Classic Poem

R OSCAROCKE , sith my raging prime is past,
And riper age with reasons learned lore,
Well staled hath my wits that went so fast,
And coold the heat that hent my brest of yore:
I cannot choose but write some solemn stuffe
For thee to read, when thou art in thy ruffe

I see thee muse what should the matter be,
Whereof I meane to treate, thou bitest thy lip,
And bendst thy browe as though I were not he
That had a tricke my Cornish friend to trip:
Well, to be short, it toucheth mariage vow,
An order which my selfe haue entred now

A sacred yoke, a state of mickle praise,
A blessed band, belikt of God and man,
And such a life, as if in former dayes
I had but knowen, as now commend I can,
Good faith, I would not wasted so my prime
In wanton wise, and spent an idle time

An idle time, as sundry gallants vse,
I meane my London mates, that treade the streete,
And golden wits with fond conceits abuse,
And base deuises farre for such vnmeet.
Leauing the law, and casting bookes aside,
Wherby in time you mought your countries guide

Your daily practise is to beat the bush,
Where beauties birds do lodge themselues to lie:
You shoote at shapes and faces deare a rush,
And bende your bowes, your feeble strengths to trie
Of closure you somtimes do common make,
And where you list, abroad your pleasures take

You count it but a game to graffe the horne
That inward growes, and seldom showes without:
The silly man you skoffe and laugh to skorne,
And for his patience deeme him but a lout
By day you gaze vpon your Ladies lookes,
By night you gad to hang your baited hookes.

Thus do you lauish frolike youth away
With idle words not woorth a parched pease,
And like to wanton colts that run astray,
You leape the pale, and into euery lease.
Where fitter far it were to marry wiues,
And well disposd to lead more sober liues

Reuolt in time, least tyme repentance bring,
Let each enjoy his lawfull wedded mate,
Or else be sure, your selues in time shall sing
The selfesame note, and rue your harmes too late
For commonly the wrong that we entend,
Lights on our heads and shoulders in the end

Perhaps thou wouldst as willing wedded be,
As I my selfe and many other moe:
But that thou canst no persit beautie see,
For which thou wilt thy single life forgoe.
Both yoong and faire, with wealth and goods thou seekst,
Such one she is, whom thou Rescarocke leekst.

Be rulde by me, let giddy fansie go,
Imbrace a wife, with wealth and coyne enough:
Force not the face, regard not feature so,
An aged grandame that maintains the plough,
And brings thee bags, is woorth a thousand peates
That pranck their pates, and liue by Spanish meates

That one contents hir self with now and than,
Right glad if she might sit at Uenus messe
Once in the moneth, the youthfull Damsell can
Not so be pleasd, hir rage must haue redresse
As oft as pleasure pricks hir lims to lust,
Els all the matter lies amid the dust.

Wherfore I iudge the best and wisest way
Were wife to wed, and leaue to range at will:
In maried life there is assured stay,
Where otherwise to follow euery Gill
Breeds wracke of wealth, of credit, ease, and blisse,
And makes men run their races quite amisse

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