%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> Loues Solace; / OR / The true lovers part, & in his conclusion he shews his constant heart. / He still doth praise her for her beauty rare, / And sayes there's none with her that can compare. Parker, Martin University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1624-1624 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/18/2011 30139

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

S119371 5 UNKNOWN UNKNOWN a new Court tune UNKNOWN A New Court Tune the Damaske Rose UNKNOWN The Damask Rose the same Tune UNKNOWN The Same Tune THe Damaske Rose nor Lilly faire, / the Couslip nor the Pancy, MY loue, my life, my ducke my deare, / now will I yeeld vnto thee, so sweet is the Lasse that loues me. [with variation] so sweet is the Lasse that loues thee. [with variation] Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 202 1: 203 Loues Solace; / OR / The true lovers part, & in his conclusion he shews his constant heart. / He still doth praise her for her beauty rare, / And sayes there's none with her that can compare. Loves Solace; OR The true lovers part, & in his conclusion he shews his constant heart. He still doth praise her for her beauty rare, And sayes there’s none with her that can compare. Loves Solace; OR The true lover's part, and in his conclusion he shows his constant heart. He still does praise her for her beauty rare, And says there’s none with her that can compare. Parker, Martin 1624-1624 Francis Groue

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious types & sects royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic The New World travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgarities/ crass humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 4/18/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America love mythology/ Classical Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 4/18/2011 4:01:38 PM XBallad Doss, MacKenzie Created XML Version of Ballad 4/18/2011 4:01:38 PM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/18/2011 4:01:38 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Zusky, Catherine Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/18/2011 4:01:38 PM Transcriptionist Two Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/18/2011 4:01:38 PM Transcriptionist One Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 9/20/2010 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 7/9/2008 Bibliographer Giles Bergel Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 10/27/2008 Checker Meghan Fadel Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 1/24/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Loves Solace;</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">OR</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The true lovers part, & in his conclusion he shews his constant heart.</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">He still doth praise her for her beauty rare,</hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">And sayes theres none with her that can compare.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To a new Court tune called the <hi rend="bold">Damaske Rose.</hi></hi></seg>
THe Damaske Rose nor Lilly faire, the Couslip nor the Pancy, With my true Love cannot compare, for beauty love and fancy, She doth excell the rarest Dame, in all the world that may be, Which makes me thus extoll her fame, so sweet is the Lasse that loves me. If I should speake of my true Love, as I am bound in duty; She doth surpasse the gods above, in each degree for beauty, Juno, Pallas, nor Venus faire, shine not so bright and lovely, Thers none with her that may compare, so sweet is the Lasse that loves me. When first I saw her peerelesse face, I did admire her beauty, And I did seeke with heart and voyce, to offer her all duty, Which willingly she did accept, so kind and loving was she, Which makes me thus with all respect, say sweet is the Lasse that loves me. Mars though he be the god of warre, could not so deepely wound me, As Cupid with a little skarre, which I have plainely showne you, Boreas with all his blustring stormes, never pierst so sorely: Cupids Arrowes pricke like thornes, so sweet is the Lasse that loves me.
For her sweet sake Ile undertake, any thing she requireth, To sayle the Seas like Captaine Drake, whose deeds theres some admireth What ever she commands is done, so much her love doth move me, She is a precious Paragon, so sweet is the Lasse that loves me. Bright Cinthia in her rich Robes, my Love doth much resemble, whose beautious beams such rares affords that makes my heart to tremble, Yet is the Saint so chast so rare, which unto fancy moves me, And makes my joyes without compare, so sweet is the Lasse that loves me. Diana and her Darlings deare, that lived in woods and vallies: And spent her time so chast and rare, she with no mankind dallies: Yet is she not more chast than my Love, I hope none can disprove me, O no my mind shall nere remove, so sweet is the Lasse that loves me. Sweet Love adieu I pray be true, and thinke of what is spoken, Change not thy old friend for a new, let not thy vow be broken, Sweet Love I leave thee for this time, for so it doth behove me, But still my heart doth me combine, to say sweet is the Lasse that loves me.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The second part, To the same Tune.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Maidens kind answer wherein she doth agree,</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">That he shall be her Love, and none but onely he.</hi></seg>
MY love, my life, my ducke my deare, now will I yeeld unto thee, All thou hast said I well did heare, and now thy words doth move me, For to reply in answer kind, and so thy selfe shall prove me, I will not change like to the wind, so sweet is the Lasse that loves thee. Be thou my lovely Pyramus, Ile be thy constant Thysbe, And I am now resolved thus, never to displease thee. True love surpasseth Croe[s]us gold, tis not thy wealth that moves me, Hereafter let my love be bold, and say sweet is the Lasse that loves me. Ile prove as chast unto my Love, as ever could be any, No fond inticements me shall move, although I am urged to many, I will indure for ever kind, as it doth best behove me, A truer Mate thou shalt not find, so sweet is the Lasse that loves thee. My daily care shall alwaies be, onely for to delight thee, And I my selfe still will be she that shall with joyes unite thee, I will shine bright at noone and night, if I may so content thee, Like Cinthia I will shine bright, unto the Lad that loves me.
Doe not despaire my onely deare, let not vaine thoughts torment thee, Of my true heart have thou no feare, nor doe not thou absent me, I will remaine for ever sure, though I a while did proove thee, Till death depart Ile thine indure, so sweet is the Lasse that loves thee. No gold nor gaine shall me obtaine, to fancy any other, All those that seeke my Love to gaine, their wishes I doe smother, I answer them unto their kind, for so it doth behove me, I will not change like to the wind, so sweet is the Lasse that loves thee. So Love adieu I pray be true, I am thine owne for ever, The next time that I meet with you, weele not so soone dissever, Although we part I leave my heart, with him that dearely loves me, Tis Hymens bands must ease my smart, and I am the Lasse that loves thee. O my sweet love and onely deare, thou hast renued my pleasure, Thou in my sight dost more appeare than any earthly treasure; I doe rejoyce much in my choyce, and so it doth behove me, Ile sing thy praise with heart and voice. so sweet is the Lasse that loves me.
London Printed for Francis Grove, on Snow-hill. FINIS. M.P.