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Newe Sonets

and pretie Pamphlets. Written by Thomas Howell. Newly augmented, corrected and amended

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In vttringe his plaint, he declareth the vncertainty of fained frendship.
 
 
 



In vttringe his plaint, he declareth the vncertainty of fained frendship.

[_]

To the tune of winters iust returne.

If teares maie trie my troth, that trickle downe my cheekes,
or if my good will may be knowen, by profe of daies or weekes.
Then doe I wronge receaue, where frendship craue I moste,
and where in deed in euery storme, my vessell hath ben toste,
And through the tempestes all, my Shippe hath safly sayld,
and yet no Seas could shake my Barke, my hope hath so preuaild,
Oh helpe ye Courtiers now, and Soldiers euery ech one,
to wayle my present heuy fate, my Fortune fled and gone,
And curse this wicked world, wherin most frindes do fainte,
and namely such as tracte of time, hath taught their toungs to painte
Which promyse more by wordes, then will or workes performes,
such haue the curnels eaten all, and I coumpte them the wormes,
That gnawes the hartes of men, in peeces euery daye,
and such alas haue led my Shippe, a wery wilksome waie,
From whence if I retorne, I shall but wander still,
and fynd noe path to tread vpon, that can content my will,
Heare haue I hoyst my sayle, as hye as wind can blowe,
here had I frendes whose nod or becke, a world might ouer throwe,
And still my staienge staffe, did stand by one alone,
whase gentle hart is now become, as hard as Marble stone,
To me the case is such, that mishap thus is myne,
when I am worne vnto the bones, he letts me starue and pyne,
He lettes me sinke or swyme, and shifte by slight of brayne,
as though my head so gamesome were, to set on euery maine,
Since frendshipe feble growes, and men can causles chaunge,
and will this daie familliar be, and tourne to morrow straunge,
I will goe seke my happes, through fludes and salt Sea fome,
and rather perishe on the Rockes, then thus to starue at home,
Amongst my cheefest frendes, a mid my natuie soyle,
wher neuer yet in anye poynt, I suffered blot or foyle,
Where all the world might saie, I sucte vp many a wrounge,
where well a way some other thinke, I poore man liue to longe,
Where let my trueth be tried, I craue but small reward,
and where when fortune doth me right, the prince maie me regarde.
Finis.