Classic Poem

I Came unto a Puritan to wooe,
And roughly did salute her with a Kiss;
She shov'd me from her when I came unto;
Brother, by yea and nay I like not this:
And as I her with amorous talk saluted,
My Articles with Scripture she confuted.

She told me, that I was too much prophane,
And not devout neither in speech nor gesture;
And I could not one word answer again,
Nor had not so much Grace to call her Sister;
For ever something did offend her there,
Either my broad beard, hat, or my long hair.

My Band was broad, my 'Parrel was not plain,
My Points and Girdle made the greatest show;
My sword was odious, and my Belt was vain,
My Spanish shooes was cut too broad at toe;
My Stockings light, my Garters ty'd too long,
My Gloves perfum'd, and had a scent too strong.

I left my pure Mistris for a space,
And to a snip-snap Barber streight went I,
I cut my Hair, and did my Corps uncase
Of 'Parrels pride that did offend the eye;
My high-crown'd Hat, my little Beard also,
My pecked Band, my Shooes were sharp at toe.

Gone was my Sword, my Belt was laid aside,
And I transformed both in looks and speech;
My 'Parrel plain, my Cloak was void of Pride,
My little Skirts, my metamorphis'd Breech,
My Stockings black, my Garters were ty'd shorter,
My Gloves no scent; thus marcht I to her Porter.

The Porter spide me, and did lead me in,
Where his sweet Mistris reading was a Chapter:
Peace to this house, and all that are therein,
Which holy words with admiration wrapt her,
And ever, as I came her something nigh,
She, being divine, turn'd up the white o'th' eye.

Quoth I, dear Sister, and that lik'd her well,
I kist her, and did passe to some delight,
She, blushing, said, that long-tail'd men would tell,
Quoth I, I'll be as silent as the night;
And least the wicked now should have a sight
Of what we do, faith, I'll put out the light.

O do not swear, quoth she, but put it out,
Because that I would have you save your Oath,
In truth, you shall but kisse me, without doubt;
In troth, quoth I, here will we rest us both;
Swear you, quoth she, in troth? had you not sworn
I'd not have don't, but took it in foul scorn.