The Maiden's New Wish: BEING Her earnest desire to Marry a Lord, that she might ride in her gilded Coach, but at length contented her self with a Cobler, rather than live longer a Maid. To the Tune of The Languishing Swain. Licensed according to Order.
|
I Am a Lass of Beauty bright,
|
Who do's in Pleasure take delight;
|
And if I might have to my mind,
|
I would no grief nor crosses find.
|
I would my youthful fancy please,
|
Nay live, and likewise take my ease
|
From worldly cares, and labour free,
|
For work did ne'er agree with me
|
Besides, I wish to be a Wife,
|
Yet not to lead a careful Life,
|
But in the streams of golden Joy,
|
Where nothing might my Life annoy.
|
I'll wear rich Cornets fine and gray,
|
Nay Silks and Satins e'ry Day.
|
Bedeck'd with Jewels, Diamonds, Pearl,
|
Then shall I seem a taring Girl.
|
I'd have some Baron marry me,
|
Or some great Lord of high Degree;
|
That I in gilded Coach might ride
|
With Lacqueys running by my side.
|
And when I sit me down to Meat,
|
I would have choice of Musick sweet,
|
To charm my Sences with the sound:
|
Let me be with those Blessings crown'd.
|
On sumptuous stately Beds of Down,
|
Rock'd in the Arms of high Renown
|
I'd pass away the silent Night,
|
And reap the Pleasures of Delight.
|
But see what straightways came to pass,
|
While this fair youthful bonny Lass
|
Was building Castles in the Air,
|
A Cobler did to her repair.
|
My dear, if thou wilt be my Wife,
|
We'll lead a merry happy Life;
|
Tho' I have no Estate at all,
|
We'll work together in a Stall.
|
Be gone you poor mechanick Knave,
|
Do you imagine that I'll have
|
A Cobler, void of common Sence,
|
Pack up your Awls, and get you hence.
|
Shall I spin Shop-thread in your Stall,
|
And be at such a Rascal's Call?
|
I hope to have a noble Peer,
|
And live in splendid Glory here.
|
I prithee Joan , the Cobler cry'd,
|
Are you addicted so to Pride?
|
Why then, in troth, farewell, adieu,
|
I hope to have as good as you.
|
He turn'd about to go his way,
|
She strait intreated him to stay,
|
And said, why are you in such hast,
|
What I have spoke was but in jest.
|
Tho' I at mighty things did aim,
|
Yet since in Love to me you came,
|
I'll take a Cobler now, she said,
|
Rather than longer live a Maid.
|
And thus they lovingly agreed,
|
And likewise marry'd were with speed;
|
Thus Maids we see mean Fortunes wed,
|
Before they'll keep their Maiden-head.
|
|
|
|
|
|