Poems (May)/From a true wife to one over bolde
FROM A TRUE WIFE TO ONE OVER BOLDE.
Be not amazed that scornfulle I reprove The boldenesse did my modestie misprize, Nor thinke it strange that gentle seemirge lippea Should arm their softnesse with a sterne disguise. Roses may harbour bees, and serpents wilde Under sweet summer's flowerie zone abide,And shame-faced Love wears, hooded at her will, On her fayre wriste the brighte-eyed merlin, pride.
As reedes bende lowe before a cominge storme, Well mote your boldnesse shrinke before my frowne; Well my disdaynful glance mote quelle your owne, As hawkes do strike the coward quarrie downe. Yet holde me not of temper cold and strange, That so I keepe my matron armour brighte; If my deare Lorde had claymed his lawfulle due, How readie were these lippes to yielde his righto!