Our wakeing is warfare, our walkeing hath woe:
Our talkeing is trustless, our cares doe abound:
Our fauners deemde faythfull, and frendshippe a foe.
Which troubles our fancies so tosse to and froe.
That scarcely wee neuer inioy any rest
Tormented, whome Fortune exalted and blest.
10.
This thing can I witnesse what troubles ensue,
What cares doe vs compass enhaunced aloft:
I therefore wish rebells to take better vewe