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A Seaman at Plymouth sweet William by Name,
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A wooing to beautiful Susan he came;
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At length he obtain'd her love and good will,
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And likewise her Father admir'd him still.
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Her Mother was likewise as well satisfy'd;
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The day was appointed the Knot should be ty'd;
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All 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 learn'd Physicians whose Skill was in vain:
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A week she continu'd, sweet William did grieve,
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Because of his Love, he must needs take his Leave.
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As being commanded to sail with the next Wind;
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Then leaving his sorrowful Jewel behind,
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He said, we'll be marry'd when I come again,
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If thou by good Fortune alive shall remain.
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So long as i live I'll be true to my Love,
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And Susan I hope you as constant will prove.
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Ne'er doubt it sweet William my jewel, quoth she,
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There's none in the World shall enjoy me but thee.
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A tribute of tears then at parting they paid,
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Sweet William, the Mother, the languishing Maid;
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And likewise the Father was griev'd to the heart,
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Yet nevertheless for a Time they must part.
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Away to the Ocean sweet William is gone,
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Where now we will leave him, and shew you anon
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How base and deceitful her Parents did prove,
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Who counsell'd their Child to be false to her Love.
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The Second Part. To the same Tune.
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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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Whose beauty was brighter than ever before;
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So that there was many her Charms did adore,
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All did account her that came to her view,
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Her fame thro' the Neighbouring Villages flew,
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To be the most beautiful Creature on Earth,
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Altho' but a Fisher-man'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 at first,
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And call'd her his Jewel the Joy of his Life.
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Said she, Pray be gone, I'm another Man's Wife,
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By sacred 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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And therefore be gone from my Presence, quoth she.
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Then came a young 'Squire, and call'd her his Dear,
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And said he would settle Two hundred a Year
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Upon her, if that she would be his sweet Bride.
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I cannot, I dare not, you must be deny'd:
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Then unto her Father and Mother he went,
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When having discover'd his Noble Intent,
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They being ambitious of Honor and Gain,
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They strove to perswade her; but all was in vain.
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Dear Parents, said she, now observe what I say,
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In things that are lawful I ought to obey;
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But when you would 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 that it was but a Folly to strive,
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So long as she knew that her Love was alive,
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To bring her to mind any other but he;
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Wherefore the young 'Squire and they did agree,
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To send this young beautiful Creature 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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So that he some other rich Damsel might wed.
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Then would it be lawful to marry the 'Squire,
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Who did her fair beautiful Features admire:
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This was their Contrivance, to Holland she went,
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Poor Creature she knew not their crafty Intent.
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But since her dear Parents wou'd needs have it so,
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In Point of Obedience she yielded to go;
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Where now we will leave her to treat of her Love,
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Who had been gone from her two Years and above.
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The Third Part. To the same Tune.
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IN William's long Voyage they came to a Place,
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Where he had not been but a very short Space,
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Ere 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 to the Shore,
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Said he, my dear Jewel whom I do adore,
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I will go and visit before that I rest,
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My Heart has been many Months lodg'd in her Breast.
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Now when to the House of her Parents he came,
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He call'd for his Susan, sweet Susan by Name,
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But straight her dear Mother did make this Reply,
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It is long since my Daughter did languish and dye.
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His Heart at these Tydings 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 sad Tears he reply'd,
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Farewel to the Pleasures and Joys of a Bride.
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My Sorrows are more than I am able to bear,
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Is Susan departed, sweet Susan the Fair!
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Then none in the World will I marry, since she
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Is laid in her Grave, that was worthy of me.
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Their Presence he quitted with watry 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, because he of his Love was bereft.
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Resolved I am for to travel again,
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Perhaps it may wear off my Sorrow and Pain;
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Take Care of my Riches, it is Treasure unknown,
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And if I return not, then all is your own.
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But if that I live for to see you once more,
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I make no great doubt but the same you'll restore.
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Ay, that I will, Son, the dear Father reply'd,
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So for his long Voyage he straight did provide.
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He enter'd on Board, and away they did steer,
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The Seas they were calm, and the Elements clear,
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At first; but at length a sad Storm did arise,
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Black Clouds they did cover and darken the Skies.
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The Seas they did foam, and the Winds they did roar,
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At length being drove on the Hollanders Shore,
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Their Ship was so shatter'd, and torn indeed,
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That then on their Voyage they could not proceed.
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Now while they lay by their good Ship to repair,
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William went to the Hague, & he walk'd here & there;
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And as he was ranging along in the Street,
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His 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 Joy he was instantly fill'd;
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Oh, tell me, said he, ye bless'd Powers above,
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Do my Eyes deceive me, or is it my Love!
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They say she's been buried a Twelve month almost.
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This is my Dear, or her beautiful Ghost.
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Then straight he run to her, and found it was she;
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Then none in the World was so happy as he.
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My dearest, says William, Ah why dost thou roam?
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What Destiny brought thee so far from thy home;
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The Story she told him with watry Eyes,
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Concerning the Farmer, and 'Squire likewise.
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They courted me long, but I still said them Nay;
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And therefore my Parents they sent me away
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To wait on a Lady, with whom I am now,
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Because I refused to be false to my Vow.
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He presently told her of all his Affairs,
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His Riches, his Troubles, his Sorrows, his Cares,
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And that he was going a Voyage to make,
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He did not know whither; and all for her Sake.
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But as we were sailing the Weather grew foul,
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The Winds they did roar, and the Billows did roll;
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Yet nevertheless, on this turbulent Sea,
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The Waves were so kind they convey'd me to thee.
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I'll unto thy Lady, and give her to know,
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Thou shalt'st not serve her any longer, but go
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With me to fair Plymouth, where thou shalt be seen,
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As gay as her self, or a beautiful Queen.
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The Fourth Part. To the same Tune.
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HE made a Dispatch, and soon brought her away,
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The Seas they were calm, & the Winds did obey,
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So that in short Time to fair Plymouth they came,
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And now he was clearly for changing her Name.
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He told his own Father and Mother, That here
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By Fortune's kind Favours he met with his Dear,
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And now we prepare for the Wedding, said he,
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Her Father and Mother invited shall be.
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Then unto her Parents he hasted at last,
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And told them the Height of his Sorrows 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 here to bring you the News,
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I hope that 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 my Wedding, to Morrow's the Day.
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They promis'd they would, and were pleas'd to the heart
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To think how they bravely had acted their Part;
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Now, now, said the Mother, I have my desire,
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We'll call 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 of Silks that the World could afford,
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Imbroider'd with Gold; which he brought from on board
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With diamonds & rubies, her Vesture did shine;
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For Beauty she seem'd like an angel Divine;
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Scarce ever was Mortal more glorious and great,
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And likewise her Modesty suited her State.
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Now when with the Bride, down to Dinner they set,
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Her Parents and Friends, who were lovingly met,
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This stately Apparel had alter'd her so,
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That Father, nor 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, when taking the Glass,
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Did do as the rest, and spoke up with a Grace,
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My Daughter, (if living) had been in your place.
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The Bride at her Saying she modestly smil'd,
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To think that the Mother knew not her own Child,
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Soon after the Bride she arose from her Seat,
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And fell on her Knees at her dear Patents Feet.
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I am your dear Daughter, the which you did send
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To Holland, but Heaven has stood my good 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 earnest to make you his Bride,
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But since it is order'd by Heavens Decrees,
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We grant you our Blessing, rise up from your Knees.
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Then William spoke up with a notable 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 holds longest, shall surely take all.
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They wonder'd how he did such Riches obtain,
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Yet still they believ'd it was true in the main,
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Because they appear'd so glorious and gay,
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With Musick and Dancing they finish'd the Day.
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