Classic Poem

The unrype fruyts of wanton youthes desyre
so diffrent are to use from that they seeme
As when wee doe unto theyr height aspire
then moste wee loathe that wee moste deare did deame
To fynde our selves so blynded in conceyte
in steede of foode to fawne on flattringe Baite.

To hunters sportes theis Jo[i]es comparde may bee
who with delighte, so longe in chase doo runne
As that their game before theyre face doe flye
butt loose theyre sporte when they theyr pray have wonne
Then reason woolde that wee should toyes neglecte
as are but shewes and nothinge in effecte.

Whose smale abode doth yelde no more Content
then lykrishe meats, that doe the palate please
Whose pleasure fades, when as theyr taste is spente
and onely serve to norishe one dysease
Whose coumpte well made, loe griefe is all the gaine
where fadinge Joyes are bought with lasting paine.

Yett well I wote that when theis lynes of myne
shall come before my Mistres carpinge eyes
She will me taunte and say the fox is fyne
that loves noe grapes because they hange to hye
And seme to make that dayntye to be founde
which all men see growe ryfe, uppon the grownde