The loving Forrester,
To a new tune: Or, nay fie, nay fie.
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NOt long agoe I hard a Maide,
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(if none) pray God to mend her:
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And every day to Venus prayd,
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that she a Love would send her:
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For why quoth she I cannot stay,
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till Husband hath me wedded:
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This is the merry month of May,
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and now I must be bedded,
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This maide was young & passing faire,
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her body small and tender:
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Blith were her lookes yellow her locks,
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her fingers long and slender:
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With outward guifts this comly Lasse,
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was so adornd by Nature,
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That who so view'd her, did commend
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her for a lovely Creature:
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She did delight as most Maydes do,
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in May month to be walking:
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And mongst youngmen (perhaps to wo)
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in mirth for to be talking,
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She was courteous and affable,
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and kind as maydens be:
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And very much commended for
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her witts dexteretie
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She much delighted to goe brave,
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and quaint in her attire:
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Her head she graced with her haire,
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set out upon a wire:
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With silver bodkin therein plac't,
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and ought that might but grace her:
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Which so adorne this beautious Lasse,
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that none but would imbrace her.
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Her other ornaments were such,
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which so did grace her beauty:
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That Cupid young, did oft times long,
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to her to show his dutie:
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She nere omitted ought that mought
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procure true love to grace her
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But yet this Maid did want a friend,
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in love for to imbrace her.
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She went attir'd in wastcoate white,
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whose whitenes passe the snow:
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Her petticoate was Scarlet red,
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wherein she was not slow
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To trace along the Forrest side,
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with Venus chast desire:
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Yet hardly could she any meete,
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to graunt what she requird.
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Untill young Cupid minding her,
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his mother Queene implord:
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That to this comely lovely maide,
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a love might be restord:
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Whereat Loves Queene with irefull lookes,
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unto her sonne thus said:
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Shal many lovely Nimphes by thee,
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so long time be delaid.
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Whose lovely suites have beene rejected,
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though beautious faire they were:
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And wilt thou now speake for a tryall,
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and make her suite appeare?
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I tell thee sonne thou dost me wrong,
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and to thy selfe disgrace:
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Ile neare agree if she by thee,
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with us shall have a place.
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The Second Part of the loving Forrester,
To a new tune, Or: nay fie, nay fie.
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GOod mother queene (Cupid replid)
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with patience doe but heare:
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That she deserves to be belov'd,
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Ile make it straight appeare:
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She's young, she's faire, she's natures Jem,
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shee is the flower of many,
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Wherefore good mother graunt her love
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if love youl'e graunt to any.
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Blind boy (quoth Venus) why dost praise
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her whom thou nere did see?
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Mother quoth he because I know,
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by power of Deitie:
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That this faire mayd excels all maydes,
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though beautious there are many:
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And none could ere compare with her,
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indeed (loves Queene) not any.
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Saist so quoth Citherea,
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then doe as thou think'st best:
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Since thou commend'st her, doe thy will
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my will with thine shall rest:
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Blind Cupid gave his mother thanks,
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and foorth withdrew his quiver:
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And with an arrow ayming right,
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this Mayd did soone deliver.
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From out her long indured griefe,
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and wish't her not seeme strange:
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But instantly be rul'd by him,
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and Silvanus Forrest range:
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For thy sake I have (quoth he)
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a Forrester so moov'd,
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That will he, will be, thou of him
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shalt ever be belov'd.
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This lovely mayde, (with awfull thanks)
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his counsaile soone did follow,
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And as she trac'd amid'st the woods,
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downe in a dingle hollow:
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Shee instantly in good time met
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with a brave Jolly Forrester,
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Who seeing such a lovely faire,
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at first did thus accost her.
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Faire mayd (quoth he) accept his love,
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that doth most dearely love thee:
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I thinke (quoth shee) you me deride,
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nay then (quoth he) Ile proove thee:
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That my love's plac't only on thee,
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Cupid Loves God doth know:
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Onely on thee on thee deere love,
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O doe not then say no.
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Whereat her joyes so much increast,
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that joy had speece bereft:
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No utterance to make reply,
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unto her tongue was left:
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Onely her lookes seem'd to dissever,
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a perfect loves consent:
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Which (being perceav'd) this Forrester
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with speed incontinent
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Did bouldly take her in his armes,
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and on the grassy downe:
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With many a lovely kind imbrace,
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did give her a greene gowne:
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But when she saw twas time to part,
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she kissing wept for sorrow:
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And ga'him a Ring and said sweethart
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lets meete againe to morrow
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