>>22410868>>22410081Also here's a bonus poem for what happens to the other guys
Whylst time will serue wyth brideling bits,
and rule your wilful minde:
And in the priuy hidden snares,
let not your eyes be blinde.
Least she like as the spyder doth,
begyle the siely flye:
whilte as in tender webbe she lurkes,
and in her bowre doth lye.
But when that she doth perreyne,
the gyltlesse soule in trapt:
Then out wyth cruell course she comes,
the corps in cordes so clapt.
The dusty twyst with nimble legges, through,
about it fast she windes:
wyth deadelye styngs she thrustes hym
and suckes the bloud she findes.
O mad to mad, which when he may,
to gods compared be:
By reason rulde, yet brut••h trayne,
to haunt delighteth he.
In vsing eft of lecherous actes,
and pampering Uenus frende:
His gredy paunch and beastlinesse,
he followeth to his ende.
