Death Is The End Of Every Worldly

My House Is Small, But You Are Learned Men And By Your Arguments Can Make A Place Twenty Foot Broad As Infinite As Space.

Thou Shalt Make Castels Thanne In Spayne And Dreme Of Joye, All But In Vayne.

Go, Little Booke! Go, My Little Tragedie!

But Christ's Lore And His Apostles Twelve, He Taught And First He Followed It Himself.

This Flour Of Wifly Patience.