O trustlesse world, I can accusen none,
But fickle fayth of commontie alone.
71.
The Polipus nor the Chameleon straunge,
That tourne themselues to euery hewe they see,
Are not so full of vayne and fickle chaunge,
As is this false vnstedfast commontye:
Loe, I, alas, with myne aduersitye
Haue tryde it true, for they are fled and gone,
And of an hoast there is not left mee one.