And ye that doe them act;

Desist in time for Wormall's sake,

And thinke upon his fact.

Blaspheming Tambolin must die,

And Faustus meete his ende;

Repent, repent, or presentlie

To hell ye must discend.

What is there, in this world, of worth,

That we should prize it soe?

Life is but trouble from our birth,