Close ×

Search EBBA

EBBA 20115

Magdalene College - Pepys
Ballad XSLT Template
The Lovers Guift
Or a Fairing for Maides: Being a Dialogue betweene
Edmund and Prisilly. To a pleasant new tune.

MY Love she is faire,
surpassing compare,
More bright, then was Daphne the coy:
Her two starry eyes,
My heart did surprise,
Being strucke by the blinded Boy,
See where she doth come,
Her sight strikes me dumbe,
Ile speake though to speake it grieve me,
My owne gentle sweeting
I am glad of this meeting,
Thou knowst not what I have to give thee.
I pray thee give ore,
Intice me no more,
In suing for love thou dost move me
For I tell thee plaine,
I doe thee disdaine,
I have not the power to love thee:
My answere you know,
You backward may goe,
For it is another must shrive me:
Thy face I dispise,
for thy great goggle eyes,
I care not what thou hast to give me.
Thou Joy of my life,
what neede all this strife,
Thou knowst that I love thee more,
Then Piramis,
When Thisby was his,
Who after by a Lyon was tore:
Queene Juno did move,
The Olimpicall Jove,
Yet so will not Edmund greeve thee,
I pray thee sweet heart,
Some kinde wordes impart,
Thou knowst not what I have to give thee.

As Juno did move
The thunderer Jove,
Prisilly will strive for to move thee,
Thy rusticall wordes
No matter affoordes,
To make a young mayden to love thee,
Learne wit for to woe
Or I cannot doe,
Nor will I in ought beleeve thee,
I pray thee give ore,
Torment me no more,
I care not what thou hast to give me.
Why mayden so bright,
My birth doe not spight,
For I doe not murmure at thine,
But thinke with thy selfe,
Tho thy father have pelfe,
Thy birth cannot equall mine:
Thy vertues doth move
Poore Edmund to love,
And still shall if thou wilt beleeve mee,
Let love not be vaine
But love me againe,
Thou knowst not what I have to give thee.
Nay grieve not at this
For what is amisse,
Ile strive for to make thee amendes,
To leave off delay,
Faith what would you say,
If you and I joyned like friends?
If to your desert
My love I impart,
And that I should fondly beleeve thee,
I doubt you would prove
Disloyall in love,
And you would that same guift give me,

[The] second part of the Lovers gift,
to the same tune.

DEare sweet would you joyne,
Your love unto mine,
My love should for ever stand sure,
Or to end the strife
Wouldst thou be my wife,
Like Turtles we both would indure:
There should not proceede
No bad word nor deede,
That should have the power to grieve thee,
We'l live till we dye
Most merily,
Thou knowst not what I have to give thee.
Since nothing can shift,
Say what is the gift,
That you upon me would bestow,
And if I doe finde
It contenteth my minde,
The more of my love you shall know,
That guift will me move,
To like as I love,
There quickly repeat it to me,
And heere I protest,
My heart shall rest,
Thou and I straight will agree.
Then if you'le agree,
To marry with me,
Ile make thee a Joynter by the yeare:
And set downe profound
five hundred pound,
And all for the love of my deare:
What a woman can crave,
Be sure to have,
And if that thou durst to beleeve me,
'Tis a gift most rare,
To a mayden so faire,
Loe this is the gift I will give thee,

This gift is of force
To make your recorse,
The easier to my bed,
No longer lets tarrie,
But straight let us marry,
And then take my mayden-head:
No longer I can
Live without a man,
Then pray thee sweet hart beleeve me,
Ile love thee still,
If with a good will,
This prettie guift thou wilt give me.
Then sweeting pray come,
I long till 'tis donne,
To Church let us hie us with speed,
I can when I list,
Procure a blinde Priest,
Which for us shall do this same deed,
Prisi. Then sweet let us goe,
We must not be slow,
If ever you meane to win me,
But thinke upon this,
That you doe not misse,
This same pretie gift to give me,
Away then they went,
And fulfil'd there intent,
Unto their great comfort and joy,
Fortie weekes being past
This young wife at the last,
Did bring her young husband a boy,
Heaven send all young wives,
To lead honest lives,
And husbands to live with them kinde:
May wives strive to please,
All such husbands as these
That are of so honest a minde.

Printed at London for John Trundle, and are to be solde at his shop in Barbicon.

View Raw XML