The Golden Aphroditis A pleasant discourse, penned by John Grange ... Whereunto be annexed by the same Authour asvvell certayne Metres upon sundry poyntes, as also divers Pamphlets in prose, which he entituleth His Garden: pleasant to the eare, and delightful to the Reader, if he abuse not the scente of the floures |
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An answere to a letter written vnto him by a Curtyzan.
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 | The Golden Aphroditis |  |
An answere to a letter written vnto him by a Curtyzan.
A bottome for your silke it seemesmy letters are become,
Whiche with oft winding off and on
are wasted whole and some.
Who nilling other for to finde
but through my paintyng penne,
Thereto to giue occasion
to wryte you will not lenne.
And sith you take such great delight
my bottomes for to spende,
Beholde now grauntyng to your will,
an other here I sende.
Ne sutor vltra crepidam,
I giue this phrase to vewe,
Forbidding Sowters to exceede,
the clowting of a shooe.
Tis seldome seene a Swan to diue,
of Morehennes had bene best
For you to talke, although you seeme
that name for to detest.
Dianas troupe it best may blase
the Swan of Menander,
It best becomes your penne to paynte
the Gose and the gander.
Whose tongue dothe runne before your witte,
and shewes, fooles boltes sone shotte:
You would a good Virgillian be,
if Vir in place were not.
Sometime if Ouid tooke delight
to prayse the hasell Nutte,
If Virgill vaunting of his Gnat,
why doe not I forth put
secluding dalliaunce,
Who knowes so well thy legerdemaynes
with false conueyance.
You are Meduse that feendlike mare,
no more a Curtizan,
You are no more a soaryng Hauke,
what then, a chaste Diane?
Not so, what then? the rampyng flie,
who vauntes on euery dishe
Whereon he lightes, and sowes his seedes,
a bayte for those that fishe.
For with your preuy winkes, and noddes,
yea with your smyling lookes,
With wanton toyes, and sugred wordes,
whiche are your chiefest hookes:
With Demi grauntes, and weake denayes,
to those that craue good will,
Thou doest prouoke the bashfull youthes,
a Uirgins rule to spill.
For sure such is thy change with choyce,
and eke thy choyce to change,
That it inforceth many an one
his wanton wittes to range.
Thy beautie as a trumpet is
this Larum forth to sounde,
Tantara, tara, Tantara,
whiche when it dothe rebounde
Intentiue eares, of force it is
each man for to delight,
And biddes them stoupe vnto thy lure
to put their cares to flight.
Then Alleluya they crie,
with downe, downe, downe, downe,
Terlyterlowe, terlyterlowe,
pype downe, downe, down, downe,
tathane, tathane, inough.
I see it is the houndes doe yelpe,
bowgh, bowgh, baugh, baugh, baugh, baugh.
The game is dead, beate off the houndes,
rate, rate, hawe, hawe, dead, dead.
They spoyle the hare, tis nothing worthe,
they mangle all his head.
You know my minde, how beauties pryce
contendeth still with lust,
Affection yet once sette aside,
layes pleasure in the dust.
Farewell and thus adewe.
Sound trumpe Aleluya,
At th' ende of Tatatantara,
To ioy my pleasant Dallyda,
So clothed with the Lillie.
| The Golden Aphroditis | |