University of Virginia Library

Epigram. To a Friend, and Sonne.

Sonne, and my Friend, I had not call'd you so
To mee; or beene the same to you; if show,
Profit, or Chance had made us: But I know
What, by that name, wee each to other owe,
Freedome, and Truth; with love from those begot.
Wise-crafts, on which the flatterer ventures not.
His is more safe commoditie, or none:
Nor dares he come in the comparison.
But as the wretched Painter, who so ill
Painted a Dog, that now his subtler skill
Was, t'have a Boy stand with a Club, and fright
All live dogs from the lane, and his shops sight.
Till he had sold his Piece, drawne so unlike:
So doth the flattrer, with farre cunning strike
At a Friends freedome, proves all circling meanes
To keepe him off; and how-so-e're he gleanes
Some of his formes, he lets him not come neere
Where he would fixe, for the distinctions feare.
For as at distance, few have facultie
To judge; So all men comming neere can spie,
Though now of flattery, as of picture are
More subtles workes, and finer pieces farre,
Then knew the former ages: yet to life,
All is but web, and painting; be the strife
Never so great to get them: and the ends,
Rather to boast rich hangings, then rare friends.