Her cheeks faire red unto her nose,
Which shined like that wanton light,
Misguideth wanderers in the night.
Yet for all this I do not care,
Though she be foul, her money’s faire.
3.
Her tangled Locks do show to sight,
Like Horses manes, whom haggs affright.
Her Bosome through her vaile of Lawne,
Shews more like Pork, her Neck like Brawn.