A Courtly Ballad of the Princely Wooing of the Fair MAID of London, by
Renowned King EDWARD, etc. To the Tune of, Bonny sweet Robin, etc.
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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 chast 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 phenix 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 chast in desire,
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Lest thou like the phenix dost pennance in fire.
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But, alas! gently Lady, I pitty your stare,
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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 aliking the same to ensure.
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Long time have I sued the same to obtain,
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Yet I am required 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 Chastest that liveth, though 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 Princess frequent?
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Two Brides young & 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, & 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 attired with scarlet in grain;
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My chamber most Princely thy Person shall keep,
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Where V[i]rgins 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 purchast 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 losing nothing, yet quite am undone;
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But if of my jewel a King doth 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 rosie red blushes that sate in my cheeks,
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To paleness is turned, 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 diserved 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 type 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 K. Henrys fair court
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Such heaps of deer 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 hault.
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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 Royal King Edward let me be exil'd,
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E'er 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 heart 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 dye,
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That any such sin should upon me lye;
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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 pitty and weep on my tomb,
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Then for my birth curse 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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My 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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