What wit so sharpe is found in age or youth,
That can distinguish trust from treacherie?
Falsehood puts on the face of simple truth,
And maskes in th’habit of plaine honestie,
When she in heart intends most villanie:
The panther with sweet sauour of her breath
First charmes their sense, whom she hath markt for death.
2.
Of which that future time may mirrours haue
By the fourth Edward’s murdered progenie,