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.
Online text copyright ©, Harald Lillmeyer