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O mosy quince, hangyng by your stalke, The whyche no man dar pluk away ner take, Of all the folk that passe forby or walke, Your flowres fresshe be fallyn away and shake. I am ryght sory, masteras, for your sake, Ye seme a thyng that all men have forgotyn; Ye be so rype ye wex almost rotyn. Wyne, women, worshyp, unweldy age, Make men to fonne for lak in theyr resons: Elde causeth dulnesse and dotage, And worshyp, chaunge of condicions; Excesse of wyne blyndeth theyre dyscrecions, And all bookes that poetes made and radde Seyen women most make men madde! Youre ugly chere deynous and froward, Youre grene eyen frownyng and nat glad, Yowre chekes enbolned lyke a melow costard, Colour of orenge your brestys satournad, Gylt, opon warantyse, the colour wyll nat fade; Bawsyn-buttockyd, belyed lyke a tonne, Men cry, "Seynt Barbara!" at lowsyng of your gonne. My lovely lewde masterasse, take consideracion, I am so sorowfull there as ye be absent; The flowre of the barkfate, the fowlyst of all the nacion -- To love yow but a lytyll is myne entent. The swert hath y-swent yow, the smoke hath yow shent; I trowe ye have be layde opon som kylne to dry. Ye do me so moche worshyp there as ye be present; Of all wemen I love yow best. A thowsand tymes fy! |
mossy fruit; (see note) nor scattered mistress grow honor, enfeebled; (see note) act foolishly senility read Say scornful and bellicose eyes; (see note) swollen; ripe apple; (see note) sagging Painted, without fail; (see note) Badger-assed, bellied; cask; (see note) loosening; gown (gun or organ); (see note) (see note) tanning vat; (see note) (see note) flame; struck; spoiled kiln |