Where is it strong but nere the ground and roote? Where is it weake but on the highest sprayes? Where may a man so surely set his foote, But on those bowes that groweth lowe alwayes? The litle twygs are but vnstedfast stayes, Yf they breake not, they bend with euery blast: Who trusts to them shall neuer stand full fast. 47. The wynde is great vpon the highest hylles, The quiet lyfe is in the dale belowe, Who treades on yse shall slyde agaynst their wills, They want not cares[1986] that curious artes would knowe: Who liues at ease and can content him so, Is perfect wise, and sets vs all to schoole, Who hates this lore may well bee calde a foole. 48. What greater griefe may come to any life, Then after sweete to taste the bitter sowre? Or after peace to fall at warre and strife, Or after myrth to haue a cause to lowre? Under such props false fortune buildes her bowre, On sodayne chaunge her flittering[1987] frames bee set, Where is no way for to escape the net.[1988] 49. The hasty smart that fortune sendes in spite, Is harde to brooke where gladnes wee embrace, Shee threatens not, but sodaynly doth smite, Where ioy is most there doth shee sorrow place: But sure I thinke, this is too straunge a case For vs to feele such griefe amid our game, And know not why vntill we taste the same. 50. As erst I sayde, my blisse was tournde to bale, I had good cause to weepe and wring my hands, And showe sad chere with countenaunce full pale, For I was brought in sorrowe’s wofull bands: A pirry came and set my ship on sands, What should I hyde, or coulour care and noy? King _Edward_ dyde in whome was all my ioy. 51. And when the earth receiued had his corse, And that in tombe this worthy prince was layde, The worlde on mee began to showe his force, Of troubles then my parte I long assayde: For they, of whome I neuer was afrayde, Undid mee[1989] most, and wrought mee such dispite, That they bereft mee from my[1990] pleasure quite. 52.* Brought bare and poore, and throwne in worlde’s disgrace, Holds downe the head that never casts up eye: Cast out of court, condemn’d in every place, Condemn’d, perforce, at mercie’s foote must lye: Hope is but small when we for mercie crye: The birde halfe dead, that hauke hath fast in foote, Lay head on blocke where is no other boote. 53.*