LVI.

Fayre ye be sure, but cruell and unkind, As is a tygre, that with greedinesse Hunts after bloud; when he by chance doth find A feeble beast, doth felly him oppresse. Fayre be ye sure, but proud and pitilesse, As is a storme, that all things doth prostrate; Finding a tree alone all comfortlesse, Beats on it strongly, it to ruinate. Fayre be ye sure, but hard and obstinate, As is a rocke amidst the raging floods; Gaynst which a ship, of succour desolate, Doth suffer wreck both of her selfe and goods. That ship, that tree, and that same beast, am I, Whom ye doe wreck, doe ruine, and destroy.