And more and more the fire began to glowe
Without quenching, and daily did encrease,
Till fortune’s blastes with shame did make it cease.
9.
For (as tis sayd) pride passeth on afore,
And shame followes, for iust rewarde and meede,
Would God ladyes, both now and euermore,
Of my hard hap, which shall the story reede,
Would beare in mind, and trust it as their creede,
That pryde of hart is a most hatefull vice,