As True As Steel, As

Aand In The End, Having My Freedom, Boast Of Nothing Else But That I Was A Journeyman To Grief?

But There Is No Such Man; For, Brother, Men Can Counsel And Speak Comfort To That Grief Which They Themselves Not Feel; But, Tasting It, Their Counsel Turns To Passion, Which Before Would Give Preceptial Medicine To Rage, Fetter Strong Madness In A Silken Thread, Charm Ache With Air And Agony With Words.

Sweet Recreation Barred, What Doth Ensue But Moody And Dull Melancholy, Kinsman To Grim And Comfortless Despair.

Through Tattered Clothes, Small Vices Do Appear. Robes And Furred Gowns Hide All.

To Move Is To Stir, And To Be Valiant Is To Stand; Therefore, If Tou Art Mov'd, Thou Runst Away. (to Be Angry Is To Move, To Be Brave Is To Stand Still. Therefore, If You're Angry, You'll Run Away.)