When women love, they will it hide, Here is, quoth she, my heart and hand, You will I love, Sir, and none but you. Whilst golden Titan does display, On thee my love is fixed fast, For thee I'll bid the world adieu, You will I love, Sir, and none but you. If Hero should Leander leave, 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, To church with speed then let us hie Mark well my song you maiden's coy, [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, 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, No, no, quoth she, I thee deny, And now being turn'd by fate of wind, 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, But quite forsake boats, oars, and sea, My Sheldra's bed shall be my boat, Not Phaon shall with me compare, 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, And have a story painted there, 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, 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, Shall be our quiet bay, |