Death Is The End Of Every Worldly

Filth And Old Age, I'm Sure You Will Agree, Are Powerful Wardens Upon Chastity.

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

Purity In Body And Heart May Please Some--as For Me, I Make No Boast. For, As You Know, No Master Of A Household Has All Of His Utensils Made Of Gold; Some Are Wood, And Yet They Are Of Use.

There Was The Murdered Corpse, In Covert Laid, And Violent Death In Thousand Shapes Displayed; The City To The Soldier's Rage Resigned; Successless Wars, And Poverty Behind; Ships Burnt In Fight, Or Forced On Rocky Shores, And The Rash Hunter Strangled By The Boars; The Newborn Babe By Nurses Overlaid; And The Cook Caught Within The Raging Fire He Made.

Patience Is A Conquering Virtue.