Ben Jonson - XLV An Epistle to Master Arthur Squib lyrics

What I am not, and what I fain would be, Whilst I inform myself, I would teach thee, My gentle Arthur; that it might be said One lesson we have both learned, and well read; I neither am, nor art thou one of those That hearkens to a jack's pulse, when it goes. Nor ever trusted to that friendship yet Was issue of the tavern, or the spit: Much less a name would we bring up, or nurse, That could but claim a kindred from the purse. Those are poor ties, depend on those false ends, 'Tis virtue alone, or nothing that knits friends: And as within your office, you do take No piece of money, but you know, or make Enquiry of the worth: so must we do, First weigh a friend, then touch, and try him too: For there are many slips, and counterfeits. Deceit is fruitful. Men have masks and nets, But these with wearing will themselves unfold: They cannot last. No lie grew ever old. Turn him, and see his threads: look, if he be Friend to himself, that would be friend to thee. For that is first required, a man be his own. But he that's too much that, is friend of none. Then rest, and a friend's value understand: It is a richer purchase than of land.