A. C. Cawley
O, all thynge fayleth, saue God alone —
Beaute, Strength, and Dyscrecyon;
For whan Deth bloweth his blast,
They all renne fro me full fast.
Eueryman, my leue now of the I take.
I wyll folowe the other, for here I the forsake.
Alas, than may I wayle and wepe,
For I toke you for my best frende.
I wyll no lenger the kepe.
Now fare well, and there an ende.