There is another matter, intrinsically small, but exceedingly important because it throws a great light on his pursuits at this time. To George Gascoigne's satirical poem "The Steele Glas" is appended, among other commendatory verses, a poem by Walter Rawely, of the Middle Temple, which runs as follows-- "Swete were the sauce, would please ech kind of tast The life likewise, were pure that never swerved For spyteful tongs, in cankred stomaches plaste, Deeme worst of things, which best (percase) deserved: But what for that? this medcine may suffyse, To scorne the rest, and seke to please the wise. "Though sundry mindes in sundry sorte do deeme Yet worthiest wights yelde praise for every payne, But envious braynes, do nought (or light) esteeme Such stately steppes as they cannot attaine. For who so reapes, renowne above the rest, With heapes of hate, shal surely be opprest. "Wherefore to write, my censure of this booke This Glasse of Steele impartially doth shewe, Abuses all, to such as in it looke, From prince to poore, from high estate to lowe As for the verse, who lists like trade to trye, I feare me much, shal hardly reache so high." Edwards thinks, and rightly, that the verses show an intimate friendship with the poet in whose honour they were written; and "the poem itself to me discovers," writes Oldys, with his own quaint charm, "in the very first line of it a great air of that solid axiomatical vein which is observable in other productions of Ralegh's muse. And the whole middle hexastic is such an indication of his own fortune or fate, such a caution against that envy of superior merit which he himself ever struggled with, that it could proceed from no hand more properly than his own."