The wofull complaint of a Love-sicke Mayde, She was afrayde to have died a Mayde: Because her Love did prove unkinde, She thought he was gone a new Love to finde. To the tune of Come my sweet and bonny one.
|
ASt was my chance to walke abroad
|
one time to take the ayre,
|
I heard a faire Maide make great moane,
|
and she was in great care[:]
|
Alas (quoth she) now woe is me,
|
my Love is from me gone,
|
And I am here in griefe and care,
|
and comfortlesse alone.
|
O art thou gone away from me,
|
and bidst me not adue;
|
Hast thou forsaken thy olde true Love,
|
and changed me for a new?
|
Being its so, as I doe know,
|
thou bearst a flattering minde:
|
Because that thou dist make a vow,
|
to prove both true and kinde.
|
Thou saidst to me thou wouldst be true,
|
and ever wouldst endure:
|
But now I see thou art not so,
|
thou seekst for to procure
|
My endlesse woe, which will I know,
|
in time procure my smart:
|
Because that thou keepst not thy vow,
|
but seekst to breake my heart.
|
O faithlesse false & forsworne wretch,
|
how couldst thou have the heart,
|
To leave a Mayden in distresse?
|
O tis a Judas part:
|
But cruell thou, though thou didst vow,
|
thou little dost regard,
|
What cruell paines may be thy gaines
|
at last for thy reward.
|
You Maydens all example take
|
by me that am in griefe:
|
And have beene caught in Cupids net,
|
which yeelds me no reliefe:
|
Because I am sure Im undone,
|
what shall I say or doe?
|
But may complaine, and all in vaine,
|
my heart will breake with woe.
|
Would God I could enjoy my Love,
|
though he be much unkinde,
|
And that he would turne to his Dove,
|
that never changd her minde.
|
But being he is gone from me,
|
and left me here in scorne:
|
I must decay, and waste away,
|
and pine, and grieve, and mourne.
|
I doe expect my time is short,
|
and soone will have an end:
|
Because my Love is false in heart,,
|
pray God he may amend,
|
And prove more true, tos Lover new,
|
then he hath been to me:
|
Adieu sweet Love, pray God above,
|
full safe that thou mayst be.
|
Now of my speech I make an end,
|
and meane to say no more:
|
But well I wish unto my friend,
|
God blesse him evermore:
|
Though I have spoke, God may provoke
|
his minde to turne againe,
|
For to love me, most faithfully,
|
and long for to remaine.
|
|
FINIS.
|
|
|
The young mans kinde reply unto the comfortlesse Mayde, He grees with his Love in all shee hath sayd, Shewing to her a part of his minde, That he will be alwayes most loving and kinde. To the tune Of the pride of Leister Shire.
|
HArke, harke, me thinks I heare one speake
|
what should this Eccho meane?
|
I thinke it be my owne true Love,
|
my faire and onely Dame:
|
O why shouldst thou, my Philladay,
|
complaine that I am gone,
|
And knowest I am the onely man,
|
that loveth thee alone?
|
I am not gone away from thee,
|
my onely hearts delight:
|
But comfort thou shalt finde by me,
|
by day and eke by night:
|
My owne sweet Love, and Turtle Dove,
|
be not disturbd in minde:
|
For thou shalt finde, I will prove kinde,
|
and never change againe.
|
I promised thee for to be true,
|
and so I will endure,
|
Though I at first did prove thy heart,
|
tis good for to be sure,
|
To prove thy minde, and know thee kinde,
|
for many false there be,
|
And so mightst thou, for ought I know,
|
have proved unto me.
|
Though I did make a vow to thee,
|
and pawned with thee my heart,
|
Yet thou hast spoken unto me,
|
as though thou wouldst depart:
|
But now I find thee true and kinde,
|
and I the like will be:
|
Whilst death doth part, my tender heart,
|
I will not part with thee:
|
All you kind hearts that have true loves,
|
by me example take:
|
And have a care, whereto you sweare
|
for the Almighties sake:
|
Doe not goe on as I have done,
|
to breed a Maydens smart:
|
But turne in time, in heart and minde,
|
and ease your true Loves heart.
|
Would God I ner had wrongd my Love,
|
nor beene to her unkinde:
|
Then should she have no cause to mourne,
|
nor be disturbd in minde:
|
But being its so, I well doe know,
|
I must unto her goe;
|
And speake my minde, in loving kinde,
|
and ease her of her woe.
|
Come, come, sweet heart, doe not repent,
|
nor wrastle in despaire,
|
Though I to thee have beene unkind,
|
Ile ease thee of thy care:
|
For I will prove constant in love,
|
as alwayes thou shalt finde,
|
I will be true, not change for new,
|
but alwayes will be kinde.
|
Come, Love, lets speake no more of this,
|
but faithfully lets joyne:
|
And looke before what was amisse,
|
I meane for to amend:
|
Come let us now, performe our vow,
|
and make no more adoe:
|
But let us joyne in heart and minde,
|
and so to Church lets goe.
|
And so these Lovers made an end,
|
of these their former words:
|
One loved the other heartily,
|
not breeding no discords:
|
In peace I pray long live they may,
|
and all true Lovers else:
|
What ere they be, or what degree,
|
so much is spoke of mee.
|
|
FINIS.
|
|
|