The Pastime of Pleasure: An Allegorical Poem

by Stephen Hawes

For thou thy selfe doost so much enprou

Above the havens by exaltacion;

But what for all thy commendacion?

Arte thou now any thing substanciall,

Spirituall, or els yet terrestryall?

How can a werke perfitely be grounded

But in these two? and thou arte of those:

Wherfore for nought thou mayst be confounded;

For nought in substaunce can nothing transpose;

Of none effecte thou canst thy selfe disclose;