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The Arbor of Amitie

wherin is comprised pleasant Pohems and pretie Poesies, set foorth by Thomas Howell

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To his fayned Friends.
 
 
 
 
 
 


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To his fayned Friends.

Though some perchaunce there bee,
That would me gladly spot:
Yet shall they neuer see,
Such chaunce to light my lot.
Ne yet their craftie wayes,
So closely clokte shall winne
To them but little prayse,
If once I doe beginne:
Hereafter comes not yet,
Yet once a time I trust:
Will serue wherein to meete,
With such as be vniust.
Wherefore these words I vse,
I nothing neede to tell:
Nor you theron to muse,
Who knowes my meaning well.