George Peele. 1552-1598

His golden locks time hath to silver turned;

O time too swift! Oh swiftness never ceasing!

His youth 'gainst time and age hath ever spurned,

But spurned in vain; youth waneth by encreasing.

Sonnet. Polyhymnia.

His helmet now shall make a hive for bees,

And lovers' songs be turned to holy psalms;

A man-at-arms must now serve on his knees,

And feed on prayers, which are old age's alms.

Sonnet. Polyhymnia.

My merry, merry, merry roundelay

Concludes with Cupid's curse:

They that do change old love for new,

Pray gods, they change for worse!

Cupid's Curse.