fe delight,
This Epitaph deserue thou not; I haue,
The cruel father tooke the life he gaue.

And though my lines are blotted euery where,
'Twas with my teares that fell ere it was dry,
And if my letters scribled do appeare,
Whereby you thinke some other wrot to try
Your mind: because my curious hand is mist,
A fearefull minde, doth bring a shaking fist.

And so these scrambled lines I do commend
Vnto your loue, be-blurred all with teares,
With feruent hope they shall no whit offend,
The minde is base, that stil continuall feares.
And note you which is the greater blot,
To get no childe or kill that you haue got.

Thus much this lustfull Lady writ in vaine,
And seald it closely with a precious stone,
A precious stone clos'd vp a filthy staine,
Her trusty seruant forth she cals anone,
And blushing bad him with a merry cheare,
He should this letter to her father beare.

This scarcely said, old _Cynaras_ did come,
And then she cast her letter quite aside.
Daughter (said he) you see the daily throng
Of suters that do seeke thee for their bride:
Here be their names _my wench_, th[=e] come & show
On which of them thou wilt thy selfe bestow.

Now for a space she silent did remaine,
And onely gazed wishly in his face:
She could her teares no longer then restraine,
But they ran trickling down her cheeks apace
Her father kisses her, and bids her peace,
And thought it tender-hearted shamefastnes.

He dry'd her cheekes, and said, my wench be stil,
Thy yeares of right, a husband now doth claime
Thou shalt not liue a maid by my good will,
Nor longer shalt a wanton bed refraine,
Then what, or who wilt haue? come tell me now.
At length she did reply; one like to you.

He did allow the choyce, and praisd the same,
And kist and clipt her for her louing speech,
Not deeming that it tended to their shame,
It pleasd her well, & wisht that he would seech
A further suit; and then made this request,
Let me live still with you, let wooers rest.

Your company I most of all affect,
Continue but your loue, it shall suffice,
These wrangling husbands why should I respect?
Her father thus againe to her replies,
Thy godlinesse (at which she blushed red)
I like, but thou must tast a Bride-groomes bed.

Thou dost not know the pleasure it affords,
Nor wanton motions that therein