Sweet WILLIAM of Plymouth.
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A Seaman of Dover, Sweet William by name,
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A-wooing to beautiful Susan he came:
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At length he obtained her love and good-will,
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And likewise her father admir'd him still.
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Her mother was also as much satisfy'd,
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The day was appointed the knot should be ty'd.
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Their friends were invited, but see by the way,
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Sweet Susan she sicken'd, and languishing lay.
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They us'd their endeavours to raise her again,
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By famous Physicians, but their skill was vain.
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A week she continued;---sweet William did grieve,
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Because of his love he must take his leave;
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As being commanded to sail the next wind.
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Then leaving his sweetest creature behind,
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He said, I must marry when I come again,
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If thou by good fortune alive dost remain.
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As long as I live I'll prove true to my love,
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And Susan I hope you as constant will prove.
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Never doubt in the least, sweet William, said she,
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There's none upon earth shall enjoy me but thee.
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A tribute of tears at their parting they paid,
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Sweet William, the mother, and innocent maid.
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Nay likewise the father is griev'd to the heart,
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To think she so soon from her dearest must part.
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Away to the ocean sweet William is gone,
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Where we will leave him, and shew you anon
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How base and deceitful her parents did prove,
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Advising the maid to be false to her love.
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PART II.
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NOW when this damsel had languishing lain
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Near five or six months she recover'd again.
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Her beauty grew brighter than ever before,
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So that there were many her charms did adore.
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Each one did esteem her that came in her view;
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Her fame to the neighbouring villages flew,
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To be the most beautiful creature on earth,
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Altho' but a fisherman's daughter by birth.
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So that she was courted by none of the worst:
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A wealthy young farmer came to her the first,
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And call'd her the jewel and joy of his life.
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Said she, Be gone, I'm another man's wife,
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By solemn vows in the presence of God:
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And if I am false let his heavenly rod
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Of sharpest correction my punishment be;
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Therefore be gone from my presence, said she.
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Then came a squire who call'd her his dear,
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Who said, he would settle two hundred a year
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Upon her, if she would be his sweet bride.
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I must not, I cannot, you must be deny'd.
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Then unto her father and mother he went,
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Who soon discover'd his noble intent.
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They being ambitious of honour and fame,
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Did strive to persuade her, but all in vain.
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Dear parents, said she, observe what I say,
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In things which be lawful I mean to obey.
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But when you'd have me be perjur'd for gold,
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I dare not submit, to the truth I will hold.
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They found it signify'd nothing to strive,
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So long as she knew her true love was alive,
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To induce her to mind anyone but he,
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And then the young squire and they did agree,
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To send this innocent young damsel away.
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Along with a lady to Holland, and they
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Would tell her love at his return, she was dead.
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That he with some other damsel might wed.
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Then would it be lawful to wed the squire,
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Who did her beautiful features admire.
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Thus it was contrived, to Holland she was sent,
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Poor creature she knew not their cunning intent.
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But since her parents would have it so,
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In point of obedience she yielded to go,
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Where we will leave her, to treat of her love,
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Who had been gone two years and above.
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PART III.
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IN Williams long voyage they came to a place,
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Where they had been but a short space.
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Where fortune did favour him, so that he bought
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A bargain worth hundreds and thousands 'tis thought
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Then laden with riches he came on shore,
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Said he, My jewel whom I do adore.
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I will go and visit before I do rest,
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My heart has been lodg'd a long time in her breast.
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Now when to the house of her father he came,
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He called for Susan, sweet Susan by name.
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But strait her mother did make this reply,
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'Tis long since my daughter did languish and die.
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His heart at these tidings was ready to break,
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Some minutes he had not the power to speak,
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At length with a flood of tears he reply'd,
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Adieu to the pleasures and charms of a bride.
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My sorrows are more than I'm able to bear,
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Is Susan departed, sweet Susan the fair,
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Then none in the world I do love, since she
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Is laid in the grave that was dearest to me.
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Their presence he quitted with watery eyes,
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And went to his father and mother likewise,
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His own loving parents, and with them he left
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His wealth, 'cause he was of his love bereft.
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Resolved I am to travel again,
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Perhaps it will wear off my anguish and pain.
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Take care of my riches, 'tis value unknown,
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And if I return not, then it is your own.
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But if I should live to see you once more,
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I make no doubt but the same you'll restore.
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Ay, that I will, soon, the father reply'd.
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So for this long voyage he then did provide.
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He goes on board, and away he did steer:
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The seas were calm, and the element clear
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At first. At length a storm did arise,
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Black clouds did cover and darken the skies.
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The seas did foam, and the winds did roar,
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At length being driven upon the Dutch shore,
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Their ship was shatter'd and so torn indeed.
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That they on they voyage could not proceed.
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Now while they laid by their ship to repair.
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William went to the Hague, and walk'd there.
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And as he was walking along in the street,
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With beautiful Susan he happen'd to meet.
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He started as soon as her face he beheld.
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With wonder and pleasure he was so fill'd,
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Oh! tell me, said he, ye blest powers above.
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Do not my eyes deceive me, or is it my love.
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They say, she's been buried twelve months almost.
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Sure this is my love, or her beautiful ghost.
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Then quick he went to her, and found it was she,
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And none in the world was so happy as he.
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My dearest sweet Susan why dost thou roam?
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What destiny brought thee so far from home?
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The truth she told him, with tears in her eyee,
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Concerning the farmer and squire likewise.
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They courted me long, but still I said nay,
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And therefore my relations sent me away
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To wait on a lady, with whom I am now,
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Because I would not be false to my vow.
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He presently told her of his affairs,
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His riches, his troubles, and his cares.
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And how he was going a voyage to make:
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But knew not whither, and all for her sake,
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But as we was sailing, the weather grew foul,
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The winds did blow, and billows did rowl,
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Yet nevertheless on this turbulent sea,
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The winds were kind, and convey'd me to thee.
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I'll go to thy lady, and let her to know
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You shall serve no longer, but with me go,
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Unto fair Plymouth, where thou shalt be seen,
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As gay as herself or as fine as a queen.
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PART IV.
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HE made a dispatch and brought her away,
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The seas were calm, and the winds did obey,
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So that in short time to Plymouth they came,
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And now he was clearly for changing his name.
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He told his father and mother that there,
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By fortune's kind favour he lit on his dear.
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And now we will prepare for the wedding said he,
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Thy father and mother invited must be,
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Then unto her parents he hasted at last,
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And told the heighth of his sorrow was past,
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For since you say Susan your daughter is dead,
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I have found a beauty with whom I will wed,
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And therefore I come to bring the news,
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I hope one favour you will not refuse.
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O! honour me then with your presence I pray,
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And come to the wedding, to-morrow's the day.
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They promis'd to come, well pleas'd to the heart
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To think so well they had acted their part.
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Now, now, said the mother, I have my desire,
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We'll fetch home our daughter to marry the 'squire.
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The very next morning sweet Susan was drest,
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In sumptuous apparel, more gay than the rest.
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The richest things that the world could afford,
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Embroidered with gold he had from abroad.
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With diamonds and rubies her vesture did shine,
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Her features did look like an angel divine,
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Scarce ever was mortal so glorious and great,
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And likewise her modesty suited her state.
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Now they being all down to dinner set,
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This beautiful couple so happily met.
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This stately apparel had alter'd her so,
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Her father and mother her face did not know.
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A health to the bride round the table did pass.
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The mother of Susan then taking a glass,
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Did do as the rest, and spoke with a grace,
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Had my daughter been here she'd been in your place
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The bride at this saying, then modestly smil'd,
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To think the mother knew not her own child.
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Soon after the bride arose from her feat.
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And fell on her knees at her parents feet.
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I am your daughter whom you did send
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To Holland, but Heaven stood my best friend,
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And plac'd me secure in the arms of my love;
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For which, I may thank the blest powers above.
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Her father and mother with blushes reply'd,
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The 'squire was eager to make her his bride,
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But since it is order'd by Heaven's decree,
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We grant you our blessing, rise up from your knee.
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Then William spoke up with a noble grace,
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A fig for the 'squire, bring him to my face,
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For crowns of bright silver with him I'll let fall,
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And he that drops longest shall surely take all.
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They wonder'd how he should such riches gain,
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But they believ'd 'twas true in the main,
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Because both appeared so glorious and gay,
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With musick and dancing they finish'd the day.
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