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A Song in praise of Women

To a pleasant new Tune, called, My Valentine.
AMong all other things
that God hath made beneath the skie,
Most gloriously to satisfie the curious eye
of Mortall man withall:
The sight of Eue,
Did soonest fit his fancy:
Whose curtesie and amitie, most speedily,
had caught his heart in thrall:
Whom he did loue so deare,
as plainely did appeare:
He made her Queene of all the world
and Mistresse of his heart:
Though afterwards she wrought his woe,
his death and deadly smart,
What need I speake
Of matters passed long agoe:
Which all men know I need not show, to hie ar low
the case it is so plaine,
Although that Eue committed then so great offence,
Ere she went hence,
A recompence in our defence,
she made mankind againe:
For by her blessed seed
we are redeemd indeede:
Why should not then all mortall men,
esteeme of women well:
And loue their wiues euen as their liues,
as nature doth compell.
A vertuous wife.
The Scripture doth commend and say:
That night and day, shee is a stay from all decay,
to keep her houshold still.
She vseth not
To giue her self to wandering,
Or flattering, or pratling, or any thing
to do her neighbour ill:
But all her mind is bent,
his pleasures to content.
Her faithfull loue doth not remoue,
for any storme or griefe,
Then is not he well blest thinke ye,
that meets with such a wife:
But now me thinkes,
I heare some men do say to me,
Few such there be in each degree and qualitie,
at this day to be found:
And now adayes,
Some wiues do set their whole delight,
Both day and night, with all despight to brawle and fight,
their rage doth so abound.
But sure I think and say,
here comes none such to day.
Nor do I know of any she,
that is within this place,
And yet for feare I dare not sweare,
it is so hard a case.
But to conclude,
For maides, and wiues and virgins all,
Both great and small, in bowre or hall, to pray I shall
so long as life doth last.
That they may liue,
With hearts content and perfect peace,
That ioyes increase may neuer cease, till death release
the care that crept so fast:
For duty doth me binde,
To haue them all in mind:
Euen for her sake, that doth vs make
so merry to be seene:
The glory of the femall kind,
I meane our Noble Queene.
FINIS.

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A Song in praise of Women - THOMAS DELONEY