In matching with that false fox in amity,
Which hath me used to his own commodity:
Which seeing me in distress, unfeignedly goes his ways.
Lo, this is the perfect friendship among men now-a-days;
Which kind of friendship toward him I used secretly;
And he with me the like hath requited me craftily,
It is the gods’ judgment, I see it plainly,
For all the world may know, Incidi in foveam quam feci.
Well, I must content myself, none other help I know,
Until a merrier gale of wind may hap to blow.