In The Praise Of Friendship Poem by Humfrey Gifford

Reueale (O tongue) the secretes of my thought,
Tel forth the game that perfect friendship brings:
Expresse what ioyes by her to man are brought,
Unfolde her prayse which glads all earthly things:
If one might say, in earth a heauen to bee,
It is no doubt, where faythfull friendes agree.


To all estates true friendship is a stay,
To euery wight a good and welcome guest:
Our life were death, were shee once tane away,
Consuming cares would harbour in our brest.
Fowle malice eke, would banish al delight,
And puffe vs vp with poyson of despight.


If that the seedes of enuie and debate,
Might yeelde no fruite, but wither and decay;
No canckred mindes would hoorde vp heapes of hate.
No hollow hearts dissembling partes should play.
No clawback then would fawne in hope of meede,
Such life to lead, were perfect life in deede.


But nowadayes desire of worldly pelfe,
With all estates makes friendship very colde:
Few for their friendes, ech shifteth for himselfe,
If in thy purse thou hast good store of golde:
Full many a one, thy friendship will imbrace,
Thy wealth once spent, they turne away their face.


Let vs still pray vnto the Lord aboue,
For to relent our hearts as hard as stone:
That through the world one knot of loyall loue,
In perfect trueth might linke vs all in one:
Then should wee passe this life without annoyes,
And after death possesse eternall ioyes.