Poem by John Skelton

To Mistress Anne

Mistress Anne,
I am your man,
As you may well espy.
If you will be
Content with me,
I am your man.

But if you will
Keep company still
With every knave that comes by,
Then you will be
Forsaken of me,
That am your man.

But if you fain,
I tell you plain,
If I presently shall die,
I will not such
As loves too much,
That am your man.

For if you can
Love every man
That can flatter and lie,
Then are ye
No match for me,
That am your man.

For I will not take
No such kind of make
(May all full well it try!),
But off will ye cast
At any blast,
That am your man.

1. Woefully Arrayed
2. The Prelates
3. A Lawde and Prayse
4. Duke of Albany
5. Vexilla Regis

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