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EBBA 30098

British Library - Roxburghe
Ballad XSLT Template
The Honest Wooer,
His minde expressing in plaine and few termes,
By which to his Mistresse his love he confirmes.
To the tune of, Lulling beyond her.

FAirest Mistresse, cease your moane,
spoile not your eyes with weeping,
For certainely if one be gone,
you may have another sweeting:
I will not complement with oathes,
nor speake you faire to prove you,
But save your eyes to mend your cloths
for it is I that love you.

I will not boast of substance great,
wherewith I can endow you,
Nor what apparell nor what meat,
Im able to allow you;
You know tis time that all things tries
let then my affection move you,
And weepe no more but save your eyes,
for it is I that love you.

If I should say yhave golden haires,
I should both lye and flatter,
Why should I say thine eyes are stars,
when there is no such matter?
Every like is not the same,
yet none I prize above you,
To sigh so sore you are much to blame,
for it is I that love you

With courtly words I cannot court,
like one whose tongue is filed,
By subtill speakers in that sort,
poore women are oft beguiled:

I speake no more but what I meane,
then doe as it doth behove you,
And doe not waste your teares in vaine,
for it is I that love you.

You may, I know, have choice of men,
that many wayes excell me,
But yet in love I passe all them,
my conscience this doth tell me,
Then let no riches buy my prise,
nor flattering words remove you,
To sigh and sob you are very unwise,
for it is I that love you.

I am thy constant Pyramus,
be thou my constant Thysbe,
That such a match is made by us,
let this a sealing kisse be,
I never will revoke my vow,
nor deeme any Lasse above you,
Then dearest leave your sorrow now,
for it is I that love you.

Now if you doe my love deny,
and utterly refuse me,
I will not say for love Ile dye,
in that you shall excuse me:
Some say so, yet meane nothing lesse,
but pitty I hope will move you,
Not to put me to that distresse,
for it is I that love you.

The second part;
Being an answer of the Maiden kinde,
Correspondent to the plaine Young-mans minde.
To the same tune.

AS the lost infant doth rejoyce,
when he hath found his Mother,
So am I glad to heare the voyce
of you my constant Lover:
Beleeve me Harry if you will,
since I so true doe prove you,
Come when you will and welcome still
for it is I that love you.

I loved a false disloyall youth,
which causd my thus lamenting,
For in his words there were no truth,
but subtill circumventing;
You use plaine dealing which is best,
so still it doth behove you,
And therefore set your heart at rest,
for it is I that love you.

And now henceforth I will give ore,
to weepe for him that jeeres me,
And his affection Ile abhorre,
for no true love he beares me,
With you I will rejoyce my deare,
let no false tales remove you,
Beleeve not every newes you heare,
for it is I that love you.

As Hypsocrats of Pontus Queene,
did follow her Mithridates,
Thorow uncouth woods & forrests green
so nothing shall separate us:

Ile circulate the word with you,
nought shall from me remove you,
Thinke not that I speake more thans true
for it is I that love you.

Nor Lucrece nor Penelope,
shall be more chast than I will,
Ere Ile forsake my honesty,
ten thousand deaths I dye will,
You need not to repent your choice,
but let me true still prove you,
And so we shall together rejoyce,
for it is I that love you.

Judge not amisse, because so soone
I yeeld to your requesting,
Love is a thing that ought to be done,
without any fraud or jesting:
You love plaine dealing as you say,
then why should I disprove you,
Against my mind I cant say nay,
for it is I that love you.

And thus with mind reciprocall,
this couple were well matched;
The Parson told the Parish all,
and then twas quite dispatched;
I hope the love that twixt them past,
unto delight would move you,
Each of them usd this Phrase toth last,
for it is I that love you.


Printed at London for F. Coules, dwelling in the Old-Baily. FINIS.

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