wooooooooooooooomen

if women could be fa ire & never fond,
or that their beau tie might continue still:
I would not mervaile though they made men bond,
by service long, to purchase their good will.
But when I see, how frail these creatures are:
I laugh, that men forget themselves so far.

To Mark what choice they make, and how they change,
how leaving best the worst they chose out still:
And how like haggard Wilde, about they range,
Scorning after reason to follow will.
Who would not shake such buzzards from the fist,
& let them file (fa ire fool es) which way they list.

Yet for our sport, wee Fawne and flatter both,
To passe the time, when nothing else can please:
And trainee them on to yield by sub till oath,
The sweet content, that gives such humour ease.
And then wee say, when wee their follies tire,
To play with fool es, Oh what a Foley was I.