The Young Mans Vindication
Against the Virgins Complaint,
She rail'd against Young Men in a Passion great,
But he more mildly seems with her to treat,
Young men are not so false as she would make them
Some Maids are full as bad, how e're you take them.
To the Tune of: The Virgins Complaint: or Cupids Courtesie.
|
SWeet Virgin, hath disdain
|
mov'd you to passion,
|
Ner'e to love man again
|
but for the fashion:
|
Was your abuse so great
|
beyond all measure,
|
That you can quite forget,
|
to think of pleasure.
|
Though one false-hearted man
|
not to be named.
|
Made you look pale and wan,
|
must all be blamed:
|
As if scarce one were good
|
in a whole City,
|
Your peevish angry mood
|
I can but pitty,
|
Men are not half so bad
|
as you would make them,
|
More Maidens may be had
|
if you forsake them;
|
Therefore I tell you plain,
|
be not disdainful;
|
If Cupid shoot again,
|
you'l find it painful.
|
Young-men had need beware,
|
least they be taken,
|
And drawn into a snare,
|
and so forsaken:
|
Many maids prove untrue,
|
take it for certain.
|
Twill be too late to rue
|
of a bad bargain.
|
MAidens false-hearted are,
|
I can report it:
|
Their craft they will not spare,
|
when they are courted:
|
They'l bend unto your bow,
|
their wits are nimble,
|
It's very hard to know
|
when they dissemble.
|
They'l powder, prank, and paint,
|
with each new fangle:
|
Sometimes sit like a Saint,
|
for to intangle,
|
Their pretty wanton eyes
|
are so alluring,
|
Life and death in them lies,
|
killing and curing.
|
Their beauty's like a charm,
|
lovers intrancing;
|
No man receives more harm,
|
then by their glancing,
|
Like Syrens they will sing,
|
their voices ravish;
|
They make the Ecchoes ring,
|
their tongues are lavish.
|
By such alluring baits,
|
young men are taken
|
And then it is their Fates
|
to be forsaken;
|
For these inticing girls,
|
are so unconstant,
|
They're won and lost again
|
all in an instant,
|
[I] have experience had,
|
of their false dealing,
|
Some of them are so bad
|
they're not worth stealing;
|
If one in half a score
|
prove to be vertuous,
|
She shall have Suitors store,
|
her love is precious.
|
Now tell me which are best
|
young Men or Maidens,
|
I think 'tis here confest
|
both have their failings:
|
Therefore be rul'd by me,
|
scorn not a young-man
|
There's as much truth in him
|
as in a woman.
|
Virgins take my advice,
|
be not disdainful.
|
Neither be coy and nice,
|
squemish nor scornful.
|
'Tis but a pettish strain,
|
for to love no man:
|
If e're you love again,
|
pray love a young man.
|
I am resolved now,
|
thou some miscarry,
|
I'le have a Virgin too,
|
with her I'le marry.
|
From love I'le not refrain,
|
though it be commen:
|
But when I love again,
|
I'le love a Woman.
|
|
|
|
|
|