Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 2.pdf/98

70

Before your face they all declare

That you’re an angel, but beware!

For when your back is turned they pull

You all to pieces for a trull,

And laugh and jeer, and tell the mad

And merry sportive times they’ve had

With you, and throughly well such fate

Do you deserve, when dedicate

You are to vice, and men at will

May have you as a common gill.

And when by all this jolly rout

I see you mauled and pulled about,

I frankly own, I sometimes feel

An envy I can scarce conceal;

But don’t deceive yourself, ’tis not

For fairness of your face, God wot!

That men pursue you, nor for sense

Or lively wit or eloquence

That you display; it is alone

By your fine feathers that they’re won,

Your rich spun robes and jewels bright,

Your clasps of gold, and rings that dight

Your fingers, all of which you got

From me by wheedling, and a sot

Therefor I own me.

When to balls

And dances, as your fancy calls,

With gallants you betake yourself,

I’m left at home upon the shelf

As one who’s drunk or mad, whilst bold

And brave you go, bedeckt with gold,