The Phanseys of William Cavendish Marquis of Newcastle addressed to Margaret Lucas and her Letters in reply: Edited by Douglas Grant |
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 | The Phanseys of William Cavendish Marquis of Newcastle |  |
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Love's Repentance
I meane now by your leave, my deere,
For to be bold with your own sheer:
In Essex, all men tell me soe,
Ther is a Towne ther call'd Dunmoe,
Wher is hung Up, if not mistakne,
An Unrepentant flitch of Bakne;
For married folks thither are sent
To Eate of that, if not repent.
For to be bold with your own sheer:
In Essex, all men tell me soe,
Ther is a Towne ther call'd Dunmoe,
Wher is hung Up, if not mistakne,
An Unrepentant flitch of Bakne;
For married folks thither are sent
To Eate of that, if not repent.
Sweet hart, then I must lett you know
When married wee will thither goe;
For I have such a Marrige Itch
To take away their Bakon's flitch,
No married man att all shall Eate
On Collop, with his Egs for meat,
Of this, our sacred flitch wee'le call:
Onely to Us belongs itt all.
When married wee will thither goe;
For I have such a Marrige Itch
To take away their Bakon's flitch,
No married man att all shall Eate
On Collop, with his Egs for meat,
Of this, our sacred flitch wee'le call:
Onely to Us belongs itt all.
But stay, it is longe since t'was quick;
I doubt the tast would make you sick:
No Lady meate, Itt shortens lives,
Refused by Pease-porrige wives;
And for my selfe, itt ne'ere did wishe,
Nor none can lay it in my dishe;
For I repent, Repentance store,
Cause did not marry you before.
I doubt the tast would make you sick:
No Lady meate, Itt shortens lives,
Refused by Pease-porrige wives;
And for my selfe, itt ne'ere did wishe,
Nor none can lay it in my dishe;
For I repent, Repentance store,
Cause did not marry you before.
| The Phanseys of William Cavendish Marquis of Newcastle | |