Love a child is ever crying,
Please him, and he straight is flying;
Give him, he the more is craving,
Never satisfied with having.
His desires have no measure,
Endless folly is his treasure;
What he promiseth he breaketh;
Trust not one word that he speaketh.
He vows nothing but false matter,
And to cozen you he'l flatter.
Let him gain the hand, He'll leave you,
And still glory to deceive you.
He will triumph in your wailing,
And yet cause be of your failing;
These his virtues are, and slighter
Are his gifts, his favors lighter.
Feathers are as firm in staying,
Wolves no fiercer in their preying
As a child then leave him crying,
Nor seek him, so given to flying.