If thou be dampned, than art thou at thy stent
By thy ryches which thou here hast left behynde
To thy executours, thou shalt small comforte fynde
Theyr custome is to holde fast that they haue
Thy pore soule shall be farthest fro theyr thought
If that thy carkes be brought onys in the graue
And that they haue thy bagges in handes cought
What say they, than (by god the man had nought)
Whyle he here lyuyd he was to lyberall
Thus dampned is thy soule, thy ryches cause of all