Chapter XII

Virgins, weep not; 'twill come when,
As she, so you'll be ripe for men.
Then grieve her not with saying
She must no more a-maying,
Or by rosebuds divine
Who'll be her valentine.
Nor name those wanton reaks
You've had at barley-breaks,
But now kiss her and thus say,
"Take time, lady, while ye may".