Floras farewell: Or, The Shepherds Love-passion Song, Wherein he greatly doth complain, Because his love was spent in vain. To a delicate new Tune: or A thousand times my love commend.
|
FLora farewel, I needs must go,
|
for if with thee I longer stay,
|
Thine eyes prevaile over me so,
|
I shall be blind and lose my way.
|
Fame of thy beauty and thy youth,
|
to seek for love me hither brought:
|
But when in thee I found no truth,
|
it was no boot to stay I thought.
|
Now Im ingagd by word and oath
|
a servant to anothers will;
|
Yet for thy sake would forego both,
|
wouldst thou be sure to love me still.
|
But what assurance can I have
|
of thee, who seeing mine abuse,
|
In that which love desires to crave,
|
may leave me with a just excuse.
|
For thou maist say, twas not thy fault,
|
that thou didst so inconstant prove,
|
Thou wert by mine example taught
|
to break thy oath and leave thy love.
|
No Flora no, I will recal
|
the former words which I have spoke,
|
And thou shalt have no cause at all
|
to hamper me in Cupids yoke.
|
But since thy humor is to range,
|
and that thou bearst a wavering mind
|
Like to the Moon with thee Ile change,
|
and turn I can with every wind.
|
Henceforth blind Fancy Ile remove,
|
and cast all sorrows from my heart:
|
Young men to dye for doting Love,
|
I hold it but a foolish part.
|
Why should I to one love be bound,
|
and fix my thoughts on none but thee,
|
When as a thousand may be found,
|
thats far more fair and fit for me.
|
Though I am not but a Shepherds Swain,
|
my minde to me doth comfort bring,
|
Feeding my Flocks upon the Plain,
|
I tryumph like a petty King.
|
No Female Brat shall me deceive,
|
nor catch me by a crafty wilde?
|
Though I doe love, yet I can leave,
|
and will no longer be begilde.
|
Flora, once more farewell, adew,
|
I so conclud my passion Song;
|
To thy next Love see thou proove true,
|
for thou hast done me double wrong.
|
|
|
|
|
The second part, to the same Tune. Being the Answer of fair Flora to the Shepherds Song: Wherein she shews that he hath done the wrong.
|
Fye, Shepherd fie, thou art to blame
|
to rail against me in this sort:
|
Thou dost disgrace a Sweet-hearts name,
|
To give thy Love a false report.
|
There was a Proverb used of old,
|
and now I find it is no lye,
|
One Tale is good till the others told,
|
she that loves most is least set by.
|
A brief Description I will tell,
|
of thy Favor, love and flattery,
|
And how at first thou didst excell
|
with cunning tricks and policy.
|
But Oh that flattering tongue of thine,
|
and tempting eye sought to intice,
|
And to insnare the heart of mine,
|
and bring me in fools Paradise.
|
When thou at first began to woo,
|
and with thy skill my patience tryed,
|
You thought there was no more to do,
|
But presently get up and ride.
|
Thou saidst that I was fair and bright,
|
and fitting for thy Marriage bed,
|
Thou fedst my fancy with delight,
|
thinking to have my Maiden-head.
|
But when thou sawst thou couldst not gain
|
the Jem that thou desirest to have,
|
My company thou didst refrain,
|
like to a false dissembling Knave.
|
Whereby I answered thus, and said,
|
to shun the cause of further strife,
|
I would contain my self a Maid,
|
till such time I was made a wife.
|
And since that you my minde have crost,
|
you may bestow you as you will:
|
Shepherd, farewell, theres nothing lost
|
I am resolved to say so still.
|
Blinde Cupid with his wounding dart
|
could never make me sorrows feel:
|
Ile not lay that unto my heart
|
as others shake off with the heel.
|
|
|
|
|