 | Chrestoleros |  |
Epigr. 32.
When I beholde with deepe astonishment,To famous Westminster how there resorte,
Liuing in brasse or stony monyment.
The princes and the worthies of all sorte:
98
Without contempt or pride, or ostentation?
And looke vpon offenselesse Maiesty,
Naked of pompe or earthly domination?
And howe a play-game of a painted stone,
Contents the quiet now and silent spirites.
Whome all the world which late they stood vpon,
Could not content nor squench their appetites,
Life is a frost of cold felicity.
And death the thawe of all our vanitie.
| Chrestoleros | |