Of fained frendshippe.

IN freends are found a heape of doubts,
that double dealyng vse,
A swarme of sutche I could finde out,
whose crafte I could accuse:
A face for loue, a harte for hate,
those faunyng freends can beare,
A tong for trothe, a hedde for whiles,
to fraude the simple eare.
In humble port is poison packt, that plainnesse can not spie,
Who credits all and can not se, where stingyng serpents lye:
With hastie trust the harmelesse harte, is easily hampred in,
And made beleue it is good Gold, that is but Lead and Tin.
The first deceipt that blears our eyes, is fained faithe profest,
The second trap is gratyng talke, that gropes eche strangers brest:
The third deuice is greetyng words, with collours stretched out,
Whiche bids suspect to feare no snares, nor dread no dangers doubt:
The last and worst is long repaire, that crepes in frendshipps lappe,
And daiely haunt that vnder trust, deuiseth many a trappe:
Loe how false frends can frame a fetche, to win their wills wt wiles,
And sause their sleights with sugred sopps, & shadoe hurt wt smiles.
To sarue their lusts are sondrie sorts, that practise diuerse kinds,
Some carry Honie in their mouths, & venome in their minds.
Thus where that custome ouleth men, in vice and foule abuse,
No feare of God nor losse of name, there maners maie reduce:
Me thinke the stones within the streete, should crie out at this cace,
And eury one that should them meete, should shon their double face.