A Wench for a Weaver.  

A Wench for a Weaver here you shall find,  
In defending his trade brought her to his mind.   
To the tune of hang up my Shuttle  
 The Weaver. 

IT chanced on a day,  
as I was walking,  
In the pleasant Month of May,  
with my Love talking:  
Most friendly arm in arm,  
the weather being warm,  
I swar● I thought no harm,  
as I am a weaver.   

The substance of my speech.  
as we were going,  
Was I did this maid beseech,  
my request in wooing  
Grant me thy love quoth he,  
or one sweet smile from thee,  
Say walking unto me,  
thou honey weaver.   The Maid. 

The Maiden then replied,  
sure you are but jesting,  
You needs must be denied,  
of your requesting.  
Without you can declare  
your wits then do not spare,  
How I'll live out of care,  
you being a weaver.   

For the common speech is rife,  
that I'll implore  
To be a Weaver's wife  
is to live poor.  
Then clear but you this case,  
why a Weaver is counted base,  
Then you I will embrace,  
none like a weaver.   The Weaver. 

My own true love and dear,  
since we came hither,  
These slanderous words I'll clear,  
le's go together.  
If the Bark from the Tree you pill,  
the root you needs must kill,  
So through husbands that are ill,  
disgraced are weavers.   

Yet there are more as well as we,  
that have disgraces,  
As you may plainly see  
in diverse places.  
For the richest of you all,  
if your means begin to fall,  
Then your trades worse than all,  
as well as weavers.   The Maid. 

Then I see 'tis poverty  
that breeds thy slander:  
Yet I have heard of thee  
thou hast been Commander.  
Tho gone now are those days,  
and other bears the sways,  
Yet thou hast had the praise  
none like a weaver.   

Seeing thou hast resolved me  
of what I asked:  
All the world plain man see  
you are vainly taxed.  
Yet show me the ground of all,  
and how you first did fall.  
That I may speak of all,  
in praise of weavers.   

The second part.  
To the same tune.  
 The Weaver. 

MY Love at thy request,  
thou shalt command me:  
For why I love thee best,  
then understand me.  
Fortune sometimes frowns,  
he raiseth and pulleth down  
As well Cities as Towns,  
then why not weavers.   

Canning Street you know,  
where cloth is selling:  
Weavers have made like show  
in their houses dwelling.  
Tho they be gone and dead,  
and Drapers crept in stead,  
Yet I heard and read,  
there dwelled brave weavers.   

jack of Nuberie,  
though he be dead and rotten,  
Of Weavers famed was he,  
he should not be forgotten.  
Two hundred and fifty looms  
to maintain he presumes,  
That he noreth now the tombs  
of worthy weavers.   

Cheapside amongst the rest  
shall not be forgotten,  
There are some that make jests,  
to see them broken.  
It is silkemen that do break,  
they cannot hold they are so weak,  
And more would go to rack,  
were't not for weavers.   

Be not so proud in heart,  
although you flourish,  
Give Weavers due desert,  
for we do them nourish.  
A Weaver they cannot want,  
if they should their hart would pan●…  
And they would feel more want:  
then love a weaver.   

To write more than is my share  
I should be sorry:  
The truth I will not spare,  
I have read a story  
Of a Weaver that was a King,  
whose same through the world did ring,  
Which makes me merrily sing  
speak well of weavers.   

In those Golden days,  
weavers had pleasure:  
None like them then had praise,  
they gained much treasure.  
Weaving did so excel,  
none like them did so well:  
Of all trades they bore the bell,  
speak well of weavers.   

If any offended be  
at this my writing,  
That no eloquence he see  
in my inditing:  
Pardon me for this time,  
though simply now I rhyme,  
For here I mean to climb  
in praise of weavers.   

Thus here I end my song,  
and eke my story,  
I hope I have done no wrong,  
if I have I am sorry.  
Then how sayst thou my love,  
my constant hart then prove:  
From thee I'll never move.  
then love a Weaver.    
Tho: Neale.  
FINIS.   

Printed at London for F. Coules.