This Flour Of Wifly Patience.

Certain, When I Was Born, So Long Ago, Death Drew The Tap Of Life And Let It Flow; And Ever Since The Tap Has Done Its Task, And Now There's Little But An Empty Cask.

In The Stars Is Written The Death Of Every Man.

Trouthe Is The Hyest Thyng That Man May Kepe.

Patience Is A Conquering Virtue. The Learned Say That, If It Not Desert You, It Vanquishes What Force Can Never Reach; Why Answer Back At Every Angry Speech? No, Learn Forbearance Or, I'll Tell You What, You Will Be Taught It, Whether You Will Or Not.

At The Ches With Me She (fortune) Gan To Pleye; With Her False Draughts (pieces) Dyvers/she Staal On Me, And Took Away My Fers. And When I Sawgh My Fers Awaye, Allas! I Kouthe No Lenger Playe.