By traitor baite wherby the hooke is hidde:
So Pleasure serues to vice in steede of foode
To baite our soules theron too licourishe.
This poison deadlie is alike to all,
But on great kings doth greatest outrage worke,
Taking the Roiall scepters from their hands,
Thenceforward to be by some straunger borne:
While that their people charg’d with heauy loades
Their flatt’rers pill, and suck their mary drie,
Not ru’lde but left to great men as a pray,