Epitaphes, epigrams, songs and sonets with a discourse of the friendly affections of Tymetes to Pyndara his ladie. Newly corrected with additions, and set out by George Turbervile Gentleman.

The aunswere of a woman to hir Louer, supposing his complaint to be but fayned.

YOu want no skill to paint or shew your pangues with Pen, It is a worlde to sée the craft that is in subtile men. You séeme to write of woes and wayle for deadly smart, As though there were no griefe, but that which gripes your faythlesse hart. Though we but Women are and weake by lawe of kinde, Yet well we can discerne a Friende, we winke, but are not blinde. Not euery thing that giues a gleame and glittering showe, Is to be counted Gold in déede this prouerb well you knowe: Nor euery man that beares a faire and fawning cheere,

Is to be taken for a Friend or chosen for a Feere: Not euerie teare declares the troubles of the hart, For some doe wéepe that feele no wo some crie that taste no smart. The more you séeme to me in wofull wise to playne, The sooner I perswade my selfe that you doe nought but fayne. The Crocodile by kinde a floud of teares doth shed Yet hath no cause of cruell crie by craft, this Fiend is led. For when the siely soule that ment no hurt at all Approcheth néere, the slipper ground doth giue the beast a fall, Which is no sooner done but straight the monster vyle, For sorrow that did wéepe so sore for ioy beginnes to smyle: Euen so you men are woont by fraude your friends to traine And make in wise you could not sléepe in carefull Couch for paine: When you in déede doe nought but take your nightly nap,

Or hauing slept doe set your snare and tylle your guilefull trap. Your braynes as busie bée in thinking how to snare Vs women, as your pillowes soft and bowlsters pleasant are. As for your dayes delights our selues can witnesse well To sundrie women sundrie tales of sundrie iestes you tell: And all to win their loues: which when you doe attaine Within a while you shew your kindes and giue them vp in plaine. A Fawcon is full hard amongst you men to finde, For all your maners more agrée vnto the Kytish kinde: For gentle is the one and loues his kéepers hande, But thother Busserdlike doth scorne on Fawckners fist to stande. For one good turne the one a thousand will requite, But vse the other nere so well he shewth himselfe a Kite. If Cresyd did amisse the Troian to forsake

Then Dyom edes did not well that did the Ladie take. Was neuer woman false, but man as false as shée And commonly the men doe make that women slipper bée. Wherefore leaue off your plaints and take the shéete of shame To shrowde your cloking harts from colde and fayning browes from blame. Yf she that reades this rime, be wise as I coulde wishe, She will auoyde the bayted hooke that takes the biting fishe. And shoon the lymed twig the flying Foule that tyes Tis good to feare of crie bush where thréed of thraldome lyes.