A Maydens Lamentation for a Bedfellow. Or, I can, nor will no longer lye alone. As it hath been often sung at the Court. To the tune of, I will give thee kisses one, two or three
|
C An any Man tell what I ayle:
|
Because I look so weake, so wan, so pale:
|
Sighing to the walles I make my mone,
|
I can, nor will no longer ly alone.
|
Why do I breath upon the ground,
|
Where no comfort alack can be found?
|
I know not to whome to make my mone,
|
That I may no longer ly alone.
|
Was ever Maid so much withstood,
|
When she but complaines for Youngmens good?
|
Tis my cruell friends hath me orethrowne:
|
I can, nor will no longer ly alone.
|
Long have I sought Mans love to obtaine,
|
Yet still am I repaid with deepe disdaine:
|
I would my heart to some kind Man were known,
|
I can, nor will no longer ly alone.
|
What though my Parents strive to procure
|
That I should a Mayden still endure?
|
Do they what they will, I must have one,
|
I can, nor will no longer ly alone.
|
Why should hard harted Men say nay,
|
When it doth belong to them to pray?
|
Oh, I would never wish to have them gone
|
Cause I can no longer ly alone,
|
Some Maides are coy because they are faire,
|
And some likewise being a Rich-mans Heyre:
|
Had I both these gifts I would be coy to none:
|
I can, nor will no longer ly alone.
|
Did Venus her Son, God Cupid know
|
This my pining paine, and endles woe,
|
They would melt their hearts, though as hard as stone
|
I can, nor will no longer ly alone.
|
Some Maides are coy, and proud withall,
|
When alas their beauty is but small:
|
Whilst I live Ile nere be coy to none,
|
Because I will no longer ly alone.
|
But alas the Gods that belong to love
|
Seek not to redresse, nor yet remoove
|
This, that makes my heart to melt with mone:
|
I can, nor will no longer ly alone.
|
Therefore Ile seeke each private part,
|
Till I chaunce to find a constant heart,
|
That will ease my mind, with woe oregrowne:
|
I can, nor will no longer ly alone,
|
You Maides that ever did feele such woes,
|
Pitty her whose greefe to height thus growes:
|
Many a brinish teare on the earth I have sowne:
|
I can, nor will no longer ly alone.
|
And Young-men all that see my case,
|
Take some pitty on my Maiden face:
|
Rid me of my cares and greefes each one:
|
And let me now no longer ly alone.
|
|
FINIS.
|
|
|
The Mans comfortable Answere. To the same tune.
|
A Lack faire Maide, make no such woe,
|
On thy cheeks so pale Ile make two Roses grow
|
Now I know your greef Ile ease your mone:
|
Thou shalt not any longer ly alone.
|
Doe not despaire, for men are kind,
|
Love he can not see, for he is blind,
|
Deafe he is likewise as any stone:
|
Then come to me my deere, ly not alone.
|
Young men do want but that you [h]ave
|
Tis nought but your selfe that I [do] crave:
|
You take delight to heare us sigh and grone,
|
And care not if we alwaies ly alone.
|
You say you love, yet still seeme coy,
|
Cause you know you are a Youngmans Joy:
|
Suters you have store, abrode, and at home,
|
And yet you say y'are forst to ly alone.
|
What if your Freends do froward proove:
|
Yet thers nothing like to faithfull Love:
|
Breake but foorth the Cage, and thou art flowne,
|
And then you never more shall ly alone.
|
If we do sue, and woe with teares
|
You are eyther deafe, or stop your eares:
|
Sleightly you regard a Lovers mone,
|
And say, you take delight to ly alone.
|
Beauty doth cause you to looke strange:
|
Tis your welth that makes your mind to change
|
Yet your answers this, that you have none:
|
And nere regard poore Men that ly alone.
|
Cupid hath strook my love sicke heart
|
With a Shaft as keene as Phebus dart:
|
Loves tide is at the height, and overflowne:
|
I can not any longer ly alone.
|
Beauty keepes Court upon thy brow,
|
Let not c[oy] disdaine fond sense alow:
|
Give me but the flesh, and keepe the bone
|
For such as love to (live and) ly alone.
|
Jove from the skyes assended here,
|
For the love of one he held most dere:
|
If Love did fetch the Gods from heavens throne
|
How can I but a Man, still ly alone?
|
Within my brest a hart doth ly
|
Spotles as the Sun in cleerest sky:
|
Deare, let sorrows blasts be overblowne:
|
Let thou and I no longer ly alone.
|
Many have felt like paines as I,
|
A true heart nere is known before you try:
|
Then (dearest) cease to weep, or make such mone:
|
Thou shalt not any longer ly alone.
|
Blame not all men, if some be unkind,
|
Though some be bad, yet al's not of one minde:
|
Doe not think our hearts are [made] of stone,
|
To let such pretty Creatures [ly al]one.
|
|
FINIS.
|
|
|