Alas, alas, my chiefest way is this,
A guiltlesse death to suffer as I can,
So shall my soule be sure of heauen’s blisse,
And good renoume shall rest behinde me than,
And body shall take end where it began,
And fame shall fly before me, ere I flit
Vnto the Gods, where Ioue in throne doth sit.
O God conuert, from vyce to vertue now,
The heart of him that falseth fayth wyth me,
And chaunge his minde and mend his maners throw,