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EBBA 31285

British Library - Roxburghe
Ballad XSLT Template
or A Proper New BALLAD,
To the Tune of Ile never Love thee more.

MY dear and only love I pray
that little World of thee,
Be governd by no other sway,
but purest Monarchie.
For if Confusion have a part,
which vertuous souls abhore
Ile call a Synod in my heart,
and never love thee more.

As Alexander I will reign,
and I will reign alone;
My thoughts did ever yet disdain
a Rival on my Throne,
He either fears his fate too much,
or his deserts are small,
That dares not put it to the touch,
to gain or lose at all.

But I will reign and govern still,
and alwayes give the Law
And have each Subject at my will,
and all to stand in aw:
But gainst my Batteries if I find
thou kick or vex me sore,
An that thou set me up a blind,
Ile never love thee more,

And in the Empire of thy heart
where I should solely be
If others do pretend a part,
or dares to share with me:
Or Committees if thou erect,
and go on such a score:
Ile laugh and smile at thy neglect,
and never love thee more.

But if thou will prove faithful then,
and constant in thy word,
Ile make thee glorious by my Pen,
and famous by my Sword.
Ile serve thee in such Noble sort
was never heard before,
Ile crown and deck thy head with bays
and love thee more and more.

The Second Part.
My dear and only love take heed
how thou thy self expose,
Let not a longing Lovers feed
upon such looks as those:
Ile marble wall thee round about,
my self shall be the door,
And if thy heart chance to slide out,
Ile never love thee more.

Let not thy oaths like volies shot,
make any breach at all,
Nor smoothness of their language plot
which way to scale the wall;
Nor balls of Wild-fire love consume
the Shrine which I adore,
For If such smoak about thee foam,
Ile never love thee more.

I know thy vertues be too strong
to suffer by surprise;
If that thou slights their love so long,
their siege at last will rise,
And leave thee conqueror in thy health
and state thou was before,
And if thou prove a common wealth
Ile never love thee more.

But if by fraud, or by deceit,
thy heart to ruine come,
Ile sound no Trumpet as I wont,
nor march by tuck of Drum:
But hold my arms as Ensigns up,
thy falshood to deplore;
And after sigh, and bitter weep,
that ere I lovd so sore.

Ile do with thee as Nero did,
when Rome he set on fire:
Not only all relief forbid
but to an hill retire:
And scorn to shed a tear to save
thy spirit grown so poor,
But laugh and smile thee to thy grave
and never love thee more.

Then shall my heart be set by thine,
but in far different case,
For mine was true; so was not thine
but lookt like Janus face:
Thy beauty shind at first so bright
and woe is me therefore,
That ere I found the love so bright,
that I could love no more.

My heart shall with the Sun be fixt,
for constancie most strange;
And thine shall with thee Moon be mixt
delighting still in change:
For as thou waves with everie wind,
and sails through everie shore.
And leaves my constant heart behind,
how can I love thee more?

Yet for the love I bare thee once,
lest that thy Name should die;
A monument of Marble stone,
the truth shall testifie;
That every Pilgrim passing by
may pity and deplore;
And sighing read the reason why
I cannot love thee more.

The golden Laws of love shall be,
upon these Pillars hung,
A single heart, a simple eye,
a true and constant tongue,
Let no man for mere loves pretend,
that he hath hearts in store:
True love begun will never end,
love one and love no more.

And when all gallants lead about,
this Monument to view,
Its written both within and out,
thourt treacherous I true:
Then in a passion they shall pause,
and thus ly sighing sore,
Alas he had too just a cause,
never to love thee more.

And when the tressing gods do face,
from East to West doth flee,
They shall record it to thy shame;
how thou hast loved me:
And how in odds our loves been such
as few hath been before,
Thou lovd too many, I too much:
that I can love no more.

The misty mounts, the smoking lakes,
the Rocks resounding echo,
The whistling winds, the woods that shake,
shall all with me sing hey ho:
The tosting seas, the tumbling boats,
tears droping from each Oar,
Shall tune with me their turtle notes,
Ile never love thee more.

Yet as the turtle chast and true,
her fellow so regrates,
And daily sighs for her adieu,
that nere renews her notes.
But though thy faith was never fast,
which grieves me wondrous sore,
Yet I shall live in love so chast,
that I shall love no more.


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