The two Welsh Lovers,
OR
The British Nymph that long was in her life,
A changing Maid, but a recanting Wife.
Let every man that would win a Maids favour,
At home keepe with her, if he meane to have her.
To the tune of the Blazing Torch.
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AS late I walkt the Meades along,
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where Severns streames did glide;
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I heard a mournfull Shepherds song,
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and him at last espide.
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He wrung his hands and wept apace,
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to mourne he did not lin:
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Rivers of teares ran downe his face,
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and still he cride Due gwin.
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I drew me neere unto the Swaine,
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and prayd him tell the cause,
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Why he so sadly did complaine,
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he silent made a pause.
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At length he raisd himselfe to speake,
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yet e're he could begin;
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He sigh'd as if his heart would breake,
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and cryde alas Due gwin.
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Quoth he, Among yon Brittish hills,
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where Zephirus doth breathe:
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Where flowers sweet the Meadows fills,
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and valleys underneathe,
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And neere unto that fountaine head,
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where Dee comes flowing in:
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Ah me, that fatall Nymph was bred,
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for whom I cryde Due gwin.
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I loved her once, but now I rue,
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that I was such an Asse:
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For she did prove the most untrue,
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that ever woman was.
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Faire was her face, great was her fame,
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had she still constant bin:
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But, Oh, her heart was not the same:
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which makes me cry Due gwin.
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Once had I power, till her command
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forbad that power to rise,
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Further then touching of her hand,
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or looking on her eyes.
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I feard to contradict her will,
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as though it were a sinne:
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Yet she rewards my good with ill,
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which makes me cry Due gwin.
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I thought I had her free consent,
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but it prov'd quite contrarie:
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For while I on a journey went,
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another she did marrie.
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Cause I was absent for a space,
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and thought no hurt therein:
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Another did possesse my place,
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which made me cry Due gwin,
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When I returned home againe,
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I thought with her to wed:
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But there I found my labour vaine,
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for she before was sped.
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Which when I saw, I sigh'd and sobd,
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and made a pitious din:
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Wishing him hang'd that had me robd,
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and made me cry Due gwin.
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It seemes by this, 'tis hard to finde
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a woman true in heart:
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Beleeve them not, though they seeme kind,
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they can deceive by art.
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We men may woe and use the meanes,
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at us they laugh and grin:
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Thus we are crost by faithlesse queanes,
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which makes us cry Due gwin.
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The second Part. To the same tune.
With the Nymphs Recantation.
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NOw when the Nymph did see the swain
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was safe returned at last:
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Most petuously she did complaine,
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to thinke of what was past.
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The sting of conscience did her pricke,
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calling to minde her sinne:
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Immediatly she fell sore sicke,
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and cryde alas Due gwin.
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No comfort could she take at all,
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to cure her inward smart:
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She thought it bootlesse to recall
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the folly of her heart.
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It might have greev'd a man to see,
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the case that she was in:
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My fond mistrust of him, quoth she,
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thus makes me cry Due gwin.
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Oh had I never seene mans face,
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since my deere shepheard went:
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Then had I never knowne disgrace,
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but liv'd still continent.
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Or if within some sacred cell,
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I had included bin:
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I had remained constant still.
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but now I cry Due gwin.
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Thus having wept for her offence,
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she sent unto her swaine:
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Desiring that without offence,
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she might his sight obtaine.
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At her request he went apace,
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her husband not within:
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As soone as e're she saw his face,
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she wept and cryde Due gwin.
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What speeches past betweene these twaine
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were needlesse here to tell:
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The Nymph imbrac'd and kist her Swain,
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and all was wondrous well.
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He needs no elegance of phrase,
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her favour now to win,
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Her griefe was turn'd to fond love plaies,
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she cryde no more Due gwin.
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Deare love, quoth she, what's done & past,
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I cannot now recant:
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Yet what I have, while life doth last,
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my shepheard shall not want.
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What though my husbands forehead ake,
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I weigh it not a pin:
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Yet if by chance he should us take,
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we both must cry Due gwin.
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Thus were the lovers perfect friends,
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the Nymph, as best became her,
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Did make her shepheard such amend,
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he knew not how to blame her.
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Yet let all young men keepe [?]
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if they their loves w[?]
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If they be lost while [?]
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then they may cry [Due gwin.]
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