Greatest god below the sky.

But times do change and move continually.

Entire affection hateth nicer hands.

No daintie flowre or herbe that growes on grownd, No arborett with painted blossoms drest And smelling sweete, but there it might be fownd To bud out faire, and throwe her sweete smels al arownd.

Her angel's face, As the great eye of heaven shined bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place.

For deeds to die, however nobly done, And thoughts of men to as themselves decay, But wise words taught in numbers for to run, Recorded by the Muses, live for ay.

All flesh doth frailty breed!