Eccho thus replyed to mee,
Sit vnder yonder Beechen tree,
And there Loue shall shew thee
how all may be redrest.
Harke, harke, harke the Nightingale,
in her mourning lay:
Shee tells her stories wofull tale,
to warne yee if shee may.
Faire maydes, take yee heede of loue,
it is a perlous thing:
As Philomele her selfe did proue,
abused by a King.
If Kings play false, beleeue no men,
That make a seemely outward show:
But caught once, beware then,
for then begins your woe.
They will looke babies in your eyes,
And speake so faire as faire may be:
But trust them in no wise,
example take by mee.
Fie, fie, said the Threstle-cocke,
you are much too blame:
For one mans fault, all men to blot,
inpayring theyr good name.
Admit you were vsde amisse,
by that vngentle King,
It followes not that you for this,
should all mens honours wring.
There be good, and there be bad,
And some are false, and some are true:
As good choyse is still had
amongst vs men, as you.
Women haue faultes as well as wee,
Some say for our one, they haue three.
Then smite not, nor bite not,
when you as faultie be.