A pleasant new Court Song,
Betweene a young Courtier, and a Countrey Lasse,
To a new Court Tune.
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UPon a Summers time,
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in the middle of the morne,
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A bonny Lasse I spide,
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the fairest ere was borne,
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Fast by a standing Poole,
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within a meddow greene,
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She laid her selfe to coole,
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not thinking to be seene.
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She gathered lovely flowres,
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and spent her time in sport:
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As if to Cupids bowres
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she daily did resort.
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The fields afford content
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unto this Maiden kinde,
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Much time and paines she spent,
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to satisfie her minde.
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The Cowslip there she cropt,
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the Daffadill and Dazie:
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The Primrose lookt so trim,
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she scorned to be lazie:
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And ever as she did
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these pretty posies pull,
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She rose and fetcht a sigh,
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and wisht her apron full.
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I hearing of her wish,
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made bold to step unto her:
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Thinking her love to winne,
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I thus began to wooe her,
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Faire Maid, be not so coy,
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to kisse thee I am bent:
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O fie, she cride, away,
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yet smiling gave consent.
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Then did I helpe to plucke
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of every flowre that grew,
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No herbe nor flowre I mist,
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but onely Time and Rue.
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But she and I tooke paines
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to gather flowres store,
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Untill this Maiden said,
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kinde Sir, Ile have no more.
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Yet still my loving heart
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did proffer more to pull.
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No Sir, quoth she, Ile part,
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because mine apron's full.
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So Sir, Ile take my leave,
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till next we meet againe:
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Rewards me with a kisse,
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and thankes me for my paine.
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The second part, To the same tune.
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IT was my chance of late,
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to walke the pleasant fields:
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Wher sweet tun'd chirping birds,
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harmonious musicke yeelds.
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I lent a listning eare
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unto their musicke rare:
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At last mine eye did glance
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upon a Damsell faire.
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I stept me close aside,
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under a Hawthorne bryer:
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Her passions laid her downe,
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o're-rul'd with fond desire.
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Alacke fond Maid she cride,
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and straight she fell a weeping,
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Why sufferest thou thy heart,
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within a false ones keeping?
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Wherefore is Venus Queene,
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whom Maides adore in minde,
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Obdurate to our prayers,
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or like her fondling blinde:
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When we do spend our loves,
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whose fond expence is vaine?
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For men are growne so false,
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they cannot love againe.
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The Queene of Love doth know,
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best how the matter stands,
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And Hymen knowes. I long
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to come within her bands.
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My Love best knowes my love,
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and love repaies with hate:
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Was ever Virgins love,
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so much unfortunate?
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Did my love fickle prove,
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then had he cause to flee?
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But Ile be judg'd by Jove,
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I lov'd him constantly,
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I hearing of her vowes,
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set bashfulnesse a part
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And striv'd with all my skill,
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to cheere this Maidens heart.
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I did instruct her love,
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where love might be repaid:
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Could I, quoth she, finde love,
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I were an happy Maid.
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I straight in love replide.
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In me thou love shalt finde:
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So made the bargaine sure,
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and eas'd the Maidens minde.
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