PREFACE
PREFACE Ahh it doth seem we doest live inst a hellish world where But vertues gold be But sold for Mammons dross where we for wealth doest But sell our soul andst thus or flesh inst chains doest us shackle we with unchained sins we think we doest But run free Yet those fools doest Yet complain that they be inst pain since their dreams they cannot claim they seek happiness Yet doth just woes do gain around around go they chasing some carrot they be told that happiness they shallst gain But just filling with gold the pockets of the tellers of such mythology that the fools doest believe greedily ast sayeth the poet of wit
As fast thy virtue bends that love to good:
But ah Desire still cries Giue me some food