Of an iniurie by saunyng freendes.

I Saile with shaken Shippe,
through swellyng seas to saffeties shore,
And scape the scornefull whippe,
that lyes in waite to scourge me sore:
And hauyng winde at will,
in scoulyng clouds, I leaue disdaine,
Yea more by happ then skill,
I beate the bellowe backe againe.
That would orewhelme my Barke, and swallowe vp, the silly boate,
Ere that the full sea marke, had set the tossed ship a flote:
In deede the gale is good, and God that gides, the sterne and all,
At ebbe hath sent a flood, where tide was neuer thought to fall.
Packe hence ye Pirates proude, the fleete is gone, ye get no pries,
When ship as swift as cloude, from weltryng wau's a lofte doth rise
And cutts the waters wilde, like sieth that shares, both grasse & corne,
In sothe you are begide, to lurke in creeks, and fishe for scorne.
When hoffyng sailes are hoiste, and shipman hath, escapte the race,
Greate folly for a Foist, through floodes to followe on the chace:
Your painted Galleis gaie, till caulmes doe come, dare sturre no ore,
Then crepe close vnder baye, and hide your heads, when seas do rore.
O busie bablars all, your tattlyng tournes, to trifles still,
And though you brede a braule, the worlde maie se, ye want your wil:
I haue out saild you cleane, and plaste my self in Princes traine,
And keeps a merrie meane, when you in discord beates your braine.
Wherfore your iarryng partes, doth sho fro whence your notes doth ryes,
Ye want the cunnyng artes, to blind my witts, or bleare myne eyes.
The more you strain your voice, to bryng good Musick out of frame,
The lesse you maie reioyce, to see how I haue founde the same:
And so with smilyng songs, I laugh and leaue, you more and lesse,
And put vp many wrongs, that tyme and Fortune maie redresse.