Thou Art As Wise As Thou Art

For You And I Are Past Our Dancing Days.

Henceforth, I'll Bear Affliction Till It Do Cry Out Itself, 'enough, Enough, And Die.

Sorrow Breaks Seasons And Reposing Hours, Makes The Night Morning, And The Noontide Night.

If Your Mind Dislike Anything Obey It

Hast Any Philosophy In Thee Shepherd? .• • • • . . . He That Wants Money, Means And Content, Is Without Three Good Friends; That The Property Of Rain Is To Wet And Fire To Burn; That Good Pasture Makes Fat Sheep, And A Great Cause Of The Night Is Lack Of The Sun; That He That Hath Learned No Wit By Nature Nor Art May Complain Of Good Breeding Or Comes Of A Very Dull Kindred.