A Song to a Lute

By John Suckling

Hast thou seen the down in the air,

When wanton blasts have tossed it?

Or the ship on the sea,

When ruder waves have crossed it?

Hast thou marked the crocodile's weeping

Or the fox's sleeping?

Or hast viewed the peacock in his pride,

Or the dove by his bride,

When he courts for his lechery?

O, so fickle, O, so vain, O, so false, so false is she!