And thinking on my passed wo, My blisse did double many folde. (205) Aud thus I thought with mannes blood, Such blisse might not be bought to deare. In such estate my ioyes then stode: That of a change I had no feare. But why sing I so long of blisse? (210) It lasteth not, that will away, Let me therfore bewaile the misse: And sing the cause of my decay. Yet all this while there liued none, That led his life more pleasantly: (215) Nor vnder hap there was not one, Me thought, so well at ease, as I. But O blinde ioye, who may thee trust? For no estate thou canst assure? Thy faithfull vowes proue al vniust: (220) Thy faire behestes be full vnsure. Good proofe by me: that but of late Not fully twenty daies ago: Which thought my life was in such state: That nought might worke my hart this wo. (225) Yet hath the enemy of myne ease, Cruell mishappe, that wretched wight: Now when my life did most me please: Deuised me such cruel spight. That from the hiest place of all, (230) As to the pleasing of my thought, Downe to the deepest am I fall, And to my helpe auaileth nought, Lo, thus are all my ioyes quite gone. And I am brought from happinesse, (235) Continually to wayle, and mone. Lo, such is fortunes stablenesse. In welth I thought such suertie, That pleasure should haue ended neuer. But now (alas) aduersitie, (240) Doth make my singyng cease for euer. O brittle ioye, O welth vnstable: O fraile pleasure, O slidyng blisse, Who feles thee most, he shall not misse, At length to be made miserable.