Love without Lucke, Or The Maidens Misfortune
To the Tune of the new Celebrand.
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I N the sweet temperate Ayre
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of a May Morning,
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When Ver and Flora faire
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had bene adorning
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The lovely Fields and Meades,
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Valleyes and Mountaines,
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Cheering the bubbling Brookes
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and streaming Fountaines:
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When Yonglings sport and play,
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(AEltina's Holyday)
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As I walkt on the way
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for recreation,
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Where each Lad with his Lasse,
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Neatly trip on the gra[s]e,
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As they the Meadowes passe,
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in lovely fashion.
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Now Groves and Copses
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lowd Ecchos are ringing,
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The Mavis Robin and
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earely Larke singing,
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Philomel chaunts her note
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Jugg, Jugg, most sweetly,
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And the faire Bird of May
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Coo-koo discreetly,
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Each Bird did chirp and sing,
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To welcome in the Spring,
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With cheerefull solacing,
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and fragrant Flowers
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All lovely to the eye,
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Smelling most curiously,
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In choice varietie
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for Ladies Bowers.
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Singling my selfe alone
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for my contenting,
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I heard a Beautious One
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sadly lamenting,
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Teares downe her lovely cheekes
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from eyes distilling,
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Sighing; and curst the Time,
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ere she so willing
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Had yeelded foolishly,
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Up her Virginitie,
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And growne in misery,
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after despised
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Of him she held so deare,
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Who had pluckt from her there,
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What she most d[ee]med neere
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and highly prized.
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Lands that are morgag'd
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may oft be redeemed,
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But Virgin-Honor lost
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never esteemed:
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Were she the fairest One
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Nature ere framed,
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That matchlesse Jewell gone
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and she defamed,
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In scorne it will be said,
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There goes one was a Maid,
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Yet hath the Wanton play'd,
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oh, this doth grieve me,
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Chiefely to thinke that he
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Should so inconstant be,
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Loving him faithfully,
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thus to deceive me.
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The second part. To the same tune.
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W Ith that againe she wept,
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Her griefes renewing,
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Whereon to her I stept,
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her feature viewing,
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Thinking some Angell bright
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in shape of woman,
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So dazeled had my sight;
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for I thinke no man
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Ere yet beheld with eye
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One more immortally,
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(For wit and modestie,
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grace, Art, and feature)
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Deckt with deportments faire,
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And Beauties passing rare.
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Thus I began. Oh Faire
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Divinest creature,
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Tell me, where lives the Man
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could be so cruell,
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Ile right thee if I can
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for thy lost Jewell,
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And force him marry Thee
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if thou desire it,
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That hee so false could bee,
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I doe admire it.
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Then with teares in her eyes,
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Mournfully shee replyes,
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He's for some golden price,
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rashly is ventred:
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Else ore the Seas is gone,
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With Marquesse Hambleton ,
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And like a perjurd one,
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left mee distempred.
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But since the time that hee,
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the Seas has taken;
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My friends despightfully,
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have me forsaken:
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Father, and Mother; All
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Brothers and Sisters,
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Lewd Strumpet doe me call,
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and as Detesters
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They loth my company;
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I dare not come them nie,
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But may curse till I die,
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all false Protestors.
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That seeke there wils to have,
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And yet poore maids deceive,
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Then doe no credit give
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unto such Jesters.
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No mariage yet at home,
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would I accept on:
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Till at length over come,
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by this young Captaine,
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Who had vow'd earnestly
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hee would mee marry
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And his faire promises
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made mee miscarry,
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For fearing of none ill
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I yeelded to his will,
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Sorrow my heart doe kill,
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being disdained.
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Let this my misery,
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to all a warning bee,
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To keepe their chastitie
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pure and unstained.
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