Joans sorrowful Lamentation to ROGER,
Who she thought was going to leave her and Marry Kate; together with Rogers kind Answer, which gave her great satisfaction.
Tune is, The Spinning-Wheel.
Licensed according to Order.
AS Jone was walking o're the Green,
she met young Roger brisk and gay,
As soon as he by her was seen,
with melting Eyes she thus did say:
Why do you strive to baffle me,
Am I not Flesh and Blood, said she.
I heard of late, you Courted Kate,
and vow'd that she should be your Bride,
Why do you serve me at this rate,
my Flames I can no longer hide:
[...] Twelve-month you have courted me,
[...] and Blood, said she.
I hear you gave her Cakes and Ale,
with many other pleasant toys;
While I my sorrows do bewail,
as being robb'd of all those joys:
Come, Roger, this must never be,
For I am flesh and blood, said she.
You promis'd her a Wedding-Ring,
nay gave her huggs and kisses store;
Saying you had a better thing,
but that you promis'd me before:
I can't forget your Villany,
For I am flesh and blood, says she.
I Was your Fellow-servant long,
and lov'd you too it is well known;
How can you then in Conscience wrong
your dear intire sweet-heart Joan?
Have some regard to pitty me,
For I am flesh and blood, said she.
When I fed you with Curds and Cream,
and you did likewise kindness show:
I then, alas, did little Dream
that ever you'd a serv'd me so:
But now vouchsafe to pitty me,
For I am flesh and blood, said she.
Last Easter you did swear and vow
you'd prove to me an honest Man;
I put this to your conscience now,
deny it, Roger, if you can:
Why are you then unkind to me,
Am I not flesh and blood, says she.
By Night I sigh, instead of sleep,
my heart is so with grief opprest,
While you her company do keep,
alas, it breaks me of my rest:
Come, Roger, this must never be,
For I am flesh and blood, said she.
At length young Roger thus reply'd,
I will be true to thee alone;
And if I ever wed a Bride,
it shall be thee my sweet-heart Joan:
Now dry up all thy tears, said he,
For I love none alive but thee.
My Dear, this is a false report,
which some has rais'd to make thee grieve
But I no other Lass did court,
if that my word you will believe;
Then dry up all thy tears, said he,
For I love none alive but thee.
It is not Kate that shall deprive
my Iewel of her constant Love:
Nor ne'r another Lass alive,
for I will ever constant prove:
Appoint the Day, we'll Marry'd be,
For I love none alive but thee.
FINIS.
Printed for P. Brooksby, J. Deacon, J. Blare, J. Back.