The Maids Comfort:
OR,
The kinde young Man, who, as many have said,
Sweet comfort did yeeld to a comfortlesse Maid.
To a pleasant new Tune.
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DOwne in a Garden sits my dearest Love,
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Her skin more white then is the Downe of Swan,
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More tender-hearted then the Turtle-Dove,
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And farre more kinde then is the Pellican:
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I courted her; she blushing, rose and said,
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Why was I borne to live and dye a Maid?
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If that be all your griefe, my Sweet, said I,
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I soone shall ease you of your care and paine,
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Yeelding a meane to cure your miserie,
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That you no more shall cause have to complaine:
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Then be content, Sweeting, to her I said,
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Be ruld by me, thou shalt not dye a Maid.
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A Medicine for thy griefe I can procure,
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Then wayle no more (my Sweet) in discontent,
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My love to thee for ever shall endure,
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Ile give no cause whereby thou shouldst repent
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The Match we make: for I will constant prove
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To thee my Sweeting, and my dearest Love.
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Then sigh no more, but wipe thy watry eyes,
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Be not perplext, my Honey, at the heart,
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Thy beautie doth my heart and thoughts surprise,
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Then yeeld me love, to end my burning smart:
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Shrinke not from me, my bonny Love, I said,
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For I have vowd, thou shalt not dye a Maid.
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Pitty it were, so faire a one as you,
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Adornd with Natures chiefest Ornaments,
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Should languish thus in paine, I tell you true;
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Yeelding in love, all danger still prevents:
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Then seeme not coy, nor Love be not afraid,
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But yeeld to me, thou shalt not dye a Maid.
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Yeeld me some comfort, Sweeting, I entreat,
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For I am now tormented at the heart,
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My affections pure, my love to thee is great,
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Which makes me thus my thoughts to thee impart:
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I love thee deare, and shall doe evermore,
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O pitty me, for love I now implore.
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For her I pluckt a pretty Marigold,
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Whose leaves shut up even with the Evening Sunne,
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Saying, Sweet-heart, looke now and doe behold
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A pretty Riddle here int to be showne:
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This Leafe shut in, even like a Cloystred Nunne,
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Yet will it open, when it feeles the Sunne.
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What meane you by this Riddle, Sir, she said:
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I pray expound it. Then he thus began:
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Women were made for Men, and Men for Maids:
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With that, she changd her colour, and lookt wan.
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Since you this Riddle to me so well have told,
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Be you my Sunne, Ile be your Marigold.
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The Second part. To the same Tune.
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I Gave consent, and thereto did agree
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To sport with her within that lovely Bower:
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I pleased her, and she likewise pleasd mee,
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Jove found such pleasures in a Golden Shower.
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Our Sports being ended, then she blushing, said,
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I have my wish, for now I am no Maid.
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But, Sir (quoth she) from me you must not part,
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Your companie so well I doe affect,
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My love you have, now you have woon my heart,
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Your loving selfe for ever I respect:
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Then goe not from me, gentle Sir, quoth shee,
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Tis death to part, my gentle Love, from thee.
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The kindnesse you, good Sir, to me have showne,
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Shall never be forgot, whiles Life remaines:
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Grant me thy love, and I will be thine owne,
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Yeeld her reliefe, that now for love complaines:
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O leave me not, to languish in despaire,
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But stay with me, to ease my heart of care.
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Your Marigold for ever I will be,
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Be you my Sunne, tis all I doe desire,
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Your heating Beames yeeld comfort unto me,
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My love to you is fervent and entire:
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Let yours, good Sir, I pray be so to me,
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For I hold you my chiefe felicitie.
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Content within your companie I finde,
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Yeeld me some comfort, gentle Sir, I pray,
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To ease my griefe and my tormented minde;
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My love is firme, and never shall decay:
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So constant still (my Sweet) Ile prove to you,
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Loyall in thoughts, my love shall still be true.
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Content thy selfe (quoth he) my onely Deare,
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In love to thee I will remaine as pure
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As Turtle to her Mate; to thee I sweare,
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My constant love for ever shall endure:
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Then weepe no more, sweet comfort Ile thee yeeld,
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Thy beautious Face my heart with love hath filld.
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Comfort she found, and straight was made a Wife,
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It was the onely thing she did desire:
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And she enjoyes a Man loves her as Life,
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And will doe ever, till his date expire.
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And this for truth, report hath to me told,
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He is her Sunne, and she his Marigold.
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