There never yet was woman made

1There never yet was woman made, Nor shall, but to be curst; And O, that I, fond I, should first, Of any lover, This truth at my own charge to other fools discover! 2You, that have promis'd to yourselves Propriety in love, Know women's hearts like straw do move, And what we call Their sympathy, is but love to jet in general.

3All mankind are alike to them; And, though we iron find That never with a loadstone join'd, 'Tis not the iron's fault, It is because near the loadstone it was never brought.

4If where a gentle bee hath fall'n, And laboured to his power, A new succeeds not to that flower, But passes by, 'Tis to be thought, the gallant elsewhere loads his thigh.

5For still the flowers ready stand: One buzzes round about, One lights, one tastes, gets in, gets out; All all ways use them, Till all their sweets are gone, and all again refuse them.