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 Where she vnlades the fraight of sweet content, The hagler pleasd doth rise incontinent. Then thought of sicknes is not thought vpon, Care hath no being in her mantion, But former peacocke pride, grand insolence, Euen in the highest thought hath residence. But it on tiptoe stands, well: what of that? It is more prompt to fall and ruinate, And fall it will when deaths shrill clamrous bell, Shall summon you vnto the depth of hell: Repent proude Princocks, cease for to aspire, Or dye to liue, with Pride in burning fire.