Nowhere So Busy A Man

Harde Is His Heart That Loveth Nought In May.

With Empty Hand No Man Can Lure A Hawk.

The Greatest Scholars Are Not Usually The Wisest People.

To Maken Vertue Of Necessite.

Who Looks At Me, Beholdeth Sorrows All, All Pain, All Torture, Woe And All Distress; I Have No Need On Other Harms To Call, As Anguish, Languor, Cruel Bitterness, Discomfort, Dread, And Madness More And Less; Methinks From Heaven Above The Tears Must Rain In Pity For My Harsh And Cruel Pain.