The Latter End Of Joy

There's No Workman, Whatsoever He Be, That May Both Work Well And Hastily.

Love Will Not Be Constrain'd By Mastery. When Mast'ry Comes, The God Of Love Anon Beateth His Wings, And, Farewell, He Is Gone. Love Is A Thing As Any Spirit Free.

A Whetstone Is No Carving Instrument, And Yet It Maketh Sharp The Carving Tool; And If You See My Efforts Wrongly Spent, Eschew That Course And Learn Out Of My School; For Thus The Wise May Profit By The Fool, And Edge His Wit, And Grow More Keen And Wary, For Wisdom Shines Opposed To Its Contrary.

For Tyme Y-lost May Not Recovered Be.

Habit Maketh No Monk, Ne Wearing Of Gilt Spurs Maketh No Knight.