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Love a woman? You’re an ass.
’Tis a most insipid passion
To choose out for your happiness
The idlest part of God’s creation.
Let the porter and the groom, [5]
Things designed for dirty slaves,
Drudge in fair Aurelia’s womb
To get supplies for age and graves.
Farewell, woman! I intend
Henceforth every night to sit [10]
With my lewd, well-natured friend,
Drinking to engender wit.
Then give me health, wealth, mirth, and wine,
And if busy Love intrenches,
There’s a sweet, soft page of mine [15]
Does the trick worth forty wenches.
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