60.*
My fall and facte makes proofe of that is spoke,
Tels world to much of shadowes in the sunne,
Dust blowne with winde, or simple proofe of smoake,
That flies from fire and fast throwe aire doth run:
It ends with woe that was with joy begun:
It turnes to teares that first began with sport:
At length long paine finds pleasure was but short.
61.
As long as lyfe remaynde in Edward’s brest,