Trivial poems and triolets. Written in obedience to Mrs Tomkin's commands, By Patrick Carey |
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[Jacke! nay prithee come away] |
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 | Trivial poems |  |
[Jacke! nay prithee come away]
Dicke.1
Jacke! nay prithee come away,This is noe time for sadnesse;
Pan's cheife feast is kept to day,
Each shepeard showes his gladnesse:
18
To dance and sport together;
O what brau'ry will bee seene!
I hope t'will proue fayre weather.
2
Looke I'ue got a new suit on;Say man! how likest the colour?
Will't not take Nell's eyes anonne?
All greenes then this are duller.
Marcke how trimm'd up is my hooke,
This ribband was Nell's fauour:
Jacke the wench has a sweet looke,
I'le dye but I will haue her.
Jacke.
3
Dicke, eene goe alone for mee;By Nell thou art expected:
I noe loue haue there to see,
Of all I am reiected.
Att my ragges each mayd would flout,
If seene with such a shiner;
Noe, Il'e n'ere sett others out;
I'le stay till I am finer.
4
Shall I go to sitt alone,Scorn'd eene by Meg o'th' dayry?
Whilst proud Tom lyes hugging Joane,
And Robin kisses Mary.
Shall I see my riuall Will
Receave kind lookes from Betty?
Both of them I'de sooner kill:
Att thought on't, Lord, how fret I?
19
5
Cause hee has a flocke of sheepe,And is an elder brother;
'Cause (poore hireling!) those I keepe
Belong unto another,
I must loose what's mine by right,
And lett the rich foole gayne her:
I'le att least keepe out of sight,
Since hopelesse e're t'obtayne her.
Dicke.
6
Courage man, thy case is notSoe bad as thou doest take itt:
Yett 'tis ill; could I (God wott!)
Much better would I make itt.
Hee is rich; thou, poore; 'twere much
Wer't thou preferr'd by a woeman;
Woemen though keepe sometimes touch,
But (sooth) 'tis not soe common.
7
Thou, unto thy pipe can'st singLoue-songs of thine own making;
Hee, nor that, nor any thing
Knowes how to doe, that's taking.
She did loue thee once, and swore
Ne're (through her fault) to loose thee;
If she keepe her oath, before
The richer, she will choose thee.
Jacke.
8
Neuer, neuer, lasse! such oathesHaue force but for few howers;
If she lik'd once, now she loathes;
And smiles noe more, but lowers.
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But she lou'd mee noe longer:
Soone my fayth she gan deride;
For wealth, then fayth, is stronger.
9
Farewell, shepeard, then. Bee gonne;The feast noe stay here brooketh:
Prithee marcke Besse there anonne,
If kind on Will she looketh.
Who loues truely, loues to heare
Tales, that encrease his fier;
I, alasse! bade tydings feare,
And yett for newes enquier.
| Trivial poems | |