Lord, when I think what a paltery thing
Is a glove, or a ring, or a top of a fan to brag of;
And how much a noddy will triumph in a busk point,
Snatch with the tag off, then I say
Well fare him that hath ever used close play.

And when I see what a pitiful grace
Hath a frown in the face,
Or a no in the lips of a lady;
And when I had wist she would be kiss'd
When she away did go with hey ho I end so, 
Never trust any woman more than you know.