Who do in good delight,
That soveraigne justice ever doth reward,
And though sometime it smite,
Yet it doth them regard;
For even amidst their griefe
They find a strong reliefe,
And death it selfe can work them no despight.
Againe, in evill who joy,
And do in it grow old,
In midst of mirth are charg'd with sin's annoy,
Which is in conscience scrol'd,
And when their life's fraile thred is cut by time,
They punishment find equall to each crime.