Go, Little Booke! Go, My

He Is Gentle That Doeth Gentle Deeds.

But Manly Set The World On Sixe And Sevene; And, If Thou Deye A Martir, Go To Hevene.

The Handsome Gifts That Fate And Nature Lend Us Most Often Are The Very Ones That End Us.

It Is Nought Good A Sleping Hound To Wake.

The Fields Have Eyes, And The Woods Have Ears.