To us a second life, and we will live
To pull the distaffe from the hand of fate;
And spinn our own thrides for so long a date,
125That death shall never seize uppon our fame
Till this shall perish in the whole world's frame.
Fragment of an Elegy. From P, where it appears as portion of an 'heroical epistle' from Lady Penelope Rich to Sir Philip Sidney: punctuation Ed.
〈Farewel, ye guilded follies.〉
FAREWEL ye guilded follies, pleasing troubles,
Farewel ye honour'd rags, ye glorious bubbles;