Time, that bringes all thinges to light,
Doth hide this thinge out of sight:
Yet fame hath left behinde a story,
A hopefull race to shew the glory:
For underneath this heape of stones
Lieth a percell of small bones;
What hope at last can such impes have,
That from the wombe goes to the grave.
[{122}] Chap. X.[476]
Of a man indued with many spetiall guifts sent over to be Master of the Ceremonies.