Classic Poem

Kings that in youth like all things else, are fine,
Haue some who for their childish faults are beaten;
When more yeeres vnto greater vice incline,
Some, whom the world doth for their errors threaten.

So Cupid , you, who boast of Princes blood,
For Womens Princelike weakenesses are blamed,
And common errour, yet not vnderstood,
Makes you for their New-fanglenesse, defamed.

Poore Women sweare, they ignorant of harmes,
With gentle minds perchance take easie motions;
Sweet nature yeelding to the pleasing charmes
Of Mans false lust disguised with deuotion;
But which are worse, Kings ill, or easly led ,
Schooles of this truth are yet not brought a-bed.