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Then be not nice, for that alas

Betrays thy thoughts and thee:
I know thou louest, and not one grace
Adorns thy body or thy face

But pimpes within for me.
Then tell me what those creatures are
That would be thought both chaste and fair.

!“ This song,” says Ritson in his Ancient Songs, " is printed by Dryden in the third part of his Miscellany Poems, where it is called 'A New Ballad': which is certainly a mistake, the following copy being given from a MS. in the Harleian Collection (No. 3889) as old as Charles the First's time.” See Ritson's Ancient Songs.]



If love be life, I long to die,

Live they that list for me :
And he that gains the most thereby,

A fool, at least shall be.
But he that feels the sorest fits
Scapes with no less than loss of wits :

Unhappy life they gain,
Which love do entertain.

In day by fained looks they live,

By lying dreams by night,
Each frown a deadly wound doth give,

Each smile a false delight,
If't hap the lady pleasant seem,
It is for others love they deem :

If void she seem of joy,
Disdain doth make her coy.

Such is the peace that lovers find,

Such is the life they lead;
Blown here and there with every wind,

Like flowers in the mead.
Now war, now peace, now war again ;
Desire, despair, delight, disdain :

Though dead in midst of life;
In peace, and yet at strife.

Francis Davison was the son of the Secretary of that name to Queen Elizabeth, “who suffered," says Ritson, “ so much through that princesses caprice and cruelty in the tragical affair of Mary Queen of Scots."]



Born 1586.

Pleasures, beauty, youth attend ye,

Whilst the spring of nature lasteth;
Love and melting thoughts [befriend) ye,
Use the time, ere Winter hasteth.

Active blood, and free delight,

Place and privacy invite.
Do, do! be kind as fair,

Lose not opportunity for air.
She is cruel that denies it,

Bounty best appears in granting,
Stealth of sport as soon supplies it,
Whilst the dues of love are wanting.

Here's the sweet exchange of bliss,

When each whisper proves a kiss.
In the game are felt no pains,
For in all the loser gains.

[From the “ Ladie's Triall," 1639.]



Born 1588-Died 1667.

I lov'd a lass, a fair one,
As fair as e'er was seen,
She was indeed a rare one,
Another Sheba Queene;
But foole as then I was,
I thought she lov'd me too,
But now, alas ! sh'as left me,

Falero, lero, loo.
Her hair like gold did glister,
Each eye was like a star,
She did surpass her sister
Which past all others farre ;
She would me honey call —
She'd, oh-she'd kiss me too,
But now, alas ! sh’as left me,

Falero, lero, loo.
In summer time to Medley
My love and I would go-
The boatmen there stood ready
My love and I to row;
For creain there would we call,
For cakes, and for prunes too,
But now, alas ! sh’as left me,

Falero, lero, loo.

Many a merry meeting
My love and I have had ;
She was my only sweeting,
She made my heart full glad;
The tears stood in her eyes,
Like to the morning dew,
But now, alas ! sh’as left me,

Falero, lero, loo.

And as abroad we walked
As lover's fashion is,
Oft as we sweetly talked,
The sun would steal a kiss ;
The wind upon her lips
Likewise most sweetly blew,
But now, alas ! sh'as left me,

Falero, lero, loo.

Her cheeks were like the cherry,
Her skin as white as snow,
When she was blythe and merry,
She angel-like did show :
Her waist exceeding small,
The fives did fit her shoe,*
But now, alas ! sh'as left me,

Falero, lero, loo.
In summer time or winter,
She had her hearts desire,
I still did scorn to stint her,
From sugar, sack, or fire:

* This is understood to mean, that her shoes were made upon the last No. 5, being one of the smallest size.

To keep away

The world went round about,
No cares we ever knew,
But now, alas ! sh’as left me,

Falero, lero, loo.
As we walk'd home together
At midnight thro' the town,

the weather-
O'er her I'd cast my gown;
No cold my love should feel,
What e'er the heavens could do,
But now, alas ! sh'as left me,

Falero, lero, loo.
Like doves we would be billing,
And clip and kiss so fast,
Yet she would be unwilling
That I should kiss the last;
They're Judas kisses now,
Since that they prov'd untrue,
For now, alas! sh’as left me,

Falero, lero, loo.
To maiden's vows and swearing,
Henceforth no credit give,
You may give them the hearing-
But never them believe;
They are as false as fair,
Unconstant, frail, untrue;
For mine, alas ! hath left me,

Falero, lero, loo.
'Twas I that paid for all things,
'Twas other drank the wine,
I cannot now recall things,
Live but a fool to pine:

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