As it fell vpon a Day, In the merrie Month of May, Sitting in a pleasant shade, Which a groue of Myrtles made, Beastes did leape, and Birds did sing, Trees did grow, and Plants did spring: Euery thing did banish mone, Saue the Nightingale alone. Shee (poore Bird) as all forlorne, Leand her Breast vp-till a Thorne, And there sung the dolefulst Ditty, That to heare it was great Pitty. _Fie_, _fie_, _fie_, now would she cry _Teru Teru_, by and by: That to heare her so complaine, Scarce I could from Teares refraine: For her griefes so liuely showne, Made me thinke vpon mine owne. Ah (thought I) thou mournst in vaine; None takes Pitty on thy paine: Senslesse Trees, they cannot heere thee; Ruthlesse Beares, they wil not cheer thee. King _Pandion_, hee is dead: All thy friends are lapt in Lead. All thy fellow Birds doe singe, Carelesse of thy sorrowing. Whilst as fickle Fortune smilde, Thou and I, were both beguilde. Euerie one that flatters thee, Is no friend in miserie: Words are easie, like the winde; Faithfull friends are hard to finde: Euerie man will bee thy friend, Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend: But if store of Crownes be scant, No man will supply thy want. If that one be prodigall, Bountifull, they will him call. And with such-like flattering, Pitty but hee were a King. If hee bee adict to vice, Quickly him, they will intice. If to Woemen hee be bent, They haue at Commaundement. But if Fortune once doe frowne, Then farewell his great renowne: They that fawnd on him before, Vse his company no more. Hee that is thy friend indeed, Hee will helpe thee in thy neede: If thou sorrowe, hee will weepe; If thou wake, hee cannot sleepe: Thus of euerie griefe, in hart, Hee, with thee, doeth beare a Part. These are certaine Signes, to knowe Faithfull friend, from flatt'ring foe. [Illustration] Written, at the Request of a Gentleman, vnder a Gentlewoman's Picture. [Illustration] Euen as _Apelles_ could not paint _Campaspes_ face aright: Because _Campaspes_ Sun-bright eyes did dimme _Apelles_ sight: Euen so, amazed at her sight, her sight, all sights excelling, Like _Nyobe_ the Painter stoode, her sight his sight expelling, Thus Art and Nature did contend, who should the Victor bee, Till Art by Nature was supprest, as all the worlde may see. An Epitaph vpon the Death, of Sir Philip Sidney, Knight; Lord-gouernour of Vlissing. [Illustration]