THE Faithful Inflamed Lover. OR, The true Admirer of Beauty. Being an Account of a Worthy Squire that Married a Farmers Daughter. This Beauteous Maid his heart betray'd, he lov'd her not for Store; He sought not one for Wealth alone, he had enough before. To the Tune of, Over Hills and high Mountains.
|
NOw my dearest sweet Jewel,
|
I am come for to prove
|
Whether you can be cruel,
|
or obedient to love:
|
I acquaint you this hour
|
with the pains I endure,
|
Love, it lies in thy power,
|
for to Kill or to Cure.
|
Ever sleeping and waking,
|
still my thoughts is on thee,
|
But it proves my hearts-breaking,
|
when I perfectly see,
|
That you give a denyal,
|
though my love it is true,
|
Yet I vow to be Loyal,
|
I can love none but you.
|
In my slumber I fancy
|
that I have in my Arms,
|
My most beautiful Nancy,
|
this my senses allarms:
|
Love, I then am contented,
|
with a meer Golden Dream,
|
But I wake more tormented,
|
in a far worse extream.
|
O that I might enjoy thee,
|
of a blessing I share,
|
There is none shall annoy thee,
|
I will tender my Dear;
|
In my arms thee i'le nourish,
|
where I will thee infold,
|
And in Silks thou shalt flourish,
|
love, Imbroider'd with Gold.
|
I will Crown thee with pleasure,
|
now my amorous Girl,
|
And endue thee with Treasure,
|
to adorn thee with Pearl;
|
Being wounded with Beauty,
|
now my Dear I adore,
|
Love, it is but my Duty,
|
were it twenty times more.
|
PRay attend to the Sequel,
|
and be ruled by me,
|
There is many more equal
|
to your birth and degree:
|
It is not my desire,
|
as I freely relate,
|
In the least, to aspire,
|
or strive to be Great.
|
Though you me do admire,
|
when you call me your dear,
|
Should I grant your desire,
|
I have reason to fear;
|
Being lowly descended,
|
your Relations will frown,
|
While they are thus offended,
|
I shall then be run down.
|
For your proffer I care not,
|
then I pray Sir be mute,
|
Nay, to venture I dare not,
|
a dangerous suit:
|
Many covetous Parents,
|
as 'tis known to be true,
|
They have set them at variance,
|
and divided them too.
|
'Tis a tryal to Patience,
|
while you are so severe,
|
Tell me not of Relations,
|
I adore thee my dear;
|
Then a promise i'le make thee,
|
so that thou shalt be sure,
|
I will never forsake thee,
|
now while life doth endure.
|
When she found he was Loyal,
|
then the Damsel did yield,
|
Making no more denyal,
|
thus he conquer'd the field;
|
Then they both were united,
|
in true love to dwell,
|
And the Parents invited.
|
so the matter went well.
|
|
|
|
|
|