Make ends meet

by the nose, - and learn, That we in truth can nothing know! That in my heart

like fire doth burn. 'Tis true I've more cunning than all your dull tribe, Magister

and doctor, priest, parson, and scribe; Scruple or doubt comes not to enthrall

me, Neither can devil nor hell now appal me Hence also my heart must all

pleasure forego! I may not pretend, aught rightly to know, I may not pretend,

through teaching, to find A means to improve or convert mankind. Then I

have neither goods nor treasure, No worldly honour, rank, or pleasure; No

dog in such fashion would longer live! Therefore myself to magic I give, In