The Nightingale:
Whose curious Notes are here explaind,
In a dainty Ditty sweetly faind.
To a new and much affected Court Tune.
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YOu Gallants that resort
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To Hide Parke or Totnam Court,
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To recreate,
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And to elevate
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your sences when they are out of date,
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Come listen to my Song,
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Which doth belong
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to the Nightingales sweet tongue:
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Tis Musicke rare
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To heare this little, pretty, dulcid, dainty Philomel
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how she makes the Woods for to ring,
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Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet,
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Jug, jug, jug, jug, sweet, jug, jug, jug, jug,
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the Nightingale doth sing.
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The Courtiers in their pride,
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Walking by the greene Wood side,
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They doe much admire,
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When they heare the Quire,
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of little Birds whose notes aspire,
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Above all the rest,
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They fancie best
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the Nightingales sweet breast,
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For she doth straine
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Her little pretty, dulcid, dainty, pleasant throat,
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with musicke fit for a King,
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Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet,
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Jug, jug, jug, jug, sweet, jug, jug, jug, jug,
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the Nightingale doth sing.
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The Citizens would faine
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Heare Philomels sweet straine,
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But that they feare
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When they come there,
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the curious constant Note to heare,
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And therefore they refuse
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And will not use,
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the Woods if they can chuse,
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But yet sometimes,
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This little, pretty, dulcid, dainty dilly,
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They delight to heare in the Spring,
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Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet,
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Jug, jug, jug, jug, sweet, jug, jug, jug, jug,
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the Nightingale doth sing.
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The Prentices doe stray,
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Upon the first of May,
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To meet their Loves
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In the gay greene Groves,
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where every one their fancie proves,
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And with Loves delight,
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From morne till night,
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they feed their appetite;
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And while they wooe
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This little, pretty, dulcid, dainty creature,
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her musicke to them doth bring,
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Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet,
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Jug, jug, jug, jug, sweet, jug, jug, jug, jug,
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the Nightingale doth sing.
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The second part. To the same Tune.
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THe honest labouring Swaine,
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To extenuate his paine
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When hee doth plod
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To his worke abroad,
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His Hay, or Corne, or Wood to load,
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It doth joy his heart,
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At Plough or Cart,
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to heare the curious part,
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Which among the Quire,
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This little pretty, dulcid, dainty Quirister
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doth beare, this delight doth bring;
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Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet,
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Jug, jug, jug, jug, sweet, jug, jug, jug, jug,
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the Nightingale doth sing.
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The Country Milke-maids sweet,
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When they goe to milke their Neat,
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In a Summers day,
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In June or May,
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delight to walke ith Medowes gay,
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They doe thinke it long,
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To heare a Song,
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from Philomels sweet tongue,
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In April they
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Expect this little, pretty, dulcid, dainty bird,
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when she first proclaimes the Spring,
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Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet,
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Jug, jug, jug, jug, sweet, jug, jug; jug, jug,
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the Nightingale doth sing.
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Both men and women goe,
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To the greene Wood on a row,
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Both old and young
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Walke in a throng,
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both Lads and Lasses march along,
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In a Sympathy,
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For company,
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with mirth and jollity.
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It is not for Nuts,
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But to heare this little, prety, dulcid, dainty Musician
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how she makes the Woods for to ring,
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Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet,
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Jug, jug, jug, jug, sweet, jug, jug, jug, jug,
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the Nightingale doth sing.
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Thus Country, City and Court,
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Unto the Woods resort,
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To please their minds,
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Both Lords and Hinds,
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all sorts according to their kinds,
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Walke to take delight,
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Both morne and night;
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and as they please their sight,
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Their eares are pleased,
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To heare this little, pretty, dulcid, dainty Messenger
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what wisht for newes she doth bring,
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Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet,
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Jug, jug, jug, jug, sweet, jug, jug, jug, jug,
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the Nightingale doth sing.
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