The soldier his Salutation to the wary Wench of Worcester.  
Who kindly entreats her to grant him a kiss,  
Also her denial, in answer to this.  
To a pleasant Scottish Tune, called Lowdens' Delight.  

 

FAir Venus, I admire  
the power of thy Son,  
No sooner to give fire  
but straight the day is won.  
He'll undertake the God of war to tame,  
If against his bosom right he aim,  
Folly were it to resist the flame  
wherein I Cry  
Sweet Lady pity  
My mournful Ditty  
do not deny  
To kiss thy captive soldier  
Or else for grief I die.   

I'll change my coat and colours,  
to go along with thee:  
No more of Mars his followers  
hence forwards will I be  
I am ever bound to be thy slave  
Till thou grants to me the thing I crave  
'Tis thy favour I desire to have  
then cure my pain  
Oh now or never,  
Else captive ever  
shall I remain,  
My heart is deeply wounded  
But yet I am not slain.   

How canst thou chase but fancy  
a soldier so complete?  
whose fortunes may advance thee  
and make thy honour great  
I pray thee do not then so cruel prove,  
For my heart I cannot yet remove,  
More thou hates, the more I'm bound to love,  
thine I am still  
Oh fie on Cupid,  
Which made me stupid  
for want of skill  
I now must be contented,  
To serve thee at thy will.   

In truth I know no reason  
but I may be so bold  
To kiss that lovely Prison  
which kéeps my heart in hold.  
More cruel than a Gaoler would she be  
That denies me of my liberty.  
If a kiss or two would set me free  
or ease my smart  
Do not absent thee  
Nor thus torment me,  
since that thou art  
The Prison and the Keeper,  
Of my imprisoned heart.    

The second part,  
to the same Tune.  
 
 

Come, come, do not refuse it,  
but let us now embrace  
For once and do not use it  
none sees us in this place  
It's in thy power, with a smile or frown  
For to raise me up or cast me down:  
Let thy penalty on me be known,  
be it weal or woe  
Come kill or cure  
What I endure  
no man doth know,  
And then farewell for ever,  
My friend, or cruel foe.   

Farewell, there is no duty  
nor service due to me  
Then tell her not of beauty  
where none is placed you see.  
Do not then on Cupid thus complain  
Unto her that cannot ease thy pain,  
Neither will I be of Venus train  
I am afraid  
Thou dost but flatter  
Faith no such matter,  
shall me persuade  
I will not kiss a soldier  
Lest that I be betrayed   

Change not thy coat nor colours  
to tarry hear with me  
Good soldiers by their Valours,  
will first approved be  
Never say thou art a slave of mine  
Nor any thing I have of thine,  
Rather shalt thou dig the grave of mine  
here in this place  
Ere thou shalt woo me  
So to undo me,  
fie it is base  
To bring poor Country Lasses  
Unto such foul disgrace.   

In London you have plenty,  
why would you come away?  
I warrant you there's twenty  
would never say you nay.  
If to them thou wilt not constant be,  
When another thou dolt chance to see  
Thy affection soon will glance from me  
and further range  
Men once removers,  
Then constant Lovers  
it is most strange.  
To find a faithful soldier  
Not subject unto change.   

Why call'st thou me thy prison  
or jailor which am none?  
If that be all the reason  
I pray thee now be gone.  
For there is no harbour in my breast  
To be granted to so bold a guest  
Neither will I yield to thy request  
therefore in vain  
Is thy intrusion  
By no delusion  
thou shalt obtain  
From me thy fond desire  
My honour so to stain.   

Go, go or else for bear me  
faith I will never yield,  
Thy captain he'll cashier thee  
haste haste into the field,  
lest thy absence breed thee more disgrace  
By thy doting on a maiden face  
For the losing of thy soldier's place  
would be a shame  
Haste now or never  
Else Coward ever  
they'll thee proclaim.  
To lose so great an honour  
By following Venus' Game.    
FINIS.