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EBBA 36056

Manchester Central Library - Blackletter Ballads
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The Loving Lad,
The Coy Lasse.
Or, a new Dialogue between two young Lovers.
The Youth did love the Girle entirely well,
But she (because her beauty did excell,)
Seem'd nice and coy, as Virgins use to bee,
And yet at last they both did well agree:
The match was finisht but on such condition,
That she might fully know his disposition
Therefore she did injoyne him not to marry,
But for her sake, full seven years space to tarry:
And then she is resolv'd (to end all strife,)
She'l be his faithful, constant, loving Wife.
To the Tune of, my father gave mee House and Land, or, the Young mans joy
and the Maidens happinesse.

ALl haile thou bright and bonny Lass,
my joy and onely sweeting,
Good Fortune now hath Brought to passe,
that wee should have a meeting,

That so I might behold thy face
and speak my mind unto thee,
And since here is a fitting place,
I do intend to wooe thee.

For I long time have lov'd thee well,
but yet I ne're did show it,
Because indeed the truth to tell,
I durst not let thee know it.

For fear thou shouldst my love disdain,
and so in coynesse shun mee,
And not my person entertain,
which would have quite undone mee.

But now I have more courage gain'd,
and am resolv'd to try thee,
For my affection is unfeign'd,
How canst thou then deny mee.

I prethee Will. be soft and sweet,
methinks you are too hasty,
O talke no more of wooing yet
For fear your Master baste ye.

You are as yet a Prentice Will.
then leave such fond adventures
And think not of a wife untill,
y'ave serv'd out your indentures.

For why I think there's no time lost,
but you may longer tarry
Your age is twenty years at most,
a little too young to marry.

Then take my councel if you please,
and rest a while contented,
Forbear such rash attempts as these,
which oft times are repented,

Indeed I wish I able were,
to follow your direction,
But little dost thou know my Dear,
the strength of my affection.

Love burns so hot within my breast,
that if I should conceal it,
Be sure 'twould never let mee rest,
untill I did reveal it,

For where true love the heart doth sway,
in any Loyal Lover
Hee cannot brook one weeks delay,
but must his mind discover.

THerefore sweet loving mistresse Jane
consider my condition,
My heart with love is almost slain,
O! prove a kind Physitian.

Fye, fye, thou art a flattering youth,
I do not like thy carriage,
Leave off such toyes for in good truth,
they will thee quite disparage,

Think it not strange that I am coy,
or that I have deny'd thee,
I never will affect a Boy,
whatever doth betide mee.

Herein I do thee not disgrace,
but speak as't doth behove mee,
For thou never hadst a manlike face,
therefore I cannot love thee.

Oh! my Dear that's a killing word,
I prethee henceforth forbear it,
And let thy sweet lips some comfort af-ford
speak kindly that I may hear it.

I prize thee more than Gold or Pearl,
thou art my onely Jewell,
Then prethee do not frown my Girle,
why shouldst thou be so cruel.

If thou continuest to deny,
and thus in scorn to slight mee,
Then surely I, for love must dye,
Oh! do not so requite mee.

But if thou'lt grant mee love at last,
and yeild thyself unto mee,
My grief and sorrows which are past,
no harme at all can doe mee.

For in thy love I shall rejoyce,
even as it will behove mee,
And thou shalt find (my onely choice)
how dearly I do love thee.

If that indeed your words be true,
and you do so affect mee,
Grant this request, and that will shew,
how much you do respect mee,

Live for my sake a single life,
untill seven years are ended,
And then for to become your wife,
I fully am intended.

But if the same you do refuse,
great cause I have to suspect you,
Another mate you may go chuse,
for I will never affect you.

My Dear, this is a difficult task,
and yet I tell thee truely,
Since thou art pleas'd the same to ask,
I will perform it duely,

Full seven years space, for thy sweet sake
a Batchelor Ile tarry,
And eke all other Maids forsake
with my True-love to marry.

Now give mee leave to kisse thy hand,
my leave is quickly gained,
The sweetest Damosel in the Land,
at last I have obtained.

London, Printed for F. Coles, M. Wright, T. Vere, & W. Gilbertson.

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