She armes the brest with constant patience Against the bitter throwes of dolours darts: She solaceth with rules of sapience 135 The gentle minds, in midst of worldlie smarts: When he is sad, shee seeks to make him merie, And doth refresh his sprights when they be werie.

And he, the man whom Nature selfe had made 205 To mock her selfe, and truth to imitate, With kindly counter* under mimick shade, Our pleasant Willy, ah! is dead of late: With whom all ioy and iolly meriment Is also deaded, and in dolour drent**.