8.
There is one alone, & there is not a second, which hath neither sonne nor brother, yet is there none end of all his trauell, neither can his eye be satisfied with riches: neither doth he thinke, for whom do I trauell and de∣fraud my soule of pleasure: this also is vanitie, and this is an euill trauell.
And yet of all vaine humors that arise,
This seemes to me the greatest plague indeed,
When one (of powre) vnto himselfe denies
The lawfull pleasures might his comfort breed,
When he hath no man but himselfe to feed,
Ne child, ne heire, ne any friend at all,
To whom his horded wealth he wisht to fall.
And yet he ceaseth not, to trauell still
To gather wealth, he knoweth not how nor why,
Which though with plentie God into him fill:
He to himselfe doth natures wants deny,
And of the world, is made a scorne thereby,
Not hauing grace once to his mind to call,
To whom the wealth he gets, is like to fall.