University of Virginia Library


[61]

A Sonnet declaring what infortunate chaunces doe happen by trusting to the slipperie stone.

I clim'd aloft and thought not of my fall,
For slipperie stone alas did me beguilde:
I fell so harde vpon the hardye hall,
As breath from Corpes was almost cleane exilde.
Lo, what it is to yeeld to wanton will,
Whose want of witt to sorrow proues at last:
Who would asspire may wish he had sate still,
And so auoyde perchance an ouer cast.
Yet youthfull toyes of giddy youth are such,
Not for to care vntill the present time
That griefe they feele, and then lament they much,
That fondly they so Rashly seem'd to clime:
Wherefore the meane, who so obserues in brest
Shall surely see he winnes a quiet rest.