And So It Is In

The Fields Have Eyes, And The Woods Have Ears.

Nature, The Vicar Of The Almighty Lord.

. . . If Gold Rust, What Then Will Iron Do?/ For If A Priest Be Foul In Whom We Trust/ No Wonder That A Common Man Should Rust. . . .

The Proverbe Saith That Many A Smale Maketh A Grate.

Min Be The Travaille, And Thin Be The Glorie.