Sweet WILLIAM of Plymouth.

Sweet WILLIAM of Plymouth. To the Tune of The Royal Forrester.

A Seaman at Plymouth sweet William by Name, A wooing to beautiful Susan he came; At length he obtain'd her love and good will, And likewise her Father admir'd him still. Her Mother was likewise as well satisfy'd; The day was appointed the Knot should be ty'd; All Friends were invited; but see by the way, Sweet Susan she sicken'd and languishing lay. They us'd their endeavours to raise her again, By learn'd Physicians whose Skill was in vain: A week she continu'd, sweet William did grieve, Because of his Love, he must needs take his Leave. As being commanded to sail with the next Wind; Then leaving his sorrowful Jewel behind, He said, we'll be marry'd when I come again, If thou by good Fortune alive shall remain. So long as i live I'll be true to my Love, And Susan I hope you as constant will prove. Ne'er doubt it sweet William my jewel, quoth she, There's none in the World shall enjoy me but thee. A tribute of tears then at parting they paid, Sweet William, the Mother, the languishing Maid; And likewise the Father was griev'd to the heart, Yet nevertheless for a Time they must part. Away to the Ocean sweet William is gone, Where now we will leave him, and shew you anon How base and deceitful her Parents did prove, Who counsell'd their Child to be false to her Love.

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NOW when this Damsel had languishing lain, Near five or six Months, she recover'd again, Whose beauty was brighter than ever before; So that there was many her Charms did adore, All did account her that came to her view, Her fame thro' the Neighbouring Villages flew, To be the most beautiful Creature on Earth, Altho' but a Fisher-man's Daughter by Birth. So that she was courted by none of the worst, A wealthy young Farmer came to her at first, And call'd her his Jewel the Joy of his Life. Said she, Pray be gone, I'm another Man's Wife, By sacred Vows in the Presence of God; And if I am false let his Heavenly Rod Of sharpest Correction my Punishment be; And therefore be gone from my Presence, quoth she. Then came a young 'Squire, and call'd her his Dear, And said he would settle Two hundred a Year Upon her, if that she would be his sweet Bride. I cannot, I dare not, you must be deny'd:

Then unto her Father and Mother he went, When having discover'd his Noble Intent, They being ambitious of Honor and Gain, They strove to perswade her; but all was in vain. Dear Parents, said she, now observe what I say, In things that are lawful I ought to obey; But when you would have me be perjur'd for Gold, I dare not submit; to the Truth I will hold. They found that it was but a Folly to strive, So long as she knew that her Love was alive, To bring her to mind any other but he; Wherefore the young 'Squire and they did agree, To send this young beautiful Creature away, Along with a Lady to Holland, and they Would tell her Love at his Return she was dead, So that he some other rich Damsel might wed. Then would it be lawful to marry the 'Squire, Who did her fair beautiful Features admire: This was their Contrivance, to Holland she went, Poor Creature she knew not their crafty Intent. But since her dear Parents wou'd needs have it so, In Point of Obedience she yielded to go; Where now we will leave her to treat of her Love, Who had been gone from her two Years and above.

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IN William's long Voyage they came to a Place, Where he had not been but a very short Space, Ere Fortune did favour him so that he bought, A Bargain worth Hundreds, and Thousands 'tis thought. Then laden with Riches he came to the Shore, Said he, my dear Jewel whom I do adore, I will go and visit before that I rest, My Heart has been many Months lodg'd in her Breast. Now when to the House of her Parents he came, He call'd for his Susan, sweet Susan by Name, But straight her dear Mother did make this Reply, It is long since my Daughter did languish and dye. His Heart at these Tydings was ready to break, Some Minutes he had not the Power to speak; At length with a Flood of sad Tears he reply'd, Farewel to the Pleasures and Joys of a Bride. My Sorrows are more than I am able to bear, Is Susan departed, sweet Susan the Fair! Then none in the World will I marry, since she Is laid in her Grave, that was worthy of me. Their Presence he quitted with watry Eyes, And went to his Father and Mother likewise, His own loving Parents, and with them he left His Wealth, because he of his Love was bereft.

Resolved I am for to travel again, Perhaps it may wear off my Sorrow and Pain; Take Care of my Riches, it is Treasure unknown, And if I return not, then all is your own. But if that I live for to see you once more, I make no great doubt but the same you'll restore. Ay, that I will, Son, the dear Father reply'd, So for his long Voyage he straight did provide. He enter'd on Board, and away they did steer, The Seas they were calm, and the Elements clear, At first; but at length a sad Storm did arise, Black Clouds they did cover and darken the Skies. The Seas they did foam, and the Winds they did roar, At length being drove on the Hollanders Shore, Their Ship was so shatter'd, and torn indeed, That then on their Voyage they could not proceed. Now while they lay by their good Ship to repair, William went to the Hague, & he walk'd here & there; And as he was ranging along in the Street, His beautiful Susan he happen'd to meet. He started as soon as her Face he beheld, With Wonder and Joy he was instantly fill'd; Oh, tell me, said he, ye bless'd Powers above, Do my Eyes deceive me, or is it my Love! They say she's been buried a Twelve month almost. This is my Dear, or her beautiful Ghost. Then straight he run to her, and found it was she; Then none in the World was so happy as he. My dearest, says William, Ah why dost thou roam? What Destiny brought thee so far from thy home; The Story she told him with watry Eyes, Concerning the Farmer, and 'Squire likewise. They courted me long, but I still said them Nay; And therefore my Parents they sent me away To wait on a Lady, with whom I am now, Because I refused to be false to my Vow. He presently told her of all his Affairs, His Riches, his Troubles, his Sorrows, his Cares, And that he was going a Voyage to make, He did not know whither; and all for her Sake. But as we were sailing the Weather grew foul, The Winds they did roar, and the Billows did roll; Yet nevertheless, on this turbulent Sea, The Waves were so kind they convey'd me to thee. I'll unto thy Lady, and give her to know, Thou shalt'st not serve her any longer, but go With me to fair Plymouth, where thou shalt be seen, As gay as her self, or a beautiful Queen.

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HE made a Dispatch, and soon brought her away, The Seas they were calm, & the Winds did obey, So that in short Time to fair Plymouth they came, And now he was clearly for changing her Name.

He told his own Father and Mother, That here By Fortune's kind Favours he met with his Dear, And now we prepare for the Wedding, said he, Her Father and Mother invited shall be. Then unto her Parents he hasted at last, And told them the Height of his Sorrows was past; For since you say Susan your Daughter is dead, I have found a Beauty with whom I will wed. And therefore I come here to bring you the News, I hope that one Favour you will not refuse: O honour me then with your Presence, I pray, And come to my Wedding, to Morrow's the Day. They promis'd they would, and were pleas'd to the heart To think how they bravely had acted their Part; Now, now, said the Mother, I have my desire, We'll call home our Daughter to marry the 'Squire. The very next Morning sweet Susan was drest. In sumptuous Apparel more gay than the rest; The Richest of Silks that the World could afford, Imbroider'd with Gold; which he brought from on board With diamonds & rubies, her Vesture did shine; For Beauty she seem'd like an angel Divine; Scarce ever was Mortal more glorious and great, And likewise her Modesty suited her State. Now when with the Bride, down to Dinner they set, Her Parents and Friends, who were lovingly met, This stately Apparel had alter'd her so, That Father, nor Mother, her face did not know. A Health to the Bride round the Table did pass, The Mother of Susan, when taking the Glass, Did do as the rest, and spoke up with a Grace, My Daughter, (if living) had been in your place. The Bride at her Saying she modestly smil'd, To think that the Mother knew not her own Child, Soon after the Bride she arose from her Seat, And fell on her Knees at her dear Patents Feet. I am your dear Daughter, the which you did send To Holland, but Heaven has stood my good Friend; And plac'd me secure in the Arms of my Love, For which I may thank the blest Powers above. Her Father and Mother with Blushes reply'd, The 'Squire was earnest to make you his Bride, But since it is order'd by Heavens Decrees, We grant you our Blessing, rise up from your Knees. Then William spoke up with a notable Grace; A Fig for the 'Squire, bring him to my face, For Crowns of bright Silver with him I'll let fall, And he that holds longest, shall surely take all. They wonder'd how he did such Riches obtain, Yet still they believ'd it was true in the main, Because they appear'd so glorious and gay, With Musick and Dancing they finish'd the Day.

Sold by J. Cobb, in Plumb-Tree-Street, St. Giles's; and A. Powell, at the Bible in Long-Ditch, Westminster.