What is it lyke, but a blast of wynde?
For you therof can have no certaintie:
It is nowe so full of mutabilitie;
Set not your mynde upon worldly wealth,
But evermore regarde your soules health.
When earth in earth hath tane his corrupt taste,
Then to repent it is for you to late;
When you save tyme, spende it nothing in waste;
Tyme past with vertue must enter the gate
Of joye and blysse, with myne hye estate,