A Country new Jigge betweene Simon and Susan, to be sung in merry
pastime by Bachelors and Maydes. To the tune of I can, nor
will no longer lye alone: Or, Falero lero lo.
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Simon.
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O Mine owne sweet heart,
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and when wilt thou be true:
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Or when will the time come,
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that I shall marry you.
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That I may give you kisses,
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one, two, or three,
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More sweeter then the hunny,
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that comes from the Bee.
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Susan.
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My Father is unwilling,
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that I should marry thee:
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Yet I could wish in heart,
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that so the same might be.
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For now me thinkes thou seemest,
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more lovely unto me:
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and fresher then the Blossomes,
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that bloomes upon the Tree.
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Simon.
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Thy mother is most willing,
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and will consent I know,
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Then let us to thy Father
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now both together goe:
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Where if he give us his good will,
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and to our match agree:
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T'will be sweeter then the honny,
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that comes from the Bee.
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Susan.
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Come goe, for I am willing,
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good fortune be our guide:
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From that which I have promised,
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deare heart Ile never slide.
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If that he doe but smile,
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and I the same may see:
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Tis sweeter then the blossomes,
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that bloomes upon the Tree.
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Simon.
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But stay heere comes my mother,
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weele talke with her a word,
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I doubt not but some comfort,
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to us she may afford:
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If comfort she will give us,
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that we the same may see,
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Twill be sweeter then the honny,
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that comes from the Bee,
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Susan.
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O Mother wee are going
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my Father for to pray:
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That he will give me his good will,
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for long I cannot stay.
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A young man I have chosen;
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a fitting match for me:
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More fayrer then the blossomes
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that bloomes upon the Tree.
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Mother.
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Daughter thou art old enough,
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to be a wedded wife,
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You Maydens are desirous
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to lead a married life.
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Then my consent good Daughter,
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shall to thy wishes be:
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For young thou art as blossomes,
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that bloome upon the Tree.
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Simon.
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Then Mother you are willing,
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your Daughter I should have:
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And Susan thou art welcome,
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ile keepe thee fine and brave.
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And have those wished blessings
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bestowed upon thee,
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More sweeter then the honny
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that comes from the Bee.
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Susan.
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Yet Simon I am minded
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to lead a merry life:
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And be as well maintained,
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as any Citty wife:
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And live a gallant Mistresse
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of Maydens that shall bee
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More fayrer then the blossomes,
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that bloome upon the Tree.
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The second part, to the same tune.
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Simon.
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THou shalt have thy Caudles,
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before thou dost arise:
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For churlishnesse breeds sicknes
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and dainger therein lies,
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Young Lasses must be cheerisht,
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with sweets that daynty be,
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Farre sweeter then the honny,
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that commeth from the Bee.
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Mother.
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Well said good son and Daughter,
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this is the onely dyet:
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To please a dainty young wife,
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and keepe the house in quiet:
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But stay, heere comes your Father
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his words I hope will be:
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More sweeter then the blossomes,
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that bloome upon the Tree.
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Father.
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Why how now Daughter Susan,
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doe you intend to marry?
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Maydens in the old time,
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did twenty winters tarry:
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Now in the teenes no sooner,
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but you a wife will bee:
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And loose the sweetest blossomes,
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that bloomes up on the Tree.
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Susan.
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It is for my preferment,
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good Father say not nay:
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For I have found a Husband kind,
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and loving every way:
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That still unto my fancy
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will evermore agree:
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Which is more sweet then honny
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that comes from the Bee.
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Mother.
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Hinder not your Daughter,
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good Husband, least you bring
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Her loves consuming sicknes,
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or else a worser thing:
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Maydens youngly married
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loving wives will bee.
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And sweet as is the honny,
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which comes from the Bee.
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Simon.
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Good Father be not cruell,
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your Daughter is mine owne:
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Her mother hath consented,
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and is to liking growne.
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And if your selfe will give then,
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her gentle hand to me,
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Twill sweeter be then honny,
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that comes from the Bee.
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Father.
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God give thee joy deare Daughter,
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there is no reason I,
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Should hinder thy proceeding,
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and thou a Mayden dye:
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And after to lead Apes in hell,
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as Maydens doomed be:
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That fayrer are then blossomes,
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that bloome upon the Tree.
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Simon.
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Then let's to the Parson,
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and Clarke to say Amen:
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Susan.
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With all my heart good Simon,
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we are concluded then:
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My Father and Mother both,
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doe willingly agree:
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My Simon's sweet as honny,
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That comes from the Bee.
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All together sing.
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You Maydens and Batchelors,
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we hope will loose no time:
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Which learne it by experience,
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That youth is in their prime,
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And dayly in their hearts desire,
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Young married folkes to be;
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More sweeter then the blossomes,
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that bloome from the Tree.
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