EBBA 30445
British Library - Roxburghe
Ballad XSLT Template
|
Chastities Conquest,
OR, No Trusting before Marriage. A New Song,
You Virgins that your Fame and Honour prize.
Learn here by saving both, how to be wise.
Secure your Treasure till you have securd
The Purchaser and then you are insurd
A thing that forehand freeness ner procurd.
To the Tune of, Canst thou not weave Bone-lace. This may be Printed. R P.
|
CAnst thou not weave Bonelace,
|
yea by Lady that I can,
|
canst thou not lisp with Grace
|
yea as well as any one,
|
Canst thou not Card and Spin
|
yea by Lady that I can
|
And do the other thing
|
wee Ise do what I can
|
Come then, and be my sweet
|
To Bed Il carry thee
|
No in Geud faith not a bit
|
Unless you marry me:
|
Marriage is not the mode
|
then Ise will make it so,
|
Duce o the common Road
|
Il ner forsake it so
|
Thou shalt in me possess
|
all Joys that can be had
|
Then give a consenting Kiss,
|
Then wed me first my Lad
|
Let us but gang to the Priest
|
So dear I tender thee.
|
Then Kiss on and do what you list
|
faith Ise not hinder the
|
We shall soon weary grow
|
change will soon tyre you
|
Ah do not tell me so
|
Since I admire you
|
For when I touch thy Breasts
|
thy charms so fire me
|
Yet needless is a Priest
|
Then come no nigher me,
|
For when you tempt me to bed
|
Ise no sick silly Fool,
|
But if youl buckle and wed,
|
then kiss your Belly full
|
If as you say you Love
|
make Ise your wedded Mate,
|
And you shall freely have
|
what ever youd be at
|
Will you not then my Joy
|
without your wedded strike
|
No by my troth not I
|
Such loving Ise not like
|
But wedded my Arms shall bless
|
thy passion to the light
|
And with a consenting kiss
|
my Love to his Joys invite.
|
Lets no kind minutes wast
|
Il lead thee to my Bed,
|
Where Loves delights wel tast
|
and so to morrow be wedded
|
Geud Faith Ise not agree,
|
Ise venture no such thing
|
Troth your deceived in me
|
and must begin again
|
Come lay this Bashfulness by
|
your blushes I will hide
|
What harm is it now to try
|
If your to morrn my Bride.
|
Ise never yield to that
|
O dont desire me
|
To do the Deel knows what
|
Whood then admire me
|
Well thou hast won my Heart,
|
Thy Virtues fire me
|
Ile wed and never part
|
As you require me
|
Soft murmurs and Sighs shall prove
|
What Joys you render me
|
O Kiss then and surfeit one Love
|
Faith ise not angry be.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden Ball near the Bear Tavern in Pyecorner.
|
View Raw XML