GorgeousGallery sig. Nir

[sig. Nir]

The greedy Marchant will not spare, For lukers sake, to lye and sware: The simple sorte hee can by slight, Make to beleeue the Crow is white: (35) No science now, or arte is free, But that some gyle therin wee see: Thus euery man for greedy gayne, Unto himselfe encreaseth payne: And thinkes the crime to bee but small, (40) When that they loose both soule and all.
Who lyueth here, that is content, With such estate as God hath sent: The hungry Churle, and wealthy Chuffe, Doth neuer thinke, hee hath enough: (45) Fortune to many, giues to much, But few or none, shee maketh riche: Thus euery man, doth scrape and catch, And neuer more, for death doo watch: Who still is present at their side, (50) And cuts them of, amids their pride.
Such is the world, such is the time, That eche man striues alofte to clyme: But when they are in top of all, In torments great they hedlong fall: (55) Where they do giue accompt at large, How they their tallent did discharge: There no man takes their golden fee, To plead their case, and set them free: Then too too late they doo begin, (60) For to repent their former sinne:
Wherfore I wish that eche degree, With lotted chaunce contented bee: