Besse, of such shapes, when your turne coms to marry
A carefull mynd, in choyse of husband beare,
For if your browes from former smothnes varry,
Thinke on this speach, _It commeth with a feare:_
Which I am past, perplexe me no feare can.
Being sure I haue a constant honest man.


_Iane_.

Belieue you haue, and t'is enough they say,
But you and I agree not in a mynde,
I read in storyes men will run astray,
Yet make their foolish wiues beleeue th'are kind:
And therefore since they are so cunning knowne
He keepe my selfe a maide and trust to none.

Had I one sutor swore himselfe loue-sicke,
Another for his Mistris sake would die,
A third thorow _Cupids_ power growne lunaticke,
A fourth that languishing past hope did lye:
And so fift, sixt, and seauenth in loues passion,
My Maiden-head for them should ner'e change fashion.

_Aeneas_ told many a cogging tale,
To Dido that renowned worthy Queene,
And _Iason_ with his flatterings did preuaile,
Yet falser knaues in loue were neuer seene:
And at this instant hower, as they were then,