To Alexander Neville

The little fish that in the stream doth fleet,
With broad forth-stretched fins for his disport,
Whenas he spies the fish's bait so sweet,
In haste he hies, fearing to come too short.
But all too soon (alas!) his greedy mind
By rash attempt doth bring him to his bane,
For where he thought a great relief to find,
By hidden hook the simple fool is tane.
So fareth man, that wanders here and there,
Thinking no hurt to happen him thereby,
He runs amain to gaze on Beauty's cheer,
Takes all for gold that glisters in the eye,
And never leaves to feed by looking long
On Beauty's bait, where bondage lies enwrapped;
Bondage that makes him to sing another song,
And makes him curse the bait that him entrapped.
Neville, to thee, that lovest their wanton looks,
Feed on the bait, but yet beware the hooks.