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EBBA 31712

University of Glasgow Library - Euing
Ballad XSLT Template
A Courtly new ballad of the Princely wooing of the
fair Maid of London by King Edward. The tune is Bonny sweet Robin.

FAir Angel of England thy beauty most bright,
Is all my hearts treasure my joy and delight,
Then grant me sweet Lady thy true Love to be
That I may say welcome good fortune to me.

The Turtle so chast and true in her love
By gentle perswasions her fancy will move
Then be not intreated sweet Lady in vain,
For nature requireth what I would obtain.

The Phenix so famous that lived alone,
Is vowed to chastity being but one,
But be not my darling so chast in desire,
Least thou like the Phenix do penance in the fire.

But alas gentle Lady I pitty thy state,
In being resolved to live without mate,
For if of our Courting the pleasures you know,
You would have a liking the same to ensue.

Long time have I sued these me to obtain,
Yet I am requited with scornful disdain,
But if you will grant your good will to me,
You shall be advanced to Princely degree.

Promotions and honours may often intice,
The chastest that liveth though never so nice,
What woman so worthy but would be content,
To live in a Palace wher Princes frequent.

Two brides young & princely to church I have led,
Two Ladies now lately have decked my bed.

Yet hath thy love taken more root in my heart
Then all their contentments whereof I have part,

Your gentle heart connot mens tears much abide,
And women left angry when most they do chide
Then yield to me kindly and say that at length;
Men do want mercy, and poor women strength.

I grant fair Ladies may poor men resist,
But princes will conquer and love where they lift,
A King may command her to lye by his side,
Whose featurs deserveth to be a Kings Bride,

In granting your love you shall purchase renown
Your head shall be decked with Engl, fair Crown
Thy garments with gold most gallantly wrought,
If true love for treasure of thee may be bought.

Great Ladies of honour shall wait on thy train,
Most richly attired in Scarlet to grain,
My Chamber most princely thy person shall keep,
Where virgins with musick shall rock thee asleep.

If any pleasure thy heart can invent,
Command them sweet Lady thy mind to content
For Kings gallant Courts where Ladies do dwell
Affords such sweet pastimes as Ladies love well

Then be not resolved to dye a true maid,
But print in thy bosome the words I have said
And grant a King favour thy true love to be.
That I may say welcome sweet Virgin to me.

The fair maid of Londons answer to King Edwards
wanton Love: To same tune.

O Wanton King Eward thy labour is vain:
To follow thy pleasure thou canst not obtain
Which getting thou losest and having dost wast it
The which if thou purchase is spoild if thou hast it
But if thou obtainest it, thou nothing hast won,
And I losing nothing yet am quite undone,
But if of that jewel a King doth deceive me,
No Kin, can restate, though a kingdom he give me.

My colour is changed since you saw me last,
My favour is banisht, my beauty is past,
The rosie red blushes which sets on my cheeks
To paleness is turned which all men dislikes,
I pass not what Princes for love do protest
The name of a Virgin contenteth me best.
I have not deserved to lye by thy side,
Nor to be accounted for King Ewards Bride.

The name of a Princess I never did crave,
No such type of honour thy hand-maid will have,
My brest shall not harbor so lofty a thought,
No he with rich profers to wantouness brought,
If wild wanton Rosamond one as your sort,
Had never frequented King Henries brave Court
Such heaps of deep sorrow she never did crave,
Nor tasted the rage of so jealous a Queen.

All men have their freedome to shew their intent,
They win not a woman unless she consent.

Who then can impute to a man any fault,
Who still go uprightly whilst women do halt,
Tis counted kindness in men for to try,
And vertue in women the same to deny;
Nor women unconstant can never be provd
Until by their betters therein they be movd.

If women and modesty once but sever,
Then farewel good name and credit for ever,
And Royal King Edward let me be exild,
Ere any man knows my bodies defild,
No no my old Fathers reverned tears,
Too great an impression upon my soul bears.
Nor shall his bright honour that blot by me have,
To bring his gray hairs with grief to the grave.

The heavens forbid that when I dye,
That any such sin upon my soul lye.
If he that hath kept me from doing that sin
My heart shall not yield with a Prince to begin,
Come rather with pitty and weep ore my Tomb.
Then for my birth curse my dear Mothers womb
That brought forth a blossom that stained thee Tree
With wanton desires to stain her and me.

Leave me most noble King, tempt not in vain
My milk white affections with lewdness to stain.
Though England will yield me no comfort at all,
Yet England will yield me a sad burial.


Printed for F.Coles, T. Vere, and William Gilbertson.

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