A Quip for a scornful Lass. Or, Three slips for a Tester.  
To the tune of Two slips for a Tester.  

 
 

ALl you who have heard  
How I did regard  
a peevish disdainful Lass,  
Who proud of her beauty,  
Forgetting her duty,  
did seek to make me an ass:  
Hear likewise my part,  
Who have in my heart  
resolved evermore to detest he,  
Sith she was i'th' fault,  
I well may revolt,  

and give her three slips for a tester.    

There once a time was,  
When I loved that lass,  
more dear than I did mine own life  
And firmly was bend,  
If she would consent,  
with speed to have made her my wife:  
The foolish nice creature,  
Looked I should entreat her,  
such madness and folly possessed her:  
No more I'll be vexed,  
My humour is fixed,  

I'll give her three slips for a tester.    

As she was to me,  
To her will I be:  
for so all my friends do advice,  
If I should her meet,  
I would not her greet,  
nor afford her a glance from my eyes:  
As I on the way  
Was walking one day,  
to meet me strait way she addressed her:  
Which I to prevent,  
A contrary way went,  

and gave her three slips for a tester.    

She came t'other day  
To the house where I lay,  
to speak with me was her desire,  
She said that she would  
See me if she could,  
but I said I scorned to come nigh her:  
Yet thorough the glass  
I peeped on my Lass,  
good Lord how brave she had dressed her  
In hope to allure,  
But let her be sure,  

I'll give her three slips for a tester.    

She stayed at the door,  
An hour and more,  
to wait for my coming in sight:  
At last I came to her,  
But not like a wooer,  
though once she was all my delight,  
But that I was loath  
To infringe mine oath,  
I had gone very near to have kissed her  
She seemed so fair,  
I could hardly forbear,  

yet I gave her three slips for a ttester    

What lack you fair maid,  
Unto her I said,  
or what is your errand with me  
She prayed me so come  
To her father at home,  
to which I denied to agree:  
And made a reply,  
That never more I  
intended my mind to pester,  
With any small thought  
That concerned me aught,  

but to give her three slips for a tester.     

The second part.  
To the same tune.  
 
 

AT last I went with her,  
And so both together  
did come where her father did dwell.  
I wonder, quoth he,  
That we cannot you see,  
what have you forsaken my Nel●?  
Your daughters too fine,  
Quoth I to be mine,  
therefore 'tis in vain to molest her:  
Yet take this from me,  
I'm as scornful as she,  

and I'll give her three slips for a tester.    

Then she standing by,  
Put finger t'th eye,  
and sorely began to weep:  
Sir quoth the old man,  
Do all what we can,  
where love cannot go it will creep.  
All this would not serve,  
I still did reserve  
my vow, & I'm glad that I missed her,  
Thus I took my leave,  
And they all did perceive,  

I would give her three slips for a tester.    

Yet since at a Wedding,  
Where she came a gadding,  
among other maids of the town,  
She came to the board,  
Of her own accord,  
and close by me she sat down,  
Thought I this is strange,  
To see such a change,  
I wished that my tongue had a blister.  
When I made that vow,  
But I must kéeped now,  

and give her three slips for a tester.    

It makes me to muse,  
That she who did use  
so much to reject me before,  
Should follow me so,  
Where ere I do go,  
yet she hath incensed me so sore,  
My heart is so hard,  
I cannot regard  
her beauty which brightly doth glister.  
I would have had fain  
What now I disdain,  

I must give her three slips for a tester.    

If I had not sworn  
To hold her in scorn,  
I would not so hardly deal with her.  
Oh had she been true,  
As to lovers is due,  
ere this we had married together,  
For me she shall stay,  
Yet needs must I say,  
that love is a sore that will fester:  
I pity her state,  
But help is too late,  

I must give her three slips for a tester.    

Let every maid  
Mark what I have said,  
and leave off all scornful disdain,  
Take leave while 'tis proffered,  
And time while 'tis offered,  
or else you may wish for't in vain:  
My love when time was  
Did make me an ass,  
and played upon me like a jester:  
But the worst is her share,  
I scorn to take care,  

but I'll give her three slips for a tester.     
FINIS.   

Printed at London for F. Grove.