The brethren both of Constantine the kyng,
Peccaui they did meane to make me sing.
37.
From worse to worse, seldome is better seene,
Our present ioyes hereafter thralles do threate,
And he who now doth flourish freshe and greene,
Must fade and fal as Hyems frosts doo frette:
Dame Florae’s feeldes, or as the rayne with wet
In dropping dayes the pleasaunt playnes doth drowne,
So ruthfull men reaues vs from[1197] renowne.