Here you will find the Poem Against Women Unconstant of poet Geoffrey Chaucer
Madame, for youre newefangelnesse, Many a servant have ye put out of grace. I take my leve of your unstedefastnesse, For wel I woot, whil ye have lives space, Ye can not love ful half yeer in a place, To newe thing youre lust is ay so keene; In stede of blew, thus may ye were al greene. Right as a mirour nothing may enpresse, But, lightly as it cometh, so mote it pace, So fareth youre love, youre werkes bereth witnesse. Ther is no faith that may your herte enbrace; But, as a wedercok, that turneth his face With every wind, ye fare, and this is seene; In stede of blew, thus may ye were al greene. Ye might be shrined, for youre brothelnesse, Bet that Dalida, Criseide or Candace; For ever in chaunging stant youre sikernesse; That tache may no wight fro yuor herte arace. If ye lese oon, ye can wel twain purchace; Al light for somer, ye woot wel what I mene, In stede of blew, thus may ye were al greene.