I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath made me mad.

This is the short and the long of it.

Through tattered clothes, small vices do appear. Robes and furred gowns hide all.

O Death, made proud with pure and princely beauty!

When Death doth close his tender dying eyes.

And yet,to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays.

Perseverance, my dear Lord. Keeps honour bright.