Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered!
Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low.
Slanders, sir, for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards, that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging think amber and plum-tree gum, and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams.
The good I stand on is my truth and honesty.
Woe to that land that's governed by a child.
And teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night.