LXVIII. Stephen Batman

WHO woulde not trauaile all his life

Such science for to knoe,

As able is to rid from strife

This carcasse bare, and woe?

The state itselfe is nothing sure,

Full soone doth vade away:

No earthly thing doth long endure,

But once it doth decay.

Why then is man so loth to goe,

This fickle life to leaue?

Sith he so well the state doth know,

He doth himselfe deceaue.

The pompeous state and worldly welth

Doth many mindes so blinde,

That when they should accomptes repay,

Most farthest are behinde.

The birde, that in the cage doth sing

Sometimes both shrill and cleere,

In ayrie skye with better note,

As doth full well appeere;

Because his kinde is there to be

If he the cage may scape:

Most ioyfull then beginnes his laye;

No more for feare doth quake.

But man’s regard is nothing so,

The cage of sinne to flie:

The greater plague doth oft ensue

When that the poore doth crie.

For many goods so well doth loue,

They care not how they get;

So they may haue to serue their mindes

Their whole desire is set.