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Poem	WEake is th'assurance that weake flesh reposeth, In her owne powre and scorneth others ayde: that soonest fals when as she most supposeth, her selfe assurd, and is of nought affrayd. All flesh is frayle, and all her strength vnstayd, like a vaine bubble blowen vp with ayre: deuouring tyme & changeful chance haue prayd, her glories pride that none may it repayre. Ne none so rich or wise, so strong or fayre, but fayleth trusting on his owne assurance: and he that standeth on the hyghest stayre fals lowest: for on earth nought hath endurance. Why then doe ye proud fayre, misdeeme so farre, that to your selfe ye most assured arre.
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