An aside

These women all

Both great and small

Are wavering to and fro,

Now here, now there,

Now everywhere;

But I will not say so.

So they love to range,

Their minds doth change

And make their friend their foe;

As lovers true

Each day they choose new;

But I will not say so.

They laugh, they smile,

They do beguile

As dice that men doth throw.

Who useth them much

Shall never be rich;

But I will not say so.

Some hot, some cold,

There is no hold

But as the wind doth blow;

When all is done,

They change like the moon;

But I will not say so.

So thus one and other

Taketh after their mother,

As cock by kind doth crow.

My song is ended,

The best may be amended;

But I will not say so.