Willobie His Avisa Or The true Picture of a modest Maid, and of a chast and constant wife. In Hexamiter verse. The like argument wherof, was neuer heretofore published [by Henry Willoby] |
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 | Willobie His Avisa |  |
CANT. XVI
AVISA.
You speake of loue, you talke of cost,
Is't filthy loue your worship meanes?
Assure your selfe your labor's lost;
Bestow your cost among your queanes,
You left not here, nor here shall find,
Such mates as match your beastly mind.
Is't filthy loue your worship meanes?
Assure your selfe your labor's lost;
Bestow your cost among your queanes,
You left not here, nor here shall find,
Such mates as match your beastly mind.
You must againe to Coleman hedge,
For there be some that looke for gaine,
They will bestow the French mans badge,
In lew of all your cost and paine,
But Sir, it is against my vse,
For gaine to make my house a stewes.
For there be some that looke for gaine,
They will bestow the French mans badge,
In lew of all your cost and paine,
But Sir, it is against my vse,
For gaine to make my house a stewes.
What haue you seene, what haue I doon,
That you should iudge my mind so light,
That I so quickly might be woon,
Of one that came but yeaster night?
Of one I wist not whence he came,
Nor what he is, nor what's his name?
That you should iudge my mind so light,
That I so quickly might be woon,
Of one that came but yeaster night?
Of one I wist not whence he came,
Nor what he is, nor what's his name?
Though face doe friendly smile on all,
Yet iudge me not to be so kind,
To come at euery Faulkners call,
Or waue aloft with euery wind,
And you that venter thus to try,
Shall find how far you shoote awry.
Yet iudge me not to be so kind,
To come at euery Faulkners call,
Or waue aloft with euery wind,
And you that venter thus to try,
Shall find how far you shoote awry.
And if your face might be your iudge,
Your wannie cheekes, your shaggie lockes,
Would rather moue my mind to grudge,
To feare the piles, or else the pockes:
Yf you be mou'd, to make amends,
Pray keepe your knackes for other frends.
Your wannie cheekes, your shaggie lockes,
Would rather moue my mind to grudge,
To feare the piles, or else the pockes:
Yf you be mou'd, to make amends,
Pray keepe your knackes for other frends.
You may be walking when you list,
Looke ther's the doore, and ther's the way,
I hope you haue your market mist,
Your game is lost, for lacke of play,
The point is close, no chance can fall,
That enters there, or euer shall.
Looke ther's the doore, and ther's the way,
I hope you haue your market mist,
Your game is lost, for lacke of play,
The point is close, no chance can fall,
That enters there, or euer shall.
| Willobie His Avisa | |