This is of worlde, lo, all the hope we haue.
69.
Full many a yeare the world lookt for my fall,
And whan I fell, I made as great a cracke,
As doth an oake, or mighty tottring wall,
That whirling winde doth bring to ruin and wracke:
Now babling world wil talke behinde my backe:
A thousand things to my reproache and shame,
So will it to of others do the same.
70.