Page:Virtue & beauty in danger, or, King Edward courting the London virgin.pdf/5

 No, wo, my Father’s reverend tears,

Too deep an impreion within my heart bears;

Nor hall his bright honour that blot from me have,

To bring his grey hairs with grief to the grave.

The Heavens forbid that when I hall die,

That any uch thing hould upon me lie;

As I have kept myelf from this fin,

My heart hall not yield with a Prince to begin.

Come rather with pity, and weep on my tomb,

Then for my birth, cure my dear mother’s womb,

That brought forth a bloom that tained the tree,

With wanton deires to hame her and me.

Leave off noble King, you tempt but in vain,

Thee mik-white affections with lewdnes to tain;

Though England will give me no comforts at all,

Yet England will give me a ad burial.

I Never hall marry, ays Roger,

ince women, o fickle are grown,

But like a jolly oldier,

I’ll court in every town.

There’s Katy, Poll and Nancy, I love them as my life,

For come when I will, they favour me till,

then who would be plagu’d with a wife, a wife,

then who would be plagu’d with a wife.

Thee even long years and more,

I earch’d for a maiden head,

But I vow and declare it is very rare,

to find a chate woman indeed.