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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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19

CANT. XX.

AVISA.
A fine deuice, and well contriu'd,
Braue Golde vpon a bitter pill;
No maruaile well though you haue thriu'd,
That so can decke, that so can dill;
Your quaintish quirkes can want no mate;
But here I wis, you come too late.
It's ill to hault before the lame,
Or watch the bird that can not sleepe,
Your new found trickes are out of frame,
The fox will laugh, when Asses weepe;
Sweare what you list, say what you will,
Before you spake, I knew your skill.
Your secret dealing will not hold,
To force me trie, or make me trust
Your blind deuises are too old,
Your broken blade hath got the rust,
You need not lie, but truely say,
She would not yeeld to wanton play.
Your tongue shall spare to spread my fame,
I list not buy too deare a sound,
Your greatest praise would breed but shame,
Report of me, as you haue found,
Though you be loth to blow retreat,
This mount's too strong for you to get.


The wisest Captaine now and then,
When that he feeles his foe too strong;
Retires betime to saue his men,
That grow but weake, if seege be long;
From this assault you may retire,
You shall not reach, that you require.
I hate to feede you with delaies,
As others doe, that meane to yeeld,
You spend in vaine your strong assaies,
To win the towne, or gaine the feeld;
No Captaine did, nor euer shall,
Set ladder here, to skale the wall.