Though that it seme wel besein;
For every worldes thing is vein, 560
And evere goth the whiel aboute,
And evere stant a man in doute,
Fortune stant no while stille,
So hath ther noman al his wille.
Als fer as evere a man may knowe,[142]
Ther lasteth nothing bot a throwe;
Boicius. O quam dulcedo humane vite multa amaritudine aspersa est!
The world stant evere upon debat,