A vvife, not ready made, but bespoken by Dicus the Batchelor, and made up for him by his fellow Shepheard Tityrus. In four Pastorall Eglogues. The second Edition: Wherein are some things added but nothing amended [by Robert Aylett] |
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The two married Shepheards T. and D. to R. and G. Batchelours. |
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 | A vvife, not ready made, but bespoken |  |
The two married Shepheards T. and D. to R. and G. Batchelours.
You both secure in harbour sit,
And smile at our experienc'd wit:
Who plead at Bar before our Wives,
For Liberties and quiet lives:
Such Blisse did only Jove obtain,
That Greeks and Trojanes on the plain,
From Idas top, did fighting see,
In far lesse danger there, than wee.
And smile at our experienc'd wit:
Who plead at Bar before our Wives,
For Liberties and quiet lives:
Such Blisse did only Jove obtain,
That Greeks and Trojanes on the plain,
From Idas top, did fighting see,
In far lesse danger there, than wee.
You move above in single sphears,
And sport with jealousies and fears
Of married folks, and houshould care:
Your flocks the better surely fare.
And sport with jealousies and fears
Of married folks, and houshould care:
Your flocks the better surely fare.
The single man no weather feels
But rising, in the night, all seels,
To's dearest Lambs doth duely look,
Bears he a Tinn'd or Silver Crook.
But rising, in the night, all seels,
To's dearest Lambs doth duely look,
Bears he a Tinn'd or Silver Crook.
Sweet Milk and Hony is his diet.
His Physick true content and quiet,
A soup of Cider or brisk Perry
Will make his heart all blith and merry:
And going to his dreadles nest,
Findes nothing there to break his rest,
But on a Couch of mosse and leaves,
All worldly Cares and thought deceives.
His sleep as sweet as short: his dreams
Of flowry banks, or silver streams,
Thence early up, in open air
He leads his flocks through pastures fair,
Where crystall brooks soft murmuring
Invite his Heart to sleep or sing
With Quiristers, in neighbour groves,
Who there recount their mutuall loves.
You Batchelors live merry lives,
But wee'l not change, that have good Wives.
His Physick true content and quiet,
A soup of Cider or brisk Perry
Will make his heart all blith and merry:
And going to his dreadles nest,
Findes nothing there to break his rest,
But on a Couch of mosse and leaves,
All worldly Cares and thought deceives.
Of flowry banks, or silver streams,
Thence early up, in open air
He leads his flocks through pastures fair,
Where crystall brooks soft murmuring
Invite his Heart to sleep or sing
With Quiristers, in neighbour groves,
Who there recount their mutuall loves.
You Batchelors live merry lives,
But wee'l not change, that have good Wives.
| A vvife, not ready made, but bespoken | |