But who would scorn the month of June,
Because December with his breath so hoary,
Must come? read more

But who would scorn the month of June,
Because December with his breath so hoary,
Must come? Much rather should he court the ray,
To hoard up warmth against a wintry day.

I am sure care's an enemy to life.

I am sure care's an enemy to life.

Ther's no great banquet but some fares ill.

Ther's no great banquet but some fares ill.

What were vices have become the fashion of the day.

What were vices have become the fashion of the day.

The great put the little on the hooke.

The great put the little on the hooke.

A little labour, much health.

A little labour, much health.

The way of transgressors is hard.

The way of transgressors is hard.

Of faire things, the Autumne is faire.

Of faire things, the Autumne is faire.

Hee that blowes in the dust fills his eyes with it.

Hee that blowes in the dust fills his eyes with it.