An Admirable new Northern Story,
Of two [c]onstant Lovers, as I understand,
We[r]e born neer Appleby, in Westmerland;
The Lad named Anthony, Constance the Lass,
To Sea they went both, and great dangers did pass.
How they suffered Shipwrack, on the Coast of Spain,
For two years divided, and then met again:
By wonderful fortune, and care accident,
And now both live at home in joy and content.
The tune is, I would thou wert in Shrowsbury.
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TWo Lovers in the North,
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Constance and Anthony,
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Of them I will set forth
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a gallant History.
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They lovd exceeding well,
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as plainly doth appear,
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But that which I shall tell,
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the like you ner did hear.
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Still she crys Anthony,
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my bonny Anthony
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Gang thou by Land or Sea,
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ile wend along with thee.
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Anthony must to Sea,
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his calling did him bind,
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My Constance dear (quoth he)
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I must leave thee behind.
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I prethee be not grievd,
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thy tears will not prevail,
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Ile think on thee my sweet,
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when the ships under sail.
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But still, etc.
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How may that be (said he)
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consider well the case,
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Quoth she sweet Anthony,
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ile bide not in this place:
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If thou gang so will I,
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of the means do not doubt,
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A womans Policy
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great matters may find out:
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My bonny, etc.
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I would be very glad,
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but prethee tell me how,
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Ile dress me like a Lad,
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what sayst thou to me now?
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The Sea thou canst not brook,
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yes, very well, quoth she,
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Ile scullain to the Cook,
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for thy sweet company.
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My bonny, etc.
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Anthonies leave she had,
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and drest in Mans array,
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She seemd the blithest Lad,
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seen on a Summers day.
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O see what love can do,
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at home she will not bide,
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With her true love shel go
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let weal or woe betide.
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My dearest, etc.
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In the Ship twas her lot
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to be the under Cook,
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And at the Fire hot
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wonderful pains she took,
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She served every one,
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fiting to their degree,
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And now and then alone,
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she kissed Anthony.
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My bonny Anthony,
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my bonny Anthony,
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Gang thou by Land or Sea,
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ile wend along with thee.
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The second Part, to the same tune.
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ALack and welladay,
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by tempest on the Main,
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Their Ship was cast away,
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upon the Ceast of Spain.
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To th mercy of the waves,
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they all committed were,
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Constance her own self saves,
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then she cries for her dear:
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My bonny Anthony,
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my bonny Anthony,
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Gang thou by Sea or Land,
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ile wend along with thee.
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Swimming upon a Plank,
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at Bilbo she got ashore,
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First she did heaven thank,
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than she lamented sore:
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O woe is me (said she)
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the saddest Lass alive,
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My dearest Anthony,
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now on the Sea doth drive.
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My bonny, etc.
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What shall become of me,
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why did I strive for shore:
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Sith my sweet Anthony,
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I never shall see more,
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Fair Constance do not grieve,
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the same good providence,
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Hath savd thy Lover sweet,
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but he is far from hence;
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Still she cries, etc.
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A Spanish Merchant rich,
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saw this fair seeming Lad,
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That did lament so much,
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and was so grievous sad.
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He had in England been,
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and English understood,
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He having heard and seen,
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he in amazement stood.
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Still she, etc.
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The Merchant asked her,
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what was that Anthony,
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Quoth she, my brother Sir,
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who came from thence with me
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He did her entertain,
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thinking she was a boy,
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Two years she did remain,
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before she met her joy.
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Still she, etc.
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Anthony up was tane,
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by an English Runagade,
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With whom he did remain
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at the Sea-roving trade,
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Ith nature of a Slave
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he did ith gally row,
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Thus he his life did save,
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but Constance did not know.
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Still she, etc.
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Now mark what came to pass,
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see how the fates did work,
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A Ship that her masters was,
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surprizd this English Turk.
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And into Bilbo brought,
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all that aboard her were,
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Constance full little thought
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Anthony was so ne[ar]
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Still she, etc.
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When they were come on shore,
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Anthony and the rest,
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She who was sad before,
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was now with joy possest,
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The Merchant much did muse,
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at this so sudden change,
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He did demand the news,
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which unto him was strange.
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Now she has Anthony,
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her bonny Anthony,
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Gang thou by land or sea,
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ile wend along with thee.
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Upon her knees she fell,
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unto her Master kind,
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And all the truth did tell,
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nothing she kept behind,
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At which he did admire,
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and in a Ship of Spain,
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Not paying for their hire
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he sent them home again.
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Now she has, etc.
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The Spanish Merchant Rich,
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did of s bounty give
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A sum of gold on which
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they now most bravely live,
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And now in Westmerland,
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neer unto Appleby,
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They were joynd hand in hand
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Constance and Anth[ony.]
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They live i[n mirth and glee,
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Now she cries Anthony
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my bonny Anthony,
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Good Providence we see,
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hath guarded thee and me.]
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