'MAIDS are simple', some men say, 'They, forsooth, will trust no men.' But should they men's wills obey, Maids were very simple then. Truth, a rare flower now is grown, Few men wear it in their hearts; Lovers are more easily known By their follies than deserts. Safer may we credit give To a faithless wandering Jew Than a young man's vows believe When he swears his love is true. Love they make a poor blind child, But let none trust such as he: Rather than to be beguiled, Ever let me simple be. |