The Recreations of his Age | ||
Agaynste Luste.
Whie dothe the man that hathe a wyfeLoueinge and fayer and chaste of lyfe
Loue an other, withoute suche cause
That settes by him not twooe good strawes?
Whie dothe the Queyne and common drabbe
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Delighte thee more then a wyfe good
Whiche bringes the impes of thine owne blode?
This breedes a frende, she breedes a foe,
This bringes to thee, she pluckes thee froe,
This sicke and hole seekes thee to please,
Thother never but for hur ease.
Wherefore agaynste reason and righte
Done suche as soe sett their delighte.
Noe cause of this can I invente
But by lewde luste mynde discontente.
The Recreations of his Age | ||