The Guilty Think All Talk Is Of

With Emptie Hands Men May No Haukes Lure.

For God's Love, Take Things Patiently, Have Sense, Think! We Are Prisoners And Shall Always Be. Fortune Has Given Us This Adversity, Some Wicked Planetary Dispensation, Some Saturn's Trick Or Evil Constellation Has Given Us This, And Heaven, Though We Had Sworn The Contrary, So Stood When We Were Born. We Must Endure It, That's The Long And Short.

For Out Of Old Fields, As Men Saith, Cometh All This New Corn From Year To Year; And Out Of Old Books, In Good Faith, Cometh All This New Science That Men Learn.

But Al Be That He Was A Philosophre, Yet Hadde He But Litel Gold In Cofre.

Soun Is Noght But Air Ybroken, And Every Speche That Is Spoken, Loud Or Privee, Foul Or Fair, In His Substaunce Is But Air; For As Flaumbe Is But Lighted Smoke, Right So Soun Is Air Ybroke.