Read it through once

Aper. Hoyday, What a sweepe of vanitie comes this way. They daunce? They are madwomen, Like Madnesse is the glory of this life, As this pompe shewes to a little oyle and roote. We make our selues Fooles, to disport our selues, And spend our Flatteries, to drinke those men, Vpon whose Age we voyde it vp agen With poysonous Spight and Enuy. Who liues, that's not depraued, or depraues; Who dyes, that beares not one spurne to their graues Of their Friends guift: I should feare, those that dance before me now, Would one day stampe vpon me: 'Tas bene done, Men shut their doores against a setting Sunne.