The present time is daily gaz’d upon:
Yf merchant rich from wealth doe fall in debt,
Small count is made of his good fortune gon:
We feede on flesh, and fling away the bone,
Embrace the best and set the worst aside,
Because faire flowers are made of in their pride.
57.*
You yonglings nowe, that vaine delights lead on
To sell chaste life for lewd and light desires,
Poore gaine is got when rich good name is gon: