The West-Country Lady:
OR, THE
True Pattern of Love and Loyalty:
Being the Resolution of a Wealthy Lady in Cornwal, to
Marry a Schollar for pure Love.
Tune of, Merry and Glad. Licensed according to Order.
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YOung Lasses now of Beauty bright,
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I pray accept of my good-will,
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A Lesson of Love this day I write,
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the which I wou'd have you remember still.
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If Oaths and solemn Vows have past
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of Constancy to any one,
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O keep them as long as life shall last,
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for they are the Pledges of Love alone.
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For Wealth do not your Conscience wrong,
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it is not to be bought and sold,
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You'll find by the sequel of this Song,
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that true Love is better than crowns of gold
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We find that Wealth swift wings can take,
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and never back return again,
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But true love, nor sorrow or grief can shake,
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it will like a Rock in a Storm remain.
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A Youthful Lady in the West,
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may all young Damsels pattern be,
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Tho' she many Hundreds a year possest,
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she lov'd a poor Schollar of mean degree.
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When he her Beauty first beheld,
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her charming Graces dim'd his sight,
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His heart with Raptures of Love was fill'd,
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she seem'd like an Angel of beauty bright.
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Full loath he was to let her know,
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how he did her dear Charms adore,
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And what for her sake he did undergo,
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because she was wealthy and he but poor.
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At length he writ to her his mind,
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and said sweet Lady pardon me,
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In fetters of Love I lye confin'd,
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your Servant in sad Captivity.
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While at your feet I bleeding lye,
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O don't destroy me with disdain,
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Afford me thy favour sweet Saint, for why,
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true Love is a sad tormenting pain.
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These Lines sweet Lady, now receive,
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and think of what I do endure,
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My languishing life this day reprieve,
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'tis in your own power to kill or cure.
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As she these melting Lines did read,
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with joy her eye lids streight run o'er,
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For this was right happy News indeed,
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because she had loved him long before.
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He was admitted to his Love,
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who hand and heart did freely give,
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With solemn vows she wou'd constant prove
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while she had an hour and day to live.
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When her Relations came to know
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that she this solemn vow had made,
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To her in an angry mood they go,
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still crying, why will you your self degrade[?]
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This vow is better broke than kept,
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you may have one of high degree;
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With that the young Lady in sorrow wept
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wou'd you have me guilty of Perjury?
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Are you my Friend, that wou'd perswade
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a Loyal Love to turn aside,
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Denying the solemn vows I made,
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and be a forsworn wretch she cry'd.
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What, shall I take your Counsel, no,
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might I be made a Monarchs Bride,
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I never would wrong my Conscience so,
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for all the wealth in the world she cry'd.
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My Love to him shall ever hold,
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his Person I shall still adore,
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Why should I be false for the sake of Gold,
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when I have enough of my own before.
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