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THE PRAISE OF A TRUE FRIEND

WHOSO that wisely weighs the profit and the price

Of things wherein delight by worth is wont to rise,

Shall find no jewel is so rich ne yet so rare
That with the friendly heart in value may compare.

What other wealth to man by fortune may befall,
But Fortune's changèd cheer may reave a man of all?
A friend no wrack of wealth, no cruel cause of woe,
Can cause his friendly faith unfriendly to forego.

If Fortune friendly fawn, and lend thee wealthy store,
Thy friend's conjoined joy doth make thy joy the more ;
If frowardly she frown, and drive thee to distress,
His aid relieves thy ruth and makes thy sorrow less.

Thus Fortune's pleasant fruits by friends increasèd be ; The bitter, sharp, and sour, by friends allay'd to thee : That when thou dost rejoice, then doubled is thy joy ; And eke in cause of care the less is thy annoy.

Aloft if thou dost live, as one appointed here
A stately part on stage of worldly state to bear,
Thy friend, as only free from fraud, will thee advise
To rest within the rule of mean, as do the wise.

He seeketh to foresee the peril of thy fall;

He findeth out thy faults, and warns thee of them all; Thee, not thy luck, he loves: whatever be thy case, He is thy faithful friend, and thee he doth embrace.

If churlish cheer of chance have thrown thee into thrall,
And that thy need ask aid for to relieve thy fall,
In him thou secret trust assured art to have,

And succour, not to seek, before that thou can crave.

Thus is thy friend to thee the comfort of thy pain,
The stayer of thy state, the doubler of thy gain;
In wealth and woe thy friend, an other self to thee:
Such man to man a God, the proverb saith to be.

As wealth will bring thee friends in lowering woe to prove, So woe shall yield thee friends in laughing wealth to love : With wisdom choose thy friend ;— with virtue him retain ! Let virtue be the ground! So shall it not be vain.

FROM THE PARADISE OF DAINTY DEVICES

LIFE'S STAY

Man's flitting life finds surest stay
Where sacred Virtue beareth sway.

HE sturdy rock, for all his strength,

THE

By raging seas is rent in twain;
The marble stone is pierced at length

With little drops of drizzling rain;
The ox doth yield unto the yoke;
The steel obeys the hammer-stroke;

The stately stag, that seems so stout,
By yelping hounds at bay is set;
The swiftest bird that flies about

Is caught at length in fowler's net;
The greatest fish in deepest brook
Is soon deceived with subtle hook;

Yea, man himself, unto whose will

All things are bounden to obey,
For all his wit and worthy skill

Doth fade at length and fall away.
There is no thing but Time doth waste;
The heavens, the earth, consume at last.

But Virtue sits, triumphing still,

Upon the throne of glorious fame :
Though spiteful Death man's body kill,
Yet hurts he not his virtuous name.

By life or death, whatso betides,
The state of Virtue never slides.

THE LOST FRIEND

WH

HY should I longer long to live
In this disease of fantasy?

Since Fortune doth not cease to give
Things to my mind most contrary;
And at my joys doth lour and frown,
Till she hath turn'd them upside down.

A friend I had, to me most dear,

And of long time, faithful and just,—

There was no one my heart so near,

Nor one in whom I had more trust,— Whom now of late, without cause why, Fortune hath made my enemy.

The grass, methinks, should grow in sky,
The stars unto the earth cleave fast,
The water-stream should pass awry,

The winds should leave their strength of blast,

The sun and moon by one assent
Should both forsake the firmament,

The fish in air should fly with fin,

The fowls in flood should bring forth fry,

All things, methinks, should first begin
To take their course unnaturally,
Afore my friend should alter so,
Without a cause to be my foe.

But such is Fortune's hate, I say,
Such is her will on me to wreak,
Such spite she hath at me alway,

And ceaseth not my heart to break :
With such despite of cruelty,

Wherefore then longer live should I?

MAY

THEN MAY is in his prime,

WH

Then may each heart rejoice;

When May bedecks each branch with green,

Each bird strains forth his voice.

The lively sap creeps up

Into the blooming thorn;

The flowers, which cold in prison kept,

Now laugh the frost to scorn.

All Nature's imps triumph

Whiles joyful May doth last; When May is gone, of all the year The pleasant time is past.

May makes the cheerful hue;

May breeds and brings new blood ; May marcheth throughout every limb; May makes the merry mood.

May pricketh tender hearts

Their warbling notes to tune ;—
Full strange it is, yet some, we see,
Do make their May in June.

Thus things are strangely wrought
Whiles joyful May doth last :

Take May in time! when May is gone,
The pleasant time is past.

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