For our desires that on extreames are bent
Are frends to care and traitors to content.
Nor should wee blame our frends though false they bee
Since there are thousands false, for one that's true,
15But our own blindness, that we cannot see
To chuse the best, although they bee but few:
For he that every fained frend will trust,
Proves true to frend, but to himself unjust.
The faults wee have are they that make our woe,
20Our virtues are the motives of our joye,