Trivial poems | ||
[Ned! she that likes thee now]
1
Ned! she that likes thee now,Next weeke will leaue thee!
Trust her not, though she uow
Ne'er to deceaue thee;
Just soe to Tom she swore,
Yet straight was ranging;
38
Still shee'l bee changing.
Last moneth I was the man;
See, if denye't she can;
Else aske Francke, Jone, or Nan:
Ned! fayth looke to itt.
2
Shee'l prayse thy uoyce, thy face;Shee'l say, th'art witty;
Shee'l too cry up thy race,
Thy state shee'l pitty;
Shee'l sigh, and then accuse
Fortune of blindnesse:
This forme she still doth use,
When shee'd shew kindnesse.
Thoul't find (if thou but note)
That t'all she sings one note;
I'ue learn'd her arts by rote:
Ned! fayth looke to itt!
3
With scorne, as now on mee,(Lesse may'st thou care for't!)
Ere long shee'l looke on thee,
Thy selfe prepare for't.
The next new face will cast
Thine out of fauour;
The winds change not soe aft,
As her thoughts wauer:
If them thou striu'st t'enchayne,
Thereby thou'lt onely gayne
Thy labour for thy payne:
Ned! fayth looke to itt!
Trivial poems | ||