[...] receaue by faylynge Fortune.
WHy doeth the worlde carke and care, for glory that is vayne
Whose welth departeth for euermore, and wyl not come agayne
Whose power so sone is ouerthrowen, and falleth in decaye
As doeth the potte which we se made, of brittell moulde and claye.
Do soner truste the letters wrytten, vpon the meltynge yse
Then flattering chaunce of worldly gyftes, vnconstaunt as the dyse
Whych forgeth vyce in vertues place, moch myschiefe to procure
Who can be certayne here to lyue, one mynute of an houre.
Tell, where is noble Salomon, in wytte whych dyd excell
Or Absalon the beawtyfull, of whom olde storres tell.
Or where is Sampson great and strong, vnable to be wonne
Or Ionathas the pleasauntst man, that raygned vnder the sunne.
Wher is Cesar that mighty Prince, which ruled East and weste
Or Dyues that belly God, whych spent both fyshe and beaste
What is become of Cicero, that could so well declame
Or wher is learned Aristotle that nowe doeth beare the name
Thus noble mē & rulers both, thus tyme which passeth away
Thus kinges which had theyr holdes ful strong to kepe them nyght & daye
Thus princes once which were of might, & with great power dyd florishe
In the twinkling of an eye, for euermore doth perishe
In howe short space doth slyppe awaye, these worldly pleasures all
Like shadowes or soch vanities, whych sone doth slyde and fall
Seducynge vs from heauenly gyftes, whych doeth for vs remayne
And leade vs to thynges, whych are vngodly vyle and vayne
O meat for wormes, O dewe sone melted, O clotte of bryttle claye
Why doest thou trust styll to possesse, that whych wyl sone decaye
Thou canst not tel what shal become, of the to morowe nexte
Therfore do good by thy lyfe tyme, let none of the be vexte.
For as the leafe whych wyth the wynde, we see dryuen to and fro
So shal thy pryde and gorglous fare, be putte awaye also
Wher is become thy proud carcas, which y
u thoughtest freshe and gaye
In scripture lykened to the flower, that springeth in the maye.
Thinke nothinge thyne that thou mayst lose, nor trust to kepe it styll
For that thou hast by worldly chaunce, it fayleth when it wyll
Wherfore to searche immortal thinges, se that thou do deuyse
The man is bleste that can and wyll, these worldly gyftes despyse.
Quod
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