The Poëttes faine, that DANAUS daughters deare,
Injoyned are to fill the fatall tonne:
Where, thowghe they toile, yet are they not the neare,
But as they powre, the water forthe dothe runne:
No paine will serve, to fill it to the toppe,
For, still at holes the same doth runne, and droppe.
Which reprehendes, three sortes of wretches vaine,
The blabbe, th'ingrate, and those that covet still,
As first, the blabbe, no secretts can retaine.
Th'ingrate, not knowes to use his frendes good will.
The covetous man, thowghe he abounde with store
Is not suffis'de, but covetts more and more.