easie earth that covers her.

In things a moderation keep; Kings ought to shear, not skin, their sheep.

Against diseases here the strongest fence is the defensive vertue, Abstinence.