1 Vaine men whose follies make a God of Loue,
Whose blindnesse beauty doth immortall deeme,
Prayse not what you desire, but what you proue,
Count those things good that are, no those that seeme.
I cannot call her true that's false to me,
Nor make of women more then women be.
2 How faire an entrance breakes the way to loue ?
How rich of golden hope, and gay delight ?
What hart cannot a modestbeauty moue ?
Who seeing cleare day once will dreame of night ?
Shee seem'd a Saint that brake her faith with mee,
But prou'd a woman as all other be.
3 So bitter is their sweet, that true content,
Vnhappy men in them may neuer finde,
Ah but without them none; both must consent,
Else vncouth are the ioyes of eyther kinde.
Let vs then prayse their good, forget their ill,
Men must be men, and women women still.
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www.harald-lillmeyer.kulturserver.de