Vpon a charriot of five wheeles he rydes,
The which an arme strong driuer stedfast guides, 276
And often alters pace as wayes growe deepe,
(For who, in pathes unknowne, one gate can keepe?)
Sometimes he smoothlie slideth doune the hill;
Another while, the stones his feete doe kill; 280
In clammie waies he treaddeth by and by,
And plasheth and sprayeth all that be him nye.
So fares this iollie rider in his race,
Plunging and sousing forward in lyke case, 284
He dasht, and spurted, and he plodded foule,
God giue thee shame, thou blinde mischapen owle!
Fy-fy, for grief: a ladies chamberlaine,
And canst not thou thy tatling tongue refraine? 288
I reade thee beardles blab, beware of stripes,
And be aduised what thou vainelie pipes;
Thou wilt be whipt with nettles for this geare
If Cicelie shewe but of thy knauerie heere. 292
Saint Denis shield me from such female sprites!
Regarde not, Dames, what Cupids Poete writes:
I pennd this storie onelie for my selfe,
Who, giuing suck unto a childish Elfe, 296
And quitte discourag'd in my nurserie,
Since all my store seemes to hir penurie.
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