FANCIES FAVORITE.
OR,
The Mirrour of the times.
Being a young Ladies commendation of a young Gallant. which hath a long time
shewed her much love: which by his civil carriage, and long patience in waiting
on, her, at last last conquered her. who was once resolved to lead a single life; and
therefore he termed her the Phaenix of the times,
To the Tune of Fancies Phenix-
|
Come, come away, you maidens fair,
|
this song to you I will indite,
|
Tis of a young man Ile declare,
|
who in his praise I needs must write,
|
The City if I search about
|
I scarce shall find his fellow out,
|
He hath been constant long to me,
|
the mirrour of the time is he.
|
I must confesse I once did mind,
|
a single life to live and die
|
But such rare parts in him I find,
|
his civil suit I cant deny,
|
But I am resolved for to free,
|
and grant him love and libertie,
|
So civil he hath been to me,
|
the mirrour of the time is he.
|
I once did think I never should,
|
so much as know what love should be
|
Nor did I dream he ever could,
|
with patience so have conquered me,
|
His comely gesture I did spy,
|
made me delight ins company,
|
That all may say who do him see,
|
the mirrour of the times is he.
|
Did you ere see that glorious star.
|
that ushers in the morning bright,
|
How he exceeds all others far,
|
by casting forth his sparkling light:
|
So all do say as much by he,
|
that ere did keep his company.
|
His carriage doth such gesture show,
|
he is admird where ere he go.
|
|
|
|
|
The second Part to the same Tune.
|
HE bashfull is yet bold also,
|
and shows it with a gallant grace;
|
All vaporing blades he scorns to know,
|
yet scorns he for to hide his face.
|
Hel take no wrong nor quarrels breed
|
but sticks to his friend in time of need.
|
Hes civil, yet hel merry be,
|
the mirrour of the times is he.
|
If any where ye should him spy,
|
in maids or womens company,
|
No wanton looks comes from his eye,
|
at any time as you ere shall see,
|
Hel court, hel kiss, hel sing, or play,
|
but it shall be in a modest way.
|
For men or womens companie
|
the mirrour of the times is he.
|
But stay my pen it runs too fast,
|
in setting forth his gallantrie.
|
For fear I lose him at the last,
|
then cause youl have to laugh at me.
|
When some do hear of him, they may,
|
perswade his love from me away
|
But if they gain his love from me,
|
none constant then I think there be.
|
But now his name I have not told,
|
nor will not yet you may be sure,
|
Till of him I can get faster hold,
|
theres no one that shall it procure
|
You maidens all that hear my song,
|
I would not have you for him long.
|
But if you do perswaded be,
|
you may find some as good as he.
|
A Phenix he hath termed me,
|
because I thought to lie alone,
|
But if that such a bird there be,
|
out of this Climat sure shes flowen,
|
Our land is cold, and therefore I
|
resolve no Phenix for to dy.
|
But though I dont this Phenix prove,
|
yet I will be his turtle Dove.
|
Theres many a maiden that doth say,
|
a single life is best at ease.
|
How oft I pray will you say nay,
|
if once a young man doth you please,
|
I must confess sometimes youl prove
|
most coy to them you most do love,
|
What by experience I find true.
|
pray blame not me for telling you.
|
Let me advise you maidens fair,
|
not to be coy nor proud at all.
|
For those that count themselves most rare
|
most times doth get the greatest fall,
|
You seldom see a scornful maid,
|
but at the last she is betrayd:
|
Be courteous, yet be vertuous still,
|
and let not young men have their will.
|
Choose not a husband for estate,
|
unless you fancie him beside,
|
You may repent when its too late,
|
tis for a lifetime you are tyd
|
No Ranter take if you be wise,
|
nor yet none of the new precise,
|
The one will rant and spend your means,
|
the other closely may love queans.
|
But now my song grows to an end,
|
I must be gone, my love doth stay,
|
Last night I did unto him send,
|
to meet me at a place today,
|
Where we intend so to agree,
|
in what Church we will married be;
|
Then Phenix like weel live and die,
|
in the pure flams of chastitie.
|
One Love, one Faith, we do express,
|
and therefore we one name will have,
|
Our love so great is I confess,
|
we likewise do desire one Grave,
|
To his desire I will incline,
|
his ashes shall be joynd with mine,
|
So Phenix like we mean to lie,
|
and Turtle like wel live and die.
|
|
|
|
|