Poem by Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey

Brittle Beauty

Brittle beauty, that nature made so frail,
Whereof the gift is small, and short the season,
Flowering today, tomorrow apt to fail,
Tickle treasure, abhorred of reason, [fragile]
Dangerous to deal with, vain, of none avail,
Costly in keeping, passed not worth two peason, [peas]
Slipper in sliding as is an eel's tail, [slippery]
Jewel of jeopardy that peril doth assail,
False and untrue, enticed oft to treason,
Enemy to youth: that most may I bewail.
Ah, bitter sweet: infecting as the poison,
Thou farest as fruit that with the frost is taken:
Today ready ripe, tomorrow all to-shaken. [broken] 

1. The Sun Hath Twice
2. Of The Death of Sir T.W. the Elder
3. A Constant Lover Lamenteth
4. Alas! So All Things Now Do Hold Their Peace
5. An Answer in the Behalf of a Woman

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