For Sorrow Ends Not, When It Seemeth

Thus Sometimes Hath The Brightest Day A Cloud; And After Summer Evermore Succeeds Barren Winter, With His Wrathful Nipping Cold: So Cares And Joys Abound, As Seasons Fleet.

Jesu, Jesu, The Mad Days That I Have Spent! And To See How Many Of My Old Acquaintance Are Dead!

Wisdom And Fortune Combating Together, If That The Former Dare But What It Can, No Chance May Shake It.

This Is The Third Time; I Hope Good Luck Lies In Odd Numbers. Away; Go. They Say There Is Divinity In Odd Numbers, Either In Nativity, Chance, Or Death.

Like One Who Having Into Truth, By Telling Of It, Made Such A Sinner Of His Memory, To Credit His Own Lie.