72. The Messenger.
Love commands his servant out
To the woods, to range about
For a Mistress for his Master,
Cause he wanted such a plaister
As a Lady. Out he goes,
Through the woods, streams, verse and prose:
One he found, and then return'd
(To the man that sight and burn'd.)
Expectation did advance,
And hope had the predominance:
Love repli'd to th' Agent then,
Dost thou gladly turn agen?
Art thou fraited with my bliss?
Then he answers, Master yes.
But what hast thou prepar'd for me?
Is she coy, or is she free?
Is she tall, or is she low?
Is she slender? lean or no?
Is she square, or is she round?
Is she sick, or is she sound?
Do the Gods confess their duty
Is to worship such a beauty?
Is but Venus scarce her type?
Is she green, or too too ripe?
Is she foul, or is she fair?
Is she not as others are?
Is she white, or is she black?
Or what i'st that she doth lack?
Answere
I have prepar'd for thee enough.
She's coy enough, and free enough,
She's Low enough and tall enough,
She's big enough and small enough,
She's fat enough and lean enough,
She's rich enough and mean enough,
She's young enough and strong enough,
She's short enough and long enough,
She's sick enough and sound enough,
She's square enough and round enough,
She's black enough and white enough
She's foul enough and bright enough,
She's thin enough and quick enough,
And she will soon be thick enough,
If you can give her P--- enough.
