The greater that I feele my griefe to be, The lesser able, am I to expresse it; Such is the nature of extremitie, The heart it som-thing eases, to confesse it. Therefore Ile wake my muse, amidst her sleeping, And what I want in wordes, supplie with weeping. Weepe still mine eies, a Riuer full of Teares, To drowne my Sorrowe in, that so molests me; And rid my head of cares; my thoughts of feares: Exiling sweet Content, that so detests me. But ah (alas) my Teares are almost dun, And yet my griefe, it is but new begun. Euen as the Sunne, when as it leaues our sight, Doth shine with those Antipodes, beneath vs; Lending the other worlde her glorious light, And dismall Darknesse, onely doeth bequeath vs: Euen so sweet _Bountie_, seeming dead to mee, Liues now to none, but smooth-Tongd Flatterie. O _Adulation_, Canker-worme of Truth; The flattring Glasse of Pride, and Self-conceit: (Making olde wrinkled Age, appeare like youth) Dissimulations Maske, and follies Beate: Pittie it is, that thou art so rewarded, Whilst Truth and Honestie, goe vnregarded. O that Nobilitie, it selfe should staine, In being bountifull, to such vile Creatures: Who, when they flatter most, then most they faine; Knowing what humor best, will fit their Natures. What man so mad, that knowes himselfe but pore, And will beleeue that he hath riches store. Vpon a time, the craftie Foxe did flatter The foolish Pye (whose mouth was full of meate) The Pye beleeuing him, began to chatter, And sing for ioy, (not hauing list to eate) And whil'st the foolish Pye, her meate let fall, The craftie Foxe, did runne awaie with all. _Terence_ describeth vnder _Gnatoes_ name, The right conditions of a Parasyte: (And with such Eloquence, sets foorth the same, As doeth the learned Reader much delyght) Shewing, that such a Sycophant as _Gnato_, In more esteem'd, then twentie such a _Plato_. _Bounty_ looke backe, vpon thy goods mispent; And thinke how ill, thou hast bestow'd thy mony: Consider not their wordes, but their intent; Their hearts are gall, although their tongues be hony: They speake not as they thinke, but all is fained, And onely to th'intent to be maintained. And herein happie, I areade the poore; No flattring Spanyels, fawne on them for meate: The reason is, because the Countrey Boore Hath little enough, for himselfe to eate: No man will flatter him, except himselfe; And why? because hee hath no store of wealth. But sure it is not _Liberalitie_ That doeth reward these fawning smel-feasts so: It is the vice of Prodigalitie, That doeth the Bankers of _Bounty_ over-flo: _Bounty_ is dead: yea so it needes must bee; Or if aliue, yet is shee dead to mee.