A new Love-Song, and a true Love-Song. Made of a Young Man and a Maiden fair, Whose dwelling now is in Northamptonshire; As they one evening late abroad was walking, A young man lay unseen, and heard them talking: To make their Complements to seem more sweeter, Their words and actions he compos'd in Metre: 'Twas well they honest prov'd in verity, Because Tom-tell-truth chanc'd to be so nigh. To the Tune of, Colin and Amarillis.
|
LOyal Lovers listen well
|
To this Story which Ile tell,
|
Wherein I briefly will relate
|
what I heard rehearsed;
|
Between a young man and his mate
|
is here most neatly versed.
|
I walked forth one evening tide
|
By a pleasant greenwood side,
|
A pretty Couple there I spy'd,
|
young Cupid by them hover'd;
|
I saw them walk, and heard them talk,
|
yet I was not discover'd.
|
The yong man from Northampton came,
|
Yet Ile not declare his name,
|
Lest I should procure the blame
|
that doth attend a prater;
|
And in the end I make my friend
|
become a perfect hater.
|
She was a very gallant Lass,
|
Many maids she did surpass;
|
She was so fair I vow and swear,
|
pitty to deceive her;
|
And since that day I heard some say,
|
she was a Bone-lace-weaver.
|
Man.
|
Well met, fair Mistris, quoth the man,
|
Thus to courting he began;
|
If I may have what I do crave,
|
Ile not stand long disputing:
|
But yield to me, and thou shalt see
|
I'de rather be saluting.
|
Here's a fit convenient place,
|
Prethee Love let us embrace,
|
There's no man nigh that can us spy,
|
or hear what may be spoken;
|
Be kinde to me, and thou shalt see
|
Ile give thee many a Token.
|
Maid.
|
The Damsel smiling in his face,
|
Said, Sir, I'me fearful to embrace;
|
For young men are deceitful Ware,
|
and jears in them are reigning:
|
Therefore be gone, let me alone,
|
I do not know your meaning.
|
You say, convenient now it is,
|
There's no place set to do amiss;
|
Therefore I say Ile not obey,
|
nor yield to such delusion;
|
Lest at the last when pleasure's past,
|
it turns to my confusion.
|
|
|
|
|
The second Part, to the same Tune.
|
Man.
|
OH dear Love be you content,
|
For I am not lustful bent;
|
It is pure love that makes me move
|
such questions now unto you;
|
You see I stand with cap in hand,
|
on purpose for to wooe you.
|
Canst thou love me, prethee speak,
|
Or else my tender heart will break;
|
For Cupid he hath wounded me,
|
and made a deep incision:
|
My Love-sick breast can take no rest,
|
you have me in derision.
|
Maid.
|
Fye young man, what ado you keep,
|
You talk as though you wanted sleep;
|
Can any be in Love so free
|
in this our English Nation:
|
Love cannot make a heart to break,
|
but dissimulation.
|
Be civil Sir, and let me come,
|
My Mother wanteth me at home;
|
To stay i' th' night will her affright,
|
and breed a great distraction
|
'Twixt her and I most certainly,
|
because of time detraction.
|
Man.
|
Sweet-heart I have a fine Estate,
|
Sufficient to maintain a Mate;
|
Then be not coy my onely Joy,
|
my dearest Love and Honey:
|
But condescend now in the end
|
to joyn in Matrimony.
|
I am the man upon my life,
|
That will make thee a married Wife;
|
Ile give thee Rings and pretty things,
|
that's fit for recreation:
|
We'l spend the night in rare delight,
|
to drive away vexation.
|
Maid.
|
When she had heard what he did say,
|
She had no power to say him nay;
|
By this you know, that Goods will wooe
|
better then Complementing:
|
But this I'me sure, Love will endure,
|
when Lands and Goods is wanting.
|
Quoth she, and if you'l faithful prove,
|
And constant as the Turtle Dove;
|
I unto you will be as true,
|
if things may right be carried:
|
Then point a day without delay,
|
wherein we may be married.
|
The Conclusion.
|
These Lovers then were both agreed,
|
And homewards they return'd with speed;
|
With kisses sweet he did her greet,
|
she lovingly did take it:
|
They plighted troth betwixt them both,
|
and vow'd they'd never break it.
|
I hearing of this pretty jeast,
|
To make a Song I thought it best;
|
If any he shall angry be
|
with him that now hath penn'd it,
|
Let him I say, without delay
|
go take his pen and mend it.
|
|
|
|
|