IDENTILIN$$ X017F20|ElAnag|W.a.118|f. 6r-v|E:TEM\mf\5-15-12 017.F20.HE1 On the praise of an ill-favour'd Gentlewoman. 017.F20.001 Marry and love thy Flavia, for she 017.F20.002 Hath all things whereby others beautious be: 017.F20.003 For though her eyes be small, her Mouth is great, 017.F20.004 Though her lips ivory be, her teeth be jet: 017.F20.005 Though they be dark, yet she is light enough, 017.F20.006 And though her harsh hair fail, her skin is rough, 017.F20.007 And what if it be yellow, her hair's red, 017.F20.008 Give her but thine, she has a Maidenhead. 017.F20.009 These things are beauties elements, where those 017.F20.010 Compounded are in one, she needs must please: 017.F20.011 If red & white, and each good quality 017.F20.012 Be in the Wench, ne'er ask where it doth lye: 017.F20.013 In buying things perfumed, we ask if there 017.F20.014 Be Musk & Amber in it, but not where. 017.F20.015 Though all her parts be not in th'usual place, 017.F20.016 she hath the Anagram of a good face. 017.F20.017om 017.F20.018om 017.F20.019 When by the Gam-ut some Musitians make 017.F20.020 A perfect song, Others will undertake 017.F20.021 By the same Gam-ut chang'd, to equall it: 017.F20.022 Things simply good can never be unfit. 017.F20.023om 017.F20.024om 017.F20.025om 017.F20.026om 017.F20.027om 017.F20.028om 017.F20.029om 017.F20.030om 017.F20.031om 017.F20.032om 017.F20.033 For one night's revells, silk & gold We use; 017.F20.034 But in long journeys Cloth and leather chuse. 017.F20.035 Beauty is barren oft, and Husbands say 017.F20.036 There's the best land, where is the foulest Way. 017.F20.037 And what a soveraigne Medicine will she be, 017.F20.038 If thy past sins have taught thee Iealousy. 017.F20.039 Here needs no spies nor Eunuchs: her Commit 017.F20.040 Safe to thy foes, yea to thy Marmoset. 017.F20.041 When Belgia's Cities th'ruin'd Country drown, 017.F20.042 That durty foulness arms & guards the Town. 017.F20.043 so doth her face guard her, and so for Thee, 017.F20.044 Which by occasion absent oft mayest be. 017.F20.045 she whose face like y%5e%6 Clouds turns day to night, 017.F20.046 And mightier then the sea makes Moors seem white. 017.F20.047 Who though seven years she in the street hath laid, 017.F20.048 A Nunnery durst receive and think a Maid. 017.F20.049 And though in Child-bed labour she did lie, [f.6v] 017.F20.050 Midwives would swear twere but a tympany. 017.F20.051 If she accuse her self, I'll credit less 017.F20.052 Than Witches which impossibles confess. 017.F20.053om 017.F20.054om 017.F20.055om 017.F20.056om 017.F20.0SSom 017.F20.0$$ no ind.