| WHENAS thine eye hath chose the dame, | |
| And stall’d the deer that thou should’st strike, | |
| Let reason rule things worthy blame, | |
| As well as fancy, partial wight: | |
| Take counsel of some wiser head, | 5 |
| Neither too young nor yet unwed. | |
| And when thou com’st thy tale to tell, | |
| Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk, | |
| Lest she some subtle practice smell; | |
| A cripple soon can find a halt: | 10 |
| But plainly say thou lov’st her well, | |
| And set thy person forth to sell. | |
| What though her frowning brows be bent, | |
| Her cloudy looks will calm ere night; | |
| And then too late she will repent | 15 |
| That thus dissembled her delight; | |
| And twice desire, ere it be day, | |
| That which with scorn she put away. | |
| What though she strive to try her strength, | |
| And ban and brawl, and say thee nay, | 20 |
| 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.’ | |
| And to her will frame all thy ways; | 25 |
| 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. | 30 |
| Serve always with assured trust, | |
| And in thy suit be humble true; | |
| Unless thy lady prove unjust, | |
| Seek never thou to choose anew. | |
| When time shall serve, be thou not slack | 35 |
| To proffer, though she put thee back. | |
| The wiles and guiles that women work, | |
| Dissembled with an outward show, | |
| The tricks and toys that in them lurk, | |
| The cock that treads them shall not know. | 40 |
| Have you not heard it said full oft, | |
| A woman’s nay doth stand for nought? | |
| Think women love to match with men | |
| And not to live so like a saint: | |
| Here is no heaven; they holy then | 45 |
| Begin when age doth them attaint. | |
| Were kisses all the joys in bed, | |
| One woman would another wed. | |
| But, soft! enough! too much, I fear; | |
| For if my mistress hear my song, | 50 |
| She will not stick to ring my ear, | |
| To teach my tongue to be so long: | |
| Yet will she blush, here be it said, | |
| To hear her secrets so bewray’d. |