Classic Poem

Of Louers restles lyues I lyste not wryte,
Let learned heads describe their painefull plight,
But playne in termes, I wishe thee euen so well,
As those that can fine Tales for Louers tell.

Whose friendly meaning if thou wilt receaue,
Detest disloyall loue, to Vertue cleaue,
And seeke by honest meanes thy state to stay,
The vertuous lyfe doth syldome bring decay.

Counte not the byrds that vndisclosed bee,
Waygh words as winde that yeelds no certaintie,
For polisht words that deedes doe neuer yeelde,
May likened be vnto the barreyn Feelde.

Prouyde in youth, thy aged yeares to keepe,
And let fayre speeche go lulle the fonde a sleepe,
Sir M ACHIAVELL such cunning nowe hath tought,
That wordes seeme sweete when bitter is the thought.

Whilst youth, strength, skyll, welth, friends & coyne wil stretch,
Thou fayre art borne, by many a guilfull fetch,
But if these helpes but once beginne to fainte,
A dieu farewell, colde comfort findes complainte.

Take heede therefore, retyre in time from those,
To serue their turnes, that teach their tongues to glose.
Whose golden shews, although do promise much,
In proofe fall out but Copper in the touch.