If Gold Rusts, What Then

Of Harmes Two The Lesse Is For To Cheese.

At The Ches With Me She (fortune) Gan To Pleye; With Her False Draughts (pieces) Dyvers/she Staal On Me, And Took Away My Fers. And When I Sawgh My Fers Awaye, Allas! I Kouthe No Lenger Playe.

Eke Wonder Last But Nine Deies Never In Toun.

How Potent Is The Fancy! People Are So Impressionable, They Can Die Of Imagination.

Min Be The Travaille, And Thin Be The Glorie.