123855The aged man that coffers vp his gold,

856Is plagu'd with cramps, and gouts, and painefull fits,

857And scarce hath eyes his treasure to behold,

858But like still pining TANTALVS he sits,

859And vselesse barnes the haruest of his wits:

860 Hauing no other pleasure of his gaine,

861 But torment that it cannot cure his paine.

124862So then he hath it when he cannot vse it,

863And leaues it to be maistred by his yong:

864Who in their pride do presently abuse it,

865Their father was too weake, and they too strong

866To hold their cursed-blessed Fortune long.

867 "The sweets we wish for, turne to lothed sowrs,

868 "Euen in the moment that we call them ours.

125869Vnruly blasts wait on the tender spring,

870Vnholsome weeds take roote with precious flowrs,

871The Adder hisses where the sweete birds sing,

872What Vertue breedes Iniquity deuours:

873We haue no good that we can say is ours,

874 But ill annexed opportunity

875 Or kils his life, or else his quality.