A Courtly New BALLAD of the Princely Wooing of the
Fair Maid of London, by King EDWARD. Tune of, Bonny sweet Robin.
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FAIR Angel of England thy Beauty most bright
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Is all my Hearts Pleasure, my Joy, and Delight;
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Then grant me fair Lady thy true Lore to be,
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That I may say welcome, good Fortune to me.
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The Turtle so chast and true in her Love,
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By gentle Perswasions her Fancy will move;
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Then be not intreated, fair Lady, in vain,
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For Nature requireth what I should obtain.
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The Phoenix so famous that lieth alone,
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Is vowed to Chastity, being but one;
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But be not, my Dearest, so chast in desire,
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Least thou like the phoenix dost Penance in fire.
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But alas! gentle Lady, I pitty your State,
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In being resolved to live without Mate;
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For if of our Courting the Pleasure you knew,
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You would have a likeing the same to ensue.
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Long time I have sued the same to obtain,
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Yet I am requited with Scorn and Disdain;
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But if you will grant your good-will unto me,
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You shall be advanced to Princely Degree.
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Promotions and Honour may often entice
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The chastest that live, tho never so nice;
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What Woman so worthy but could be content,
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To live in Palaces where Princes frequent?
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Two Brides young and princely to Church I have led,
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Two Ladies now lately have decked my Bed;
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Yet hath thy Love taken more Root in my Heart,
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Than all the Contentments, whereof I had Part.
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Your gentle Heart cannot Mens Hearts much abide,
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And Women least angry when most they do chide;
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Then yeild to me kindly, and say that at length,
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Men they want Mercy, and poor Women Strength.
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I grant that fair Ladies may poor Men resist,
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And Princes may conquer and wooe when they list,
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A King may command them to lye by his Side,
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Whos Features deserveth to be a Kings Bride.
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In granting your Love you shall purchase Renown,
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Your Head shall be crownd with Englands Crown,
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Thy Garments most gallant of Gold shall be wrought,
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If true Love with Treasure of thee may be bought.
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Great Ladies of Honour shall wait on her Train,
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Most richly attird with Scarlet in grain,
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My Chamber most princely thy Person shall keep,
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Where Virgins with Musick shall rock thee asleep.
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If theres any Pleasure thy Heart can invent,
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Command them sweet Lady thy Heart to content,
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For Kings gallant Courts where Princes do dwell,
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Afford such sweet Pastime as Ladies love well.
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Then be not resolved to die a true Maid,
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But print in thy Bosom those Words I have said,
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And grant a King Favour your true Love to be,
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That I may say, Welcome sweet Virgin to me.
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The fair Maid of Londons Answer to King Edwar[d]
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O Wanton King Edward thy Labours in vain,
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To follow the Pleasures thou canst not attain,
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With getting thou losest, and having dost want it,
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The which if thou purchase, is spoild if thou hast it.
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But if thou obtain it, thou nothing hast won,
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And I losing nothing yet quite am undone;
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But if of my Jewel a King do deceive me,
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No King can restore though a Kingdom he give me.
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My Colour is changed since thou see me last,
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My Favour is vanishd, my Beauty is past,
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The Rose-red Blushes that sat in my Cheeks,
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To Paleness is turned, which all Men dislikes.
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I pass not for Princes for love I protest,
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The Name of a Virgin contenteth me best,
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I have not deserved to lye by his Side,
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Nor yet to be counted so, King Edwards Bride.
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The Name of a Princess I never did crave,
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No such Type of Honour thy Hand-maid will have,
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My Breast shall not harbour so lofty a Thought,
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Nor be with rich Proffers to Wattonness brought.
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If wild wanton Rosamond, one of our Sort,
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Had never frequented King Henrys fair Court,
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Such Heaps of deep Sorrows she never had seen,
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Nor tasted the Rage of so jealous a Queen.
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All Men have their Freedom to shew their Intent,
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They win not a Woman except she consent;
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Who then can impute to them any Fault,
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Who still go upright until Men do halt.
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Tis counted a Kindness in Men for to try,
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And Virtue in Women the same to deny;
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For Women unconstant can never be provd,
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Until by their betters therein they be movd.
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If Woman and Modesty once do but sever,
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Then farewel good Name and Credit for ever;
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And Royal King Edward let me be exild,
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Ere any Man knows my Bodys defild.
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No, no, my Reverend Fathers Tears,
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Too deep an Impression upon my Heart bears,
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Nor shall his bright Honour that Blot for me have,
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To bring his Grey Hairs with Grief to the Grave.
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The Heavens forbear that when I shall die,
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That any such Sin should upon me lye;
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If I have thus kept me from doing this Sin,
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My Heart shall not yield with a Prince to begin.
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Come rather with Pity and weep on my Tomb,
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Then for my Birth curb my dear Mothers Womb,
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That brought such a Blosom that stained the Tree,
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With wanton Desires that shame her and me.
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Leave me most noble King, tempt not in vain,
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My milk-white Affection with Lewdness to stain,
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Though England will give me no Comforts at all,
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Yet England will give me a sad Burial.
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