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A Handful of Pleasant Delights/The Louer compareth some subtile Suters to the Hunter

The Louer compareth some subtile Suters to the Hunter. To the tune of the Painter.

WHen as the Hunter goeth out,
with hounds in brace.
The Hart to hunt, and set about,
with wilie trace,
He doth it more to see and view,
Her wilinesse (I tell you true.)
Her trips and skips, now here, now there,
With squats and flats, which hath no pere.

More than to win or get the game
to beare away:
He is not greedie of the same,
(thus Hunters saie:
So some men hunt by hote desire,
To Venus Dames, and do require
With fauor to haue her, or els they wil die,
they loue her, and prooue her, and wot ye why?

Forsooth to see her subtilnesse, and wily way.
When they (God knows) mean nothing lesse
than they do say:
For when they see they may her win,
They leaue then where they did begin.
they prate and make the matter nice,
And leaue her in fooles paradice.

Wherefore of such (good Ladie now)
wisely beware,
Least flinging fancies in their brow,
do breed you care:
And at the first giue them the checke,
Least they at last giue you the geck,
And scornfully disdaine ye then,
In faith there are such kind of men.

But I am none of those indeed,
beleeue me now:
I am your man if you me need,
I make a vow:
To serue you without doublenesse:
With feruent heart my owne mistresse,
Demaund me, commaund me,
what please ye, and whan,
I wil be stil readie, as I am true man.