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Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done,
Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were won.
Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done,
Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were won.
He wears himself out by his labours, and grows old through his
love of possessing wealth.
He wears himself out by his labours, and grows old through his
love of possessing wealth.
An ill wound is cured, not an ill name.
An ill wound is cured, not an ill name.
I'll put a spoke among your wheels.
I'll put a spoke among your wheels.
The finishing stroke of all sorrow.
The finishing stroke of all sorrow.
Who aspires must down as low
As high he soar'd.
Who aspires must down as low
As high he soar'd.
Deceive not thy Physitian, Confessor, nor Lawyer.
Deceive not thy Physitian, Confessor, nor Lawyer.
