Good counsel to a young Maid. SONG.

GAze not on thy beauties pride,
Tender Maid, in the false tide,
That from Lovers eyes doth slide.

Let thy faithfull Crystall show,
How thy colours come, and goe,
Beautie takes a soyle from woe.

Love, that in those smooth streames lyes,
Vnder pitties faire disguise,
Will thy melting heart surprize.

Netts, of passion finest thred,
Snaring Poems, will be spred,
All, to catch thy maiden-head.

Then beware, for those that cure
Loves disease, themselves endure
For reward, a Calenture.

Rather let the Lover pine,
Then his pale cheeke, should assign…
A perpetuall blush to thine.