Of your Trouble, Ben, to ease me, I will tell what Man would please me. I would have him if I could, Noble; or of greater Blood: Titles, I confesse, doe take me; And a woman God did make me, French to boote, at least in fashion, And his Manners of that Nation. Young Il'd have him to, and faire, Yet a man; with crisped haire Cast in thousand snares, and rings For Loves fingers, and his wings: Chestnut colour, or more slack Gold, upon a ground of black. Venus, and Minerva's eyes For he must looke wanton-wise. Eye-brows bent like Cupids bow, Front, an ample field of snow; Even nose, and cheeke (withall) Smooth as is the Billiard Ball: Chin, as woolly as the Peach; And his lip should kissing teach, Till he cherish'd too much beard, And make Love or me afeard. He would have a hand as soft As the Downe, and shew it oft; Skin as smooth as any rush, And so thin to see a blush Rising through it e're it came; All his blood should be a flame Quickly fir'd as in beginners In loves schoole, and yet no sinners. 'Twere to long to speake of all, What we harmonie doe call In a body should be there. Well he should his clothes to weare; Yet no Taylor help to make him; Drest, you still for man should take him; And not thinke h'had eat a stake, Or were set up in a Brake. Valiant he should be as fire, Shewing danger more than ire; Bounteous as the clouds to earth; And as honest as his Birth. All his actions to be such, As to doe nothing too much: Nor o're-praise, nor yet condemne; Nor out-valew, nor contemne; Nor doe wrongs, nor wrongs receave; Nor tie knots, nor knots unweave; And from baseness to be free, As he durst love Truth and me. Such a man, with every part, I could give my very heart; But of one, if short he came, I can rest me where I am. |