The sturdy rock, for all his strength,
By raging seas, is rent in twaine;
The marble stone is pearst at length
With littel drops of drizzling raine:
The ox doth yield unto the yoke,
The steele obeyeth the hammer-stroke.

The stately stagge, that seemes as stout
By yalping hounds at day is set;
The swiftest bird, that flies about,
Is caught at length in fowler's net:
The greatest fish, in deepest brooke,
Is soon deceiv'd by subtill hooke.

Yea, man himselfe, unto whose will
All thinges are bounden to obey,
For all his wit and worthie skill,
Doth fade at length and fall away:
There nothing is but Time doth waste;
The heavens, the earth comsume at last.

But Virtue sits, triumphing still
Upon the throne of glorious fame;
Though spiteful death man's body kill
Yet hurts he not his vertuous name;
By life or death what so betides,
The state of virtue never slides.