Times Cvrtaine Drawne or The Anatomie of Vanitie. With other choice poems, Entituled; Health from Helicon. By Richard Brathwayte |
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Vpon Mya. |
 | Times Cvrtaine Drawne |  |
Vpon Mya.
If
Mya liue, as shee is said to liue,
Why doth she dye? nay, that's her least of care,
If you meane Death; no, I doe meane her haire,
Farre from that dye which Nature did it giue;
For't was of Iettie hew, which if you note
Is colour'd now as white as any Goate.
Why doth she dye? nay, that's her least of care,
If you meane Death; no, I doe meane her haire,
Farre from that dye which Nature did it giue;
For't was of Iettie hew, which if you note
Is colour'd now as white as any Goate.
Wonder of ages; be there any such,
As in contempt of Nature garnish art?
Sure such a changelings haire must haue a heart
As changing! true, but this doth little touch
Your lustfull sensuall Dame, whose onely ayme,
Is to gaine pleasure with the losse of shame.
As in contempt of Nature garnish art?
Sure such a changelings haire must haue a heart
As changing! true, but this doth little touch
Your lustfull sensuall Dame, whose onely ayme,
Is to gaine pleasure with the losse of shame.
Thou purple-purfled-powdred Idoll thou,
Whose Beautie is lusts bootie, and whose skin
Is honours staine, whose soule is sold to sin,
Expos'd to shame; thou that erects a stew
To brothell in: why wilt thou be aray'd
So Strumpet-like, yet would be styl'd a Maid?
Whose Beautie is lusts bootie, and whose skin
Is honours staine, whose soule is sold to sin,
Expos'd to shame; thou that erects a stew
To brothell in: why wilt thou be aray'd
So Strumpet-like, yet would be styl'd a Maid?
Thou that doest woe man with a wandring eye,
Bare-bathed brest, which to enforce delight,
Is no true natiue but adulterate white,
That daily dyes, yet hopes thou nere shall die;
Summe vp thy follies, and try all alone
If thou canst answer of a thousand one.
Bare-bathed brest, which to enforce delight,
That daily dyes, yet hopes thou nere shall die;
Summe vp thy follies, and try all alone
If thou canst answer of a thousand one.
But what is this to thee, whose impudence
(So dangerous are habits) makes thee now,
Secure of worlds shame and vengeance too;
For Letharg-like the sensuall loose all sence,
Drench'd in the source of pleasures, wch't doth grieue them,
Ere to forgoe till they be forc'd to leaue them.
(So dangerous are habits) makes thee now,
Secure of worlds shame and vengeance too;
For Letharg-like the sensuall loose all sence,
Drench'd in the source of pleasures, wch't doth grieue them,
Ere to forgoe till they be forc'd to leaue them.
And so art Thou; yet Mya thou hast time,
Which vs'd, redeemes the time that thou hast lost,
Reform'd in that wherein thou erred most.
Which will reuiue that drooping soule of thine:
Who in her selfe deiected seemes to be,
Because thy Body's more esteem'd then she.
Which vs'd, redeemes the time that thou hast lost,
Reform'd in that wherein thou erred most.
Which will reuiue that drooping soule of thine:
Who in her selfe deiected seemes to be,
Because thy Body's more esteem'd then she.
FINIS.
| Times Cvrtaine Drawne | |