.NDU.MjI1OTM

The worlde The world's a Bubble, and the life of man lesse then a span In his conception wretched, from the wombe soe to the tombe, Nurst from the cradle, and brought up to yeares with cares & feares, Whoe then to frayle mortallity shall trust But limes the waters, or but writes in dust

Yet whilst with sorrowe here, wee live opprest what life is best Courtes are but onely superficiall scooles to dandle fooles The rurall partes are turn'de into a den of savage men And where's a citye, from foule vice soe free But maye be termde, the worst of all these three

Domesticke cares afflictes the Husbands bead or paynes his head These that live single, takes it for a curse or doe thinges worse They would have children, those that have the none or wish them gone What is it then to have, or have noe wife But single thraldome, or a duble striffe

Our owne affections still at home to pleasse is a disseasse to crose the sease, to any forren soyle perryll & toyle warrs with a noyse affright us, when they c[e]ace we are worse in peace What then remaynes, but that wee still should crye Not to be borne, or beinge, borne, to dye

Finis