The Bashful Batchelor:
CONTAINING
The Loyal Courtship of a Squire's Daughter of Dorsetshire.
SHEWING
How she fell in Love with Thomas a Serving-man,
who lived in the Family of a Knight within two Miles of her Father's
House; where they now enjoy each other, to their hearts content.
Tune of, The Ring of Gold.
Licensed according to Order.
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Woman.
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THomas, why come you not
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often to see me?
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I fear you have forgot
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your vows to free me,
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From the destracted care
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which I lie under;
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My heart with sad dispair
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will break asunder.
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Man.
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My dearest don't complain,
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thus of thy lover,
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While I alive remain
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thou shalt discover;
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Nothing but what is just,
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my dearest jewel,
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Then set thy heart at rest,
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I'll not be cruel.
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Woman.
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Why do you keep away?
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Thomas, what mean you?
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Above this two months day
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I have not seen you:
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And as I met you here,
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you seem'd affrighted,
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Which gives me cause to fear
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that I am slighted.
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Man.
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No, no, my dearest love,
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my joy and pleasure,
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Thy smiles I prize above
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all wordly treasure:
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My dear I'd often see,
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but that thy parents,
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Scornfully frown on me,
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like foes at varience.
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Woman.
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What though my parents chide,
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love will engage us
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Short tryals to abide;
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then be couragious:
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Thou art my hearts delight,
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dearest, believe me;
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At any time of night
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I will receive thee.
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Man.
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But shou'd thy friends be crost,
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here lies the danger,
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Their love would quite be lost,
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then like a stranger,
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They'll turn thee out of door,
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and quite refrain thee,
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While I have nought in store,
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love, to maintain thee.
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Woman.
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Let not such doubts and fears
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ever amaze thee,
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Prosperity appears,
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my wealth shall raise thee
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Above my parents wrath,
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which they may offer;
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Then be no longer loath
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to take this proffer.
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Thou shalt in wealth abound,
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my dearest honey;
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Here is five hundred pound
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in ready money;
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'Twas left me, with free Land,
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by a relation:
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All is at thy command,
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use thy discretion.
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My parents cannot wrong
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me of one penny,
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This does to me belong,
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friends I have many:
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Now if they angry are,
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and should disdain us,
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I have enough, with care,
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still to maintain us.
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Man.
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No man lov'd more than I,
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e'er since our wooing;
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Yet I had rather die
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than prove thy ruin:
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When I thy charms drew near,
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my low condition
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Told me, there did appear
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too much ambition.
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To think thou shouldst be kind,
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though I admir'd,
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I never thought to find
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what I desir'd:
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But since I may enjoy
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thy lasting favour,
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This will my cares destroy,
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I'm blest forever.
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