Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger

O villains, vipers, dogs, easily won to fawn on any man!

But shall we wear these glories for a day? Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?

There is a kind of character in thy life, That to the observer doth thy history, fully unfold.

Then is it sin to rush into the secret house of death. Ere death dare come to us?

By that sin fell the angels.

My life, my joy, my food, my ail the world!