A floorish vpon fancie As gallant a glose vpon so triflinge a text, as euer was written. Compiled by N.B. Gent. To which are annexed, manie pretie pamphlets, for pleasant heads to passe away idle time withal. By the same authour.

¶A Ditty in despight of a very olde man, who was suter to a very young Gen∣tilwoman, written by a young Gentilman, who was then (in deede) suter to the same Lady.

PErhaps you thincke, that all for spight I writ this running verse, Wherein I doe such deepe dispraise of doting fooles rehearse: No no (good faith) I hate no man, but yet to such a snudge, Of force I must, I cannot chuse, but beare a certeine grudge. For as one way I honour age, so such olde doting doltes, That at the age of thrée score yeares wolde faine séeme but young coltes.

Those crusty chaps I can not loue, the Diuell do them shame, God let them neuer haue good looke, of any noble Dame, Much lesse the loue: alas, my harte it rendes for very greefe, To thinke vpon the crabbed crust, that vyle old doting theefe That séekes to robbe thée of all ioyes, and me of my delight, Wo worth that so shall séeke to winne a worthy wight. And séeme to match a miching Carle, with such a pearlesse péece. As neuer yet Appelles ••yne, could paynt the lyke in Greece. Wel, wel, this is the world, (we sée) tis money makes the man, Yet shall not Money make him yong agayne, doe what he can. No nor yet honest sure I iudge, nay more for troth I know, The older still, the more in craft••, his braynes he doth bestow. And crafte and Knauery commonly with crooked crabbed age, With Auaryce and Ielosy, doth make a maryage. These are the fruites of froward age, which thou shalte reape God wot, When thou wilt say, oh had I wist, in fayth then would I not. Well say not yet but thou art warnde, by him y^• likes thee wel, Thou comber not thy comly corps, with such a Coystrel. Whose crusty chaps, whose Aly nose, whose lothsome stinking breath whose tothles gums, whose bristled beard, whose visage al like deth Wold kil an honest wench to view, and so it wil do thée, If so thou hap to match thy selfe, with such a snudge as hée. My counsayle therfore follow wench, cast of the crabbed knaue, And henceforth not one merry word, ne looke yet let him haue. But frown vpon the froward foole, and whē thou séest him glad Knit thou thy brows, hāg down thy head, & then séeme y^• most sad As who should say, the crabbed lookes of his old doting age, Of force you know must néedes offend, a youthfull parsonage. Let therfore crums as fyttest is, with crustes then linked bee, For trust to this, that like to like, will euer best agree.