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Oh! what a plague is love!

I cannot bear it;
She will unconstant prove,

I greatly fear it;
Itt so torments my mind,

my heart faileth;
She || wavers with the wind,

As a ships saileth :
Please her the best I may,
She loves still to gainsay;
Alack, and well-a-day!

Phillida flouts me.

At the fair, th’ other day,tt

As she passed 11 by me,
She look'd another way,

And would not spy me.
I woo'd her for to dine

But could not get her,
Dick $$ had her to the Vine,

He might intreat her, With Daniel she did dance, On me she would not glance; Oh! thrice unhappy chance !

Phillida flouts me.

+ Pain. | And. 11 Yesterday.

Variations from an old copy printed by Ellis.

+ How shall I.
{ "that," inserted.

1. She did pass.

+ She.

Strength. ** Looks another way.


Fair maid, be not so coy,

Do not disdain me;
I am my mother's joy,

Sweet, entertain me!
I shall have,* when she dies,

All things, that's t fitting ;
Her poultry and her bees,

And her goose sitting ; A pair of mattress-beds, A barrel full of shreds, And yet for all these || goods,

Phillida flouts me!

I often hear'd her say,

That she lov'd posies; In the last month of May I gave her

roses ; Cowslips and gilly-flowers,

And the sweet lily,
I got to deck the bowers

Of my dear Philly:
She did them all disdain,
And threw them back again ;
Therefore, 'tis flat and plain,

Phillida flouts me.

Thou shall eat curds and cream

All the year lasting,
And drink the crystal stream,

Pleasant in tasting ;

* She'll give me.

A bag.

+ That is.



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What pretty toys * are those !

Phillida flouts me.

She has a cloth t of mine,

Wrought with blue Coventry,
Which she keeps as a sign

Of my fidelity;
But if she frowns on me, s

She ne'er shall || wear it;
Ill give it my maid Joan,

And she shall tear it.**
Since 't will no better bett
I'll bear it patiently;
Yet all the world may see

Phillida flouts me.

[This singular ballad is printed from Ritsons' Ancient Songs, who has taken it from “ The Theatre of Compliments, or New Academy, London, 1689." The variations given at the bottom of the pages are from an older copy in a poetical miscellany, called “ Wit Restored, 1658," which Mr. Geo. Ellis followed. The order of the stanzas run thus :

1. Oh! what a pain is love-
2. All the fair yesterday-
3. Fair maid be not so coy-
4. She hath a clout of mine-

Thon shalt eat cards and cream-
6. Fair maidens have a care-

* Wanton signs.

+ Clout.

* Good. l' faith if she flinch.

1 Shall not. To Tibb my t'other wench.

** I mean to bear it. tt And yet it grieves my heart

So soon from her to part!
Death strikes me with his dart, &c.

The seventh and last stanza is not found in the text copy,

I cannot work and sleep

All at a season;
Love wounds my heart so deep,

Without all reason.
I'gin to pine away,

With grief and sorrow,
Like to a fatted beast

Pepn'd in a meadow
I shall be dead, I fear,
Within this thousand year,
And all for very fear!

Phillida fiouts me.
Isaak Walton alludes to the song by name in his “ Compleat
Angler," published in 1653. Ritson jastly supposes it much older
than Walton's day. Phillida's answer is printed but its merits are
neither original or many.)



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may use common Shepherds
My sighs at last to storms will grow,
And blow such scorns upon thy pride
Will blast all I have deified :
You are not faire when love


Ingratitude makes all things black.
Oh do not for a flock of sheep,
A golden shower whenas you sleep,
Or for the tales ambition tells
Forsake the house where honour dwells :

In Damon's palace you'll ne'er shine

So bright as in that bower of mine. of K. Charles the Second. See Ritson's Ancient Songs, p. 260.] From a MS. In the Harleian Library, No. 3511, written in the time

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