A country new Iigge betweene Simon and Susan, to be sung in merry pastime by Bachelors and Maydes.
To the tune of I can, nor will no longer lye alone: Or, Falero lero lo.
Simon.
O Mine owne swéet heart,
and when wilt thou be true:
Or when will the time come,
that I shall marry you.
That I may giue you kisses,
one, two, or three,
More swéeter then the hunny,
that comes from the Bee.
Susan.
My Father is vnwilling,
that I should marry thee:
Yet I could wish in heart,
that so the same might be.
For now me thinkes thou séemest,
more louely vnto me:
And fresher then the Blossomes,
that bloomes vpon the Tree.
Simon.
Thy mother is most willing,
and will consent I know,
Then let vs to they Father
now both together goe:
Where if he giue vs his good will,
and to our match agree:
T'will be sweeter then the honny,
that comes from the Bee.
Susan.
Come goe, for I am willing,
good fortune be our guide:
From that which I haue promised,
deare heart ile neuer slide.
If that he doe but smile,
and I the same may see:
Tis sweeter then the blossomes,
that bloomes vpon the Trée.
Simon.
But stay heere comes my mother,
weele talke with her a word,
I doubt not but some comfort.
to vs she may afford:
If com [...] she wil [...] giue vs,
that we the same my see,
Twill be swéeter then the honny,
that comes from the Bee.
Susan.
O Mother wee are going
my Father for to pray:
That he will giue me his good will,
for long I cannot stay▪
A young man I haue chosen;
a fitting match for me:
More fayrer then the blossomes,
that bloomes vpon the Tree.
Mother.
Daughter thou art old enough,
to be a wedded wife,
You Maydens are desirous
to lead a married life.
Then my consent good Daughter,
shall to thy wishes be:
For young thou art as blossomes,
that bloome vpon the Tree.
Simon.
Then Mother you are willing,
your Daughter I should haue:
And Susan thou art welcome,
ile keepe thee fine and braue.
And haue those wished blessings
bestowed vpon thee,
More sweeter then the honny,
that comes from the Bee.
Susan.
Yet Simon I am minded
to lead a merry life:
And be as well maintained,
as any Citty wife:
And liue a gallant Mistresse
of Maydens that shall bee
More fayrer then the blossomes,
that bloome vpon the Tree.
The second part,
to the same tune.
Simon.
THou shalt haue thy Candles,
before thou dost arise:
For churlishnesse breeds sicknes
and dainger therein lies,
Young Lasses must be cheerisht,
with sweets that daynty be,
Farre sweeter then the honny,
that commeth from the Bee.
Mother.
Well said good son and Daughter,
this is the onely dyet:
To please a dainty young wife,
and keepe the house in quiet:
But stay, heere comes your Father
his words I hope will be:
More sweeter then the blossomes,
that bloome vpon the Tree.
Father.
Why how now Daughter Susan,
doe you intend to marry?
Maydens in the old time,
did twenty winters tarry:
Now in the teenes no sooner,
but you a wife will bee:
And loose the sweetest blossomes,
that bloomes vp on the Tree.
Susan.
It is for my preferment,
good Father say not nay:
For I haue found a Husband kind,
and louing euery way:
That still vnto my fancy
will euermore agree:
Which is more sweet then honny,
that comes from the Bee.
Mother.
Hinder not your Daughter,
good Husband, least you bring
Her loues consuming sicknes,
or else a worser thing:
Maydens youngly married
louing wiues will bee.
And sweet as is the honny,
which comes from the Bee.
Simon.
Good Father be not cruell,
your Daughter is mine owne:
Her mother hath consented,
and is to liking growne.
And if your selfe will giue then,
her gentle hand to me,
Twill sweeter be then honny,
that comes from the Bee.
Father.
God giue thee ioy deare Daughter,
there is no reason I,
Should hinder thy proceeding,
and thou a Mayden dye:
And after to lead Apes in hell,
as Maydens doomed be:
That fayrer are then blossomes,
that bloome vpon the Tree.
Simon.
Then let's to the Parson,
and Clarke to say Amen:
Susan.
With all my heart good Simon,
we are concluded then:
My Father and Mother both,
doe willingly agree:
My Simon's sweet as honny,
That comes from the Bee.
All together sing.
You Maydens and Batchelors.
we hope will loose no time:
Which learne it by experience,
That youth is in their prime,
And dayly in their hearts desire,
Young married folkes to be;
More sweeter then the blossomes,
that bloome from the Tree.
FINIS.
Printed at London by W I.