Bound for her ancient libertie to stand,
But what their fathers gaue her being dead,
The sonnes rap’d from her with a violent hand,
And those her buildings most of all abus’d,
That with the waight their father’s coffins bruis’d.
95.
The wisest and most prouident but build,
For time againe too wastfully destroy,[2089]
The costly piles and monuments we guild,
Succeeding time shall reckon but a toy,