The witty Westerne Lasse.
OR
You maids that with your friends whole nights have spent
Beware of back-fallings; for feare of the event.
To the tune called, The begger boy.
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SWeet Lucina, lend me thy ayde,
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thou art my helper, and no other,
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Pitty the state of a Teeming maide,
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that never was wife, yet must be a mother
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By my presage it should be a boy,
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that thus lyes tumbling in my belly,
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Yeild me some ease to cure my anoy,
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and list to the griefes I now shall tell ye.
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I was beloved every where,
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And much admired for my beauty,
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Young men thought they happy were,
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who best to me could shew their duty,
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But now alacke, paind in my back,
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and cruell griping in my belly,
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Doe force me to cry, O sicke am I,
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I feare I shall dye, alacke, and welly.
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In stead of mirth now may I weepe,
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and sadly for to sit lamenting,
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Since he I loved, no faith doth keepe,
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nor seekes no meanes for my contenting,
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But all regardlesse of my mone,
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or that lyes tumbling in my belly,
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And into Swethland now is gone,
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he left me to cry, alacke, and welly.
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It doth the Proverbe verifie,
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folly were it to complaine me,
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Those that desired my company,
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scornfully now disdaine me,
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Wanting his sight, was my delight,
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and cruel gripings in my belly,
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Doe force me to cry, O sicke am I,
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I feare I shall die, alacke, and welly.
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Thus am I to the world a scorne.
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my dearest friends will not come nie me,
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Shall I then for his absence mourne,
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that for his dearest doth denie me,
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No, no, I will not do so,
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with patience I my griefe will smother,
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And as he hath cozened me
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so will I by cunning gull another.
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Incontinent to Troy nouant,
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for my content, Ile thither hie me,
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Where privately, from company,
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obscurely Ile lye where none shall discry me,
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And when I am eased of my paine,
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and cruell gripings in my belly,
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I for a maid will passe againe,
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and need not to cry alacke, and welly.
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The second part, To the same tune.
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SOme tradsman there I will deceive,
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by my modesty and cariage
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And I will so my selfe behave,
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as by some tricke to get a mariage,
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And when I am maried, I will so carry it,
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as none shall know it by my belly,
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That ever I have formerly
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had cause to cry, alacke and welly.
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And if he be a husband kind
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Ile true and constant be unto him,
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Obedient still he shall me find,
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with good respect Ile dutie owe him.
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But if he crabbed be, and crosse,
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and basely beat me backe and belly,
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As Vulcans Knight, Ile fit him right,
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and scorne to cry alacke and welly.
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A secret friend Ile keepe in store.
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for my content and delectation,
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And now and then in the Taverne rose,
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with joviall Gallants men of fashion,
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Sacke, or Claret, I will call for it,
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Ile scorne to want or pinch my belly,
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But merry wil be in company,
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no more will I cry and alacke welly.
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And if I cannot to my minde
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a husband get that will maintaine me,
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Ile shew my selfe to each man kinde,
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in hope that it some love will gaine me.
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But yet so wary I will be,
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Ile shun from ought that may wrong my belly
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Through misery, to cause me cry,
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as formerly alacke and welly.
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Had he I loved but constant proved,
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and not have beene to me deceitful.
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No subtil Sinon should have moved
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me to those courses hateful.
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But since he proves false so to me,
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not pittying that is in my belly,
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No more I wil grieve, but merry wil be,
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and cry no more alacke and welly.
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With resolution firmely bent,
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Ile cast off care and melancholy
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Sorrow and griefe, and discontent,
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to fret and vex it is but a folly,
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Or seeke by woe to overthrow,
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or wrong the first fruits of my belly,
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No, no, no, Ile not doe so,
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no more I will crie, alacke and welly.
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