Whereas thou command in me to sprout your glories and yet remain as layin' sheep,
wolf in clothings sheep or either meek but both do bare their teeth.
For heavens graces do smile at my speech,
with purest faith and weighted hope
sayest he, favors in labors toil inherit fortunes deep, laid on modest honor,
ingloriously preserved.
And the fool did not know he fool 'til misfortune hung his head,
and the longings in neatly types letters do bare hypocrisy and I sit a distance to both,
no victors to my name, my idiocy my only own.

The old crooked chair where your memory lay buried, where you...