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Think you a gracious dame forsooth

Cares for a hare-brained, half-fledged youth

Who, like an idiot, half the night

Singeth the pleasure and delight

He hath, through her kind grace, enjoyed,

And how her love for him destroyed

Her peace? With reason might she dread

’Twould bring down scandal on her head:

Love passages are quickly known

When all around the streets they’re thrown

In balladings unheedingly,

Who such man loves, a fool is she.

Whene’er a wise man takes a fool

For mistress, ’tis a golden rule

Folly alone to talk with her:

As well might he on empty air

Expend wise words and rarest wit,

They nought will profit him one bit.

Whoso would win a woman’s love

Should ne’er converse with her above

Her small intelligence, for she

Will straightway deem her man to be

A fox, a cozener, or a cheat;

And deeming kindest words deceit,

Will leave his loving care and go

To seek some other, and right low

Perchance may fall—from out the heap

She’s bound to pick some scabious sheep.

VOL. II.