Constance and Anthony:
OR, AN
Admirable new Northern STORY,
Of two constant Lovers, as I understand,
Were born near Appleby in Westmoreland;
The Lad's name Anthony, Constance the Lass;
To Sea they went both and great Dangers did pass:
How they suffer'd Shipwrack on the Coast of Spain,
For two Years divided, and then met again;
By wonderful Fortune and Care accident,
And now both live at Home with Joy and Content.
To the Tune of, I would thou wert in Shrewsbury.
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TWo Lovers in the North,
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Constance and Anthony,
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Of them I will set forth
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a gallant history;
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They lov'd exceeding well,
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as plainly doth appear;
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But that which I shall tell,
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the like you ne'r did hear:
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Still she crys, Anthony,
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my bonny Anthony,
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Gang thou by land or sea,
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I'll wend along with thee.
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Anthony must to sea,
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his calling doth him bind,
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My Constance, Dear, quoth he,
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I must leave thee behind;
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I prithee do not grieve,
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thy tears will not prevail;
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I'll think on thee, my Swe[e]t,
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when the ship's under sail.
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But still etc.
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How may that be, said he,
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consider well the case.
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Quoth she, Sweet Anthony,
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I'll 'bide not in this place:
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If thou gang, so will I;
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of the means do not doubt,
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A Woman's policy,
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great matters may find out:
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My bonny Anthony, etc.
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I would be very glad;
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but, prethee tell me how?
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I'll dress me like a Lad,
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what say'st thou to me now?
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The sea thou canst not brook
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Yes, very well, quoth she;
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I'll scullion to the Cook,
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for thy sweet company:
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My bonny Anthony,
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my bonny Anthony,
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Gang thou by land or sea,
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I'll wend along with thee.
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Anthonys leave she had,
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and drest in Man's array,
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She seem'd the blithest Lad,
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seen on a summer's day.
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O see what love can do!
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at home she will not 'bide:
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With her true Love she'll go,
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let weal or woe betide:
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My dearest Anthony,
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my dearest Anthony,
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Gang thou by land or sea,
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I'll wend along with thee.
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In the ship 'twas her lot
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to be the Under-cook:
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And at the fire hot
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great pains she took:
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She served e'ry one
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fitting to their degree;
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And now and then alone
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she kissed Anthony.
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My bonny, etc.
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Alack and well-a-day,
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by tempest on the main,
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Their ship was cast away
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upon the coast of Spain,
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To th' mercy of the waves
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they all committed were;
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Constance her own self saves,
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then she cries for her Dear,
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My bonny, etc.
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Swimming upon a plank,
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at Bilbo she got ashore;
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First she did Heaven thank,
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then she lamented sore,
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O woe is me, said she,
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the saddest Lass alive,
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My dearest Anthony,
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now on the sea doth drive:
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My bonny Anthony,
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my bonny Anthony,
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Gang thou by land or sea,
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I'll wend along with thee.
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What shall become of me!
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why do I strive for shore,
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Sith my sweet Anthony,
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I never shall see thee more?
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Fair Constance, do not grieve,
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the same good Providence,
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Hath sav'd thy Lover sweet,
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but he is far from hence:
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Still she, etc.
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A Spanish Marchant rich,
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saw this fair seeming Lad,
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That did lament so much,
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and was so grievous sad:
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He had in England been,
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and English understood,
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He having heard and seen,
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he in amazement stood:
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Still she, etc.
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The Merchant asked her,
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what was that Anthony;
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Quoth she, My Brother, Sir,
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who came from thence with me.
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He did her entertain,
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thinking she was a Boy;
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Two years she did remain,
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before she met her Joy:
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Still she crys, Anthony,
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my bonny, Anthony,
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Gang thou by land or sea,
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I'll wend along with thee.
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Anthony up was tane
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by an English Runagade,
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With whom he did remain
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at the sea-roving-trade:
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I' th' nature of a Slave,
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he did i' th' galley row,
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Thus he his life did save,
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but Constance did not know;
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Still she crys, Anthony,
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my bonny Anthony,
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Gang thou by land or sea,
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I'll wend a[l]ong with thee.
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Now mark what came to pass,
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see how the Fates did work,
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A ship that her Master's was,
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surpriz'd this English-Turk,
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And into Bilbo brought
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all that aboard her were;
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Constance full little thought,
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Anthony was so near:
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Still she, etc.
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When they were come on shore,
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Anthony and the rest,
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She who was sad before,
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was now with joy possest;
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The Merchant much did muse,
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at this so sudden change;
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He did demand the news,
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which unto him was strange:
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Now she, etc.
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Upon her knees she fell,
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unto her Master kind,
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And all the truth did tell,
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nothing she kept behind:
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At which he did admire,
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and in a ship of Spain,
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Not paying for the hire,
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he sent them home again:
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Now she, etc.
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The Spanish Merchant rich,
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did of 's own bounty give
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A sum of gold, on which
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they now do bravely live:
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And now in Westmoreland,
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they were joyn'd hand in hand,
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Constance and Anthony,
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they live in mirth and glee:
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Still she crys, Anthony,
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my bonny Anthony,
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Good Providence, we see,
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hath guarded thee and me.
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