To My Worthy Frend, Master John Sauage Of The Inner Temple

Vppon this sinfull earth     If man can happy be,     And higher then his birth,     (Frend) take him thus from me.     Whome promise not deceiues     That he the breach should rue,     Nor constant reason leaues     Opinion to pursue.     To rayse his mean estate     That sooths no wanton's sinne,     Doth that preferment hate     That virtue doth not winne.     Nor brauery doth admire,     Nor doth more loue professe     To that he doth desire,     Then that he doth possesse.     Loose humor nor to please,     That neither spares nor spends,     But by discretion weyes     What is to needfull ends.     To him deseruing not     Not yeelding, nor doth hould     What is not his, doing what     He ought not what he could.     Whome the base tyrants will     Soe much could neuer awe     As him for good or ill     From honesty to drawe.     Whose constancy doth rise     'Boue vndeserued spight     Whose valewr's to despise     That most doth him delight.     That earely leaue doth take     Of th' world though to his payne     For virtues onely sake     And not till need constrayne.     Noe man can be so free     Though in imperiall seate     Nor Eminent as he     That deemeth nothing greate.