Classic Poem

What is love once disgrac'd,
But a wanton thought ill plac'd?
Which doth blemish whom it paineth,
And dishonors whom it deigneth,
Seen in higher powers most,
Though some fools do fondly boast
That whoso is high of kin
Sanctifies his lover's sin.
Jove could not hide Io's scape,
Nor conceal Calisto's rape.
Both did fault, and both were fam'd,
Light of loves, whom lust had sham'd.
Let not women trust to men:
They can flatter now and then,
And tell them many wanton tales,
Which do breed their after-bales.
Sin in kings is sin, we see,
And greater sin, 'cause great of 'gree.
Majus peccatum, this I read,
If he be high that doth the deed.
Mars, for all his deity,
Could not Venus dignify,
But Vulcan trapp'd her, and her blame
Was punish'd with an open shame.
All the gods laugh'd them to scorn
For dubbing Vulcan with the horn.
Whereon may a woman boast,
If her chastity be lost?
Shame await'h upon her face,
Blushing cheeks and foul disgrace.
Report will blab; this is she
That with her lust wins infamy.
If lusting love be so disgrac'd,
Die before you live unchaste;
For better die with honest fame,
Than lead a wanton life with shame.