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Michael Drayton - Sonnet XXII: Love, Banish`d Heav`n
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Love, banish`d Heav`n, on Earth was held in scorn, 
Wand`ring abroad in need and beggary, 
And wanting friends, though of a Goddess born, 
Yet crav`d the alms of such as passed by. 
I, like a man devout and charitable, 
Clothed the naked, lodg`d this wand`ring guest, 
With sighs and tears still furnishing his table 
With what might make the miserable blest. 
But this ungrateful, for my good desert, 
Entic`d my thoughts against me to conspire, 
Who gave consent to steal away my heart, 
And set my breast, his lodging, on a fire. 
Well, well, my friends, when beggars grow thus bold, 
No marvel then though charity grow cold.
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