Peace, Beldam Eve, surcease thy suit; There 's no temptation in such fruit; No rotten medlars, whilst there be Whole orchards in virginity. Thy stock is too much out of date For tender plants t' inoculate. A match with thee thy bridegroom fears Would be thought interest in his years, Which, when compared to thine, become Odd money to thy grandam sum. 10 Can wedlock know so great a curse As putting husbands out to nurse? How Pond and Rivers would mistake And cry new almanacs for our sake. Time sure hath wheeled about his year, December meeting Janiveer. The Egyptian serpent figures Time, And stripped, returns unto his prime. If my affection thou wouldst win, First cast thy hieroglyphic skin. 20 My modern lips know not, alack! The old religion of thy smack. I count that primitive embrace As out of fashion as thy face. And yet, so long 'tis since thy fall, Thy fornication 's classical. Our sports will differ; thou mayst play Lero, and I Alphonso way. I'm no translator, have no vein To turn a woman young again, 30 Unless you'll grant the tailor's due, To see the fore-bodies be new. I love to wear clothes that are flush, Not prefacing old rags with plush, Like aldermen, or under-shrieves With canvass backs and velvet sleeves: And just such discord there would be Betwixt thy skeleton and me. Go study salve and treacle, ply Your tenant's leg or his sore eye. 40 Thus matrons purchase credit, thank Six pennyworth of mountebank; Or chew thy cud on some delight That thou didst taste in 'eighty-eight; Or be but bed-rid once, and then Thou'lt dream thy youthful sins again. But if thou needs wilt be my spouse, First hearken and attend my vows. _When Aetna's fires shall undergo_ _The penance of the Alps in snow;_ 50 _When Sol at one blast of his horn_ _Posts from the Crab to Capricorn;_ _When th' heavens shuffle all in one_ _The Torrid with the Frozen Zone;_ _When all these contradictions meet_, _Then, Sibyl, thou and I will greet._ For all these similes do hold In my young heat and thy dull cold. Then, if a fever be so good A pimp as to inflame thy blood, 60 Hymen shall twist thee and thy page, The distinct tropics of man's age. Well, Madam Time, be ever bald. I'll not thy periwig be called. I'll never be 'stead of a lover, An aged chronicle's new cover. [_A Young Man, &c._ (_1647_.)] [Line: 8 _1677_, &c. have 'incest', which is rather tempting, but considering the 'odd money' which follows, not, I think, absolutely certain.]