To win the lad by right,
the second I think,
threw tray duce cinque,
There's ten (quoth she) for me.
the first was quell'd,
for this excel'd,
Full sorely vext was she.
The third with courage lusty,
Did take the dice in hand,
Now dice if you be trusty,
Quoth she, this cast shall stand,
For I resolve for better for worse
As fortune shall dispose,
That either now I'll win the horse
Or else the Saddle lose.
she took them,
and she shook them,
And threw them without fear or wit,
tray cater sice,
gramercy dice,
Quoth she, for that is it.
She thought herself most certain
The young man now to have,
But false deluding fortune,
No such great favour gave.
The young man took the dice up,
Quoth he now have at all,
He threw sincke cater sice up,
Which made her courage fall,
who threw the last,
for 'twas surpast,
How now my girls, quoth he,
you must resign,
for they are mine,
Your maiden-heads to me.
For I have fairly won them,
As you yourselves can tell,
The lots were cast upon them,
Which you all liked well.
The maidens all confessed,
That what he said was true,
And that they were distressed,
Should he exact his due.
we hope sir,
some scope sir,
You unto us will give. if that we pay, what's lost by play,
"Twere pity we should live.
Quoth he, I'll have them all three,
For they by right are mine,
Or else in troth, they shall be,
All painted on my sign.
The sign of the one maiden-head,
Hath oftentimes been seen,
But I'll have three caus't shall be said
The like hath never been.
now whether this lad,
his winnings had,
I cannot nor will not say:
but likely 'tis,
he would not miss,
What was won by fair play.
They thought they had been private
Where none had heard their doing
But one did so contrive it,
That he heard all this wooing.
Thought he I have heard many hold,
Their maiden-heads at high price,
But now hereafter it may be told,
How three were won at dice.
this man ere long,
I did cause this song,
To be made on the same,
that maidens fair,
might have a care,
And play no such game.
The Marriage Song Called
In and Out
BY RICHARD BRATHWAITE, 1615
HA, have I catched you: prethee sweet-heart show,
If so thou canst, who is in Turn-ball now?
Dost smile my precious one? Nay I must know,
There is no remedy, then tell me how;
What my ingenuous cheat, dost laugh to see,
All former jars turn to an harmony,
So generally applauded? true thou may,
The Night is past, and now appears the day,
Full of true jouisance; long was thy suit,
Ere 'twas effected, being in and out,
Vowing and breaking, making many an oath,
Which now I hope's confirmed by you both.
O how I clip thee for it! since thy name,
Is there renewed, which first defam'd the same,
For (hear me Bride-groom) thou by this shalt save
Thyself a Title: I will raze out knave,
Dishonest lover: vow infringing swain,
And say thou ceast to love, that thou again
Might love more fervent, being taught to woo,
And wooing do what Silk-worms use to do;
Who does surcease from labour now and then,
That after rest the better they might spin.
Spin then (my pretty Cobweb) let me see,
How well thy Bride likes thy activity.
That when she sees thy cunning, she may say;
"Why now I'm pleas'd for all my long delay;
"Play that stroke still, there's none that here can let thee,
"For none there is can better please thy Bettie.
"O there (my dear) I hope thou'll ne'er give o'er,
"Why might not this been done so well before?
"Nay faint not man, was Bettie so soon won,
"That her short pleasure should be so soon done?
"Nay then come up, are marriage joys so short,
"That Maidenheads are lost with such small sport?"
This if she say (as this she well may say)
Like a good Gamester hold her still out play.
First night at least wise, and it will be hard,
But she will love the better afterward.
Whence is the Proverb (as it hath been said)
Maidens love them that have their maidenhead:
Come then, my lad, of metal make resort,
Unto the throne of love thy Bettie's fort.
There plant thy Cannon, siege her round about.
Be sure (my Boy) she cannot long hold out.
Erect thy standard, let her tender breast,
Be thy pavilion: where thou takes thy rest.
Let her sweet-rosy Breath such joys bestow,
That in that vale of Paradise below,
Thou may collect thy joys to be far more,
Than any mortal ever had before.
Yet hear me friend, if thou secure wilt be,
Observe these rules which I prescribe to thee.
Be not horn jealous, it will make thee mad,
Women will have it if it may be had.
Nor can a jealous eye prevent their sport,
For if they lov't far will they venter for't.
Suppose her straying beauty should be led,
To the embraces of another's bed,
Wilt thou Acteon-like thy hour-glass spend,
In moaning that thou never canst amend?
No, my kind friend, if thou 'lt be ruled by me,
I'd have thee wink at that which thou dost see,
Shading thy wife's defects with patient mind,
Seeing, yet seeming to the world blind.
For tell me, friend, what harm is there in it?
If then being cloyd, another have a bit?
Which thou may spare, and she as freely give,
Believe me, friend, thou hast no cause to grieve.
For though another in thy saddle ride,
When he is gone, there's place for thee beside,
Which thou may use at pleasure, and it end,
Reserve a pretty morsel for thy friend.
Let not thy reason then be counter-bufft,
Nor think thy pillow with horn-shavings stuft,
If't be thy destiny to be a monster,
Thou must be one, if no, how ere men conster.
Thou may remain secure, exempt from shame,
Though meagre Envy aggravate the same.
For this has been my firm position still,
The husband's horns be in the woman's will.
BY RICHARD BRATHWAITE. FROM BARNABEE'S JOURNAL, 1638
DAM. My Bonny Bell. I love thee so well
I would thou wad scud a lang hether,
That we might here in a Cellar dwell,
And blend our bows together!
Deer a'rt to me as thy geere's to thee,
The World will never suspect us,
This place it is private, 'tis folly to drive it,
Love's Spies have no eyes to detect us.
BEL. Trust me Damaets, youth will not let us,
Yet to be sing'd with love's taper,
Bonny blith Swainlin intend thy Lambkin,
To requite both thy lays and thy labour.
I love not thee, why should'st thou love me,
The yoke, I cannot approve it,
Than lie still with one, I'd rather have none,
Nor I love, nor am lov'd, nor have loved.
DAM. To lead apes in hell, it will not do well,
'Tis an enemy to procreation,
In the world to tarry and never to marry
Would bring it soon to desolation.
See my countenance is merry, cheeks red as cherry,
This Cover will never suspect us,
This place it is private, 'tis folly to drive it,
Love's Spies have no eyes to detect us.
BEL. 'Las, maidens must fain it, I love though I
I would, but I will not confess it,
My years are consorting and fain would be sporting,
But bashfulness shames to express it.
I love not thee, why should'st thou love me,
That yoke I cannot approve it,
Than lie still with one, I'd rather have none,
Nor I love, nor am lov'd, nor have loved.
DAM. My beauteous Bell, who stars dost excell
See mine eyes never dries but do wet me,
Some comfort unbuckle, my sweet honeysuckle,
Come away, do not stay, I entreat thee.
Delay would undo me, hie quickly unto me,
This River will never suspect us,
This place it is private, 'tis folly to drive it,
Love's Spies have no eyes to detect us.
BEL. Come on Damaets, ripe age doth fit us,
Take aside thy naked Bride and enjoy her,
So thou coil thy sweeting, let flocks fall a bleeting,
My Maid's weed on thy meed I'll bestow there.
Thus love I thee, so be thou love me,
The yoke is so sweet I approve it,
To lie still with one is better than none,
I do love, I am lov'd, and have lov'd it.
BY BEAUMONT & FLETCHER. FROM THE LOYAL SUBJECT
ANCIENT. Broom, broom, the bonny broom!
Come, buy my birchen broom!
I' th' wars we have no more room,
Buy all my bonny broom!
For a kiss take two;
If those will not do,
For a little, little pleasure,
Take all my whole treasure:
If all these will not do't,
Take the broom-man to boot.
Broom, broom, the bonny broom!
1 Soldier. The wars are done and gone,
And soldiers, now neglected, pedlars are.
Come, maidens, come along,
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