An ANSWER to the Love-sick
SERVING-MAN:
OR, The comfortable Returns of the kind Lady, who being
surpriz'd by Cupid was compell'd to Love.
To the Tune of I often for my Jenny strove. Licensed according to Order.
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A Youthfull Serving-Man of late,
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Bewail'd his wofull wretched state,
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The Beauty of a Lady fair
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His yielding Heart did so ensnare,
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That he strightway call'd to Cupid
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For to bring his Golden Bow,
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To Wound this Lady who was ready
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Now to prove his Overthrow.
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Then being willing to obey,
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Kind Cupid made no more delay,
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But did resolve to take his flight,
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When as the silent sable Night
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Had convey'd her to her Lodging,
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Where he bent his Golden Bow,
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And did invade her, till he made he
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Love whether she would or no.
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For in a Vision, or a Dream,
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Her Father's Serving-man did seem
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Before her Presence there to stand,
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While Cupid held him by the Hand,
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Saying, Lady you must love him,
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Therefore now some pity show;
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Then don't deny him, nor defie him,
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For it must and shall be so.
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A Thousand thoughts ran in her head,
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As many Cupids round her Bed,
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Which did like armed Angels stand,
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With Golden Bows and Shafts in hand,
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E'ery one was pleading for him,
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And their Silver Shafts did show,
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Saying, Receive him, do not grieve him,
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For it must and shall be so.
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The youthfull Lady did reply,
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What must I love, or must I dye?
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Tell me, is there no other way
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But this, to cast my self away,
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On my Father's meanest Servant?
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Well, I find it must be so,
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I well approve him, needs must love him,
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Though it proves my Overthrow.
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I know my Father he will Frown,
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And Ladies too of high Renown,
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But yet I needs must love him still,
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Let all the World say what they will:
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My soft Heart is now enflamed,
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Love in e'ery Vein doth flow,
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I'll freely take him, ne'er forsake him
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For it must and shall be so.
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What tho' my noble Father dear
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Disowns his Daughter utterly,
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I have Five Thousand Pounds a year,
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Of which no one can hinder me;
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'Tis sufficient to Maintain us,
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Should my Father prove our Foe,
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My Love I ll Marry, long not tarry,
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For it must and shall be so.
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What tho' a Serving-man he be,
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Whose Substance is but mean and small[,]
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His proper Person pleases me,
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True Love will make amends for all:
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'Tis beyond all Gold or Treasure,
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Him alone my Heart doth crave,
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I will not tarry, but will Marry,
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And make him Lord of all I have.
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