Of a harde worlde.

HArdnesse is hedstrong, and will not be hampred,
Larges straite laced, and Pride to mutche pampred:
Spende all with sparyng, is so well acquainted,
That librall free harts, in shrine maie be saincted.
Holdfast will giue nought, wealth semeth needy,
Well hedde is stopped, full mouthes are greedy:
Leane flies are feedyng, that long hath been pined,
None maie be lookt too, till honger hath dined.
Standbacke saieth stoutnesse, let freends be first placed,
Flattrars are faured, and trothe still defaced:
Meane well the harmlesse, is euer kept fastyng,
Doe wrong dreeds nothyng, the death euerlastyng.
Feare nought speeds better, then doubt of offendyng,
Marre all that michar, thinks nere of a mendyng:
Conscience can catche all, yet talke muche of Iesu,
Neede helpe who listeth, ye finde fewe that ease you.
Hye office forgetteth, loe frends that nere failed,
Tyme paste nothyng thought on, when some wept and wailed:
Seeke praies can promes, and swiftly repents hym,
When ye call on hym, full close he absents hym.
Newe sleights vnsaury, is now the ryng leader,
Old trothe small set by, that was the true treader:
Uertue abused, the worlde ouer floweth,
What this will come to, at length the Lorde knoweth.
Mischeef thus Maister, men bent to sutche madnesse,
Maie change ere we ween, our mirthe to great sadnesse.