11.
But wee forget our composition olde,
Both whence wee came, and whereunto wee shall:
Wee scarce remember wee bee made of mould,
And how the earth agayn consumeth all.
This great forgetfulnesse breedes Princes thrall.
While present ioyes wee gaze vppon, meane while
A fadeing blisse doth all our wits beguile.
12.
All this I speake to th’end it may aduise