RIOT

I could say much, but I will hold my peace, Foul is that bird that his own nest defiles. If Riot should not speak, that Ven knows so well, (With whom since Cupid bore a name, did wanto ̄ Ven dwell) Much pity were it sure, that Riot life should bear, For I am father of delight and pleasure every where. Without the help of whom, Dame Ven can not live, For unto Lust and Riot both, does Venus honour give. And Lust is Riots joy, a spright that pleads for place In every soil, since world began to boast of Adam's raze. And now to tell you plain, from me, or from my stock, (And endless swarm of idle of folk, a merry careless flock) As prating Poets fain, at first did Ven S spring, But Venus was no strumpet sure; she was some finer thing That always furthers Love, in French a plain, A be ter of good barg ynes oft, and root of fancies vain. Though Goddess were she not, yet fair and fine was she, As I have herd good Clerks report, and you in Books shall Of his great Stories made, and great account this day We make of Venus darlings still, wherefore in brief to say, Both I and thousands more, with needs must hold. It she, to whom King Pri S Son did give the apple of gold That cost so many but r de the siege of Tr y, And you shall see what pretty pranks the mother and this boy Hath played in many parts, my knowledge is but small, I tell by heeresay many things, but am not learned at all Good Wanto ness thou knowest, but p sse over that awhile I could tell tales of Ven yet, would make the hearers smile. By sweet Saint John we are in goodly weed , To dance with bells a Morric through h the Streets. If any here, three idle people needs S, Call us in time, for we are finefor sheets: Yea, for a shift, to steal them from the hedge, And lay both sheets, and linen all to gage. We are best be gone, least some do hear allege We are but Roages, and clap us in the Cage. Come Cupid come, if thou wilt hear a song, Dame Chaste ti hath sent his Coach along, To comfort those, that daily lives in woe.