The true Lovers Summons: Sent in a Letter to his dearest Sweeting, Desiring from her a happy greeting: This couple by their honest civill carriage, Were quickly joyn'd together in Marriage. To a pleasant new tune: OR, Lady be not coy.
|
SWeet heart be not coy,
|
for in faith I love thee
|
Thou art my only joy,
|
now I come to prove thee,
|
Though my abscence long,
|
may procure suspition,
|
Yet I will not wrong
|
thee in no condition,
|
For I am only he,
|
that loves none but thee,
|
Wherefore let not me,
|
be of hopes frustrated,
|
But grant Love to me.
|
for which long I have waited.
|
Speake thou comely Maid,
|
to a man distressed,
|
Helpe a love-sick blade,
|
that is sore oppressed,
|
Give to me my doome,
|
for in love I languish,
|
Either smile or frowne,
|
to my joy or anguish
|
Which if thou refraine
|
nothing else but paine,
|
In me shall remaine,
|
then farwell all pleasure,
|
Nothing else I gaine,
|
but sorrow beyond all measur
|
Such a comely face
|
modest grave and witty
|
Cannot in this case
|
be so void of pitty
|
Then grant unto me
|
what I do desire
|
For my heart by thee
|
is only set on fire,
|
Be not to me unkind,
|
in me thou shalt find
|
Such a constant mind,
|
as doth scorne to waver
|
Only I am inclind
|
to obtaine thy favour.
|
Cupids feathered Dart
|
I right well espie it
|
Wounded hath my heart
|
I cannot deny it
|
Although I be,
|
in a sad condition
|
Thinke not to go free
|
by swearing of ambition
|
Lest that you do fall
|
into Cupids thrall
|
As we are subject all
|
by the laws of nature
|
Both to great and small
|
to poore and Princely creatur
|
Wise King Solomon
|
was taken in that manner
|
And great Samson strong
|
marcht under that banner
|
Venus glittering faire
|
and that beauteous Helen
|
Farre beyond compare
|
yet they all seemd willing
|
Thus we plainly see
|
all to love agree
|
Wheresoever they be
|
from Capricorn to Cancer
|
Sweet blame not me
|
but let me have an answer
|
YOu do say you Love,
|
but it is no matter,
|
Often times it proves
|
young-men use to flatter,
|
And many a harmlesse Maid,
|
by your false delusion,
|
Oft times is betray'd
|
and brought to confusion:
|
Therefore Maids beware,
|
take a speciall care,
|
Lest you catch the snare?
|
for the Serpent lowers,
|
Often times not far
|
from the fairest Flowers,
|
Priam's onely Heire,
|
Dido's griefe augmented;
|
Promising full faire
|
what he nere intended:
|
All's not Gold that's bright,
|
all's not true that's spoken,
|
Many wrongs seemes right,
|
a faire Nut may prove rotten
|
The fire that burneth fast,
|
instantly doth wast,
|
And the hotest blast,
|
of the eagrest Wooer,
|
Long time cannot last,
|
in all it's heat and power.
|
The fairest Flowers that be,
|
have the faintest savor?
|
More men match we see,
|
for Gold then good behaviour
|
You shall hear of few
|
that will say what is shee,
|
You shall have enough
|
that will say what hath shee.
|
This wealth is bewitching
|
& mens minds outstretching
|
Still their fingers itching
|
to be joynd in Marriage
|
More for gold and riches
|
then for comely carriage
|
Cupid I do scorne
|
and his false enticement
|
Ere I match I've sworn
|
to take good advisement
|
But methinks I speak
|
on a slender fashion
|
Women are to weak
|
to resist that passion
|
Should I then refraine
|
such a golden Chaine,
|
Which wou'd make on traine,
|
almost through this nation,
|
I must needs confesse,
|
here's an alteration.
|
The furthest of my thoughts
|
you alone have battered,
|
If you prove not kind,
|
all my hopes are scattered,
|
Oh my heart doth yeeld
|
through your strong affection
|
You have won the field
|
and brought me to subjection,
|
Constant sure I am
|
sweet forever then
|
And thee love I can
|
as I am a Woman
|
You are the only man,
|
here I pray the Summon.
|
|
|
|
|
|