Who plantes an orchard vvith vnfruitfull trees,
None but a madman so vvill vvast his ground,
Or vvho sowes corne vvhere onely sand he sees,
Assured that there vvill no increase be found:
And in a vvord all that the vvorld containes,
Haue excellence in their begetting gaines.
For my part therefore I resolue me thus,
Vnto the purpose I was borne, ile liue,
All maydes are fooles that vvill not ioyne vvith vs,
And vnto men their right of marriage giue:
Most vvorthy Bride, here is my hand and vow,
I loue a man in heart, as vvell as thou.
_Francis_.
_Prudence_, I am of your opinion iust,
A vvif's farre better than a matchlesse maide,
Ile stay no longer virgin then needes must,
The law of Nature ought to be obayde:
Either vve must haue inward loue to men,
Or else beare hate, and so be brutish then.
Doth not the vvorld instruct vs this by others,
That vvedlocke is a remedy for sinne,
Shall vve be vviser then our reuerent mothers,
That married, or we all had bastards bin:
And ere our mothers lost their maiden Iemme,
Did not our grandhams euen as much for them.
From whence haue you the gift to liue vnwed,
Pray of what stuffe are your straight bodies made,
By what chast spirit was your nicenesse bred,
That seeme of flesh to be so purely stayde:
Are not all here made females for like ends,
Fye, fye for shame, disemble not with friends.
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