They haue made me here to put the stone:
But nowe wyll I, that they be gone,
In bastarde ryme, after the dogrell gyse,
Tell you where of my name dothe ryse.
For Counterfet Countenaunce knowen am I;
This worlde is full of my foly.
I set not by hym a fly,
That can not counterfet a lye,
Swere, and stare, and byde therby,
And countenaunce it clenly, 420