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XXX.

THE MAID'S COMPLAINT OF HER

MOTHER.

[From “ the Muses Garden. 1610.”]

My father fain would have me take

A man that hath a beard,
My mother she cries out, a-lack !

And makes me much afraid,
Forsooth I am not old enough,

Now surely this is goodly stuff, Faith let my mother marry me,

Or 'else my father bury me,

For I have liy'd these fourteen years,

My mother knows it well,
What need she then to cast such fears,

Can any body tell !
As though young women do not know

That custom will not let them woo;
I would be glad if I might chuse,

But I were mad if I refuse.

My mother bids me go to school,

And learn to do some good, 'Twere well if she would let the fool,

Come home and suck a dug, As if my father knew not yet

That maidens are for young men fit ; Give me my mind and let me wed,

Or you shall quickly find me dead.

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How soon my mother hath forgot

That ever she was young,
And how that she denied not,

But sung another song,
I must not speak what I do think,

When I am dry I may not drink;
Though her desire be now grown old

She must have fire when she is cold.

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You see the mother loves the son,

The father loves the maid ;
What, would she have me be a nun?

I will not be delay'd,
I will not live thus idle still,

My mother shall not have her will,
My father speaketh like a man,

I will be married do what she can.

XXXI.

“ A rare example of a virtuous maid in Paris, who

was by' her own mother procured to be put in prison, thinking thereby to compel her to Popery: but she continued to the end, and finished her life in the fire.”

Tune is0 man in desperation.
It was a lady's daughter, ,

Of Paris properly,
Her mother her commanded

To mass that she should hie :
O pardon me, dear mother,

Her daughter dear did say
Unto that filthy idol

I never can obey.

With weeping and wailing

Her mother then did go,
To assemble her kinsfolks,

That they the truth may know;
Who being then assembled

They did this maiden call,
And put her into prison,

To fear her therewithal.

But where they thought to fear her,

She did most strong endure,
Although her years were tender,

Her faith was firm and sure.
She weigh'd not their allurements,

She fear'd not fiery flames,
She hop'd thro’ Christ her Saviour

To have immortal fame.

Before the judge they brought her,

Thinking that she would turn, And there she was condemned

In fire for to burn; Instead of golden bracelets,

With cords they bound her fast, My God, grant me with patience

(Quoth she) to die at last.

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Unto the place of torment

They brought her speedily, With heart and mind most constant,

She willing was to die, But seeing many ladies

Assembled in that place, These words she then pronounced,

Lamenting of their case.

You ladies of this city,

Mark well my words (quoth she) ; Although I shall be burned

Yet do not pity me, Yourselves I rather pity,

And weep for your decay; Amend your time, fair ladies,

And do no time delay,

Then came her mother weeping

Her daughter to behold,
And in her hand she brought her

A book covered with gold : Throw hence, quoth she, that idol,

Convey it from my sight; And bring me hither my Bible,

Wherein I take delight.

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