Ten to one.

Tempt no more, I may not yeeld
Altho' thine eyes
A kingdome may surprize:
Leave off thy wanton toiles,
The high-borne Prince of Wales
Is mounted in the field,
Where the royall gentry flocke.
Though alone
Nobly borne
Of a ne're decaying stocke.
Cavaliers, be bold,
Bravely keep your hold,
He that loyters
Is by traytors
Bought and sold.

One kisse more, and then farewell;
Oh no, no more,
I prithee give me o'er, -
Why cloudest thou thy beames?
I see by these extreames
A woman's heaven or hell.
Pray the King may have his owne,
And the Queen
May be seen
With her babes on England's throne.
Rally up your men,
One shall vanquish ten,