Ars deluditur arte
The sickly foxe, within her hole was hid,
Where, to the mouthe, the lion straight did hye;
And did demaunde most frendly, how shee did,
And saide, his tonge woulde helpe her, by and by?
Bicause there was such vertue hid therein,
That all he heal'd, if he did licke their skinne.
Then quoth the foxe, my Lorde? I doe not doubt,
But that your tonge is soveraigne, as I heare:
But yet, it hath such neighbours round about?
It can not helpe, I judge, while they be neare.
Wherefore, I wishe you woulde them banishe all?
Or ells, I thinke your pacients wilbee small.