"Maids are simple," some men say

"Maids are simple," some men say,
"They, forsooth, will trust no men."
But should they men's wills obey,
Maids were very simple then.

Truth, a rare flower now is grown,
Few men wear it in their hearts;
Lovers are more easily known
By their follies than deserts.

Safer may we credit give
To a faithless wandering Jew
Than a young man's vows believe
When he swears his love is true.

Love they make a poor blind child,
But let none trust such as he:
Rather than to be beguiled,
Ever let me simple be.