Classic Poem

BY LOSS in play men oft forget
The duty they do owe
To Him that did bestow the same,
And thousand millions mo.
I loathe to see them swear and stare,
When they the main have lost;
Forgetting all the byes that were
With God and Holy Ghost.
By “wounds” and “nails” they think to win,
But truly it is not so:
For all their frets and fumes in sin
They moneyless must go.
There is no wight that used it more
Than he that wrote this verse;
Who crieth Peccavi, now therefore
His oaths his heart doth pierce.
Therefore example take by me,
That curse the luckless time
That ever dice mine eyes did see,
Which bred in me this crime.
Pardon me for that is past,
I will offend no more,
In this most vile and sinful cast
Which I will still abhor.