Tell age it daily wasteth,

Tell honor how it alters, Tell beauty how she blasteth, Tell favor how she falters :

And as they shall reply,
Give every one the lie.

Tell wit how much it wrangles

In tickle points of niceness ;
Tell wisdom she entangles
Herself in over-wiseness :

And when they do reply,
Straight give them both the lie.

With how sad steps, O Moon ! thou

climb'st the skies, How silently, and with how wan a face ! What may it be, that even in heavenly

place That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries? Sure, if that long with love acquainted

eyes Can judge of love, thou feel’st a lover's

case; I read it in thy looks, thy languished grace To me that feel the like thy state descries. Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me, Is constant love deemed there but want

of wit ? Are beauties there as proud as here they be? Do they above love to be loved, and yet Those lovers scorn whom that love doth

possess ? Do they call virtue there ungratefulness?

Tell physic of her boldness,

Teil skill it is pretension,
Tell charity of coldness,
Tell law it is contention :

And as they do reply,
So give them still the lie.

Tell fortune of her blindness,

Tell nature of decay,
Tell friendship of unkindness,
Tell justice of delay :

And if they will reply,
Then give them all the lie.

Tell arts they have no soundness,

But vary by esteeming;
Tell schools they want profoundness,
And stand too much on seeming:

If arts and schools reply,
Give arts and schools the lie.

The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe, The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's

release, The indifferent judge between the high

and low, With shield of proof shield me from out Of those fierce darts, Despair at me doth

throw; O make in me those civil wars to cease! I will good tribute pay, if thou do so.

the prease

Tell faith it's fled the city;

Tell how the country erreth;