A Warning for Maides:

Or the false dissembling,, cogging,
Cunning, cozening young Man,
Who long did try and use his skill,
To wo a coy young Maid to his will
And when he had obtain'd her love,
To her he very false did prove.
To a dainty new tune, called, No, no, not I.
[depiction of a man doffing his hat to a woman]
ALl in a May morning in the merry month of May
into the gréen Meddowes I did take my way,
There I heard a young Man to his Love make reply,
But she answered him scornfully, no no not I.
Swéet heart quoth this young Man, my love is intire,
my heart is inflamed with Cupids hot fire.
Your love I intreat, why should you deny?
But she answered him scornfully, no, no not I.
O swéet 'tis thy love that I doe so much crave,
and I will maintain you still gallant and brave.
Faire Mistresse, for your love I certain shall die,
Quoth she, away foolish man, I care not I.
Will you séek to wrong a Man in such a case?
if I die for love, it will be your disgrace,
I hope you will yéeld me some other reply.
But she answered him scornfully, no, no not I.
Swéet, have you no more regard of a young man?
I will strive to doe thée all the good I can,
Methinks you should yéeld unto me by and by,
But she answered him scornfully, no, no not I.
And if that all Maids should be of your mind,
then what would or should become of us mankind?
Swéet let you and I now try our destiny,
But she answered him scornfully, no, no not I.
Pray what is the reason? I am young and faire,
besides you doe know I am my Fathers heire:
Swéet let me intreat your love and courtesie,
But she answered him scornfully, no, no not I.
For vaulting or leaping, or such exercises,
for dancing or skipping I still win the prises,
Come grant me thy favour my pretry pigsnie,
But she answered him scornfully, no, not I.
I am in all parts most compleat like a man,
and I can doe as much as any can:
Then prethée swéet heart doe not my love deny,
Now she answerd him kindly, sweet Love not I.
If gold will content thée, why gold thou shalt have,
or any thing else that thou canst wish or crave:
'Tis onely on thy love that I doe rely,
Now she had forgot to say, no, no not I.

The second Part, To the same tune.

[depiction of a man and a woman holding flowers or feathers]
ILe be thy maintainer, thou shalt know no want,
then let no disparagement my swéet heart daunt:
Thou shalt be my Bride, and Ile love thée truly.
This Maid had forgot to say, no, no not I.
With swéet salutations these Lovers did part,
he call'd her his joy, and she call'd him swéet heart,
Yet after this young Man his Love did deny,
As I will declare unto you, by and by.
In little space after she met with her Deare,
destring of him some farther newes to heare:
She wished him to marry her immediatly,
But he answered her scornfully, no, no not I.
Swéet Love, ner'e deny me, thou knowst I am thine,
and thou oft did'st promise that thou wouldst be mine:
Now thy bitter answer makes me mourn and cry,
To heare thee say unto me, no, no not I.
Faire Mistresse, remember, when I sued to you,
you made a scoffe at me, and from me you flew:
Now Ile give you leave to sigh, sob, and cry,
Though you are dispos'd to wed, so am not I.
When first I came to thée, to aske thy good will,
thou mad'st a scorne of me, now I am as ill,
I will not be tide for to wed by and by:
Though you are dispos'd to wed, so am not I.
Quoth she, will you prove so perjur'd unto me?
I am sorry that ere I consented to thée:
Let no Maid trust young-men, for they'l falsifie:
Canst thou answer scornfully, no, no not I?
Farewell thou false young-man, farewell and adue,
the like said this wanton youth, farewell to you.
Now I doe sée Maidens can love men truely:
But I never meane to wed, no, no not I.
Was ever poore Maiden in such a like case,
to yéeld to undoing, and such foule disgrace?
I might have béen wise, and still made this reply:
I will never yeeld to thee, no, no not I.
Ile never trust false young-man for his sake,
I had warning before, yet no warning could take:
These young-men will promise and present deny,
Ile never trust false tongue more, no, no not I.
Now shall I be mocked of other young Maids,
they'l dout me, and say, sée how her colour fades:
She is sick for love, and forsooth they'l cry:
Her Love now hath left her, and her doth deny.
But I wish all them that laugh me to scorne,
hereafter beware, and escape the like harm:
For young-men are cunning, and full of policy:
But Ile never trust them more, no, no not I.
I am not the first that hath so béen deceived,
yet of a great number ne're was one more grieved.
But now alas I can find no remedy:
Ile ne're trust false young-man more, no, no not I.

Printed at London for Iohn Wright the younger, dwel­ling at the upper end of the Old-Bayley.

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