When women love, they will it hide,
Untill their lover they have tried,
Though I say nay, as maidens do,
You will I love, Sir, and none but you.

Here is, quoth she, my heart and hand,
My constant love thou shalt command:
And I do vow to be ever true,

You will I love, Sir, and none but you.

Whilst golden Titan does display,
His beams unto the chearful day,
Whilst spring the winter doth ensue,
You will I love, Sir, and none but you.

On thee my love is fixed fast,
On thee my love is firmly plac'd;

For thee I'll bid the world adieu,

You will I love, Sir, and none but you.

If Hero should Leander leave,
Fair Lucrece Collatine deceive,

Or Syrinx prove to Pan untrue,

Yet I'll love you, Sir, and none but you.

Object no former coy reply,

Suspect no future constancy ;

Accept my love as a tribute due

Only to you, Sir, and to none but you.

The young man noting well her words,
This courteous answer then affords;
Give me thy hand, take mine in lieu :
My love I grant here, and so do you.

To church with speed then let us hie
In marriage bands ourselves to tie,
Where interchanging hands and hearts
I'll love thee dearly till death us parts.

Mark well my song you maiden's coy,
That count true love a foolish toy:
Do not disdain when young men woo,
But love them freely as they love you.

[Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and J. Wright.]

XI.

"A most excellent Song of the Love of young Palmus and faire Sheldra, with their unfortunate love."

To the tune of Shackley-hay.

YOUNG Palmus was a ferryman,

Whom Sheldra fair did love,

At Shackley, where her sheep did graze,
She there his thoughts did prove;

But he unkindly stole away,

And left his love at Shackley-hay. So loud at Shackley did she cry,

The words resound at Shackley-hay.

But all in vain she did complain,
For nothing could him move,
Till wind did turn him back again,
And brought him to his love:
When she saw him thus turn'd by fate,
She turn'd her love to mortal hate,
Then weeping to her did he say,
I'll live with thee at Shackley-hay.

No, no, quoth she, I thee deny,
My love thou once did scorn,
And my prayers wouldst not hear,
But left me here forlorn,

And now being turn'd by fate of wind,
Thou thinkst to win me to thy mind,
Go, go, farewell, I thee deny,
Thou shall not live at Shackley-hay.

If that thou do'st my love disdain,

Because I live on seas,

Or that I am ferryman,

My Sheldra doth displease,

I will no more in that estate,
Be servile unto wind and fate,

But quite forsake boats, oars, and sea,
And live with thee at Shackley-hay.

My Sheldra's bed shall be my boat,
Her arms shall be my oars,.
Where love instead of storms shall float
On pleasant downs and shores;
Her sweetest breath my gentle gale,
Through tides of love to drive my sail,
Her look my praise, and her my joy,
To live with me at Shackley-hay.

Not Phaon shall with me compare,
So fortunate to prove :

Fair Venus never was his fare,

I'll bear the queen of love;

The working waters never fear,

For Cupid's self our barge shall steer,

And to the shore I still will cry,

My Sheldra comes to Shackley-hay.

To strew my boat for thy avail,

I'll rob the flowery shores,

And whilst thou guid'st the silken sail, I'll row with silver oars;

And as upon the streams we float,
A thousand swans shall guide our boat,
And to the shore still will I cry,
My Sheldra comes to Shackley-hay:

And have a story painted there,
Wherein there shall be seen,
How Sappho lov'd a ferryman,
Being a learned queen :
In golden letters shall be writ,

How well in love himself he quit,

That all the lasses still shall cry,

With Palmus we'll to Shackley-hay.

And walking lazily to the strand,
We'll angle in the brook,

And fish with thy white lilly hand,

Thou need'st no other hook :

To which the fish shall soon be brought, And strive which shall the first be caught,

A thousand pleasures will we try,

As we do row to Shackley-hay.

And if we be opprest with heat,
In mid-time of the day,
Under the willows tall and great,

Shall be our quiet bay,