Against Fruition, &c.

There is not half so warme a fireIn the Fruition, as Desire.When I have got the fruit of pain,Possession makes me poore again,Expected formes and shapes unknown,Whet and make sharp tentation;Sense is too niggardly for Bliss,And payes me dully with what is;But fancy’s liberall, and gives allThat can within her vastnesse fall;Vaile therefore still, while I divineThe Treasure of this hidden Mine,And make Imagination tellWhat wonders doth in Beauty dwell.

There is not half so warme a fire

In the Fruition, as Desire.

When I have got the fruit of pain,

Possession makes me poore again,

Expected formes and shapes unknown,

Whet and make sharp tentation;

Sense is too niggardly for Bliss,

And payes me dully with what is;

But fancy’s liberall, and gives all

That can within her vastnesse fall;

Vaile therefore still, while I divine

The Treasure of this hidden Mine,

And make Imagination tell

What wonders doth in Beauty dwell.

Fuller of wish, than hope, methinks it is,For me to expect a fuller work than this,Fuller of matter, fuller of rich sense,Fuller of Art[,] fuller of Eloquence;Yet dare I not be bold, to intitle thisThe fullest work; the Author fuller is,Who, though he empty not himself, can fillAnother fuller, yet continue stillFuller himself, and so the Reader beAlwayes in hope a fuller work to see.

Fuller of wish, than hope, methinks it is,

For me to expect a fuller work than this,

Fuller of matter, fuller of rich sense,

Fuller of Art[,] fuller of Eloquence;

Yet dare I not be bold, to intitle this

The fullest work; the Author fuller is,

Who, though he empty not himself, can fill

Another fuller, yet continue still

Fuller himself, and so the Reader be

Alwayes in hope a fuller work to see.

1.Cloris, now thou art fled away,Aminta’sSheep are gone astray,And all the joyes he took to seeHis pretty Lambs run after thee.Shee’s gone, shee’s gone, and he alway,Sings nothing now but welladay.2.His Oaten pipe that in thy praise,Was wont to play such roundelayes,Is thrown away, and not a SwaineDares pipe or sing within this Plaine.’Tis death for any now to sayOne word to him, but welladay.3.The May-pole where thy little feetSo roundly did in measure meet,Is broken down, and no contentCame nearAmintassince you went.All that ere I heard him say,WasCloris,Cloris, welladay.4.Upon those banks you us’d to tread,He ever since hath laid his head,And whisper’d there such pining wo,That not one blade of grasse will grow.OhCloris,Cloris, come away,And hearAminta’swelladay.5.The embroyder’d scrip he us’d to weareNeglected hangs, so does his haire.His Crook is broke, Dog pining lyes,And he himself nought doth but cryes,OhCloris,Cloris, come away,And hear, &c.6.His gray coat, and his slops of green,When worn by him, were comely seen,His tar-box too is thrown away,There’s no delight neer him must stay,But cries, ohCloriscome away,Aminta’sdying, welladay.

Cloris, now thou art fled away,

Aminta’sSheep are gone astray,

And all the joyes he took to see

His pretty Lambs run after thee.

Shee’s gone, shee’s gone, and he alway,

Sings nothing now but welladay.

2.His Oaten pipe that in thy praise,Was wont to play such roundelayes,Is thrown away, and not a SwaineDares pipe or sing within this Plaine.’Tis death for any now to sayOne word to him, but welladay.

His Oaten pipe that in thy praise,

Was wont to play such roundelayes,

Is thrown away, and not a Swaine

Dares pipe or sing within this Plaine.

’Tis death for any now to say

One word to him, but welladay.

3.The May-pole where thy little feetSo roundly did in measure meet,Is broken down, and no contentCame nearAmintassince you went.All that ere I heard him say,WasCloris,Cloris, welladay.

The May-pole where thy little feet

So roundly did in measure meet,

Is broken down, and no content

Came nearAmintassince you went.

All that ere I heard him say,

WasCloris,Cloris, welladay.

4.Upon those banks you us’d to tread,He ever since hath laid his head,And whisper’d there such pining wo,That not one blade of grasse will grow.OhCloris,Cloris, come away,And hearAminta’swelladay.

Upon those banks you us’d to tread,

He ever since hath laid his head,

And whisper’d there such pining wo,

That not one blade of grasse will grow.

OhCloris,Cloris, come away,

And hearAminta’swelladay.

5.The embroyder’d scrip he us’d to weareNeglected hangs, so does his haire.His Crook is broke, Dog pining lyes,And he himself nought doth but cryes,OhCloris,Cloris, come away,And hear, &c.

The embroyder’d scrip he us’d to weare

Neglected hangs, so does his haire.

His Crook is broke, Dog pining lyes,

And he himself nought doth but cryes,

OhCloris,Cloris, come away,

And hear, &c.

6.His gray coat, and his slops of green,When worn by him, were comely seen,His tar-box too is thrown away,There’s no delight neer him must stay,But cries, ohCloriscome away,Aminta’sdying, welladay.

His gray coat, and his slops of green,

When worn by him, were comely seen,

His tar-box too is thrown away,

There’s no delight neer him must stay,

But cries, ohCloriscome away,

Aminta’sdying, welladay.

1.Down lay the Shepheards Swain,So sober and demure,Wishing for his wench again,So bonny and so pure.With his head on hillock low,And his armes on kembow;And all for the losse of her Hy nonny nonny no.2.His teares fell as thin,As water from a Still,His haire upon his chin,Grew like tyme upon a hill:His cherry cheeks were pale as snow,Testifying his mickle woe;And all was for the loss of her hy nonny nonny no.3.Sweet she was, as fond of love,As ever fettred Swaine;Never such a bonny oneShall I enjoy again.Set ten thousand on a row,Ile forbid that any showEver the like of her, hy nonny nonny no.4.Fac’d she was of Filbard hew,And bosom’d like a Swanne:Back’t she was of bended yew,And wasted by a span.Haire she had as black as Crow,From the head unto the toe,Down down, all over, hy nonny nonny no.5.With her Mantle tuck’t up high,She foddered her Flocke,So buckesome and alluringly,Her knee upheld her smock;So nimbly did she use to goe,So smooth she danc’d on tip-toe,That all men were fond of her, hy nonny nonny no.6.She simpred like a Holy-day,And smiled like a Spring,She pratled like a Popinjay,And like a Swallow sing.She tript it like a barren Doe,And strutted like a Gar-crowe:Which made me so fond of her, hy, &c.7.To trip it on the merry Down,To dance the lively Hay,To wrastle for a green Gown,In heat of all the day,Never would she say me no.Yet me thought she had thoughNever enough of her, hy, &c.8.But gone she is[,] the blithest LasseThat ever trod on Plain.What ever hath betided her,Blame not the Shepheard Swain.For why, she was her own foe,And gave her selfe the overthrowe,By being too franke of her hy nonny nonny no.

Down lay the Shepheards Swain,

So sober and demure,

Wishing for his wench again,

So bonny and so pure.

With his head on hillock low,

And his armes on kembow;

And all for the losse of her Hy nonny nonny no.

2.His teares fell as thin,As water from a Still,His haire upon his chin,Grew like tyme upon a hill:His cherry cheeks were pale as snow,Testifying his mickle woe;And all was for the loss of her hy nonny nonny no.

His teares fell as thin,

As water from a Still,

His haire upon his chin,

Grew like tyme upon a hill:

His cherry cheeks were pale as snow,

Testifying his mickle woe;

And all was for the loss of her hy nonny nonny no.

3.Sweet she was, as fond of love,As ever fettred Swaine;Never such a bonny oneShall I enjoy again.Set ten thousand on a row,Ile forbid that any showEver the like of her, hy nonny nonny no.

Sweet she was, as fond of love,

As ever fettred Swaine;

Never such a bonny one

Shall I enjoy again.

Set ten thousand on a row,

Ile forbid that any show

Ever the like of her, hy nonny nonny no.

4.Fac’d she was of Filbard hew,And bosom’d like a Swanne:Back’t she was of bended yew,And wasted by a span.Haire she had as black as Crow,From the head unto the toe,Down down, all over, hy nonny nonny no.

Fac’d she was of Filbard hew,

And bosom’d like a Swanne:

Back’t she was of bended yew,

And wasted by a span.

Haire she had as black as Crow,

From the head unto the toe,

Down down, all over, hy nonny nonny no.

5.With her Mantle tuck’t up high,She foddered her Flocke,So buckesome and alluringly,Her knee upheld her smock;So nimbly did she use to goe,So smooth she danc’d on tip-toe,That all men were fond of her, hy nonny nonny no.

With her Mantle tuck’t up high,

She foddered her Flocke,

So buckesome and alluringly,

Her knee upheld her smock;

So nimbly did she use to goe,

So smooth she danc’d on tip-toe,

That all men were fond of her, hy nonny nonny no.

6.She simpred like a Holy-day,And smiled like a Spring,She pratled like a Popinjay,And like a Swallow sing.She tript it like a barren Doe,And strutted like a Gar-crowe:Which made me so fond of her, hy, &c.

She simpred like a Holy-day,

And smiled like a Spring,

She pratled like a Popinjay,

And like a Swallow sing.

She tript it like a barren Doe,

And strutted like a Gar-crowe:

Which made me so fond of her, hy, &c.

7.To trip it on the merry Down,To dance the lively Hay,To wrastle for a green Gown,In heat of all the day,Never would she say me no.Yet me thought she had thoughNever enough of her, hy, &c.

To trip it on the merry Down,

To dance the lively Hay,

To wrastle for a green Gown,

In heat of all the day,

Never would she say me no.

Yet me thought she had though

Never enough of her, hy, &c.

8.But gone she is[,] the blithest LasseThat ever trod on Plain.What ever hath betided her,Blame not the Shepheard Swain.For why, she was her own foe,And gave her selfe the overthrowe,By being too franke of her hy nonny nonny no.

But gone she is[,] the blithest Lasse

That ever trod on Plain.

What ever hath betided her,

Blame not the Shepheard Swain.

For why, she was her own foe,

And gave her selfe the overthrowe,

By being too franke of her hy nonny nonny no.

I tell you all both great and small,And I tell you it truely,That we have a very great cause,Both to lament and crie,Oh fie, oh fie, oh fie, oh fie,Oh fie on cruell death;For he hath taken away from usOur QueenElizabeth.He might have taken other folk,That better might have been mist,And let our gratious Queen alone,That lov’d not a Popish Priest.She rul’d this Land alone of her self,And was beholding to no man.She bare the waight of all affaires,And yet she was but a woman.A woman said I? nay that is moreNor any man can tell,So chaste she was, so pure she was,That no man knew it well.For whilst that she liv’d till cruel deathExposed her to all.Wherefore I say lament, lament,Lament both great and small.She never did any wicked thing,Might make her conscience prick her,And scorn’d for to submit her self to himThat calls himself Christ’s Vicker:But rather chose couragiouslyTo fight under Christ’s Banner,Gainst Turk and Pope, I and King ofSpain,And all that durst withstand her.She was as Chaste and Beautifull,And Faire as ere was any;And had from forain Countreys sentHer Suters very many.ThoughMounsieurcame himself fromFrance,A purpose for to woe her,Yet still she liv’d and dy’d a Maid,Doe what they could unto her.And if that I hadArguseyes,They were too few to weep,For our sweet QueenElizabeth,Who now doth lye asleep:Asleep I say she now doth lye,Untill the day of Doome:But then shall awake unto the disgraceOf the proud Pope ofRome.

I tell you all both great and small,

And I tell you it truely,

That we have a very great cause,

Both to lament and crie,

Oh fie, oh fie, oh fie, oh fie,

Oh fie on cruell death;

For he hath taken away from us

Our QueenElizabeth.

He might have taken other folk,That better might have been mist,And let our gratious Queen alone,That lov’d not a Popish Priest.She rul’d this Land alone of her self,And was beholding to no man.She bare the waight of all affaires,And yet she was but a woman.

He might have taken other folk,

That better might have been mist,

And let our gratious Queen alone,

That lov’d not a Popish Priest.

She rul’d this Land alone of her self,

And was beholding to no man.

She bare the waight of all affaires,

And yet she was but a woman.

A woman said I? nay that is moreNor any man can tell,So chaste she was, so pure she was,That no man knew it well.For whilst that she liv’d till cruel deathExposed her to all.Wherefore I say lament, lament,Lament both great and small.

A woman said I? nay that is more

Nor any man can tell,

So chaste she was, so pure she was,

That no man knew it well.

For whilst that she liv’d till cruel death

Exposed her to all.

Wherefore I say lament, lament,

Lament both great and small.

She never did any wicked thing,Might make her conscience prick her,And scorn’d for to submit her self to himThat calls himself Christ’s Vicker:But rather chose couragiouslyTo fight under Christ’s Banner,Gainst Turk and Pope, I and King ofSpain,And all that durst withstand her.

She never did any wicked thing,

Might make her conscience prick her,

And scorn’d for to submit her self to him

That calls himself Christ’s Vicker:

But rather chose couragiously

To fight under Christ’s Banner,

Gainst Turk and Pope, I and King ofSpain,

And all that durst withstand her.

She was as Chaste and Beautifull,And Faire as ere was any;And had from forain Countreys sentHer Suters very many.ThoughMounsieurcame himself fromFrance,A purpose for to woe her,Yet still she liv’d and dy’d a Maid,Doe what they could unto her.

She was as Chaste and Beautifull,

And Faire as ere was any;

And had from forain Countreys sent

Her Suters very many.

ThoughMounsieurcame himself fromFrance,

A purpose for to woe her,

Yet still she liv’d and dy’d a Maid,

Doe what they could unto her.

And if that I hadArguseyes,They were too few to weep,For our sweet QueenElizabeth,Who now doth lye asleep:Asleep I say she now doth lye,Untill the day of Doome:But then shall awake unto the disgraceOf the proud Pope ofRome.

And if that I hadArguseyes,

They were too few to weep,

For our sweet QueenElizabeth,

Who now doth lye asleep:

Asleep I say she now doth lye,

Untill the day of Doome:

But then shall awake unto the disgrace

Of the proud Pope ofRome.

WhenJamesinScotlandfirst began,And there was crowned King,He was not much more than a span,All in his clouts swadling.But when he waxed into yeares,And grew to be somewhat tall,And told his Lords, a ParliamentHe purposed to call.That’s over-much[,] quothDouglasthough,For thee to doe[,] I feare,For I am Lord Protector yet,And will be one halfe yeare.It pleaseth me well, quoth the King,What thou hast said to me,But since thou standest on such tearmes,Ile prove as strict to thee.And well he rul’d and well he curb’dBothDouglasand the rest;Till Heaven with better Fortune and Power,Had him toEnglandblest.Then intoEnglandstraight he cameAs fast as he was able,Where he made many a Carpet Knight,Though none of the Round Table.And when he enteredBarwickeTown,Where all in peace he found:But when that roaring Megge went off,His Grace was like to swound.Then up toLondonstraight he came,Where he made no long stay,But soon returned back again,To meet his Queen by th’ way.And when they met, such tilting was,The like was never seen;The Lords at each others did run,And neer a tilt between.Their Horses backs were under them,And that was no great wonder,The wonder was to see them run,And break no Staves in sunder.They ran full swift and coucht their Speares,O ho quoth the Ladies then,They run for shew, quoth the people though,And not to hurt the men.They smote full hard at Barriers too,You might have heard the sound,As far as any man can goe,When both his legges are bound.

WhenJamesinScotlandfirst began,And there was crowned King,He was not much more than a span,All in his clouts swadling.

WhenJamesinScotlandfirst began,

And there was crowned King,

He was not much more than a span,

All in his clouts swadling.

But when he waxed into yeares,And grew to be somewhat tall,And told his Lords, a ParliamentHe purposed to call.

But when he waxed into yeares,

And grew to be somewhat tall,

And told his Lords, a Parliament

He purposed to call.

That’s over-much[,] quothDouglasthough,For thee to doe[,] I feare,For I am Lord Protector yet,And will be one halfe yeare.

That’s over-much[,] quothDouglasthough,

For thee to doe[,] I feare,

For I am Lord Protector yet,

And will be one halfe yeare.

It pleaseth me well, quoth the King,What thou hast said to me,But since thou standest on such tearmes,Ile prove as strict to thee.

It pleaseth me well, quoth the King,

What thou hast said to me,

But since thou standest on such tearmes,

Ile prove as strict to thee.

And well he rul’d and well he curb’dBothDouglasand the rest;Till Heaven with better Fortune and Power,Had him toEnglandblest.

And well he rul’d and well he curb’d

BothDouglasand the rest;

Till Heaven with better Fortune and Power,

Had him toEnglandblest.

Then intoEnglandstraight he cameAs fast as he was able,Where he made many a Carpet Knight,Though none of the Round Table.

Then intoEnglandstraight he came

As fast as he was able,

Where he made many a Carpet Knight,

Though none of the Round Table.

And when he enteredBarwickeTown,Where all in peace he found:But when that roaring Megge went off,His Grace was like to swound.

And when he enteredBarwickeTown,

Where all in peace he found:

But when that roaring Megge went off,

His Grace was like to swound.

Then up toLondonstraight he came,Where he made no long stay,But soon returned back again,To meet his Queen by th’ way.

Then up toLondonstraight he came,

Where he made no long stay,

But soon returned back again,

To meet his Queen by th’ way.

And when they met, such tilting was,The like was never seen;The Lords at each others did run,And neer a tilt between.

And when they met, such tilting was,

The like was never seen;

The Lords at each others did run,

And neer a tilt between.

Their Horses backs were under them,And that was no great wonder,The wonder was to see them run,And break no Staves in sunder.

Their Horses backs were under them,

And that was no great wonder,

The wonder was to see them run,

And break no Staves in sunder.

They ran full swift and coucht their Speares,O ho quoth the Ladies then,They run for shew, quoth the people though,And not to hurt the men.

They ran full swift and coucht their Speares,

O ho quoth the Ladies then,

They run for shew, quoth the people though,

And not to hurt the men.

They smote full hard at Barriers too,You might have heard the sound,As far as any man can goe,When both his legges are bound.

They smote full hard at Barriers too,

You might have heard the sound,

As far as any man can goe,

When both his legges are bound.

The Chandler grew neer his end,Pale Death would not stand his friend;But tooke it in foul snuff,As having tarryed long enough:Yet left this not to be forgotten,Death and the Chandler could not Cotton.

The Chandler grew neer his end,

Pale Death would not stand his friend;

But tooke it in foul snuff,

As having tarryed long enough:

Yet left this not to be forgotten,

Death and the Chandler could not Cotton.

1.Farre in the Forrest ofArden,There dwelt a Knight hightCassimen,As bold asIsenbras:Fell he was and eager bentIn battaile and in Turnament,As was the good Sr.Topas.2.He had (as Antique stories tell)A daughter clepedDowsabell,A Maiden faire and free,Who, cause she was her fathers heire,Full well she was y-tought the leireOf mickle courtesie.3.The Silke well could she twist and twine,And make the fine Marchpine,And with the needle work.And she could help the Priest to sayHis Mattins on a Holy-day,And sing a Psalme in Kirk.4.Her Frocke was of the frolique Green,(Mought well become a Mayden Queen)Which seemely was to see:Her Hood to it was neat and fine,In colour like the Columbine,y-wrought full featuously.5.This Maiden in a morne betime,Went forth whenMaywas in her prime,To get sweet Scettuall,The Honysuckle, the Horelock,The Lilly, and the Ladies-Smock,To dight her summer Hall.6.And as she romed here, and there,Y-picking of the bloomed brier,She chanced to espieA Shepheard sitting on a bank,Like Chanticleere—he crowed crank,And piped with merry glee.7.He leerd his Sheep as he him list,When he would whistle in his fist,To feed about him round,Whilst he full many a Caroll sung,That all the fields, and meadowes rung,And made the woods resound.8.In favour this same Shepheard SwaineWas like the Bedlam Tamerlaine,That kept proud Kings in awe.But meek he was as meek mought be,Yea like the gentleAbell, heWhom his lewd brother slew.9.This Shepheard ware a freeze-gray Cloake,The which was of the finest locke,That could be cut with Sheere:His Aule and Lingell in a Thong,His Tar-box by a broad belt hung,His Cap of Minivere.10.His Mittens were of Bausons skin,His Cockers were of Cordowin,His Breech of country blew:All curle, and crisped were his Locks,His brow more white thenAlbionRocks:So like a Lover true.11.And piping he did spend the day,As merry as a Popinjay,Which lik’d faireDowsabell,That wod she ought, or wod she nought,The Shepheard would not from her thought,In love she longing fell:12.With that she tucked up her Frock,(White as the Lilly was her Smock,)And drew the Shepheard nigh,But then the Shepheard pip’d a good,That all his Sheep forsook their food,To heare his melody.13.Thy Sheep (quoth she) cannot be lean,That have so faire a Shepheard Swain,That can his Pipe so well:I but (quoth he) the Shepheard may,If Piping thus he pine away,For love ofDowsabell.14.Of love (fond boy) take thou no keep,Look well (quoth she) unto thy Sheep;Lest they should chance to stray.So had I done (quoth he) full well,Had I not seen faireDowsabell,Come forth to gather May.15.I cannot stay (quoth she) till night,And leave my Summer Hall undight,And all for love of men.Yet are you, quoth he, too unkind,If in your heart you cannot find,To love us now and then.16.And I will be to thee as kind,AsCollinwas toRosalinde,Of courtesie the flower.And I will be as true (quoth she)As ever Lover yet mought be,Unto her Paramour.17.With that the Maiden bent her knee,Down by the Shepheard kneeled she,And sweetly she him kist.But then the Shepheard whoop’d for joy,(Quoth he) was never Shepheards boy,That ever was so blist.

1.Farre in the Forrest ofArden,There dwelt a Knight hightCassimen,As bold asIsenbras:Fell he was and eager bentIn battaile and in Turnament,As was the good Sr.Topas.

Farre in the Forrest ofArden,

There dwelt a Knight hightCassimen,

As bold asIsenbras:

Fell he was and eager bent

In battaile and in Turnament,

As was the good Sr.Topas.

2.He had (as Antique stories tell)A daughter clepedDowsabell,A Maiden faire and free,Who, cause she was her fathers heire,Full well she was y-tought the leireOf mickle courtesie.

He had (as Antique stories tell)

A daughter clepedDowsabell,

A Maiden faire and free,

Who, cause she was her fathers heire,

Full well she was y-tought the leire

Of mickle courtesie.

3.The Silke well could she twist and twine,And make the fine Marchpine,And with the needle work.And she could help the Priest to sayHis Mattins on a Holy-day,And sing a Psalme in Kirk.

The Silke well could she twist and twine,

And make the fine Marchpine,

And with the needle work.

And she could help the Priest to say

His Mattins on a Holy-day,

And sing a Psalme in Kirk.

4.Her Frocke was of the frolique Green,(Mought well become a Mayden Queen)Which seemely was to see:Her Hood to it was neat and fine,In colour like the Columbine,y-wrought full featuously.

Her Frocke was of the frolique Green,

(Mought well become a Mayden Queen)

Which seemely was to see:

Her Hood to it was neat and fine,

In colour like the Columbine,

y-wrought full featuously.

5.This Maiden in a morne betime,Went forth whenMaywas in her prime,To get sweet Scettuall,The Honysuckle, the Horelock,The Lilly, and the Ladies-Smock,To dight her summer Hall.

This Maiden in a morne betime,

Went forth whenMaywas in her prime,

To get sweet Scettuall,

The Honysuckle, the Horelock,

The Lilly, and the Ladies-Smock,

To dight her summer Hall.

6.And as she romed here, and there,Y-picking of the bloomed brier,She chanced to espieA Shepheard sitting on a bank,Like Chanticleere—he crowed crank,And piped with merry glee.

And as she romed here, and there,

Y-picking of the bloomed brier,

She chanced to espie

A Shepheard sitting on a bank,

Like Chanticleere—he crowed crank,

And piped with merry glee.

7.He leerd his Sheep as he him list,When he would whistle in his fist,To feed about him round,Whilst he full many a Caroll sung,That all the fields, and meadowes rung,And made the woods resound.

He leerd his Sheep as he him list,

When he would whistle in his fist,

To feed about him round,

Whilst he full many a Caroll sung,

That all the fields, and meadowes rung,

And made the woods resound.

8.In favour this same Shepheard SwaineWas like the Bedlam Tamerlaine,That kept proud Kings in awe.But meek he was as meek mought be,Yea like the gentleAbell, heWhom his lewd brother slew.

In favour this same Shepheard Swaine

Was like the Bedlam Tamerlaine,

That kept proud Kings in awe.

But meek he was as meek mought be,

Yea like the gentleAbell, he

Whom his lewd brother slew.

9.This Shepheard ware a freeze-gray Cloake,The which was of the finest locke,That could be cut with Sheere:His Aule and Lingell in a Thong,His Tar-box by a broad belt hung,His Cap of Minivere.

This Shepheard ware a freeze-gray Cloake,

The which was of the finest locke,

That could be cut with Sheere:

His Aule and Lingell in a Thong,

His Tar-box by a broad belt hung,

His Cap of Minivere.

10.His Mittens were of Bausons skin,His Cockers were of Cordowin,His Breech of country blew:All curle, and crisped were his Locks,His brow more white thenAlbionRocks:So like a Lover true.

10.

His Mittens were of Bausons skin,

His Cockers were of Cordowin,

His Breech of country blew:

All curle, and crisped were his Locks,

His brow more white thenAlbionRocks:

So like a Lover true.

11.And piping he did spend the day,As merry as a Popinjay,Which lik’d faireDowsabell,That wod she ought, or wod she nought,The Shepheard would not from her thought,In love she longing fell:

11.

And piping he did spend the day,

As merry as a Popinjay,

Which lik’d faireDowsabell,

That wod she ought, or wod she nought,

The Shepheard would not from her thought,

In love she longing fell:

12.With that she tucked up her Frock,(White as the Lilly was her Smock,)And drew the Shepheard nigh,But then the Shepheard pip’d a good,That all his Sheep forsook their food,To heare his melody.

12.

With that she tucked up her Frock,

(White as the Lilly was her Smock,)

And drew the Shepheard nigh,

But then the Shepheard pip’d a good,

That all his Sheep forsook their food,

To heare his melody.

13.Thy Sheep (quoth she) cannot be lean,That have so faire a Shepheard Swain,That can his Pipe so well:I but (quoth he) the Shepheard may,If Piping thus he pine away,For love ofDowsabell.

13.

Thy Sheep (quoth she) cannot be lean,

That have so faire a Shepheard Swain,

That can his Pipe so well:

I but (quoth he) the Shepheard may,

If Piping thus he pine away,

For love ofDowsabell.

14.Of love (fond boy) take thou no keep,Look well (quoth she) unto thy Sheep;Lest they should chance to stray.So had I done (quoth he) full well,Had I not seen faireDowsabell,Come forth to gather May.

14.

Of love (fond boy) take thou no keep,

Look well (quoth she) unto thy Sheep;

Lest they should chance to stray.

So had I done (quoth he) full well,

Had I not seen faireDowsabell,

Come forth to gather May.

15.I cannot stay (quoth she) till night,And leave my Summer Hall undight,And all for love of men.Yet are you, quoth he, too unkind,If in your heart you cannot find,To love us now and then.

15.

I cannot stay (quoth she) till night,

And leave my Summer Hall undight,

And all for love of men.

Yet are you, quoth he, too unkind,

If in your heart you cannot find,

To love us now and then.

16.And I will be to thee as kind,AsCollinwas toRosalinde,Of courtesie the flower.And I will be as true (quoth she)As ever Lover yet mought be,Unto her Paramour.

16.

And I will be to thee as kind,

AsCollinwas toRosalinde,

Of courtesie the flower.

And I will be as true (quoth she)

As ever Lover yet mought be,

Unto her Paramour.

17.With that the Maiden bent her knee,Down by the Shepheard kneeled she,And sweetly she him kist.But then the Shepheard whoop’d for joy,(Quoth he) was never Shepheards boy,That ever was so blist.

17.

With that the Maiden bent her knee,

Down by the Shepheard kneeled she,

And sweetly she him kist.

But then the Shepheard whoop’d for joy,

(Quoth he) was never Shepheards boy,

That ever was so blist.

On the twelfth day ofDecember,In the fourth year of KingEdwardsreign[,]Two mighty Hosts (as I remember)AtMuscleboroughdid pitch on a Plain.For a down, down, derry derry down, Hey down a,Down, down, down a down derry.All night our English men they lodged there,So did the Scots both stout and stubborn,But well-away was all their cheere,For we have served them in their own turn.For a downe, &c.All night they carded for ourEnglishmens Coats,(They fished before their Nets were spun)A white for Six-pence, a red for two Groats;Wisdome would have stayd till they had been won.For a down, &c.On the twelfth day all in the morn,They made a fere as if they would fight;But many a proudScotthat day was down born,And many a rank Coward was put to his flight.For a down, &c.And the LordHuntley, we hadden him there,With him he brought ten thousand men:But God be thanked, we gave him such a Banquet,He carryed but few of them home agen.For a down, &c.For when he heard our great Guns crack,Then did his heart fall untill his hose,He threw down his Weapons, he turned his back,He ran so fast that he fell on his nose.For a down, &c.We beat them back tillEdenbrough,(There’s men alive can witnesse this)But when we lookt our English men through,Two hundred good fellowes we did not misse.For a down, &c.Now God preserveEdwardour King,With his two Nuncles and Nobles all,And send us Heaven at our ending:For we have givenScotsa lusty fall.For a down, down, derry derry down, Hey,Down a down down, down a down derry.

On the twelfth day ofDecember,

In the fourth year of KingEdwardsreign[,]

Two mighty Hosts (as I remember)

AtMuscleboroughdid pitch on a Plain.

For a down, down, derry derry down, Hey down a,

Down, down, down a down derry.

All night our English men they lodged there,So did the Scots both stout and stubborn,But well-away was all their cheere,For we have served them in their own turn.For a downe, &c.

All night our English men they lodged there,

So did the Scots both stout and stubborn,

But well-away was all their cheere,

For we have served them in their own turn.

For a downe, &c.

All night they carded for ourEnglishmens Coats,(They fished before their Nets were spun)A white for Six-pence, a red for two Groats;Wisdome would have stayd till they had been won.For a down, &c.

All night they carded for ourEnglishmens Coats,

(They fished before their Nets were spun)

A white for Six-pence, a red for two Groats;

Wisdome would have stayd till they had been won.

For a down, &c.

On the twelfth day all in the morn,They made a fere as if they would fight;But many a proudScotthat day was down born,And many a rank Coward was put to his flight.For a down, &c.

On the twelfth day all in the morn,

They made a fere as if they would fight;

But many a proudScotthat day was down born,

And many a rank Coward was put to his flight.

For a down, &c.

And the LordHuntley, we hadden him there,With him he brought ten thousand men:But God be thanked, we gave him such a Banquet,He carryed but few of them home agen.For a down, &c.

And the LordHuntley, we hadden him there,

With him he brought ten thousand men:

But God be thanked, we gave him such a Banquet,

He carryed but few of them home agen.

For a down, &c.

For when he heard our great Guns crack,Then did his heart fall untill his hose,He threw down his Weapons, he turned his back,He ran so fast that he fell on his nose.For a down, &c.

For when he heard our great Guns crack,

Then did his heart fall untill his hose,

He threw down his Weapons, he turned his back,

He ran so fast that he fell on his nose.

For a down, &c.

We beat them back tillEdenbrough,(There’s men alive can witnesse this)But when we lookt our English men through,Two hundred good fellowes we did not misse.For a down, &c.

We beat them back tillEdenbrough,

(There’s men alive can witnesse this)

But when we lookt our English men through,

Two hundred good fellowes we did not misse.

For a down, &c.

Now God preserveEdwardour King,With his two Nuncles and Nobles all,And send us Heaven at our ending:For we have givenScotsa lusty fall.For a down, down, derry derry down, Hey,Down a down down, down a down derry.

Now God preserveEdwardour King,

With his two Nuncles and Nobles all,

And send us Heaven at our ending:

For we have givenScotsa lusty fall.

For a down, down, derry derry down, Hey,

Down a down down, down a down derry.

InCeliaa question did arise,Which were more beautifull her Lippes or Eyes.We, said the Eyes, send forth those pointed darts,Which pierce the hardest Adamantine hearts.From us, (reply’d the Lipps) proceed the blissesWhich Lovers reape by kind words and sweet kisses.Then wept the Eyes, and from their Springs did powreOf liquid Orientall Pearle a showre:Whereat the Lippes mov’d with delight and pleasure,Through a sweet smile unlockt their pearly Treasure:And bad Love judge, whether did adde more grace,Weeping or smiling Pearles inCelia’sface.

InCeliaa question did arise,

Which were more beautifull her Lippes or Eyes.

We, said the Eyes, send forth those pointed darts,

Which pierce the hardest Adamantine hearts.

From us, (reply’d the Lipps) proceed the blisses

Which Lovers reape by kind words and sweet kisses.

Then wept the Eyes, and from their Springs did powre

Of liquid Orientall Pearle a showre:

Whereat the Lippes mov’d with delight and pleasure,

Through a sweet smile unlockt their pearly Treasure:

And bad Love judge, whether did adde more grace,

Weeping or smiling Pearles inCelia’sface.

Black Eyes; in your dark Orbs do lye,My ill or happy destiny,If with cleer looks you me behold,You give me Mines and Mounts of Gold;If you dart forth disdainfull rayes,To your own dy, you turn my dayes.Black Eyes, in your dark Orbes by changes dwell.My bane or blisse, my Paradise or Hell.That Lamp which all the Starres doth blind,Yeelds to your lustre in some kind,Though you do weare, to make you bright,No other dresse but that of night:He glitters only in the day.You in the dark your Beames display.Black Eyes, &c.The cunning Theif that lurkes for prize,At some dark corner watching lyes;So that heart-robbing God doth standIn the dark Lobbies, shaft in hand,To rifle me of what I holdMore pretious farre thenIndianGold.Black Eyes, &c.Oh powerful Negromantick Eyes,Who in your circles strictly pries,Will find thatCupidwith his dart,In you doth practice the blacke Art:And by th’ Inchantment I’me possest,Tryes his conclusion in my brest.Black Eyes, &c.Look on me though in frowning wise,Some kind of frowns become black eyes,As pointed Diamonds being set,Cast greater lustre out of Jet.Those pieces we esteem most rare,Which in night shadowes postur’d are.Darknesse in Churches congregates the sight,Devotion strayes in glaring light.Black Eyes, in your dark Orbs by changes dwell,My bane, or blisse, my Paradise or Hell.

Black Eyes; in your dark Orbs do lye,

My ill or happy destiny,

If with cleer looks you me behold,

You give me Mines and Mounts of Gold;

If you dart forth disdainfull rayes,

To your own dy, you turn my dayes.

Black Eyes, in your dark Orbes by changes dwell.

My bane or blisse, my Paradise or Hell.

That Lamp which all the Starres doth blind,Yeelds to your lustre in some kind,Though you do weare, to make you bright,No other dresse but that of night:He glitters only in the day.You in the dark your Beames display.Black Eyes, &c.

That Lamp which all the Starres doth blind,

Yeelds to your lustre in some kind,

Though you do weare, to make you bright,

No other dresse but that of night:

He glitters only in the day.

You in the dark your Beames display.

Black Eyes, &c.

The cunning Theif that lurkes for prize,At some dark corner watching lyes;So that heart-robbing God doth standIn the dark Lobbies, shaft in hand,To rifle me of what I holdMore pretious farre thenIndianGold.Black Eyes, &c.

The cunning Theif that lurkes for prize,

At some dark corner watching lyes;

So that heart-robbing God doth stand

In the dark Lobbies, shaft in hand,

To rifle me of what I hold

More pretious farre thenIndianGold.

Black Eyes, &c.

Oh powerful Negromantick Eyes,Who in your circles strictly pries,Will find thatCupidwith his dart,In you doth practice the blacke Art:And by th’ Inchantment I’me possest,Tryes his conclusion in my brest.Black Eyes, &c.

Oh powerful Negromantick Eyes,

Who in your circles strictly pries,

Will find thatCupidwith his dart,

In you doth practice the blacke Art:

And by th’ Inchantment I’me possest,

Tryes his conclusion in my brest.

Black Eyes, &c.

Look on me though in frowning wise,Some kind of frowns become black eyes,As pointed Diamonds being set,Cast greater lustre out of Jet.Those pieces we esteem most rare,Which in night shadowes postur’d are.Darknesse in Churches congregates the sight,Devotion strayes in glaring light.Black Eyes, in your dark Orbs by changes dwell,My bane, or blisse, my Paradise or Hell.

Look on me though in frowning wise,

Some kind of frowns become black eyes,

As pointed Diamonds being set,

Cast greater lustre out of Jet.

Those pieces we esteem most rare,

Which in night shadowes postur’d are.

Darknesse in Churches congregates the sight,

Devotion strayes in glaring light.

Black Eyes, in your dark Orbs by changes dwell,

My bane, or blisse, my Paradise or Hell.

We read of Kings, and Gods that kindly tookA Pitcher fill’d with Water from the Brook.But I have dayly tendred without thanks,Rivers of tears that overflow their banks.A slaughtred Bull will appease angry Jove,A Horse the Sun, a Lamb the God of Love.But she disdains the spotlesse sacrificeOf a pure heart that at her Altar lyes:Vesta [i]’s not displeas’d if her chaste UrnDoe with repaired fuell ever burn;But my Saint frowns, though to her honoured nameI consecrate a never dying flame:Th’AssyrianKing did none i th’ furnace throw,But those that to his Image did not bow:With bended knees I dayly worship her,Yet she consumes her own Idolater.Of such a Goddesse no times leave record,That burnt the Temple where she was ador’d.

We read of Kings, and Gods that kindly took

A Pitcher fill’d with Water from the Brook.

But I have dayly tendred without thanks,

Rivers of tears that overflow their banks.

A slaughtred Bull will appease angry Jove,

A Horse the Sun, a Lamb the God of Love.

But she disdains the spotlesse sacrifice

Of a pure heart that at her Altar lyes:

Vesta [i]’s not displeas’d if her chaste Urn

Doe with repaired fuell ever burn;

But my Saint frowns, though to her honoured name

I consecrate a never dying flame:

Th’AssyrianKing did none i th’ furnace throw,

But those that to his Image did not bow:

With bended knees I dayly worship her,

Yet she consumes her own Idolater.

Of such a Goddesse no times leave record,

That burnt the Temple where she was ador’d.

What ill luck had I, silly Maid that I am,To be ty’d to a lasting vow;Or ere to be laid by the side of a man,That woo’d, and cannot tell how;Down didle down, down didle me.Oh that I had a Clown that he might down diddle me,With a courage to take mine down.What punishment is that man worthy to have,That thus will presume to wedde,He deserves to be layd alive in his grave,That woo’d and cannot in bed;Down didle down[,] down didle me.Oh that I had a Lad that he might down didle me,For I feare I shall run mad.

What ill luck had I, silly Maid that I am,

To be ty’d to a lasting vow;

Or ere to be laid by the side of a man,

That woo’d, and cannot tell how;

Down didle down, down didle me.

Oh that I had a Clown that he might down diddle me,

With a courage to take mine down.

What punishment is that man worthy to have,That thus will presume to wedde,He deserves to be layd alive in his grave,That woo’d and cannot in bed;Down didle down[,] down didle me.Oh that I had a Lad that he might down didle me,For I feare I shall run mad.

What punishment is that man worthy to have,

That thus will presume to wedde,

He deserves to be layd alive in his grave,

That woo’d and cannot in bed;

Down didle down[,] down didle me.

Oh that I had a Lad that he might down didle me,

For I feare I shall run mad.

I never did hold, all that glisters is Gold,Unless by the Touch it be try’d;Nor ever could find, that it was a true signe,To judge a man by the outside.A poor flash of wit, for a time may be fitTo wrangle a question in Schools.Good dressing, fine cloathes, with other fine shews,May serve to make painted fools.That man will beguile, in your face that will smile,And court you with Cap and with knee:And while you’re in health, or swimming in wealth,Will vow that your Servant hee’l be.That man Ile commend, and would have to my friendIf I could tell where to choose him,That wil help me at need, and stand me in stead,When I have occasion to use him.I doe not him fear, that wil swagger & sweare,And draw upon every cross word,And forthwith again if you be rough & plain,Be contented to put up his sword.Him valiant I deem, that patient can seem,And fights not in every place,But on good occasion, without seeking evasion[,]Durst look his proud Foe in the face.That Physician shal pass that is all for his glassAnd no other sign can scan,Who to practice did hop, from ‘Apothecaries’ shop,Or some old Physitians man.He Physick shal give to me whilst I live,That hath more strings to his Bow,Experience and learning, with due deserving,And will talk on no more then he know.That Lawyer I hate, that wil wrangle & prate,In a matter not worth the hearing:And if fees do not come, can be silent & dumb,Though the cause deserves but the clearing.That Lawyers for me, that’s not all for his fee,But will do his utmost endeavourTo stand for the right, and tug against might,And lift the truth as with a Leaver.The Shark I do scorn, that’s only well born,And brags of his antient house,Yet his birth cannot fit, with money nor wit,But feeds on his friends like a Louse,That man I more prize, that by vertue doth riseUnto some worthy degree,That by breeding hath got, what by birth he had not,A carriage that’s noble and free.I care not for him, that in riches doth swimme,And flants it in every fashion,That brags of his Grounds and prates of his Hounds,And his businesse is all recreation.For him I will stand, that hath wit with his Land,And will sweat for his Countreys good,That will stick to the Lawes, and in a good causeWill adventure to spend his heart-blood.That man I despise, that thinks himself wise,Because he can talk at Table,And at a rich feast break forth a poor jest,To the laughter of others more able.No, he hath more wit, that silent can sit,Yet knowes well enough how to do it,That speaks with reason, & laughs in due seaso[n,]And when he is mov’d unto it.I care not a fly, for a house that’s built high,And yeelds not a cup of good beer,Where scraps you may find, while Venison’s in kindFor a week or two in a yeare.He a better house keeps, that every night sleepsUnder a Covert of thatch,Where’s good Beef from the Stall, and a fire in the Hall,Where you need not to scramble nor snatch.Then lend me your Touch, for dissembling there’s much,Ile try them before I do trust.For a base needy Slave, in shew may be brave,And a sliding Companion seem just.The man that’s down right, in heart & in sight,Whose life and whose looks doth agree,That speaks what he thinks, and sleeps when he winks,O that’s the companion for me.

I never did hold, all that glisters is Gold,

Unless by the Touch it be try’d;

Nor ever could find, that it was a true signe,

To judge a man by the outside.

A poor flash of wit, for a time may be fit

To wrangle a question in Schools.

Good dressing, fine cloathes, with other fine shews,

May serve to make painted fools.

That man will beguile, in your face that will smile,And court you with Cap and with knee:And while you’re in health, or swimming in wealth,Will vow that your Servant hee’l be.That man Ile commend, and would have to my friendIf I could tell where to choose him,That wil help me at need, and stand me in stead,When I have occasion to use him.

That man will beguile, in your face that will smile,

And court you with Cap and with knee:

And while you’re in health, or swimming in wealth,

Will vow that your Servant hee’l be.

That man Ile commend, and would have to my friend

If I could tell where to choose him,

That wil help me at need, and stand me in stead,

When I have occasion to use him.

I doe not him fear, that wil swagger & sweare,And draw upon every cross word,And forthwith again if you be rough & plain,Be contented to put up his sword.Him valiant I deem, that patient can seem,And fights not in every place,But on good occasion, without seeking evasion[,]Durst look his proud Foe in the face.

I doe not him fear, that wil swagger & sweare,

And draw upon every cross word,

And forthwith again if you be rough & plain,

Be contented to put up his sword.

Him valiant I deem, that patient can seem,

And fights not in every place,

But on good occasion, without seeking evasion[,]

Durst look his proud Foe in the face.

That Physician shal pass that is all for his glassAnd no other sign can scan,Who to practice did hop, from ‘Apothecaries’ shop,Or some old Physitians man.He Physick shal give to me whilst I live,That hath more strings to his Bow,Experience and learning, with due deserving,And will talk on no more then he know.

That Physician shal pass that is all for his glass

And no other sign can scan,

Who to practice did hop, from ‘Apothecaries’ shop,

Or some old Physitians man.

He Physick shal give to me whilst I live,

That hath more strings to his Bow,

Experience and learning, with due deserving,

And will talk on no more then he know.

That Lawyer I hate, that wil wrangle & prate,In a matter not worth the hearing:And if fees do not come, can be silent & dumb,Though the cause deserves but the clearing.That Lawyers for me, that’s not all for his fee,But will do his utmost endeavourTo stand for the right, and tug against might,And lift the truth as with a Leaver.

That Lawyer I hate, that wil wrangle & prate,

In a matter not worth the hearing:

And if fees do not come, can be silent & dumb,

Though the cause deserves but the clearing.

That Lawyers for me, that’s not all for his fee,

But will do his utmost endeavour

To stand for the right, and tug against might,

And lift the truth as with a Leaver.

The Shark I do scorn, that’s only well born,And brags of his antient house,Yet his birth cannot fit, with money nor wit,But feeds on his friends like a Louse,That man I more prize, that by vertue doth riseUnto some worthy degree,That by breeding hath got, what by birth he had not,A carriage that’s noble and free.

The Shark I do scorn, that’s only well born,

And brags of his antient house,

Yet his birth cannot fit, with money nor wit,

But feeds on his friends like a Louse,

That man I more prize, that by vertue doth rise

Unto some worthy degree,

That by breeding hath got, what by birth he had not,

A carriage that’s noble and free.

I care not for him, that in riches doth swimme,And flants it in every fashion,That brags of his Grounds and prates of his Hounds,And his businesse is all recreation.For him I will stand, that hath wit with his Land,And will sweat for his Countreys good,That will stick to the Lawes, and in a good causeWill adventure to spend his heart-blood.

I care not for him, that in riches doth swimme,

And flants it in every fashion,

That brags of his Grounds and prates of his Hounds,

And his businesse is all recreation.

For him I will stand, that hath wit with his Land,

And will sweat for his Countreys good,

That will stick to the Lawes, and in a good cause

Will adventure to spend his heart-blood.

That man I despise, that thinks himself wise,Because he can talk at Table,And at a rich feast break forth a poor jest,To the laughter of others more able.No, he hath more wit, that silent can sit,Yet knowes well enough how to do it,That speaks with reason, & laughs in due seaso[n,]And when he is mov’d unto it.

That man I despise, that thinks himself wise,

Because he can talk at Table,

And at a rich feast break forth a poor jest,

To the laughter of others more able.

No, he hath more wit, that silent can sit,

Yet knowes well enough how to do it,

That speaks with reason, & laughs in due seaso[n,]

And when he is mov’d unto it.

I care not a fly, for a house that’s built high,And yeelds not a cup of good beer,Where scraps you may find, while Venison’s in kindFor a week or two in a yeare.He a better house keeps, that every night sleepsUnder a Covert of thatch,Where’s good Beef from the Stall, and a fire in the Hall,Where you need not to scramble nor snatch.

I care not a fly, for a house that’s built high,

And yeelds not a cup of good beer,

Where scraps you may find, while Venison’s in kind

For a week or two in a yeare.

He a better house keeps, that every night sleeps

Under a Covert of thatch,

Where’s good Beef from the Stall, and a fire in the Hall,

Where you need not to scramble nor snatch.

Then lend me your Touch, for dissembling there’s much,Ile try them before I do trust.For a base needy Slave, in shew may be brave,And a sliding Companion seem just.The man that’s down right, in heart & in sight,Whose life and whose looks doth agree,That speaks what he thinks, and sleeps when he winks,O that’s the companion for me.

Then lend me your Touch, for dissembling there’s much,

Ile try them before I do trust.

For a base needy Slave, in shew may be brave,

And a sliding Companion seem just.

The man that’s down right, in heart & in sight,

Whose life and whose looks doth agree,

That speaks what he thinks, and sleeps when he winks,

O that’s the companion for me.

1.No Gypsie nor no Blackamore,No Bloomesbery, nor Turnbald whore,Can halfe so black, so foule appeare,As she I chose to be my Deare.She’s wrinkled, old, she’s dry, she’s tough,Yet money makes her faire enough.2.Nature’s hand shaking did dispose,Her cheeks faire red unto her nose,Which shined like that wanton light,Misguideth wanderers in the night.Yet for all this I do not care,Though she be foul, her money’s faire.3.Her tangled Locks do show to sight,Like Horses manes, whom haggs affright.Her Bosome through her vaile of Lawne,Shews more like Pork, her Neck like Brawn.Yet for all this I do not care,Though she be foul, her money’s faire.4.Her teeth, to boast the Barbers fame,Hang all up in his wooden frame.Her lips are hairy, like the skinUpon her browes, as lank as thin.Yet for all this I do not care,Though she be foul, her money’s faire.5.Those that her company do keep,Are rough hoarse coughs, to break my sleep.The Palsie, Gout, and Plurisie,And Issue in her legge and thigh.Yet me it grieves not, who am sureThat Gold can all diseases cure.6.Then young men do not jeere my lot,That beauty left, and money got:For I have all things having Gold,And beauty too, since beautie’s sold.For Gold by day shall please my sight,When all her faults lye hid at night.

No Gypsie nor no Blackamore,

No Bloomesbery, nor Turnbald whore,

Can halfe so black, so foule appeare,

As she I chose to be my Deare.

She’s wrinkled, old, she’s dry, she’s tough,

Yet money makes her faire enough.

2.Nature’s hand shaking did dispose,Her cheeks faire red unto her nose,Which shined like that wanton light,Misguideth wanderers in the night.Yet for all this I do not care,Though she be foul, her money’s faire.

Nature’s hand shaking did dispose,

Her cheeks faire red unto her nose,

Which shined like that wanton light,

Misguideth wanderers in the night.

Yet for all this I do not care,

Though she be foul, her money’s faire.

3.Her tangled Locks do show to sight,Like Horses manes, whom haggs affright.Her Bosome through her vaile of Lawne,Shews more like Pork, her Neck like Brawn.Yet for all this I do not care,Though she be foul, her money’s faire.

Her tangled Locks do show to sight,

Like Horses manes, whom haggs affright.

Her Bosome through her vaile of Lawne,

Shews more like Pork, her Neck like Brawn.

Yet for all this I do not care,

Though she be foul, her money’s faire.

4.Her teeth, to boast the Barbers fame,Hang all up in his wooden frame.Her lips are hairy, like the skinUpon her browes, as lank as thin.Yet for all this I do not care,Though she be foul, her money’s faire.

Her teeth, to boast the Barbers fame,

Hang all up in his wooden frame.

Her lips are hairy, like the skin

Upon her browes, as lank as thin.

Yet for all this I do not care,

Though she be foul, her money’s faire.

5.Those that her company do keep,Are rough hoarse coughs, to break my sleep.The Palsie, Gout, and Plurisie,And Issue in her legge and thigh.Yet me it grieves not, who am sureThat Gold can all diseases cure.

Those that her company do keep,

Are rough hoarse coughs, to break my sleep.

The Palsie, Gout, and Plurisie,

And Issue in her legge and thigh.

Yet me it grieves not, who am sure

That Gold can all diseases cure.

6.Then young men do not jeere my lot,That beauty left, and money got:For I have all things having Gold,And beauty too, since beautie’s sold.For Gold by day shall please my sight,When all her faults lye hid at night.

Then young men do not jeere my lot,

That beauty left, and money got:

For I have all things having Gold,

And beauty too, since beautie’s sold.

For Gold by day shall please my sight,

When all her faults lye hid at night.

Trust no more, a wanton Whore,If thou lov’st health and freedom,They are so base in every place,It’s pity that bread should feed ’um.All their sence is impudence,Which some call good conditions.Stink they do, above ground too,Of Chirurgions and Physitians.If you are nice, they have their spice,On which they’le chew to flout you,And if you not discern the plot,You have no Nose about you.Furthermore, they have in store,For which I deadly hate ’um,Perfum’d geare, to stuffe each eare,And for their cheeks Pomatum.Liquorish Sluts, they feast their guts,At Chuffs cost, like Princes,Amber Plumes, and Mackarumes,And costly candy’d Quinces.Potato plump, supports the Rump,Eringo strengthens Nature.Viper Wine, so heats the chine,They’le gender with a Satyr.Names they own were never knownThroughout their generation,Noblemen are kind to them,At least by approbation:Many dote on one gay Coat,But mark what there is stampt on ’t,A stone Horse wild, with toole defil’d,Two Goats, a Lyon rampant.Truth to say, Paint and Array,Makes them so highly prized.Yet not one well, of ten can tell,If ever they were baptized.And if not, then tis a blotPast cure of Spunge or Laver:And we may sans question sayThe Divel was their God-father.Now to leave them, he receive them,Whom they most confide in,Whom that is, askeTiborSis,Or any whom next you ride in.If in sooth, she speaks the truth,She sayes excuse I pray you,The beast you ride, where I confide,Will in due time convey you.

Trust no more, a wanton Whore,

If thou lov’st health and freedom,

They are so base in every place,

It’s pity that bread should feed ’um.

All their sence is impudence,

Which some call good conditions.

Stink they do, above ground too,

Of Chirurgions and Physitians.

If you are nice, they have their spice,On which they’le chew to flout you,And if you not discern the plot,You have no Nose about you.Furthermore, they have in store,For which I deadly hate ’um,Perfum’d geare, to stuffe each eare,And for their cheeks Pomatum.

If you are nice, they have their spice,

On which they’le chew to flout you,

And if you not discern the plot,

You have no Nose about you.

Furthermore, they have in store,

For which I deadly hate ’um,

Perfum’d geare, to stuffe each eare,

And for their cheeks Pomatum.

Liquorish Sluts, they feast their guts,At Chuffs cost, like Princes,Amber Plumes, and Mackarumes,And costly candy’d Quinces.Potato plump, supports the Rump,Eringo strengthens Nature.Viper Wine, so heats the chine,They’le gender with a Satyr.

Liquorish Sluts, they feast their guts,

At Chuffs cost, like Princes,

Amber Plumes, and Mackarumes,

And costly candy’d Quinces.

Potato plump, supports the Rump,

Eringo strengthens Nature.

Viper Wine, so heats the chine,

They’le gender with a Satyr.

Names they own were never knownThroughout their generation,Noblemen are kind to them,At least by approbation:Many dote on one gay Coat,But mark what there is stampt on ’t,A stone Horse wild, with toole defil’d,Two Goats, a Lyon rampant.

Names they own were never known

Throughout their generation,

Noblemen are kind to them,

At least by approbation:

Many dote on one gay Coat,

But mark what there is stampt on ’t,

A stone Horse wild, with toole defil’d,

Two Goats, a Lyon rampant.

Truth to say, Paint and Array,Makes them so highly prized.Yet not one well, of ten can tell,If ever they were baptized.And if not, then tis a blotPast cure of Spunge or Laver:And we may sans question sayThe Divel was their God-father.

Truth to say, Paint and Array,

Makes them so highly prized.

Yet not one well, of ten can tell,

If ever they were baptized.

And if not, then tis a blot

Past cure of Spunge or Laver:

And we may sans question say

The Divel was their God-father.

Now to leave them, he receive them,Whom they most confide in,Whom that is, askeTiborSis,Or any whom next you ride in.If in sooth, she speaks the truth,She sayes excuse I pray you,The beast you ride, where I confide,Will in due time convey you.

Now to leave them, he receive them,

Whom they most confide in,

Whom that is, askeTiborSis,

Or any whom next you ride in.

If in sooth, she speaks the truth,

She sayes excuse I pray you,

The beast you ride, where I confide,

Will in due time convey you.

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