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SONG. Good counsell to a young Maid:
GAze not on thy beauties pride,
Tender Maid; in the false side
That from Lovers eyes doth slide.
Let thy faithfull Chrystall show,
How thy colours come, and goe,
Beautie takes a foyle from woe.
Love, that in those smooth streames lyes;
Vnder pities faire disguise,
Will thy melting heart suprize.
Nets, of passions sinest thred,
Snaring Poems, will be spred,
All, to catch thy maiden-head.
Then beware, for those that cure
Loves disease, themselves endure
For reward a Calenture.
Rather let the Lover pine,
Than his pale cheek should assigne
A perpetuall blush to thine.