An Epigramme called the Winde-fall

Sir Sensuall (a wanton Priest) there was
Who made appointment with a Countrie lasse,
That'gainst the time from market she 'st returne,
He would keepe tutch and doe her a good turne.
The place where these two louely mates should meet
Was a vast forrest vnfrequent'd with feete
of any passenger, saue such as were
Keepers of th'wood, 'mongst which a Forrester,
Vpon occasion chaunc't to come that way,
And heard eue-dropper-like what they did say,
Their place of meeting, with the maides consent
Which he resolv'd as quickly to preuent.
And being vnder shade securely sconst,
Which place he had elected for the nonst,
He staies to see th'returne of this same Lasse,
(which as she wish't) did quickly come to passe
For Maids that know not what tis to consent
To a lost Maiden-head, nor what is meant
by giuing of a greene gowne, sooner will
Assent to ill, because they know no ill,
Then such as haue of actiue pleasures store,
For well were they experienst in't before.
Yea such will neuer deale vnlesse they smell,
Some hope of gaine, or like the trader well.
At last the maide hauing her market made,
(Perhaps far sooner then her Parents bade)
With clothes tuckt vp returnes with speedy pace,
Downe by the Forrest to't appointed place.
Where'th Priest Sir sensuall lay all this while,
That he the Maid might of her gem beguile.
If you had seene what meeting there was then,
Betwixt these two, you would haue you'd no men
Of any ranke or order were so good.
As Church-professors vnto woman-hood.
So humble was the prelate, as to please.
The shamefast maid, he oft fell on his knees.
While mumbling pater nosters on her lips,
Down fell his breeches from his naked hips.
And all this while poore soule she stood stock still,
Not thinking (on my conscience) good or ill.
At last the iolly Priest (when all was showne,
That he could show) wil'd th'maid to lay her down
Vpon a shadie banke, which with all sorts,
Of flowres was checkerd fit for Venus sports.
She (though she were resolu'd no ill could be
By lying downe, yet in her modesty)
Would not vnto his motion so assent,
Yet let him blow her downe she was content.
The short-breath'd Priest (for he was wondrous fat)
And stuff'd withall, makes me no bones of that,
But Aeolus-like puf's vp his cheeks well growne,
And he no sooner blows then she was downe.
The Forrester who all this time had stood,
Vnder a shadie couert of the wood,
Steps in, when'th Priest his shriuing should begin,
Saying all wind-falls they are due to him.
Manie such Priests auncient records doe show,
And present times may show as many now.