 | Argalvs and Parthenia |  |
Before the sound of his last breath was gon,
Her speech (being marshall'd with a powerfull groan,
Through the rude confluence, and amazed throng
Of her distracted thoughts) her feeble tongue
Wept forth these words; Thus fleet, thus transitory
Is mans delight, and all that painted glory,
Poore earth can giue; Nor wealth, nor blood, nor beauty,
Can quit that debt, that necessary duty,
They owe to Change and Time; but, like a flower,
They flourish now, and fade within an houre.
The world's compos'd of Change; there's nothing stayes
At the same point; all alters; all decayes:
The world is like a Play, where euery age
Concludes her Sceane, and so departs the stage;
And when Times hasty Houre glasse is run,
Change strikes the Epilogue, and the Play is done.
Who acts the King to day, by change of lot,
Perchance to morrow begs, and blushes not:
Whose beauty was ador'd o're night, next morning,
May finde a face, like mine, not worth the scorning:
Looke where we list, there's nothing to the eye
Seemes truly constant, but Inconstancy.
Her speech (being marshall'd with a powerfull groan,
Through the rude confluence, and amazed throng
Of her distracted thoughts) her feeble tongue
65
Is mans delight, and all that painted glory,
Poore earth can giue; Nor wealth, nor blood, nor beauty,
Can quit that debt, that necessary duty,
They owe to Change and Time; but, like a flower,
They flourish now, and fade within an houre.
The world's compos'd of Change; there's nothing stayes
At the same point; all alters; all decayes:
The world is like a Play, where euery age
Concludes her Sceane, and so departs the stage;
And when Times hasty Houre glasse is run,
Change strikes the Epilogue, and the Play is done.
Who acts the King to day, by change of lot,
Perchance to morrow begs, and blushes not:
Whose beauty was ador'd o're night, next morning,
May finde a face, like mine, not worth the scorning:
Looke where we list, there's nothing to the eye
Seemes truly constant, but Inconstancy.
| Argalvs and Parthenia | |