Classic Poem

A PEDLAR I am, that take great care
And mickle pains for to sell small-ware:
I had need do so, when women do buy,
That in small wares trade so unwillingly.

L. W.

A looking-glass, will 't please you, madam, buy?
A rare one 'tis indeed, for in it I
Can shew what all the world besides can't do,
A face like to your own, so fair, so true.

L. E.

For you a girdle, madam; but I doubt me
Nature hath order'd there's no waist about ye:
Pray, therefore, be but pleas'd to search my pack,
There's no ware that I have that you shall lack.

L. E. L. M.

You, ladies, want you pins? if that you do,
I have those will enter, and that stiffly too:
It's time you choose, in troth; you will bemoan
Too late your tarrying, when my pack's once gone.

L. B. L. A.

As for you, ladies, there are those behind
Whose ware perchance may better take your mind:
One cannot please ye all; the pedlar will draw back,
And wish against himself that you may have the knack.