This Chanticleer his wingés ’gan to beat,
As man that could not his treason espy,
So was he ravished with his flattery.
Alas! ye lordés, many a false flatour
Is in your court, and many a losengeour,
That pleaseth you well moré, by my faith,
Than he that sothfastness unto you saith.
Readeth Ecclesiast of flattery:
Beware ye lordés of their treachery.
This Chanticleer stood high upon his toes