A peerelesse paragon, or, few so chast, so beautious or so faire for with my love I think none can compare. To the tune of the mother beguild the daughter. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A08909 of text S102329 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 19186). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 5 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A08909 STC 19186 ESTC S102329 99838117 99838117 2476 2240873219

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A08909) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 2476) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1076:05) A peerelesse paragon, or, few so chast, so beautious or so faire for with my love I think none can compare. To the tune of the mother beguild the daughter. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. for Thomas Lambert, Printed at London : [1633] Publication date from STC. In two parts; woodcut illustrations at head of each part. Reproductions of the original in the British Library. eng Ballads, English -- Early works to 1800. eebo A peerelesse paragon, or, few so chast, so beautious or so faire, for with my love I think none can compare. To the tune of the mother beguild the dau [no entry] 1633 2 764 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2007-08 Assigned for keying and markup 2007-08 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-09 Sampled and proofread 2007-09 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
A peerelesse Paragon , OR ▪ Few so chast , so beautious or so faire , for with my love I think none can compare . To the tune of the mother beguild the daughter .

IN times of yore , sure men did doate , and beauty neuer knew : Else women were not of that note , as daily come to view . For read of all the faces then that did most brightly shine , Be iudg'd by all true iudging men , they were not like to mine . King Pryam loued Hecuba , and thought her wondrous faire , But had he séene mine , I dare say there had béene no compare . Stout Hector held Andromicha a stately beautious Quéene , But she s , no Troylus Cressida , yet faire as ere was séene . Nay all the faces Iupiter did like and phansie most , Are to her substance shadowes méere of whom I make my boast : Surely you wonder what she is , whose beauty I proclaime , I le tell you truely , and not misse though she be without name .

My loue shée is the Non-pareil of all that ere was séene , And had not Venus come i' th way shée had béen beauties Quéene : Her comely feature , louely lookes , I will describe at large , God Cupid puts her in his bookes , and of this Iem takes charge . The Grecian Helen was a Moore , compar'd with my deare Saint , The faire fac'd Hyren's beauty poore , and yet shée does not paynt , Andromeda whom Perseus lou'd , was blacker then the night , Her lineaments so well approu'd in praise of them i le write . Quéene Vesta for her chastitie with her may not compare , Nor Lucrece for her honestie , shée 's like the Phenix rare : A Sommers day , I could commend her parts were 't nere so long , But yet her parts so farre extend , I feare to doe her wrong .
The second part , To the same tune .

BUt yet my tongue cannot refraine to set her praises forth ; Then list , and i le describe her plaine and show you her true worth : Her haire not like the golden wire but black as any Crow ; Her beetle browes , all men admire , her forehead wondrous low . Her squinting , staring , goggle eyes poore children doe affright , Her nose is of the Sarazens size , oh shée 's a matchlesse wight . Her eares so hound like , that they fall vpon her shoulder bone , I know not truly how to call her , shée 's such a worthy one . Her ouen mouth , wide open stands , her téeth like rotten pease ; Her blabber lips my heart commands , her neck all bit with fleas : Her tawnie duggs like two great hills , hang Sow-like to her wast , Her bodie 's round as a wind mill , and yet I hold her chast . Her belly tun-like to behold , no more shall be exprest , But if the truth were plainely told , I 'm sure they are the best : Her brawnie blind chéeks plump and round as any Horse of war ,
Her speckled thighs they are not sound her knées like hoggs heads are . Her leggs are like the Elephants , the calfe and small all one , Her ancles they together méet , and still knock bone to bone ; Her pretty foot not 'boue th' eightéenes so splaid as neuer was , An excellent vsher for a man that walks the dewy grasse . Her shoulders are so Camel-like , shée'd make an excellent Porter , I vow I neuer knew her like . if any man consort her . No shoulder of mutton like her hand for thicknes , breadth , and fat , With a scuruy mange vpon her wrest , oh Ioue how I loue that . Thus haue you heard my Loue set forth and yet no flatterie vs'd , Your iudgement , is shée not of worth , let her not be abus'd , If any to her haue a mind , hée wrongs mée many waies ; For as shee s beautious , so shée s kind , and here conclude my praise . FINIS .

Printed at London for Thomas Lambert .