by Robert Greene
Where whoredom reigns, there murder follows fast,
As falling leaves before the winter blast.
A wicked life, train'd up in endless crime,
Hath no reward unto the latter time.
When lechers shall be punish'd for their lust,
When Princes plagued, because they are unjust.
Foresee in time; the warningbell doth toll;
Subdue the flesh, by prayer, to save the soul.
London, behold the cause of others' wreck,
And see the sword of Justice at thy back!
Defer not off! Tomorrow is too late;
By night he comes perhaps to judge thy state!
Last updated September 25, 2017