The Maidens Nay, Or I love not you. To a pleasant new tune.
|
I Spyed a Nymph trip ore the plaine,
|
I lur'd to her, she turned againe,
|
I woo'd her as a young man should doe,
|
but her answer was, Sir, I love not you.
|
I thought she seemed in every part,
|
So lovely fram'd by Natures Art,
|
Her beauty soone allur'd me to woo,
|
but her answer was, Sir, I love not you.
|
I told her all the sweet of Love,
|
And whatsoever her minde might move,
|
To entertaine a Lover true,
|
but her answer was, Sir, I love not you.
|
I told her how I would her decke,
|
Her head with gold, with pearle her necke:
|
She gave a frowne, and away she flew:
|
but her answer was, Sir, I love not you.
|
Not me, (sweet heart) O tell me why
|
Thou should'st my proffered love deny,
|
To whom my heart I have vowed so true?
|
but her answer was, Sir, I love not you.
|
My sweet and dearest Love quoth I,
|
Art thou resolv'd a Mayd to dye?
|
Of such a minde I know but few:
|
but her answer was, Sir, I love not you.
|
This is the pleasant Maying time,
|
This is the pleasant golden prime,
|
But age will come, and make you to rue
|
that ere you said, Sir, I love not you.
|
O doe not thou my suite disdaine,
|
Nor make me spend my time in vaine,
|
But kindly grant a Lovers due:
|
yet still she said, Sir, I love not you.
|
Faire Nimph, quoth I, but grant me this,
|
To enrich my lips with one poore kisse:
|
I grant you that which I grant to few.
|
yet still she said, Sir, I love not you.
|
The young man profering then to depart,
|
It griev'd this Mayden to the heart:
|
For having kist, O then did she rue
|
that ere she said, Sir, I love not you.
|
Wherefore with speed she thought it best,
|
To stay him by her kinde request,
|
Whose coynesse thus had caus'd her to rue
|
that ere she said, Sir, I love not you.
|
But how at last she did begin,
|
With gentle words to lure him in,
|
The second part shall plainely show,
|
she chang'd her note of I love not you.
|
|
|
|
|
The Maydens Answer, Or I love none but you.
|
KInd sir, quoth she, what needs this hast?
|
With that a smile on him she cast,
|
Shame curb'd her tongue, but affection drew
|
these words, I love no man but you.
|
I feele the force of Cupids Dart,
|
So deepe hath pierced my tender heart,
|
Beleeve me then, for my words are true,
|
you will I love Sir, and none but you.
|
Doe not deny my proffered love,
|
Nor thinke that I the wanton prove:
|
Though women seldome use to wooe,
|
yet I will love, Sir, and none but you.
|
When women love, they will it hide,
|
Untill their lovers they have tride:
|
Tho I say nay as Maydens doe,
|
you will I love, Sir, and none but you.
|
Heere is quoth she, my heart and hand,
|
My constant love thou shalt command;
|
And I doe vow to be ever true,
|
you will I love, Sir, and none but you.
|
Whilst golden Titan doth display,
|
His beames unto the cheerefull day;
|
Whilst Spring the Winter doth ensue,
|
you will I love, Sir, and none but you.
|
On thee my love is fixed fast,
|
On thee my love is firmely plac'd:
|
For thee Ile bid the world adue,
|
you will I love, Sir, and none but you.
|
If Hero should Leander leave,
|
Faire Lucrece Collatine deceive,
|
Or Sirinx prove to Pan untrue,
|
yet I love you, Sir, and none but you.
|
Object no former coy reply,
|
Suspect no future constancy.
|
Accept my love as a tribute due,
|
onely to you, Sir, and none but you.
|
The young man noting well her words,
|
This courteous answer then affords;
|
Give me thy hand take mine in lieu,
|
my love I grant here, and so doe you.
|
To Church with speed then let us hye,
|
In marriage bands our selves to tye,
|
Where enterchanging hands and hearts,
|
Ile love thee dearely till death us parts.
|
Marke well my Song, you Maidens coy
|
That count true love a foolish toy:
|
Doe not disdaine when young men woo,
|
but love them freely, as they love you.
|
|
|
|
|