XVII.
And stall’d the deer that thou shouldst strike,
Let reason rule things worthy blame,
As well as fancy partial might:
Take counsel of some wiser head, |
Neither too young nor yet unwed. |
Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk,
Lest she some subtle practise smell, –
A cripple soon can find a halt; – |
But plainly say thou lovest her well, |
What though her frowning brows be bent,
Her cloudy looks will calm ere night:
And then too late she will repent
That thus dissembled her delight;
And twice desire, ere it be day, |
That which with scorn she put away. |
And ban and brawl, and say thee nay,
Her feeble force will yield at length,
When craft hath taught her thus to say,
’Had women been so strong as men, |
In faith, you had not had it then.’ |
Spare not to spend, and chiefly there
Where thy desert may merit praise,
By ringing in thy lady’s ear:
The strongest castle, tower, and town, |
The golden bullet beats it down. |
And in thy suit be humble true;
Unless thy lady prove unjust,
Press never thou to choose anew:
When time shall serve, be thou not slack |
To proffer, though she put thee back. |
Dissembled with an outward show,
The tricks and toys that in them lurk,
The cock that treads them shall not know.
Have you not heard it said full oft, |
A woman’s nay doth stand for nought? |
To sin and never for to saint:
There is no heaven, by holy then,
When time with age doth them attaint.
Were kisses all the joys in bed, |
One woman would another wed. |
Lest that my mistress hear my song,
She will not stick to round me i’ the ear,
To teach my tongue to be so long:
Yet will she blush, here be it said, |
To hear her secrets so bewray’d. |