A delicate nevv Song, Entituled, Sweet-heart, I loue thee.

To the tune of, See the building.
SWeet-heart I loue thee
And deeme no Lasse aboue thee
in all this City:
Sweet-heart I woo thee,
And vow Ile neuer doe thee
any harme for pity:
Swéet-heart tell me thy fathers name,
and where he liueth,
and what he giueth
With you his Daughter,
who is so faire a Dame:
For it was to seeke a wife
that I to London came.
Good sir forgoe me,
My friends will not bestow me
vpon a Clowne.
I scorne to haue one,
Vnlesse he be a braue one,
who liues in Towne:
Ile haue one that comes from Court,
that sweares and swaggers,
vntill he staggers,
That spends his meanes
and is not sory for't,
Oh such a liuely Lad
will shew a Lasse good sport.
Sweet-heart be milder,
I ne'r imbrac'd a wilder,
in all my life.
Sweet-heart content thee,
Thou shalt no whit repent thee,
to be my wife:
I haue fiue pounds a yeere,
a brace of Geldings,
and sumptuous buildings
For thee and I to sit
and make good cheere,
If thou wilt be my Honey,
my Doue, my Ducke, my Deare.
A pox take your riches,
It seemes by your great breeches,
from Court you came not:
I scorne such Asses,
Doe court your Countrey Lasses,
for yours I am not:
Farewell my Coridon, farewell,
for I see now, man,
thou art some Plowman,
Thy very lookes the same to me do tell,
Goe kisse thy bouncing Kate,
and clip thy bonny Nell.
My suite is ended,
And I no whit offended
at thy disdaine,
Ile beware me,
How euer I insnare me
with such againe:
Farewell, then, I scorne thy disdaine,
away be trudging:
and feare no grudging:
For Ile goe woo
some more honest and plaine:
For I respect true loue,
and prize it aboue all gaine.

The second part,

to the same tune.
CIty Dames, attend ye,
With counsell Ile befriend ye,
if you'l be witty:
For now I finde it,
Though one I did not mind it,
more was the pitty:
A Country-man excels a Courtier,
though not for brauery,
nor yet for knauery,
But if hee'l haue thee,
doo him not deny,
For any smooth-tongu'd
Courtiers flattery.
I once was wooed,
And well beloued
of o Countrey-man:
But I refus'd him,
Nay more with words abus'd him,
thus coy Dames can
With flouting words squib the simple,
that come to woo them,
with loue to proue them,
Yet those Dames will show them
to be so nice and coy,
And count their loues
but as an idle toy.
A Merchants Daughter,
Her mind still runneth after
some Squire or Knight:
Shee'l haue a Courtier,
for to support her,
'tis a goodly sight,
To see a man that struts in the fashion,
augments loues fire,
And still desire
to haue a neate spruce Lad,
To strut before them,
as he were Anticke mad.
So they haue a Gallant,
they ne'r respect their talent,
nor stand for money:
If he be a fine one,
Yea or a witty-tongu'd one,
he shall be their Honey:
Proud City Dames are growne so dainty,
my selfe doe know it,
of late did show it,
But now beshrow it,
that ere I seem'd so coy
To that honest Countrey man,
that once held me his ioy.
Thus she lamented,
Her mind was discontented,
and deepely vext:
Her ioyes exiled,
The Gallant her beguiled,
which her perplext
With teares she then did waile her
and then repent,
she ne'r lamented,
But discontented
that man with proud disdaine,
And sighing wisht
she might his loue obtaine.

Printed at London for H.G.

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