A homely Dialogue
betwixt a young wo-
man and her sweet-
heart.
To a pleasant new Tune,
Alace poor thing.
|
AS I was walking forth,
|
I chanced for to see
|
A young man, and a maid,
|
but they not knew of me:
|
She being in the merry vein,
|
did chick him under the Chin,
|
And smiling in his face, she cryd,
|
Alace poor thing.
|
She by his love and complements,
|
did understand and find.
|
That she might safely let him know,
|
and understand her mind;
|
Pretending for to stumble, on
|
the ground her self did fling,
|
And said, sweet-heart, I fell by chance,
|
Alace, poor thing.
|
This young man standing still a while,
|
evn for a little space;
|
Then finding opportunity,
|
and a convenient place:
|
Underneath hir Shadow bowers,
|
closse by a pleasant Spring;
|
Upon the Maid, himself he threw,
|
Alace Poor thing.
|
I could not choose but laugh to see
|
these two so close imployd;
|
This young men was contented,
|
the maid was overjoyd:
|
Expressing of her love to him.
|
she closse did to him cling;
|
Then smiling in his face, she said,
|
Alace, poor thing,
|
It was not long before this youth
|
was tyred with that sport;
|
And laid him down to rest a while,
|
and drew his breath full short:
|
She turnd to him, and kissed him,
|
and closse to him did cling,
|
Then smiling in his face, she cryd,
|
Alace, poor thing.
|
She finding him in fainting fitts,
|
then she began to weep;
|
And with her hands she rubd his Joynts
|
to keep this youth from sleep:
|
Thy weaknesse, said she to him,
|
doth make my veins to sting,
|
Come fie for shame, rouse up thy self,
|
Alace, poor thing.
|
The Souldier that doth venture,
|
he ventures in the Field;
|
Altho that first repulse he get,
|
the day he will not yield;
|
But cast about, and charge again,
|
and take the other fling,
|
Ile do my best to second thee,
|
Alace, poor thing.
|
|
|
|
|
|