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Batte.
Shepheard these things been all too coy for mee,
vvhose lustie dayes should still be spent in mirth,
These mister artes been better fitting thee, (earth:
vvhose drouping dayes are dravving tovvards the
VVhat thinkest thou? my iolly peacocks trayne,
Shall be acoyd and brooke so foule a stayne?
These been for such as make them votarie,
and take them to the mantle and the ring,
And spenden day and night in dotarie,
hammering their heads, musing on heauenly thing,
And vvhisper still of sorrovv in their bed,
And done despise all loue and lustie head:
Like to the curre, vvith anger vvell neere vvoode,
vvho makes his kennel in the Oxes stall,
And snarleth vvhen he seeth him take his foode,
and yet his chaps can chevv no hay at all.
Borrill, euen so it fareth novv vvith thee,
And vvith these vvisards of thy mysterie.