In Praise of a Deformed Woman
1.
I love thee for thy curled haire,
As red as any Fox,
Our forefathers did still commend
The lovely golden locks.
Venus her self might comelier be,
Yet hath no such variety.
2.
I love thee for thy squinting eyes,
It breeds no jealousie,
For when thou do’st on others look,
Methinks thou look’st on me,
Venus her self, &c.
3.
I love thee for thy copper nose,
Thy fortune’s ne’re the worse,
It shews the mettal in thy face
Thou should’st have in thy purse,
Venus her self, &c.
4.
I love thee for thy Chessenut skin,
Thy inside’s white to me,
That colour should be most approv’d,
That will least changed be.
Venus her self, &c.
5.
I love thee for thy splay mouth,
For on that amarous close
There’s room on either side to kisse,
And ne’re offend the nose.
Venus her self, &c.
6.
I love thee for thy rotten gummes,
In good time it may hap,
When other wives are costly fed,
Ile keep thy chaps on pap.
Venus her self, &c.
7.
I love thee for thy blobber lips,
Tis good thrift I suppose,
They’re dripping-pans unto thy eyes,
And save-alls to thy nose.
Venus her self, &c.
8.
I love thee for thy huncht back,
’Tis bow’d although not broken,
For I believe the Gods did send
Me to Thee for a Token.
Venus her self, &c.
9.
I love thee for thy pudding wast,
If a Taylor thou do’st lack,
Thou need’st not send to France for one,
Ile fit thee with a sack.
Venus her self, &c.
10.
I love thee for thy lusty thighes
For tressels thou maist boast,
Sweet-heart thou hast a water-mill,
And these are the mill-posts.
Venus her self, &c.
[11.] 10.
I love thee for thy splay feet,
They’re fooles that thee deride,
Women are alwaies most esteem’d,
When their feet are most wide.
Venus her self may comelier be, &c.