170BEauty is but a vaine and doubtfull good,

171A shining glosse, that vadeth sodainly,

172A flower that dies, when first it gins to bud,

173A brittle glasse, that s broken presently.

174 A doubtfull good, a glosse, a glasse, a flower,

175 Lost, vaded, broken, dead within an houre.

176And as goods lost, are seld or neuer found,

177As vaded glosse no rubbing will refresh:

178As flowers dead, lie withered on the ground,

179As broken glasse no symant can redresse.

180 So beauty blemisht once, for euer lost,

181 In spite of phisicke, painting, paine and cost.