D ANCIE , deceit is rifer now a day,
Then honest dealing, vertue is but vile,
I see dissembling beares the bell away:
Craft hath a cloke to couer all his guile,
And vnderneath the same a knife doth lurke,
When time shall serue a shamefull spoile to worke.
Each man almost hath change of faces now,
To shift at pleasure, when it may auaile:
A man must giue no credit to the browe,
The smoothest smiling friend will soonest faile:
No trust without a triall many yeeres,
All is not gold that glistringly appeeres.
Who so shall make his choice vpon a man
To loue, and like, must warily looke about,
A faithful friend is like a coleblacke Swan.
We may not trust the painted sheath without,
Vnlesse good lucke continue at a stay:
Farewell thy friends, like foules they flie away.