Thou joyest, fond boy, to be by many loved

Thou joyest, fond boy, to be by many loved,
To have thy beauty of most dames approved;
For this dost thou thy native worth disguise
And playest the sycophant t' observe their eyes;
Thy glass thou counsellest more to adorn thy skin,
That first should school thee to be fair within.

'Tis childish to be caught with pearl or amber,
And woman-like too much to cloy the chamber;
Youths should the fields affect, heat their rough steeds,
Their hardened nerves to fit for better deeds.
Is't not more joy strongholds to force with swords
Than women's weakness take with looks or words?

Men that do noble things all purchase glory:
One man for one brave act hath proved a story:
But if that one ten thousand dames o'ercame,
Who would record it, if not to his shame?
'Tis far more conquest with one to live true
Than every hour to triumph lord of new.