Match me this Wedding.
OR,
A health that was drunke in Sider and Perrie.
And good strong Beere to, which did make the lads mery.
To a new Court tune.
|
OF late there was a wedding,
|
kept in faire Gloster towne,
|
Where lads to drinke their Lasses health,
|
did bravely sit them downe,
|
And first bespake the Bride-groome,
|
heres a health unto my Bride,
|
And to all the sweet-hearts evry one,
|
young men you have beside.
|
The first spake kind Toby,
|
a Welch-man I protest,
|
Heres unto young Guintlin,
|
a Lasse that I love best,
|
Theres not her like for beauty,
|
search all your English shires,
|
And he that dares denie it,
|
weel have him by the eares.
|
With that bespake young Samuel,
|
pretty Bessee is my deere,
|
For true love and for constancy,
|
none can my Love come neere,
|
And therefore kind Toby,
|
if thoult maintaine thy word,
|
Beare witnesse all that heares me speake,
|
Ile make thee eate my sword.
|
With that bespake honest John,
|
my Nans of beauty free,
|
Though not so faire as others are,
|
yet that ner troubles me,
|
Her love was ever constant,
|
and so shall mine be still,
|
Therefor my Nannies health Ile pledge,
|
with love and true good will.
|
Then Thomas he tooke up the cup,
|
being the fourth in place,
|
My turne is come quoth he to drinke,
|
a health to my sweets Grace,
|
Her friends did ever love me,
|
as if I were their owne,
|
Therefore my constant love to her,
|
for ever shall be showne.
|
Then William tooke the cup in hand,
|
and thus began to say,
|
Faire Bridget I have wooed oft,
|
but still she sayes me nay.
|
Her friends were ever willing
|
that married we should be,
|
Therefore my Bridgets health Ile drink
|
in hope she will love me.
|
With that spake bould Joseph,
|
if a man had house and land,
|
A Woman to consume it,
|
would helpe him out of hand,
|
And for to get a sweet-heart,
|
I never tooke no care:
|
Therefore brave gallants of your healthes
|
I meane to drinke no share.
|
With that spake trusty Roger,
|
this mans not of my minde,
|
For I have sweet-hearts three or foure,
|
of nature good and kinde,
|
But yet my peerelesse Peggy is
|
a Diamond in my eye,
|
Therefore my Peggies health Ile drinke,
|
and love her till I dye.
|
|
|
|
|
The second part To the same tune.
|
THen Philip tooke the cup in hand,
|
quoth he as others doe,
|
With all my heart this health Ile drinke,
|
unto my owne sweete Sue.
|
For beauty and for constancy,
|
I know she has a share,
|
But for her huswifery,
|
my Susan shall with best compare.
|
Then Francis tooke the cup in hand,
|
and said, friends doe you heare,
|
This health is to faire Maudlin,
|
a lasse that I love deere,
|
Not London, nor faire Bristow,
|
nor Yorke that merry towne,
|
For true love and for constancy,
|
can put my Maudlin downe.
|
Then Henry tooke the cup in hand,
|
and then these words he said,
|
Heres a health unto my Mary,
|
but truth is shes no maid,
|
She is a widow gallants,
|
that hath both house and land,
|
Besides a handsome woman too,
|
Ide have you understand.
|
Then Charles tooke up the cup,
|
and said these words most bold,
|
Heres a health unto my Rachell,
|
which must not be controld,
|
Though Morgan said Rachell was his,
|
and challengd me the field,
|
Proud Morgan knowes I bravely there
|
made him his sword up yeeld.
|
Then Laurence he tooke up the cup,
|
quoth he to make an end,
|
Heres a health unto faire Isabell,
|
my constant loving friend,
|
Her friends and mine have talked,
|
and thereon are agreed,
|
Therefore faire Isabell I intend,
|
to marry with all speed.
|
When all this strife was ended,
|
I tooke the cup in hand,
|
And drunke a health unto my friends,
|
in order as they stand,
|
First to my loving Hostis,
|
that loves a pot and a toste,
|
And to her honest husband,
|
calld my red nose Host.
|
Next health is to all Tailors,
|
where ever they doe dwell,
|
That never boild their Cabage,
|
within a pit cald hell.
|
A health unto the Baker,
|
that never was misled,
|
Nor yet put in the Pillorie,
|
for sizing of his bread.
|
A health unto the Widow,
|
that nere did braule nor scold,
|
That hath a faire young daughter,
|
of ninety nine yeares old.
|
A health to all good huswives,
|
that nere did sweare nor curse,
|
Nor never did picke money,
|
out of their husbands purse.
|
And thus they broke up company,
|
all friends for ought I know,
|
And every one most willingly,
|
unto their home did goe.
|
Had not young Samuel at first,
|
allaid the Welch-mans heat,
|
He would have sworne them cowards all,
|
and said he did them beat.
|
|
|
|
|