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All worthy men—a forgery

Of villain hearts, that foolis hly Torment themselves for base-earned gain.

Of such sort is this love, that vain

It finds its life so soon as e’er

It loses hope of profit where

It looked to find it, and away

’Tis gone and vanished in a day.

The true friend loveth not the pelf

His friend possesses, but himself;

And little true love moves that heart

Which of its friend but makes a mart

For chaffer.

This vile love doth wane

Or wax with Fortune, which amain

Suffers eclipse, as doth the moon

Whose brightness dims and fades so soon

As o’er it goes the gloomy shade

Of earth, but ere long is arrayed

More brightly as the sun ’gins cast

His beams again on her. So, fast

This fickle love doth ever range

From man to man as fortunes change,

Sometimes obscure, and sometimes bright.

But when by Poverty ’tis dight

In wretched gaberdine, or when

Fair Richesse’ beauty fails, O then

This sordid love doth disappear,

But once again ’twill shine forth clear

As Richesse gaineth strength and health;

Cupidity adoreth wealth;

When Richesse dies, it sinks to earth,

She rises, and it hath new birth.