Within thy garden planted, (15) The leaues were grene of euery bough, And moysture nothing wanted, Yet or the blossoms gan fall, The caterpiller wasted all. Thy body was the garden place, (20) And sugred wordes it beareth, The blossomes all thy faith it was, which as the canker wereth. The caterpiller is the same, That hath wonne thee and lost thy name. (25) I meane thy louer loued now, By thy pretented folye, which will proue like, thou shalt finde how, Unto a tree of holly: That barke and bery beares alwayes, (30) The one, birdes feedes, the other slayes. +And right well mightest thou haue thy wish Of thy loue new acquaynted: For thou art lyke vnto the dishe That Adrianus paynted: (35) Wherin were grapes portraid so faire That fowles for foode did there repaire. +But I am lyke the beaten fowle That from the net escaped, And thou art lyke the rauening owle (40) That all the night hath waked. For none intent but to betray The slepyng fowle before the day. Thus hath thy loue been vnto me As pleasant and commodious, (45) As was the fyre made on the sea By Naulus hate so odious. Therwith to train the grekish host From Troyes return where they wer lost.