University of Virginia Library

That thou beest, Pegge, in better heale than I my selfe am now
I wish, or that like sick for me as I for thee wert thou.
The cause that now I write it is to let thee wit That I,
By Cupid long since branded thine, must thee mate-quaint, or die.
Small rest, God wot, a nights, few meales a day take I, loue-sick,
And little heart in Possets, sops, a supping, or a Chick:
Then loue me, Pegge, fornenter when is blabd abroad my plight,
On thy too squamish Maidenhead the crime thereof doe light.
But, wot'st thy what? I with our Cart haue bin whileare at Court,
And saw the King (God saue his grace) & mought he heare report,
How vs his Officers doe buse, almost in euery sort.
Thy father would haue feoft on thee a Courtnall, faith t'was well
Thou scap'st him, for if he be good, then none be bad in Hell.
Lord, how he swaggerd in his silks, and seeing me by chance,
As Peacocks viewed spread their tailes did he himselfe aduance:
Yet once my fathers house was all his helpe: but let him passe
With that same lustie horse that scornd the Millers loden Asse,
Till turnd out lame, this one had corne, that other scarcely grasse:
Such bastard Courtnals serue but Turns, besibbing Coyns of brasse.
Thou, for t'hart monstrous faire, thinkst me not fine enough, I, but
Perhaps wert better fancie me than such a Lustie-gut.
Though with gay Brokerie may seeme he casteth thee to win,
I better borrow could of Pride than he the silken Sin:
And diuersly may beautie meete with blemish, yeeres but few,
And farewell snout-faire spite thy teeth, then I as good as you.
What stumbleth our Banes-bidding, pra? cause Peg forsooth will be
A Gentlewoman: goodly, such a Changling would I see,
I heard a praised Preacher praise the Plowman, ledging proofe,
None might be worser spared for the Common-wealths behoofe.
The Court and Gentrie quaintlier did he snib than I can say,
But this I member, that for them as Sinners should we pray.
And though (quoth he) we Church-men should to Lay-mē sample good,
Yet are of vs too many go the wrong way to the wood.
Be Captaines fleese or mart their men: be Soldiours hold disgrace
Not to be counted humorous, to swagger, and out-face.
Be Lawyers get the Diuell and all, more Cormorants for fees
Than carefull of their soules, so they may get what skils who leese?
Be Citizens too nimble in their tradings to deceaue:
Be of their Wiues that pranke too proud, yea wanton by your leaue.
Artificers haue much adoe, though toylfully they sweate,
To earne to them & theirs enough for clothing, rent, and meate:
Much idle Vanitie in all, or falsifying Feate.
The Plowmans labour proued he aduantage vnto all:
Which to himselfe, as goes this world, say I, yeelds profit small.
But things wil mend (Gods grace they may) for surely surely, Pegge,
Be Prolers prole the Countrie, from an Oxe vnto an Egge.
Well was it the Countrie when the secrets of the Stall,
The Sheepcoote, Woods, & Arable to Gentrie were so small,
As but to hawke, hunt, and receiue vnracked Rents was all.
Now of their Farmers toyle to take the foyson Lords haue skill,
On Tainters setting Tenentries, oft for Expences ill:
Or vse their Farmes themselues: whō oft the negligence & feeding
Of many a lasie Lowne consumes: let each then vse his Breeding.
Nay, verely, poore Daies-men and our Hinds, if knowing need
Of ploimēt, aske more thā they earne, yet haine they at their feed,
Though leap they would euen at a crust in doing their own deed.
But I am, Pegge, an Owners heire alreadie rich enough,
And, though I say it, not to learne what longeth to the Plough,
Nor say I goo, but gaw, and in the Deeding none more tough:
Who other doth, or is, may finde our Arte but losse and rough.
I dare him saies he better knowes to make his Tilths than I,
To take his Seasons, straine & sow Otes, Barly, Pease, Wheate, Rye.
To guide a Teame, to drench a beast, fould, grease, & sheare a Sheep,
To mucke, mow, reape, hooke, load, Inne, stacke, or Garners sweetler keep,
At Faires and Markets Cattle, Corne, to put-off, or to chuse,
To fell, lop, fence, plant, or what els best Husbandmen doe vse.
As for the Sledge, Barre, Boll, & Bace, my wrestling, & my running,
The Quinten, and a countrie-dance, I list not boast my cunning:
In only this I will not be out-craked, crake that can,
Me baffle if a woman me bed better for a Man.
Ile make thee Dame of store such Kie as neuer strookst thou better,
Of many an Heifer that shall be vnto thy Darie debter,
Of store of milchie Ewes: Thou's be our Haruest-Ladies Ladie,
And at thy pleasure reape a cut, or rest thee where t'is shadie:
Thou's go to Ailes, to Weddings, Wakes, ye Wine, & what is braue,
And in our Markets to be bought, thou shalt but aske and haue:
Thou's haue for Faires as faire a Frock, a Partlet, and a Pin,
As gaiest there a silken purse, and store of coyne therein:
I'le duly keepe for thy delight Rock-Monday, and the Wake,
Haue Shrouings, Christmas-gambols, with the Hokie & Seed-cake:
Thou's haue ye fairest in my Teame thee where thou wilt to beare,
And of my finest wooll to spin for Webs which thou shalt weare:
Goodsadness, Girle, nor mine nor thine, but Bothes we both will share.
Say to a Match, Amen, and we as Turtles shall agree:
And bring but loue, and I'le bring like and wealth enough with mee.