The Grashopper, foodlesse, helpelesse, and strengthlesse, got into the next brooke, and in the yeelding sand digde himselfe a pit: by which likewise he ingraued this Epitaph. When Springs greene prime arrayd me with delight, And euery power with youthfull vigor fild, Gaue strength to worke what euer fancie wild: I neuer feard the force of winters spight. When first I saw the sunne the day begin, And drie the mornings teares from hearbs and grasse; I little thought his chearefull light would passe, Till vgly night with darknes enterd in. And then day lost I mournd, spring past I waild, But neither teares for this or that auaild. Then too too late I praisd the Emmets paine, / That sought in spring a harbour gainst the heate: And in the haruest gathered winters meate, Perceiuing famine, frosts, and stormie raine. My wretched end may warne Greene springing youth, To vse delights as toyes that will deceiue, And scorne the world before the world them leaue: For all worlds trust, is ruine without ruth. Then blest are they that like the toyling Ant, Prouide in time gainst winters wofull want. With this the grashopper yeelding to the weathers extremit[ie], died comfortlesse without remedie. Like him myselfe: like me, shall al that trust to friends or times inconstancie. Now faint of my last infirmitie, beseeching them that shal burie my bodie, to publish this last farewell, written with my wretched hand. Fælicem fuisse infaustum. * * * * * _A letter written to his wife, found with this booke after his death._