Wherfore to them oft commyth great distresse
And to great pouerty often ar they brought
Laughed to scorne, their purpose cometh to nought
And truely I fynde in bokes wryten playne
That our olde faders haue neuer set theyr brayne
On great byldynge, ne yet of them ben fayne:
It longeth to a lorde a Prynce or a Kynge
That lacke no treasoure theyr werkes to mayntayne
To set theyr myndes on excellent buyldynge
Therfore who so euer wyll meddle with this thynge