The Honest VVooer, His minde expressing in plaine and few termes,
By which to his Mistresse his love he confirmes.
To the tune of, Lulling beyond her.
FAirest Mistresse, cease your moane,
spoile not your eyes with weeping,
For certainely if one be gone,
you may have another swéeting:
I will not complement with oathes,
nor speake you faire to prove you,
But save your eyes to mend your cloths
for it is I that love you.
I will not boast of substance great,
wherewith I can endow you,
Nor what apparell nor what meat,
I'm able to allow you;
You know 'tis time that all things tries
let then my affection moue you,
And weepe no more but save your eyes,
for it is I that love you.
If I should say y'have golden haires,
I should both lye and flatter,
Why should I say thine eyes are stars,
when there is no such matter?
Every like is not the same
yet none I prize above you,
To sigh so sore you are much to blame,
for it is I that love you
With courtly words I cannot court,
like one whose tongue is filed,
By subtill speakers in that sort,
poore women are oft beguiled:
I speake no more but what I meane,
then doe as it doth behove you,
And doe not waste your teares in vaine,
for it is I that love you.
You may, I know, have choice of men,
that many wayes excell me,
But yet in loue I passe all them,
my conscience this doth tell me,
Then let no riches buy my prise,
nor flattering words remove you,
To sigh and sob you are very vnwise,
for it is I that love you.
I am thy constant Pyramus,
be thou my constant Thysbe,
That such a match is made by us,
let this a sealing kisse be,
I neuer will reuoke my vow,
nor déeme any Lasse above you,
Then dearest leave your sorrow now,
for it is I that love you.
Now if you doe my love deny,
and utterly refuse me,
I will not say for love Ile dye,
in that you shall excuse me:
Some say so, yet meane nothing lesse,
but pitty I hope will move you,
Not to put me to that distresse,
for it is I that love you.
The second part; Being an answer of the Maiden kinde,
Correspondent to the plaine Young [...]
To the same tune.
AS the lost intant doth reioyce,
when he hath found his Mother,
So am I glad to heare the voyce
of you my constant Lover:
Beléeve me Harry if you will,
since I so true doe prove you,
Come when you will and welcome still
for it is I that love you.
I loved a false disloyall youth,
which caus'd my thus lamentingꝰ,
For in his words there were no truth,
but subtill circumuenting;
You use plaine dealing which is best,
so still it doth behove you,
And therefore set your heart at rest,
for it is I that love you.
And now henceforth I will give ore,
to weepe for him that ieeres me,
And his affection Ile abhorre,
for no true love he beares me,
With you I will reioyce my deare,
let no false tales remove you,
Beléeve not every newes you heare,
for it is I that love you.
As Hypsocrats of Pontus Queene,
did follow her Mithridates,
Thorow uncouth woods & forrests gréen
so nothing shall separate vs:
Ile circulate the [...]
nought shall [...]or [...] [...]
Thinke not that I [...]
for it is I that love you.
Nor Lucrece nor [...]
shall be more [...]
Ere Ile forsake [...]
ten thousand death [...]
You need not to repee [...] [...]
but let me true [...]
And so we shall [...]
for it is I that love you.
Iudge not amitie [...]
I yéeld to your [...]
Love is a thing [...]
without any [...]
You loue plaine [...]
then why should [...]
Against my [...]
for it is I that love you.
And thus with [...]
this couple [...]
The Parson [...] the [...]
and then 'twas [...]
I hope the loue [...]
unto delight [...]
Each of them [...]
for it is I that love [...] ▪
Printed at London for F. Coules, dwelling in the Old-Baily [...]