THE
Witty Damsel of Devonshire:
OR,
A Dialogue between a Mother and her Daughter, concerning Robin
the Miller whom the Daughter hated, and resolved to marry William the Plow-
man whom she dearly Loved.
Tune of Here I Love, there I Love: Or, The two English Travellers.
Licensed according to Order.
|
DEar Daughter come hither and hear what I say,
|
When do you intend to be Married I pray,
|
Poor Robin the Miller lies sick for your sake,
|
Some pity of him I would have you now take.
|
He vows that he loves you as dear as his life,
|
And has a desire to make you his wife;
|
Then do not be cruel dear Daughter, said she,
|
For why, he loves none in the Nation but thee.
|
I will not believe him dear Mother she cry'd,
|
There's Prudence[,] young Bridget, nay Susan beside,
|
Nay Nelly, and Nancy, likewise Bonny Kate,
|
All these youthful Lasses he courted of late,
|
As soon as their Innocent Hearts were betray'd,
|
He never regarded the Vows that he made;
|
Now if he do's languish, i'faith let him dye,
|
I know he is given to flatter and lye.
|
My dear loving Daughter I an't of that mind,
|
I'm certain he never can prove so unkind;
|
Afford him all kindness and love that you can,
|
you'll find this poor Miller a right Honest Man.
|
His life I would have you endeavour to save,
|
For why should you send him with Sighs to the Grave;
|
Poor heart he doth languish and cry day night,
|
That you are resolved to ruin him quite.
|
His strange Protestetions I vow and declare,
|
Are none but self-notions young Maids to ensnare;
|
Therefore I'll have nothing to do with him then,
|
These Millers I know to be false hearted Men.
|
His death I am certain we need never fear,
|
For Loyal to any he ne'er did appear;
|
Young Lasses he now courts a Store and above,
|
Then hang him dear Mother he'll ne'er dye for love.
|
Besides I must tell you his calling I hate,
|
And never desire to live at that rate,
|
Before the Toll-dish my Apparel shall give,
|
I will stay a Maiden as long as I live.
|
I wonder dear Daughter you should be so coy,
|
Both Riches and Pleasure you soon would enjoy,
|
Beyond your Three Sisters Kate, Dolly, and Joan,
|
For Robin you know has a Mill of his own.
|
Likewise he has three or four Acres of Land,
|
And also good Silver and Gold at command,
|
He tells me that you shall be Dame of his store,
|
Now think of this Daughter, what man can say more,
|
I care not a Fig for his silver and Gold,
|
Tho' he had as much as my Apron could hold,
|
Nor yet do I value his owning a Mill,
|
If ever I wed it shall be honest Will.
|
His living he gets by the sweat of his Brow,
|
Sometimes by his Thrashing then Harrow and Plow,
|
By honest hard labour he lives true and just,
|
But Millers you know they are Thieves at the best.
|
I value not Robin, nay Richard nor Ralph,
|
If I am with William methinks I am safe,
|
For why to his Honour, nay Glory and Fame,
|
We now have a right valiant King of his Name.
|
But as for the Robins it never was known,
|
That they were thought worthy to come near the throne,
|
Then Heavens preserve all the Williams therefore
|
It being the Name which I dearly adore.
|
Her Mother immediately made this Reply,
|
Let Robin the Miller with languishing dye,
|
With these prety sayings my heart you have won,
|
I will have a William likewise to my son.
|
|
|
|
|
|