To My Worthy Frend, Master John Sauage Of The Inner Temple

Vppon this sinfull earth If man can happy be, And higher then his birth, (Frend) take him thus from me. Whome promise not deceiues That he the breach should rue, Nor constant reason leaues Opinion to pursue. To rayse his mean estate That sooths no wanton's sinne, Doth that preferment hate That virtue doth not winne. Nor brauery doth admire, Nor doth more loue professe To that he doth desire, Then that he doth possesse. Loose humor nor to please, That neither spares nor spends, But by discretion weyes What is to needfull ends. To him deseruing not Not yeelding, nor doth hould What is not his, doing what He ought not what he could. Whome the base tyrants will Soe much could neuer awe As him for good or ill From honesty to drawe. Whose constancy doth rise 'Boue vndeserued spight Whose valewr's to despise That most doth him delight. That earely leaue doth take Of th' world though to his payne For virtues onely sake And not till need constrayne. Noe man can be so free Though in imperiall seate Nor Eminent as he That deemeth nothing greate.