The Treasury of Musick Containing ayres and dialogues To Sing to the theorbo-lute or basse-viol. Composed |
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To an Inconstant Lover.
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 | The Treasury of Musick |  |
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To an Inconstant Lover.
Wilt thou be gone, thou Heartless man?
Here's none seeks to do thee wrong:
Here's food would warm the Coldest blood,
Joys would make an old man young:
Here are Eyes that would move Stones
To pity, Rocks to Love,
Cheeks of a Vermilion hew
Sweet as Roses in a dew.
Who but a silly Swain, or foolish Guest,
For homely Cates would leave so dainty a feast.
Here's none seeks to do thee wrong:
Here's food would warm the Coldest blood,
Joys would make an old man young:
Here are Eyes that would move Stones
To pity, Rocks to Love,
Cheeks of a Vermilion hew
Sweet as Roses in a dew.
Who but a silly Swain, or foolish Guest,
For homely Cates would leave so dainty a feast.
Wilt thou begon, thou Frosty man,
Is not Beauty a fair prize;
Dost rate thy pelf with true Loves wealth:
Foolish man, where are thine Eyes?
Here are Lips both fresh and fair,
Red as Cherries in their prime,
Globe-like Breasts both smooth and white,
Full of pleasure and delight:
Who but Ass would leave such dainty store
To feed on Thistles, when better meat's before.
Is not Beauty a fair prize;
Dost rate thy pelf with true Loves wealth:
Foolish man, where are thine Eyes?
Here are Lips both fresh and fair,
Red as Cherries in their prime,
Globe-like Breasts both smooth and white,
Full of pleasure and delight:
Who but Ass would leave such dainty store
To feed on Thistles, when better meat's before.
Go get thee gone, thou Senseless man,
And make Marts with such as she
Who, both in Kind and Currish mind
Ev'ry way's as base as thee;
That hath Eyelids like some Witch,
Wrinkled Cheeks as black as pitch,
Lips as pale; and for her Breast,
Lank and loathsome as the rest:
May she disgrace her Sex, and thee so far
That thou mayst languish t'death with Loathing her
And make Marts with such as she
Who, both in Kind and Currish mind
Ev'ry way's as base as thee;
That hath Eyelids like some Witch,
Wrinkled Cheeks as black as pitch,
Lips as pale; and for her Breast,
Lank and loathsome as the rest:
May she disgrace her Sex, and thee so far
That thou mayst languish t'death with Loathing her
| The Treasury of Musick | |