Non est fides super terram.

THere is no faithe, vpon the yearth,
as faithe was wont to bee,
For faithe with fraude and finenesse now,
hath chopt and changde degree:
Faithe is a firme and faste beleef,
that first from vertue came,
And fraude and finenesse is a wolfe,
that looketh like a Lamme.
Then where is fast beleef my freends, that neither faints nor quails,
But finenesse is not farre to seke, and fraude you knowe preuails:
So as the Psalme affirmes & showes, no faithe on yearth we finde,
This hollow world, & hatefull daies, shews nought but hollow mind:
We stretch out words, as farre as wit, and skill of man maie reach,
As though in deede a subtell Foxe, before the Geese should preache:
But of good woorkes we are so spare, we laie them vp in store,
As though thei should take leaue of world, and should be seen no more.
Thus faithe is fled, or tree is dedde, that should beare fruit ye knowe,
Then trust no bowe, that brings but leau's, and blossoms for a show:
Beleeue no goodly painted postes, that rotten are within,
Beleeue no fliryng fained face, nor sleeke and smothed skin:
Beleeue no courtlike kissyng hands, and bowyng bodie doune,
Beleeue no false dissemblyng browes, that ought of Nature froune.
Beleeue no othes nor promes patcht, and peeced with desaite,
Beleeue not those that feeds thine eyes, with sweete & pleasant baite:
Beleeue no tune that likes the eare, and doeth displease thine harte,
Beleeue not hym, on stage that plaies, the merrie vises parte.
Beleeue no freend that faunes too fast, he meanes to make thee faule,
Beleeue no sweete and sugred speache, for therein lyes the Gaule:
Beleeue no more then good is found, for badde is moste in place,
And goodnesse in this gracelesse tyme, the people least embrace:
On yearth there is no faithe God wott, for closely vnder tong,
The snake doeth lodge, the serpets crepe, & there mans hart is stog.
I could showe heaps of mischeeu's greate, that follows ma fro birth,
But to the wise, let this suffice, there is no faithe on yearth.