Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE ADMONITION BY THE AUCTOR TO ALL YONG GENTILWOMEN, by ISABELLA WHITNEY


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE ADMONITION BY THE AUCTOR TO ALL YONG GENTILWOMEN, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Ye virgins that from cupid's tents
Last Line: I live this hundred yeares.
Subject(s): Language; Love - Nature Of; Words; Vocabulary


Ye Virgins that from Cupids tentes
do beare away the soyle
Whose hartes as yet with raginge love
most paynfully do boyle.

To you I speake: for you be they,
that good advice do lacke:
Oh if I could good counsell geve
my tongue should not be slacke?

But such as I can geve, I wyll.
here in few wordes expresse:
Which if you do observe, it will
some of your care redresse.

Beware of fayre and painted talke,
beware of flattering tonges:
The Mermaides do pretend no good
for all their pleasant Songs.

Some use the teares of Crocodiles,
contrary to their hart:
And yf they cannot alwayes weepe,
they wet their Cheekes by Art.

Ovid, within his Arte of Love,
doth teach them this same knacke
To wet their hand and touch their eies:
so oft as teares they lacke.

Why have ye such deceit in store?
have you such crafty wile?
Lesse craft then this god knows wold soone
us simple soules begile.

And wyll ye not leave of? but still
delude us in this wise?
Sith it is so, we trust we shall,
take hede to fained lies.

Trust not a man at the fyrst sight,
but trye him well before:
I wish al Maids within their brests
to kepe this thing in store.

For triall shal declare his trueth,
and show what he doth think:
Whether he be a Lover true,
or do intend to shrink.

If SCILLA had not trust to much
before that she dyd trye:
She could not have ben clene forsake
when she for help did crye.

Or yf she had had good advice
Nisus had lived long:
How durst she trust a strainger, and
do her deare father wrong.

King Nisus had a Haire by fate
which Haire while he dyd kepe:
He never should be overcome
neither on Land nor depe.

The straunger that the Daughter lov'd
did warre against the King
And alwaies sought how that he might
them in subjection bring.

This Scylla stole away the Haire,
for to obtaine her wyll:
And gave it to the Straunger that,
dyd straight her father kyll.

Then she, who thought herself most sure
to have her whole desyre:
Was cleane reject, and left behind
when he dyd home retyre.

Or if such falshood had ben once,
unto Oenone knowne:
About the fieldes of Ida wood,
Paris had walkt alone.

Or if Demophoons deceite,
to Phillis had ben tolde:
She had not ben transformed so,
as Poets tell of olde.

Hero did trie Leanders truth,
before that she did trust:
Therfore she found him unto her
both constant, true, and just.

For he alwayes did swim the Sea,
when starres in Skie did glide:
Till he was drowned by the way
nere hand unto the side.

She scrat[ched] her face, she tare her Heir
(it greveth me to tell)
When she did know the end of him,
that she did love so well.

But like Leander there be fewe,
therfore in time take heede:
And alwayes trie before ye trust,
so shall you better speede.

The little Fish that carelesse is,
within the water cleare:
How glad is he, when he doth see,
a Bayt for to appeare.

He thinks his hap right good to bee,
that he the same could spie:
And so the simple foole doth trust
to much before he trie.

O little Fish what hap hadst thou?
to have such spitefull Fate:
To come into ones cruell hands,
out of so happy state?

Thou diddst suspect no harme, when thou
upon the bait didst looke:
O that thou hadst had Linceus eies
for to have seene the hooke.

Then hadst thou with thy prety mates
bin playing in the streames
Wheras Syr Phebus dayly doth
shew forth his golden beames.

But sith thy Fortune is so yll
to end thy lyfe on shore:
Of this thy most unhappy end,
I minde to speake no more.

But of thy Felowes chance that late
such prety shift did make:
That he from Fishers hooke did sprint
before he could him take.

And now he pries on every baite,
suspecting styll that pricke:
(For to lye hid in every thing)
wherewith the Fishers stricke.

And since the Fish that reason lacks
once warned doth beware:
Why should not we take hede to that
that turneth us to care.

And I who was deceived late,
by ones unfaithfull teares:
Trust now for to beware, if that
I live this hundred yeares.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net