An Admirable New Northern Story.
Of two constant Lovers as I understand,
Were born near Appleby in Westmoreland;
The Lads name Anthony, Constance the Lass.
To Sea they went both, and great dangers did pass:
How they suffer'd shipwrack on the Coast of Spain,
For two years divided, and then met again,
By wonderful fortune, and Care accident,
And now both live at home in joy and content.
The Tune is, I would thou wert in Shrewsbury.
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TWo Lovers in the North,
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Constance and Anthony,
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Of them I will set forth
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a gallant History:
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They lov'd exceeding well,
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as plainly doth appear:
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But that which I shall tell
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the like you ne'r did hear:
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Still she cries Anthony,
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my bonny Anthony,
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Gang thou by Land or Sea,
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I'le wend along with thee.
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Anthony must to Sea,
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his calling did him bind,
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My Constance dear, quoth he,
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I must leave thee behind,
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I prithee do not grieve,
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thy tears will not prevail;
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I'le think on thee my sweet
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when the Ship's under sail:
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But Still, etc.
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How may that be said he?
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consider well the case,
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Quoth the sweet Anthony,
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il'e bide not in this place:
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If thou gang so will I,
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of the means do not doubt,
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A womans policy,
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great matters may find out;
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My bonny, etc.
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I would be very glad,
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but prithee tell me how,
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I'le dress me like a Lad,
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what say'st thou to me now;
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The Sea thou can'st not brook,
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yes very well quoth she,
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I'le Scullion to the Cook,
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for thy sweet Company,
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My bonny, etc.
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Anthonies leave she had,
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and drest in mans array
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She seem'd the blithest Lad,
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seen on a Summers day,
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O see what Love can do,
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at home she will not bide,
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With her true love she'l go,
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let weal or woe betide,
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My dearest Anthony, etc.
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In the Ship 'twas her lot
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to be the under Cook,
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And at the fire hot,
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wonderful pains she took;
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She served every one,
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fitting to their degree,
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And now and then alone,
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she kissed Anthony:
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My bonny Anthony,
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my bonny Anthony,
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Gang thou by land or Sea,
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I'le wend along with thee.
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ALack and well a day,
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by tempest on the Main,
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Their ship was cast away
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upon the Coast of Spain,
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To'th mercy of the Waves,
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they all committed were;
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Constance her own self saves,
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then she crys for her dear,
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My bonny Anthony,
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my bonny Anthony,
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Gang thou by land or Sea,
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I'le wend along with thee.
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Swimming upon a Plank
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at Bilbo got a shore,
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First she did Heaven thank,
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then she lamented sore,
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O woe is me, said she,
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the sadest Lass alive
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My dearest Anthony,
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now on the Sea doth drive.
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My bonny, etc.
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What shall become of me,
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why do I strive for shore,
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Sith my sweet Anthony,
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I never shall see more?
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Fair Constance do not grieve
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the same good providence
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Hath savd thy Lover sweet,
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but he is far from hence,
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Still, etc.
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A Spanish Merchant rich,
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saw this fair seeming Lad,
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That did lament so much,
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and was so grievous sad
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He had in England been,
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and English understood:
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He having heard and seen,
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he in amazement stood:
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Still, etc.
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The Merchant asked her,
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what was that Anthony
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Quoth she my brother Sir,
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who came from thence with me
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He did her entertain,
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thinking she was a Boy,
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Two years she did remain
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before she met her joy.
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Still, etc.
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Anthony up was tane,
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by an English Runagade
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With whom he did remain
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at the Sea roving trade:
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I'th nature of a slave,
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he did i'th Gally row,
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Thus he his life did save,
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but Constance did not know;
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Still she cries Anthony,
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my bonny Anthony,
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Gang thou by land or Sea,
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i'le wend along with thee.
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Now mark what came to pass
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see how the fates did work,
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A ship that her Masters was,
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surpriz'd this English Turk,
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And into Bilbo brought,
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all that aboard her were,
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Constance full little thought,
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Anthony was so near:
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Still, etc.
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When they were come on shore,
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Anthony and the rest,
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She who was sad before,
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was now with joy possest,
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The Merchant much did muse,
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at this so sudden change,
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He did demand the News,
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which unto him was strange:
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Now she, etc.
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Upon her knees she fell,
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unto her Master kind,
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And all the truth did tell,
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n[o]thing she kept behind,
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At which he did admire,
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and in a ship of Spain,
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Not paying for their hire,
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he sent them home again
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Now she, etc.
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The Spanish Merchant rich
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did of's own bounty give,
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A sum of Gold on which
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they now most bravely live;
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And now in Westmoreland,
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neer unto Appleby,
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They were joyn'd hand in hand,
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Constance and Anthony,
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They live in mirth and glee,
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now she says Anthony,
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Good providence we see,
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hath guarded thee and me.
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FINIS.
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