A delicate new Song,
Entituled, Sweet-heart, I love thee. To the
tune of, See the building.
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SWeet-heart I love thee
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And deeme no Lasse above thee
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in all this City:
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Sweet-heart I woo thee,
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And vow Ile never doe thee
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any harme for pity:
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Sweet-heart tell me thy fathers name,
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and where he liveth,
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and what he giveth
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With you his Daughter,
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who is so faire a Dame:
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For it was to seeke a wife
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that I to London came.
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Good sir forgoe me,
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My friends will not bestow me
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upon a Clowne.
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I scorne to have one,
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Unlesse he be a brave one,
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who lives in Towne:
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Ile have one that comes from Court,
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that sweares and swaggers,
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untill he staggers,
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That spends his meanes
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and is not sory for't,
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Oh such a lively Lad
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will shew a Lasse good sport.
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Sweet-heart be milder,
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I ne'r imbraced a wilder,
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in all my life.
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Sweet-heart content thee,
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Thou shalt no whit repent thee,
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to be my wife:
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I have five pounds a yeere,
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a brace of Geldings,
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and sumptuous buildings
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For thee and I to sit
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and make good cheere,
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If thou wilt be my Honey,
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my Dove, my Ducke, my Deare.
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A pox take your riches,
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It seemes by your great breeches,
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from Court you came not:
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I scorne such Asses,
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Doe court your Countrey Lasses,
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for yours I am not:
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Farewell my Coridon, farewell,
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for I see now, man,
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thou art some Plowman,
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Thy very lookes the same to me do tell,
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Goe kisse thy bouncing Kate,
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and clip thy bonny Nell.
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My suite is ended
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And I no whit offended
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at thy disdaine,
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Ale beware me,
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How ever I insnare me
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with such againe:
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Farewell, then, I scorne thy disdaine,
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away be trudging:
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and feare no grudging:
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For Ile goe woo
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some more honest and plaine:
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For I respect true love,
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and prize it above all gaine.
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The second part, to the same tune.
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CIty Dames, attend ye,
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With counsell Ile befriend ye,
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if you'l be witty:
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For now I finde it,
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Though one I did not mind it,
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more was the pitty:
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A Country-man excels a Courtier,
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though not for bravery,
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nor yet for knavery,
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But if hee'l have thee,
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doe him not deny,
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For any smooth-tongu'd
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Courtiers flattery.
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I once was wooed,
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And well beloved
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of a Countrey-man:
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But I refus'd him,
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Nay more with words abus'd him,
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thus coy Dames can
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With flouting words squib the simple,
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that come to woo them,
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with love to prove them,
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Yet those Dames will show them
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to be so nice and coy,
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And count their loves
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but as an idle toy.
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A Merchants Daughter,
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Her mind still runneth after
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some Squire or Knight:
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Shee'l have a Courtier,
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for to support her,
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'tis a goodly sight,
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To see a man that struts in the fashion,
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augments loves fire,
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And still desire
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to have a neate spruce Lad,
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To strut before them,
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as he were Anticke mad.
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So they have a Gallant,
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they ne'r respect their talent,
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nor stand for money:
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If he be a fine one,
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Yea or a witty-tongu'd one,
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he shall be their Honey:
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Proud City Dames are growne so dainty,
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my selfe doe know it,
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of late did show it,
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But now beshrow it,
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that ere I seem'd so coy
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To that honest Countrey man,
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that once held me his joy.
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Thus she lamented,
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Her mind was discontented,
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and deepely vext:
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Her joyes exiled,
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The Gallant her beguiled,
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which her perplext
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With teares she then did waile her
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and then repent,
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she ne'r lamented,
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But discontented
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that man with proud disdaine,
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And fighting wisht
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she might his love obtaine.
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