Two strings to a Bow; or, The cunning Archer, Being A pleasant new ditty of a soldier, that had two Lasses at one time That dearly loved him, and how he requited their kindness  


This lusty soldier having been  
Ten years in Scotland, and near seen  
A London Lass, resolved to try,  
How much they priz▪ d Virginity.  
He lays close siege to two, and storms  
There Forts, but yet to mary scorns.    
To an excellent Scotish Tune, called Gilderoy.  
 portait of a man  portrait of a woman  

G 〈…〉 lads and lasses all,  
in what I shall report,  
Of Ma●d●●s twain that loved dear,  
● S●ul●ier their consort.  
〈…〉 La● and blithe t'was he,  
and 〈…〉 to love them both.  
B 〈…〉 e the knot,  
〈…〉 he was loth.   

〈…〉 y●e●●s this soldier brave  
〈…〉, b●●e ●is Arms.  
V 〈…〉 ur Noble general,  
〈…〉 Cupids Charms.  
Bu● London L●sses, thought to win,  
and temp● him ●ith their smiles.  
Which sub●ly be a while receives.  
at last them both beguiles.   

The first was Mal. a bounce Lass,  
to whom he courteous was.  
And lovingly did kiss and Court,  
our mark what came to pass.  
W●en and 〈◇〉 gained her tender heart,  
And Cupid ●●● had shot,  
He scorn●ully disdains her thoughts,  
and swears he loves her not.   

Then she her service leaves in hast,  
a private life to live.  
Because that to her Master she,  
was loth offence to give,  
And that be might with freedom come,  
to visit this his dear,  
On whom she spent her money free,  
in Ale, and in good Chéet.   

Thus she continued a while,  
and he came oft unto her.  
whose fight did please her wondrous well  
the soldier sure did do her.  
But when her stock grew low and poor  
his love it waxed could.  
There was no chain could hold him fast,  
but onely that of Gold.   

When thus she s●w she sl●ghted was,  
and could not ●ated the Game.  
With heavy moan she did repined  
and her hard fort●ne blame.  
Whilst and with iovial●ists did sing,  
and did contrive it so.  
That he had got another Lass,  
and two strings to his Bow.   

The second Part, to the same Tune  
 portrait of a man  portrait of a woman  

HAving thus put his first lasse off,  
the second comes in play.  
The which was pretty Dorothy:  
who was both fine and gay.  
To whom he doth express his love,  
with amorous, Glances many:  
And swears that she shall be his wife  
if ever he have any.   

This did so pierce her tender heart  
with joy and great delight.  
That she her service proffered him,  
by day and the● by night:  
Which he most kindly doth accept,  
and voided of dread or fear.  
He gets her in his Chamber close,  
one night, as you shall hear.   

In sober guise the soldier goes:  
one night unto his bed.  
Where she must come in all the hast,  
to lose her Maiden-head.  
The people being all at rest,  
and every one asléep.  
The lasse goes to his Chamber strait,  
and to his bed does créep.   

He that in bloody Battels fought,  
and lay in Frost and could,  
Enduring hardships plentiful,  
against his foes so bold.  
Can now on's bed surprise a Fort,  
which no man ere did enter  
The Lady and the Owner gives,  
it him for his adventure.   

Her Master and her Mistrisie both,  
about the break of day.  
Awaking, called for their Maid,  
but she no word did say,  
She was in bed with her delight,  
and sporting with her dear.  
Nor thinking that her Master called;  
love would not let her hear.   

Then up her Master gets in hast,  
to fi●d the poor lost sheep.  
And folded in the Souldiers arms,  
he find his Maid asleep.  
Then with one blow, upon her chéek  
he wakes her from ●er dear,  
And kicks the lassee out of doors.  
No Whores( quoth he) live here.   

When this black chance was once found out,  
the lasse she fain would mary.  
The soldier be refuses quit,  
tells her he must be wary;  
But she perplexed, doth urge him still,  
and begs the same with Tears.  
Qu●th he, I am not in your debt,  
I paid you your arrears.   

Take heed you loving lasses.  
be warned by my report.  
Trust not a lusty soldier,  
for hée'l soon take your Fort,  
And then you must turn chamber maids  
alas my chance is so.  
The soldier he will shoot no more,  
h'as broken two strings to's bow Finis,     

London Printed, for charles Tyu●, on London-bridge