A Courtly new Ballad of the Princely Wooing of the fair Maid of Lon-
don, by King Edward.
Tune is, Bonny sweet Robin.
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FAir Angel of England thy beauty most bright,
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Is all my heart's pleasure my joy and delight,
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Then grant me fair Lady thy true love to be,
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That I may say welcome good fortune to me.
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The Turtle so chaste and true in her love,
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By gentle perswasions her fancy will move;
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Then be not intreated fair Lady in vain,
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For Nature requireth what I should obtain.
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The Phoenix so famous that liveth alone,
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Is vowed to chastity being but one;
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But be not my Darling so chaste in desire,
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Lest thou like the Phoenix dost pennance in Air.
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But, alas! gentle Lady, I pitty your state,
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In being resolved to live without Mate:
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For if of our courting the pleasure you knew,
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You would have a liking the same to ensue.
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Long time I have sued the same to obtain,
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Yet I am requited with scorn and disdain;
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But if you will grant your good-will unto me,
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You shall be advanced to Princely degree.
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Promotions and Honour may often entice,
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The chasteth that liveth, tho' never so nice;
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What Woman so worthy but could be content,
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To live in a Palace where Princes frequent?
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Two brides young and princely to Church I have led;
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Two Ladies now lately have decked my Bed:
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Yet hath thy love taken more root in my heart,
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Then all their contentments, whereof I had part.
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Your gentle heart cannot mens hearts much abide,
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And women least angry when most they do chide?
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Then yield to me kindly, and say that at length,
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Men they want mercy, and poor women strength.
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I grant that fair Ladies may poor Men resist,
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And Princes may conquer and wooe when they list,
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A King may command her to lye by his side,
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Whose feature deserveth to be a King's bride.
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In granting your love you shall purchase renown
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Your head shall be crown'd with Englands crown,
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Thy garments most gallant of gold shall be wrought
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If true love with treasure of thee may be bought.
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Great Ladies of honour shall tend on thy train;
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Most richly attir'd with Scarlet in grain:
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My chamber most Princely thy person shall keep,
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Where Virgins with musick shall rock thee asleep.
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If there's any pleasures thy heart can invent,
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Command them sweet Lady thy mind to content,
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For Kings gallant Courts where Princes do dwell,
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Afford such sweet pastime as Ladies love well.
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Then be not resolved to dye a true Maid,
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But print in thy Bosom these words I have said,
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And grant a King favour your true love to be,
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That I may say welcome sweet Virgin to me.
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The fair Maid of Londons Answer to King Edwards wanton Love.
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O Wanton King Edward thy labour Is vain,
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To follow the pleasure thou canst not attain,
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With getting thou losest and having dost want it,
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The which if thou purchase is spoil'd if thou hast it.
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But if thou obtainst it thou nothing hast won,
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And I loose nothing yet quite undone;
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But if of my Jewel a King do deceive me,
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No King can restore tho' a Kingdom he give me.
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My colour is changed since thou seest me last,
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My favour is vanisht my beauty is past,
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The rosy red blushes that sate in my cheeks,
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To paleness is turn'd, which all men dislikes.
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I pass not for Princess for love do protest,
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The name of a Virgin contenteth me best,
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I have not deserved to lye by his side,
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Nor yet to be counted so, King Edwards Bride.
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The name of a Princess I never did crave,
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No such tipe of honour thy hand-maid will have;
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My breast shall not harbour so lofty a thought,
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Nor be with rich proffers to wantonness brought.
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If wild wanton Rosamond, one of our sort,
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Had never frequented King Henrys fair fair Court;
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Such heaps of deep sorrow she never had seen,
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Nor tasted the rage of so jealous a Queen.
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All men have their freedom to shew their intent,
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They win not a Woman except she consent.
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Who then can impute to them any fault,
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Who still go upright until men do halt.
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Tis counted a kindness in men for to try,
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And vertue in women the same to deny:
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For women unconstant can never be prov'd,
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Until by their betters therein may be mov'd.
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If women and modesty once do him sever,
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Then farewel good name and credit forever,
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And Royul King Edward let me be exil'd
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E're any man knows my Body's defil'd.
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No, no, my Father's reverend tears,
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Too deep an impression within my hearts bears;
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Nor shall his bright honour that blot from me have
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To bring his gray hairs with grief to the grave.
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The Heavens forbid that when I shall die,
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That any such Sin should upon me lie;
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If I have thus kept me from doing this Sin,
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My heart shall not yield with a Prince to begin.
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Come rather with pity and weep on my tomb,
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Then for my birth curb my dear mother's womb,
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That brought forth a blossom that stained the tree,
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With wanton desires to shame her and me.
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Leave me most noble King, tempt not in vain,
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With milk-white affection with lewdness to stain;
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Though England will give me no comforts at all,
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Yet England will give me a sad burial.
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