|
| Yet know I not, which flower |
| I wish; a six, or four; |
| For should my true-Love less than woman be, |
| She were scarce any thing; and then, should she |
| Be more than woman, she would get above |
| All thought of sex; and think to move |
| My heart to study her and not to love; |
| Both these were Monsters; Since there must reside |
| Falshood in woman, I could more abide, |
| She were by art, than Nature falsify'd. |
|
| Live Primrose then, and thrive |
| With thy true number five; |
| And women, whom this flower doth represent, |
| With this mysterious number be content* |
| Ten is the farthest number, if half ten |
| Belongs unto each woman, then |
| Each woman may take half us men: |
| Or if this will not serve the turn. Since all |
| Numbers are odd, or even, since they fall |
| First into five, women may take us all. |
|
| The Relique. |
|
| When my grave is broke up again |
| Some second guest to entertain, |
| (For graves have learn'd that woman-head |
| To be to more than one a Bed) |
| And he that digs it, spies |
| A bracelet of bright hair about the bone, |
| Will he not let us alone, |
| And think that there a loving couple lies,
|
[CW: Who] |