FROM A TRUE WIFE TO ONE OVER BOLDE.
Be not amazed that scornfulle I reprove
The boldenesse did my modestie misprize,
Nor thinke it strange that gentle seemirge lippea
Should arm their softnesse with a sterne disguise.
Roses may harbour bees, and serpents wilde
Under sweet summer's flowerie zone abide,
And shame-faced Love wears, hooded at her will,
On her fayre wriste the brighte-eyed merlin, pride.
The boldenesse did my modestie misprize,
Nor thinke it strange that gentle seemirge lippea
Should arm their softnesse with a sterne disguise.
Roses may harbour bees, and serpents wilde
Under sweet summer's flowerie zone abide,
And shame-faced Love wears, hooded at her will,
On her fayre wriste the brighte-eyed merlin, pride.
As reedes bende lowe before a cominge storme,
Well mote your boldnesse shrinke before my frowne;
Well my disdaynful glance mote quelle your owne,
As hawkes do strike the coward quarrie downe.
Yet holde me not of temper cold and strange,
That so I keepe my matron armour brighte;
If my deare Lorde had claymed his lawfulle due,
How readie were these lippes to yielde his righto!
Well mote your boldnesse shrinke before my frowne;
Well my disdaynful glance mote quelle your owne,
As hawkes do strike the coward quarrie downe.
Yet holde me not of temper cold and strange,
That so I keepe my matron armour brighte;
If my deare Lorde had claymed his lawfulle due,
How readie were these lippes to yielde his righto!