Nil inde insipidum

A SILVER Salt, heere on the Table standes,
On which the peace-full Turtle Doue doth sit,
Who at the bord, a silent tongue commaundes:
The Salt, that we should season still with it
Discourses honest, not with idle tongue,
Speake what we list, to doe another wrong.

Some men there are, whose glorie's to depraue,
With ill report, a man behind his back,
And then suppose, their credits best they saue,
With slaunders vile, when they anothers crack:
When wiedome staid, will let such leasinges rest,
And speake even of, her enimie the best.