There are but fewe, whom Fortune bathes in blesse, But blinded are, and dazelingly they looke: They see nought else but worldly happinesse, At that they only fish with Fortune’s hooke. Beneath on earth pompe, pelfe, and prayse they pooke, On that depending frayle, that fayles, and flits, and flyes, Forsaking vertue sole, that bides for aye aboue the skies.[428] 16. Mens vayne delightes are wondrous to behold, For that that reason nills, nor nature sowes They take in hand, on science far to bold, Deceiu’d by suttle snares of diuelish showes. From which attemptes a floud of mischiefe flowes, An heape of hurtes, [a swarme of smartes] a fry of foule decayes, A flocke of feares, [a droue of deathes,] and thrales a thousand wayes. 17. If that the water fish forsake the streame Agaynst his kinde, feeles hee no hurt ensues? Or if the broeke would learne to play the breame, And leaue the lambes at land, were this no newes? A fethered fowle in th’earth a den to chuse, Or flounder say to flye [and soare aloft] the larke to catch, Would not you maruell then, what monsters now doth nature hatch?[429] 18. But sith wee see that nature hath assign’d The fowle to fly the ayre, as seemeth well, The fish to swim the sea, as fits his kinde, The earth for men and beastes to breede and dwell: Of right a man, which doth the rest excell, Should euen so far surpasse the rest in ech degree,[430] As all the rest to him in wit and reason weaker bee.[431] 19. All this I speake to warne the rest that heare, And eke to shew the blindnesse of delites. Herein my foly vayne may playne appeare, What hap they heape which try out cunning slightes, What hurt there hits, at such vayne shewes and sightes, Where men for pleasure only take much [toyle and] payne, To alter nature’s gifts for [pompe, and pride, and] pleasure vayne. 20. Were not it straunge, thinke you, a King to fly, To play the tombler, or some iugling cast? To dresse him selfe in plumes, as erst did I, And vnder armes to knit on winges full fast? A sport you thinke that might the wise agaste. But _Magicke Mathematicall_[432] had taught mee poynts of scill, Whereby when first I practis’d then, I lern’d my selfe to kill.[433] 21.