Vertue Now Is In Herbs And Stones

The Wind In Ones Face Makes One Wise.

Hee That Workes After His Owne Manner, His Head Akes Not At The Matter.

Rise, Heart; Thy Lord Is Risen. Sing His Praise Without Delays, Who Takes Thee By The Hand, That Thou Likewise With Him Mayst Rise: That, As His Death Calcined Thee To Dust, His Life May Make Thee Gold, And, Much More, Just.

Conversation Makes One What He Is.

If The Wise Erred Not, It Would Goe Hard With Fooles. [if The Wise Erred Not, It Would Go Hard With Fools.]