Written of the Queene, when her highnesse was in trouble.

MIstrust not trothe, that truely meanes,
for eury gellows freake,
Instead of wrong condempne not right,
no hidden wrathe to wreake:
Looke on the light of fautlesse life,
how bright her vertues shine,
And measure out her stepps eche one,
by leauell and by line.
Deem eache desart by vpright gesse, whereby your praise shall liue,
If mallice would be matcht with might, let hate no iudgemet giue:
Enforce no feare with wrestyng witts, in quiet consciens breste,
Leane not your ears to busie tongs, whiche breedeth muche vnreste:
In doubtfull drifts wade not to farre, it wearies but your minde,
Searche not to know ye secret hart, whose thoughts are hard to finde.
Avoide fro you those hatefull hedds, whiche helps to heape mishaps,
Be slowe to heare the flattrars voice, who creepeth in your laps:
Embrace their lou's that wills you good, & sporne not at their praies
Trust not to mutche vnto your selues, for tickle are your staies.
How should your seate be settled sure, or stande on stedfast grounde,
So propped vp with hollowe harts, whose suretie is vnsounde:
Giue faithe to those that feares for loue, and not that loue for feare,
Regard not those that force compells, to please you eury wheare:
All this well waied and borne awaie, long your state,
Continually, with parfite peace, in hate.