Good fellows, whom men commonly do call, Those that do live at war with truth and shame, If once to love of honesty they fall, They both lose their good fellows, and their name; For thieves, whose riches rest in other's wealth, Whose rents are spoils, and others thrift their gain, When they grow bankrupts in the art of stealth, Booties to their old fellows they remain. Cupid, thou free of these good fellows art, For while man cares not who, so he be one, Thy wings, thy bow, thy arrows take his part, He neither lives, nor loves, nor lies alone; But be he once to Hymen's close yoke sworn, Thou straight brav'st this good fellow with the horn. |