THE NEW BALOVV:
OR, A Wenches Lamentation for the loss of her Sweet-heart: he having left her with a Babe to play her, being the Fruits of her Folly.
The Tune is Balow.
BAlow, my Babe, weep not for me:
Whose greatest grief's for wronging thee.
But pity her deserved smart,
Who can but blame her own kind heart,
For trusting to a flattering friend;
The fairest tongue the falsest mind.
Balow, me babe, &c.
Balow my Babe, ly still and sleep,
It grieves me sore to hear thee weep:
If thou be still I will be glad,
Thy weeping makes the mother sad:
Balow, my boy, thy mothers joy,
Thy father wrought me great annoy.
Balow, balow, &c.
First when he came to court my love,
With sugred words be did me move;
His flattering and fained chear,
To me that time did not appear.
But now, I see that cruel be,
Cares neither foe my babe not me,
Balow, balow, &c.
I cannot choose but love him still.
Altho that he bath done me ill,
For he hath stolen away my heart,
And from him it cannot depart:
In well or wo, where ere he go,
Ile love him though he be my fo.
Balow, Balow, &c.
But peace my comfort, curse not him
Who now in seas of grief doth swim
Perhaps of death: for who can tell,
Whether the Iudge of heaven or hell,
By some predestinated death,
Revenging me, hath stopt his breath.
Balow, Balow, &c.
If I were near those fa; [...]l bounds,
Where he ly groaning in his wounds:
Repeating as he pants for breath.
Her name that wounds more deep then death
O then what womens heart so strong
Would not forget the greatest wrong.
Balow, balow, &c.
If linen lack, for my loves sake,
Whom once I loved: then would I take
My smeek even from my body meer,
And wrap him in that winding sheet,
Ay me vow happy had I bin,
If he had nere he on wrapt therein.
Balow, balow, &c.
Balow my babe, space thou thy tears,
[...]ntil thou come to wit and years,
Thy griefs are gathering to a sum,
Heaven grant thee patience till they come,
A mothers fault a fathers shame,
A hapless state, a bastards name.
Balow, balow, &c.
Be still my babe, and sleep a while,
And when thou wakes then sweatly smiles
But smile not as thy father did
To cusen maids: O heaven forbid
And yet into thy Face I see
Thy father dear which tempted me,
Balow, balow, &c.
Balow my babe. O follow not
His faithless steps who thee begot
Nor glory in a maids disgrace,
For thou art his too much, alace,
And in the looking eyes read
Who ever threw my maiden head.
Balow, balow, &c.
O if I were a maid again,
All young mens flatteries I'd refraid:
Because unto my grief I find,
That they are faithless and unkind,
Their tempting terms hath been my harm
Bear witness babe lyes in my arm
Balow, balow, &c.
Balow my babe, spare yet thy fears,
Vntil thou come to wit and years;
Perhaps yet thou may come to be,
A course our by disdaining me:
Poor me, poor me, alas poor me,
My own two eyes hade blinded me,
Balow, balow, &c.
On Love and fortune I complain,
On them, and on my self also:
But most of all mine own two eyes
The chiefest workers of my wo.
For they have caused so my smart,
That I must die without a heart,
Balow, balow, &c.
Balow my babe, thy Fathers dead
To me the Prodigal hath plaid:
Of heaven and earth regardless he
Presen'd the wars to me and thee,
I doubt that now his cursing mind
Make him eat accorns with the swine
Balow, balow, &c.
Farewel, farewel, most faithless youth
That ever kist a womans mouth,
Let never a woman after me,
Submit unto the curtesie.
For if she do, O cruel thou,
Would wrong them: O who can tell how,
Balow, balow, &c.
FINIS