We Little Know The Things For Which

For God's Love, Take Things Patiently, Have Sense, Think! We Are Prisoners And Shall Always Be. Fortune Has Given Us This Adversity, Some Wicked Planetary Dispensation, Some Saturn's Trick Or Evil Constellation Has Given Us This, And Heaven, Though We Had Sworn The Contrary, So Stood When We Were Born. We Must Endure It, That's The Long And Short.

Woe To The Cook Whose Sauce Has No Sting.

If Love Be Good, From Whence Cometh My Woe?

Strike While The Iron Is Hot.

Ful Wys Is He That Kan Hymselven Knowe.