A delicate new Song, Entitled, Sweetheart, I love thee.  
To the tune of, See the building.  

 

Sweetheart I love thee  
And deem no Lass above thee  
in all this City:  
Sweetheart I woe thee,  
And vow I'll never do thee  
any harm for pity:  
Swéet-heart tell me thy father's name,  
and where he liveth,  
and what he giveth  
With you his Daughter,  
who is so fair a Dame:  
For it was to seek a wife  
that I to London came.   

Good sir forgo me,  
My friends will not bestow me  
upon a Clown.  
I scorn to have one,  
Unless he be a brave one,  
who life's in Town:  
I'll have one that comes from Court,  
that swears and swaggers,  
until he staggers,  
That spends his means  
and is not sorry for't,  
Oh such a lively Lad  
will show a Lass good sport.   

Sweetheart be milder,  
I ne'er embraced a wilder,  
in all my life.  
Sweetheart content thee,  
Thou shalt no whit repent thee,  
to be my wife:  
I have five pounds a year,  
a brace of Geldings,  
and sumptuous buildings  
For thee and I to sit  
and make good cheer,  
If thou wilt be my Honey,  
my Dove, my Duck, my Dear.   

A pox take your riches,  
It seems by your great breeches,  
from Court you came not:  
I scorn such Asses,  
Do court your Country Lasses,  
for yours I am not:  
Farewell my Coridon, farewell,  
for I see now, man,  
thou art some Ploughman,  
Thy very looks the same to me do tell,  
Go kiss thy bouncing Kate,  
and clip thy bonny Nell.   

My suit is ended,  
And I no whit offended  
at thy disdain,  
I'll beware me,  
How ever I ensnare me  
with such again:  
Farewell, then, I scorn thy disdain,  
away be trudging:  
and fear no grudging:  
For I'll go woe  
some more honest and plain:  
For I respect true love,  
and prise it above all gain.    

The second part,  
to the same tune.  
 

CIty Dames, attend ye,  
With counsel I'll befriend ye,  
if you'll be witty:  
For now I find it,  
Though one I did not mind it,  
more was the pity:  
A Countryman excels a Courtier,  
though not for bravery,  
nor yet for knavery,  
But if he'll have thee,  
do him not deny,  
For any smooth-tongued  
Courtier's flattery.   

I once was wooed,  
And well beloved  
of o Countryman:  
But I refused him,  
Nay more with words abused him,  
thus coy Dames can  
With flouting words squib the simple,  
that come to woe them,  
with love to prove them,  
Yet those Dames will show them  
to be so nice and coy,  
And count their loves  
but as an idle toy.   

A Merchant's Daughter,  
Her mind still runneth after  
some Squire or Knight:  
she'll have a Courtier,  
for to support her,  
'tis a goodly sight,  
To see a man that struts in the fashion,  
augments love's fire,  
And still desire  
to have a neat spruce Lad,  
To strut before them,  
as he were Antic mad.   

So they have a Gallant,  
they ne'er respect their talon,  
nor stand for money:  
If he be a fine one,  
Yea or a witty-tongued one,  
he shall be their Honey:  
Proud City Dames are grown so dainty,  
myself do know it,  
of late did show it,  
But now beshrew it,  
that ere I seemed so coy  
To that honest Country man,  
that once held me his joy.   

Thus she lamented,  
Her mind was discontented,  
and deeply vexed:  
Her joys exiled,  
The Gallant her beguiled,  
which her perplexed  
With tears she then did wail her  
and then repent,  
she ne'er lamented,  
But discontented  
that man with proud disdain,  
And sighing wished  
she might his love obtain.    
FINIS.   

Printed at London for H.G.