As it fell upon a day
 In the merry month of May,
 Sitting in a pleasant shade
 Which a grove of myrtles made,
 Beasts did leap and birds did sing,
 Trees did grow and plants did spring;
 Every thing did banish moan,
 Save the nightingale alone.
 She, poor bird, as all forlorn,
 Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn
 And there sung the doleful'st ditty,
 That to hear it was great pity.
 Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry,
 Teru, teru, by and by;
 That to hear her so complain,
 Scarce I could from tears refrain;
 For her griefs so lively shown
 Made me think upon mine own.
 Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain;
 None takes pity on thy pain;
 Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee;
 Ruthless bears, they will not cheer thee;
 King Pandion, he is dead,
 All thy friends are lapp'd in lead;
 All thy fellow birds do sing,
 Careless of thy sorrowing;
 Whilst as fickle fortune smil'd,
 Thou and I were both beguil'd.
 Every one that flatters thee
 Is no friend in misery:
 Words are easy, like the wind,
 Faithful friends are hard to find;
 Every man will be thy friend
 Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend,
 But if store of crowns be scant,
 No man will supply thy want.
 If that one be prodigal,
 Bountiful they will him call;
 And with such-like flattering
 Pity but he were a king.
 If he be addict to vice,
 Quickly him they will entice;
 If to women he be bent,
 They have at commandëment;
 But if fortune once do frown,
 Then farewell his great renown;
 They that fawn'd on him before
 Use his company no more.
 He that is thy friend indeed
 He will help thee in thy need:
 If thou sorrow, he will weep;
 If thou wake, he cannot sleep;
 Thus of every grief, in heart,
 He with thee doth bear a part.
 These are certain signs to know
 Faithful friend from flatt'ring foe.