Classic Poem

Man worse then worme, in bloud first sprawling lies
Naked, & wanting all, for w ch it cries
It sucks, thriues, & becomes a comelye beast
But thinks itself an angell at the least.
Takes it a storme; it shrinks, laments, & wrings,
In sunnshine frisks, & feasts, & flatters kings.
Getts wealth, builds, threatens, fullfills all its lust
And last is rotten & forgotten Dust.