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Nor, so thou may'st obtain a wealthy prize,
The vain name of inferior slaves despise.
Nor let the arms of ancient lives beguile thee;
Poor lover, with thy grandsires I exile thee.
Who seeks, for being fair, a night to have,
What he will give, with greater instance crave.
Make a small price, while thou thy nets doest lay;
Lest they should fly, being ta'en, the tyrant play.
Dissemble so, as lov'd he may be thought,
And take heed, lest he gets that love for nought.
Deny him oft; feign now thy head doth ache:
And Isis now will shew what excuse to make.
Receive him soon, lest patient use he gain,
Or lest his love oft beaten back should wain.
To beggars shut, to bringers ope thy gate;
Let him within hear; bard-out lovers prate.
And as first wrong'd the wronged sometimes banish:
Thy fault with his fault so repuls'd will vanish.
But never give a spacious time to ire,

Anger delayed doth oft to hate retire.
And let thine eyes constrained learn to weep,
That this, or that man may thy cheeks moist keep.
Now, if thou cozenest one, dread to forswear,
Venus to mock'd men lends a careless ear.
Servants fit for thy purpose thou must hire,
To teach thy lover, what thy thoughts desire.
Let them ask somewhat, many asking little,
Within a while great hopes grow of a little.
And sister, nurse, and mother spare him not,
By many hands great wealth is quickly got.

What were it for thee to require a gift
By keeping of thy birth, make but a shift.
Beware lest he unrival'd love secure,
Take strife away, love doth not well endure.
On all the beds men tumbling let him view,
And thy neck with lascivious marks made blue.
Chiefly shew him the gifts, which others send:
If he gives nothing, let him from thee wend.
When thou hast so much as he gives no more,
Pray him to lend what thou may'st ne'er restore.
Let thy tongue flatter, while thy mind harm works,
Under sweet honey deadly poison lurks.

If this thou doest to me by long use known,

(Nor let my words be with the winds hence blown,)
Oft thou wilt say, live well, thou wilt pray oft,
That my dead bones may in their grave lie soft.
As thus she spake, my shadow me betrayed,
With much ado my hands I scarcely stay'd;
But her blear eyes, bald scalp's hoary fleeces,
And rivel'd cheeks I would have pull'd a pieces.
The gods send thee no house, a poor old age,
Perpetual thirst, and winters lasting rage.


Ad Atticum, amantem non oportere desidiosum esse, militem.

ALL lovers war, and Cupid hath his tent,
Attic, all lovers are to war far sent,
What age fits Mars, with Venus doth agree,

"Tis shame for old in war or love to be.

sicuti nec

What years in soldiers captains do require,
Those in their lovers pretty maids desire.
Both of them watch: each on the hard earth sleeps:
His mistress' doors this; that his captain's keeps.
Soldiers must travel far: the wench forth send,
Her valiant lover follows without end.

Mounts, and rain-doubled floods he passeth over,
And treads the desert snowy heaps do cover.
Going to sea, east winds he doth not chide,
Nor to hoist sail attends full time and tide.
Who but a soldier or a lover is bold,

To suffer storm-mix'd snows with night's sharp cold?
One as a spy doth to his enemies go,

The other eyes his rival as his foe.

He cities great, this thresholds lies before:

This breaks town gates, but he his mistress' door.
Oft to invade the sleeping foe 'tis good,
And arm'd to shed unarmed peoples blood.
So the fierce troops of Thracian Rhesus fell,
And captive horses bade their lord farewell.
Sooth lovers watch till sleep the husband charms,
Who slumbering, they rise up in swelling arms.
The keepers hands and corps-du-gard to pass,
The soldiers, and poor lovers work ere was.
Doubtful is war and love, the vanquish'd rise,
And who thou never think'st should fall down lies.
Therefore whoe'er love slothfulness doth call,
Let him surcease: love tries wit best of all.
Achilles burn'd, Briseis being ta'en away,
Trojans destroy the Greek wealth, while you may.


Hector to arms went from his wive's embraces,
And on Andromache his helmet laces.
Great Agamemnon was, men say amazed,
On Priam's loose-trest daughter when he gazed.
Mars in the deed the blacksmith's net did stable,
In heaven was never more notorious fable.
Myself was dull and faint, to sloth inclin'd
Pleasure, and ease had mollified my mind.
A fair maid's care expell'd this sluggishness,
And to her tents will'd me myself address.
Since may'st thou see me watch and night-wars move:
He that will not grow slothful let him love.


Ad puellam, ne pro amore præmia poscat. SUCH as the cause was of two husbands' war, Whom Trojan ships fetch'd from Eurota far. Such as was Leda, whom the god deluded In snow-white plumes of a false swan included. Such as Amimone through the dry fields strayed, When on her head a water pitcher layed. Such wert thou, and I fear'd the bull and eagle, And whate'er Love made Jove should thee inveigle. Now all fear with my mind's hot love abates: No more this beauty mine eyes captivates.

Ask'st why I change? because thou crav'st reward; This cause hath thee from pleasing me debar'd. While thou wert plain I lov'd thy mind and face: Now inward faults thy outward form disgrace.

Love is a naked boy, his years sans stain,
And hath no cloths, but open doth remain.
Will you for gain have Cupid sell himself?
He hath no bosom, where to hide base pelf.
Love and Love's son are with fierce arms at odds;

To serve for pay beseems not wanton gods.
The whore stands to be bought for each man's money,
And seeks vilé wealth by selling of her cunny.
Yet greedy bawds command she curseth still,
And doth constrain, what you do of good will.
Take from irrational beasts a president,

"Tis shame their wits should be more excellent.
The mare asks not the horse, the cow the bull,
Nor the mild ewe gifts from the ram doth pull.
Only a woman gets spoil from a man,
Farms out herself on nights for what she can.
And lets what both delight, what both desire,
Making her joy according to her hire.
The sport being such, as both alike sweet try it,
Why should one sell it and the other buy it?
Why should I loose, and thou gain by the pleasure,
Which man and woman reap in equal measure?
Knights of the post of perjuries make sale
The unjust judge for bribes becomes a stale.
'Tis shame sold tongues the guilty should defend
Or great wealth from a judgment seat ascend.
'Tis shame to grow rich by bed merchandize,
Or prostitute thy beauty for bad prize.
Thanks worthily are due for things unbought,
For beds ill-hir'd we are indebted nought.

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