The Good Mother Sayes Not, Will You?

A Woman Conceales What Shee Knowes Not.

Who Hath No Hast In His Businesse, Mountaines To Him Seeme Valleys.

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.

No Alchymy To Saving.

He That Lives Most Dies Most.