Lilies That Fester Smell Far Worse Than

Such As We Are Made Of, Such We Be.

The Eagle Suffers Little Birds To Sing, And Is Not Careful What They Mean Thereby, Knowing That With The Shadow Of His Wings He Can At Pleasure Stint Their Melody: Even So Mayest Thou The Giddy Men Of Rome.

Through Tattered Clothes Great Vices Do Appear; Robes And Furred Gowns Hide All. Plate Sin With Gold And The Strong Lance Of Justice Hurtless Breaks. Arm It In Rags, A Pigmy's Straw Does Pierce It.

Good Fortune Then! To Make Me Blest Or Cursed'st Among Men.

Make Less Thy Body Hence, And More Thy Grace. Leave Gormandizing.