The Smylere With The Knyf Under The

One Shouldn't Be Too Inquisitive In Life Either About God's Secrets Or One's Wife.

Truth Is The Highest Thing That Man May Keep.

Who Looks At Me, Beholdeth Sorrows All, All Pain, All Torture, Woe And All Distress; I Have No Need On Other Harms To Call, As Anguish, Languor, Cruel Bitterness, Discomfort, Dread, And Madness More And Less; Methinks From Heaven Above The Tears Must Rain In Pity For My Harsh And Cruel Pain.

Or As An Ook Comth Of A Litel Spir, So Thorugh This Lettre, Which That She Hym Sente, Encressen Gan Desir, Of Which He Brente.

Nowhere So Busy A Man As He There Was And Yet He Seemed Busier Than He Was.