An Admirable New Northern Story,
Of two constant Lovers as I understand,
Were born near Appleby in Westmoreland,
The Lads name Anthony, Constance the Lass,
To sea they went both and great dangers did pass:
How they sufferd shipwrack on the Coast of Spain
For two Years divided and then met again;
By wonderful fortune and rare accident,
And now both live at home with joy and content.
The Tune is I would thou wert in Shrewsbury.
|
TWo Lovers in the North,
|
Constance and Anthony,
|
Of them I will set forth
|
a gallant History:
|
They lovd exceeding well,
|
as plainly doth appear;
|
But that which I shall tell,
|
the like you neer did hear.
|
Still she crys Anthony,
|
my bonny Anthony,
|
Gang thou by land or sea,
|
Ill wend along with thee.
|
Anthony must to Sea,
|
his Calling did him bind,
|
My Constance, Dear, quoth he,
|
I must leave thee behind,
|
I prithee do not grieve,
|
thy tears will not prevail:
|
Ill think on thee my Sweet
|
when the Ships under sail.
|
But still, etc.
|
How may that be? said he,
|
consider well the case:
|
Quoth she sweet Anthony,
|
Ill bide not in this place.
|
If thou gang so will I,
|
of the means do not doubt:
|
A womans Policy
|
great matters may find out:
|
My bonny, etc.
|
I would be very glad,
|
but prithee tell me how?
|
Ill dress me like a Lad,
|
what sayst thou to me now?
|
The Sea thou canst not brook,
|
yes very well (quoth she)
|
Ill Scullion to the Cook
|
for thy sweet company.
|
My bonny, etc.
|
Anthonys leave she had,
|
and Drest in Mans array,
|
She seemd the blithest Lad
|
seen on a Summers Day.
|
O see what Love can do,
|
at home she will not bide:
|
With her true Love shell go,
|
let weal or woe betide.
|
My dearest, etc.
|
In the Ship twas her lot
|
to be the under Cook;
|
And at the Fire hot,
|
wonderful pains she took:
|
She served eery one,
|
fitting to their degree;
|
And now and then alone,
|
she kissed Anthony.
|
My bonny Anthony,
|
my bonny Anthony,
|
Gang thou by land or sea,
|
Ill wend along with thee.
|
ALack and welladay
|
by tempest on the Main
|
Their Ship was east away
|
upon the Coast of Spain:
|
To th mercy of the waves,
|
they all committed were,
|
Constance her own self saves,
|
then she crys for her dear.
|
My bonny Anthony,
|
my bonny Anthony,
|
Gang thou by land or sea,
|
Ill wend along with thee.
|
Swimming upon a Plank,
|
at Bilbo she got ashore
|
First she did heaven thank,
|
then she lamented sore,
|
O woe is me (said she)
|
the saddest Lass alive,
|
My dearest Anthony,
|
now on the Sea doth drive.
|
My bonny, etc.
|
What shall become of me?
|
why do I strive for shore,
|
Sith my sweet Anthony,
|
I never shall see more?
|
Fair Constance do not grieve,
|
the same good providence,
|
Hath savd thy lover sweet,
|
but he is far from hence,
|
Still, etc.
|
A spanish Merchant rich
|
saw this fair seeming Lad,
|
That did lament so much;
|
and was so grievous sad:
|
He had in England been
|
and English understood,
|
He having heard and seen
|
he in amazement stood:
|
still she cries Anthony, etc.
|
The Merchant asked her
|
what was that Anthony:
|
Quoth she My Brother Sir
|
who came from thence with me.
|
He did her entertain
|
thinking she was a Boy;
|
Two years she did remain
|
before she met her joy.
|
still she cries etc.
|
Anthony up was tane
|
by an English Runagade,
|
With whom he did remain
|
at the Sea-roving trade:
|
Ith nature of a Slave
|
he did ith Galley row;
|
Thus he his life did save
|
but Constance did not know:
|
still she cries Anthony,
|
my bonny Anthony,
|
Gang thou by land or sea
|
Ile wend along with thee.
|
Now mark what came to pass;
|
see how the fates did work:
|
A Ship that her Masters was
|
surprised this English Turk,
|
And into Bilbo brought
|
all that aboard her were;
|
Constance still little thought
|
Anthony was so near.
|
still she cries etc.
|
When they were come on shore
|
Anthony and the rest,
|
She who was sad before
|
was now with joy possest;
|
The Merchant much did muse
|
at this so sudden change,
|
He did demand the News,
|
which unto him was strange:
|
Now she, etc.
|
Upon her knees she fell
|
unto her Master kind;
|
And all the truth did tell,
|
nothing she kept behind:
|
At which he did admire,
|
and in a ship of Spain,
|
Not paying for their hire,
|
he sent them home again.
|
Now she, etc.
|
The spanish Merchant rich
|
did of his bounty give,
|
A sum of Gold, on which
|
they now most bravely live:
|
And now in Westmoreland
|
they were joynd hand in hand,
|
Constancy and Anthony,
|
they live in mirth and glee,
|
Now she cries Anthony,
|
my bonny Anthony,
|
Good Providence we see,
|
hath guarded thee and me.
|
|
|
|
|
|