Go, Little Booke! Go, My

For Tyme Ylost May Nought Recovered Be.

To Keep Demands As Much Skill As To Win.

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.

Look Up On High, And Thank The God Of All.

Mordre Wol Out, That Se We Day By Day.