A new Love-Song, and a true Love-Song. Jones, Thomas, of Hereford Created as an example for Literature and Digital Diversity, Northeastern University, Spring 2021 A new Love-Song, and a true Love-Song. Richard Burton. Horshooe in Smithfield 1641 Transcribed from a facsimile in Early English Books Online Distinctive initial capital [1] Made of Young Man and Maiden fair, Whose dwelling now is in Northamptonshire; As they one evening late abroad was walking, A young man lay unseen, and heard them talking: To make their Complements to seem more sweeter, Their words and actions he composed in Metre: It was well they honest proved in verity, Because Tom-tell-truth chanced to be so nigh. To the Tune of, Colin and Amarilla Stalker Loyal lovers listen well To this story which ile tell, Wherein I briefly will relate what I heard rehearsed; Between a young man and his mate is here most neatly versed I walked forth one evening tide by a pleasant green mood side, A pretty couple there I spied, young Cupid by them hovered I saw them walk, and heard them talk, yet I was not discovered. The young man from Northhampton came, Yet He not declare his name, Lest I should procure the blame that doth attend a prater And in the end I make my friend become a perfect hater She was a very gallant Lass, Many maids she did surpass: She was so fair I bow and swear, it was pitty to deceive her; And since that day I heard some say, She was a Bone-lass-wraver. Man Well met, fair Mistress, quoth the man, Thus to courting he began; If I may have what I do crave, Ile not stand long disputing: But yield to me, and thou shall see I would rather be saluting. Here is a fit convenient place, Prethee Love let us embrace, There is no man nigh that can us spy, or hear what may be spoken; Be kinde to me, and thou shall see, Ile give thee many a Token. Maid The Damsel smiling in his face, Said, Sir, I am feareful to embrace; For young men are deceitful Ware, and fears in them are reigning Therefore be gone, let me alone, I do not know your meaning You say, convenient now it is, There is no place set to do amiss Therefore I say Ile not obey, nor yield to such delusion; Left at the last when pleasure has past, it turns to my conclusion. [2] The Second Part, to the Same Tune. Man Oh dear Love be you content, for I am not lustful bent; It is pure love that makes me move such questions now unto you; You see I stand with cap in hand, on purpose for to woe you. Canst thou love me, prethee speak. Or else my tender heart will break. For Cupid he hath wounded me, and made a deep incision: My Love-sick breast can take no rest, you have me in derision. Maid Aye young man, what ado you keep, You talk as though you wanted sleep; Can any be in Love so free in this our English Nation: Love cannot make a heart to break it is but dissimulation Be civil Sir, and let me come. My Mother wanteth me at home; So stay I the night will her affright, and breed a great distraction Smirt her and I most certainly, because of time detraction Man Sweet-heart I have a fine Estate, Sufficient to maintain a Mate; Then be not coy my onely Joy my dearest Love and Honey: But condescend now in the end to join in Matrimony. I am the man upon my life That will make thee a married Wife; Ile give thee Rings and pretty things, that's fit for recreation: We will spend the night in rare delight, to drive alway beration. Maid When she had heard what he did say She had no power to say him nay; By this you know, that Goods will sume better then Complementing: But this I am sure, Love will endure, when Lands and Goods is wanting. Quoth she, and if you will faithful prove, And constant as the Turtle Dove; I unto you will be as true, if things may right be carried: Then point a bay without delay, wherein we may be married. The Conclusion These Lovers then were both agreed, And homewards they returned with speed; With kisses sweet he did her greet, she lovingly did take it: They plighted troth between them both, and vowed they would never break it. I hearing of this pretty feast, To make a Song I thought it best; If any he shall angry be with him that now hath penned it, Let him I say, without delay go take his pen and mend it. Finis. Thomas Jones. London, Printed for Richard Burton, at the Horshooe in Smithfield.