“But now ye may no more have speech of me, For this mine office craves continual use: Ye therefore deeply muse Upon those things which ye have heard the while: Yea, and even yet remember heedfully How this my wheel a motion hath so fieet. That in an eyelid’s beat Him whom it raised it maketh low and vile. None was, nor is, nor shall be of such guile, Who could, or can, or shall, I say, at length Prevail against my strength. But still those men that are my questioners In bitter torment own their hearts perverse. “Song, that wast made to carry high intent Dissembled in the garb of humbleness⁠— With fair and open face To Master Thomas let thy course be bent. Say that a great thing scarcely may be pent In little room: yet always pray that he Commend us, thee and me, To them that are more apt in lofty speech: For truly one must learn ere he can teach.” ↩