What fooles bee we to trust vnto our strength,
Our wit, our courage, or our noble fame,
Which time it selfe must nedes deuour at length,
Though froward fortune could not foile the same:
But seeing this goddesse guideth all the game,
Which still to chaunge doth set her onely lust,
Why toyle wee so for thinges so harde to trust?
2.
A goodly thing it is, surely, good report,[606]
Which noble hartes doe seeke by course of kinde: