The Primrose

Vpon this Primrose hill,

Where, it Heav'n would distill

A shoure of raine, each severall drop might goe

To his owne primrose, and grow Manna so;

And where their forme, and their infinitie　

Make a terrestriall Galaxie,

As the small starres doe in the skie:

I walke to finde a true Love; and I see

That 'tis not a mere woman, that is shee,

But must, or more, or lesse then woman bee.　

 

 

Yet know I not, which flower

I wish; a sixe, or foure;

For should my true-Love lesse then woman bee,

She were scarce any thing; and then, should shee

Be more then woman, shee would get above　

All thought of sexe, and thinke to move

My heart to study her, and not to love;

Both these were monsters; Since there must reside

Falshood in woman, I could more abide,

She were by art, then Nature falsify'd.　

 

 

Live Primrose then, and thrive

With thy true number five;

And women, whom this flower doth represent,

With this mysterious number be content;

Ten is the farthest number; if halfe ten　

Belonge unto each woman, then

Each woman may take halfe us men;

Or if this will not serve their turne, Since all

Numbers are odde, or even, and they fall

First into this, five, women may take us all.