Classic Poem

A Ditty in despight of a very olde man, who was suter to a very young Gentilwoman: written by a young Gentilman, who was then (in deede) suter to the same Lady.
Perhaps you thinke, that all for spight
I writ this running verse,
Wherein I doo such deepe dispraise
of doting fooles rehearse:
No, no (good faith) I hate no man:
but yet, to such a snudge,
Of force I must, I cannot chuse
but beare a certaine grudge,
For as one way I honour age
so such olde doting doltes,
That, at the age of three score yeares,
would faine seeme but young coltes:
Those crusty chaps I cannot loue
the Diuell doo them shame:
God let them neuer haue good lucke
of any noble Dame
Much lesse th[e] loue: alas my heart
it rendes for very greefe,
To thinke vpon the crabbed crust
that vile old doting theefe,
That seekes to robbe thee of all ioyes
and me of my delight:
Wo woorth that so shall seeke
to winne a worthy wight:
And seeme to match a miching Carle
with such a pearlesse peece
As neuer yet, Appelles fine,
could paint the like in Greece.
Well, well, this is the world (we see)
tis money makes the man,
Yet shall not money make him yong
againe, doo what he can:
No, nor yet honest sure, I iudge
nay more, for troth I know,
The older still, the more in crafte
his braines he dooth bestow.
And crafte and Knauery commonly,
with crooked crabbed age
With Auaryce and Jelosy
dooth make a mariage.
These are the fruites of froward age
which thou shalt reape, God wot:
When thou wilt say, oh, had I wist
in faith then would I not
Well, say not yet but thou art warnde
by him that likes thee well,
Thou comber not thy comly corps
with such a Coystrel:
Whose crusty chaps, whose Aly nose
whose lothsom stinking breath,
Whose toothles gumms, whose bristled beard
whose visage, all like death,
Would kill an honest wench to view:
and so it will doo thee,
If so thou hap to match thy selfe
with such a snudge as he.
My counsaile therefore follow wench
cast of the crabbed knaue:
And henceforth, not one merry word
ne looke yet let him haue:
But frowne vpon the froward foole
and when thou seest him glad,
Knit thou thy browes, hang down thy head.
& then seeme y u most sad.
As who would say, the crabbed lookes
of his old doting age
Of force you know must needes offend,
a youthfull personage:
Let therfore crummes, as fyttest is,
with crustes then linked be:
For trust to this, that like to like
will euer best agree.