Go, Little Booke! Go, My Little Tragedie!

I Gave My Whole Heart Up, For Him To Hold.

One Cannot Scold Or Complain At Every Word. Learn To Endure Patiently, Or Else, As I Live And Breathe, You Shall Learn It Whether You Want Or Not.

For In Their Hearts Doth Nature Stir Them So Then People Long On Pilgrimage To Go And Palmers To Be Seeking Foreign Strands To Distant Shrines Renowned In Sundry Lands.

Soun Is Noght But Air Ybroken, And Every Speche That Is Spoken, Loud Or Privee, Foul Or Fair, In His Substaunce Is But Air; For As Flaumbe Is But Lighted Smoke, Right So Soun Is Air Ybroke.

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