I offered ayde before they sued to me,
And promis’d nought, but would performe it streight
I shaked downe sweete fruit from top of tree,
Made aples fall in laps of men by sleight:
I did good turnes whiles that I was a height,
For fear a flawe of winde would make mee reele,
And blowe me downe when fortune turn’d her wheele.
36.*
I fil’d no chests with chynks to cherish age,
But in the harts of people layde my gold,