In those extreemes did yeelde vnto my fall.
49.
O let mee curse the popish cardnall hat,
Whose myters big, beset with pearle and stones,
And all the rest of trash, I know not what,
The saints in shrine, theyr flesh and rotten bones,
The maske of monkes, deuised for the nones,
And all the flocke of freers, what ere they are,
That brought mee vp and left mee there so bare.
50.