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What though her frowning browses be bent
Her cloudy lookes will calme yer night,
And then too late the will repent,
That thus deflembled her delight.
And twice desire yer it be day,
That which with icorne the put away.
What though the firtue to try her strength,
And ban and braule, and say the nay:
Her feeble force will yeeld at length,
When craft hath taught her thus to say:
Had women beene so strong as men
In faith you had not had it then.
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