And when wee passe to th’earth wee turne to rot:
Our pompe, our pride, and glory is forgot.
10.
The fire first receaues his heate againe,
The ayre the breath bereaues away by right:
The watry and the earthly parts remaine,
Of elements composed scarce so light:
And in the ground a place is for them dight.
The moistures dry, the bones consume to dust,
The wormes with fleshe suffice their greedy lust.