Your sweetheart does not comb your locks, But your harsh stepdame, Care.

There is not the malytious creature nowe liveinge, no, not a venemous and craftie stepdame, nor a tale-carr[y]inge, truthe-pervertinge gossypp cann make theire seedes of enmytie poyson the love of parentts, husbands, neighbours or good fellowshypp sooner or more effectuallye then I will crosse theire frendshypp.

Thou wretched stepdame of my fickle state, Are these the guerdons of the greatest minds?