But by my friend I gate this griping thrall,
When folly framde vs both at home to iarre.
Oh that my Countrey man[807] should raunge so farre,
From wisedome’s way, to wedde himselfe to will,
From reason’s rule, to wrest his wittes to ill,
[From friendship fast, his dearest friend to kill!]
36.
Well, bid the rest beware of triumphes such,
Bid them beware for titles vaine to striue,
Bid them not trust such sullayne friends to much,