My wrinckled cheeks bedeawde with drops of dole, My visage pale, my wan and withered face, Do wel declare how I haue runne my race: And sith I must my doinges here inrolle, The liues of them which liue for to controlle, I am content my cruel wretched case Shall teach the way, how all men may imbrace The knowledge how they honour may obtayne, And how they may from falling there remayne. 2. Though many clime by many meanes a hye, Yet few on toppe can sit in suer seate: For euery storme an ouerthrowe doth threate To them, who get the toppe by crueltie; Whose suddayne fall doth tell their trechery: But they who will their heades for honour beate, And flye the fall, the greefe whereof is greate, Let them renowne their former factes with fame, And shunne the path which leades man’s life to shame. 3. Who walketh in this wildernesse of woe, And loue’s aloft on flitting fame to flee, Must pace the pathes of mother mysery: That man through gastfull greefe must goe, By thousande thickes which wrapped are with wo: By daunger’s denne where lucking she dooth lye, By hatred’s house, where spite wil thee espye, By caue of care, by wofull crye, alas, His manly minde with courage stout must passe. 4. By plesaunt playne where pleasure doth place Her princely pallace paynted passing fine, To gazing eyes where glitteryng glasse doth shine Of beautie’s blaze, where feature fine of face, Where ladye loue doth vaunte with garishe grace, Where vayne delight doth drawe that lothsome line, Which maketh man from vertue to decline: Be wise and ware, and lothe theyr luering lookes, Least craftye _Cupide_ catch thee in his hookes. 5. To pleasure’s court a company doth come, Euen fame to finde, the losse I do lament, For flitting fame, them rumor rud hath hent, Which doth declare their dole til day of dome: With tooth and nayle which trauaile, there be some Vertue to finde, where when some time is spent Her to obtayne, and that with good intent, They weary by the way do stay their race, And rest them in this pleasaunt bitter place. 6. They meane as there no long delayes to make, But _Bacchus’_ comely carpites so do please, Such courtly caues, such mirth, such quiet ease They haue, that they to _Venus_ them betake, The wearye wayes of vertue they forsake: Those trustlesse traynes from dolor, and disease, Doubtlesse do come to drowne in surging seas Of secrete smarte, those which do them delight: Flee thou therfore this courte, with speedy spight. 7.