Ode (Was ever man of Nature's framing)

Was ever man of Nature's framing
So given o'er to roving,
Who have been twenty years a taming
By ways that are not worth the naming,
And now must die of loving?

Hell take me if she been't so winning
That now I love her mainly,
And though in jeast at the beginning,
Yet now I'd wond'rous fain be sinning,
And so have told her plainly.

At which she cries I doe not love her,
And tells me of her Honor;
Then have I no way to disprove her,
And my true passion to discover,
But streight to fall upon her.

Which done, forsooth, she talks of wedding,
But what will that avail her?
For though I am old Dog at Bedding,
I'm yet a man of so much reading,
That there I sure shall fail her.

No, hang me if I ever marry,
Till Womankind grow stancher,
I do delight delights to vary,
And love not in one Hulk to tarry,
But only Trim and Launch her.