 | Pastorals |  |
Paplet.
Now much I marl: 'Tis pretty; if tell Truth!
But say; Ha, Ha! Be He so soft in sooth?
Soflin.
My gentle Mey, he is of gentlest mood.
Oh that he were my Brother! sure I would
Taken his Hand and tender lead him in,
Whenso he to the distant Field had been.
There pretty stroak his Hand, Ne have it said
See Soflin there, O see! A fawning Maid!
In his soft Bosom I my Hand would slip,
And hang epon the sweetness of his Lip.
Paplet.
Don't, Soflin, don't! how can'st talk so? Lips sweet;
How meanest sweet? How doen know be sweet?
Soflin.
All as a-green I walk with Collikin,
The lovely'st Lad that ever walk'd a-green.
If be I'm fray'd by Flood, by Boar or Bull,
He sooth's me soft, and calls me softest Soul.
Be it not pretty? b'lieve me, Pap, he doth!
And holds me 'neath his lilly Arm now sooth!
And sweet the Swain my Hand in his will nip,
Then kiss me with the kisses of his Lip.
So save me, Sweet, as truth I tell, when say
(Why tarest the Flow'rs so fierce, my pretty Mey?)
But hear me, Chick! I seemen oft be fray,
When I be not: But Maids should seem they say.
Paplet.
And so; why but—and pretty'st be't then Maid,
Be lip'd when frayed art? I'll be afraid!
Soflin.
Prettier? Oh prettier, Child, than may be thought,
You mayn't hug Men, if be you fearen nought:
But sure, so sweet it is, so hug in Arms!
Skuttle to Dear, and have him hide from harms!
Paplet.
No more, but then? Yet kind be Swains, you said;
How kind? Mayn't kiss. Would kissing kill 'em, Maid?
But soft! meseem'd—oh I'd have heard for nought
Our simple Chat, for ours is simple Chat!
Soflin.
Set still Sweet! Wind might wag: Or Leverit rush,
With Cock-up Ears: don't go! or Bird from bush.
Paplet.
That Cubbinet I fear, for whom the Meys
Late joyn'd, and bought a Pipeit; all I guess
To busy him, and keep from kissing so.
The Swain that whispers us in Ear, you know,
That he can sing, then snatches a quick kiss;
Sooth, as the Mey suspecteth nought amiss.
Now the poor Heart's so pleased with his Pipe!
'Fore Great Ones he can't hold, but lay'th to's lip.
Soflin.
I know the Swain, a tender Swain is he!
Fear him not Paplet, fear him not Sweet Mey.
I know the Swain, Who sooths so soft as he!
Believe me Lass, he'll never harm Sweet Mey.
Paplet.
Oh, but he often skulks a-hind a balk,
To hear the harmless Shepherdess in talk.
Then tells the Chat to Sparks at the great-Town,
Who maken Mock at Speech of simple Clown.
Ne strange, I trow; for say me, Sweet, is't fit
Our weetless Tittletattle weren writ?
Unkindly Cubbinet! untoward boy!
Else, by my fay! he is a Gentle Boy.
Soflin.
Sooth is he, but to kissing he's so given!
He'll kiss till he's odd, and then kiss to come even.
He'll kiss at the Hedge, and he'll kiss at the Gate;
He'll kiss if the chattering Magpie but prate!
Paplet.
But how must do if Swain should ere kiss me?
He'll put my Arms around him, didst not say:
Oh!—if to put my hands a-hind he goes:
May strive pull 'way, and that will pull him close!
Soflin.
Be sure look tender, when to lip he go:
But, sooth if say, Thou canst not help look so.
That dainty dimple in thy little Cheek,
So soft thee show's, so modest, and so meek!
Paplet.
Worst is, if ever Youngling cast to lay
My hand in's bosom, 'twill so pretty be,
Not I know how, O I shan't help the fault,
But blush, poor son! how Soflie must I not?
So Paplet, softest Paplet, as she said,
Her sweer-dew Lips on Soflies Bosom laid.
Soflin.
No help, I ween; what will be, best let be.
But bad in thee, my Chick, more bad in me.
Paplet.
Yet Striplin Cheek look pretty so, meweet;
(All as the Rose in bed of Lillys set.)
For Florrey late to the great-town ha' been;
But oh, when first me saw, how blush'd the Swain!
Cause why; the sweetlip boy then cast to kiss;
Yet say me soft, be that so much amiss?
Soflin.
Paplet.
Why 'shamed? I would ha' stroak'd 'em off his Face:
And sooth now so, had'st felt how soft it was!
Oh pleasant! how you've lived! Didest not tho'
Out's Bosom take his Locks, when in did blow?
Do let me lye A-Lea with ye, now wo't?
For oft ye setten so, Lass, do ye not.
Soflin.
This Morn sweet sate we 'neath this sweet May-bough;
Ye Kentish Swains, no softer seat ye know!
The Flowers suck'd Honey-dew (O dainty draught!)
Soft for the Bees to sip that sip so soft.
Under my head a hand fair laid the Boy;
Then sinking down yclosen sleepie Eye.
Paplet.
Ay? say'st in sooth? and then—why dost not say?
Was it not lovely, when so loose he lay?
Meseems I should ha' pleased with tender Tongue
Or sooth'd, the while, with softness of a Song.
So us she said (and who so sweet can sain)
Her little Leg would in her Fellow's twine.
Then dainty'd droppen Hand in Soflie Breast:
Ah dainty Hand! how Cubbin yearn'd to kiss't!
Soflin.
Oh soft I lull'd him, soft as I could lull;
And in my Bosom put his Head to loll!
Sweet glow'd the while, his pretty rosie Cheek;
Smooth lay elong his Limbs, so slim and slieke.
Fair fed I on the fairness of his Face;
O Paplet, didst but ween how pleasant 'twas!
Paplet.
I've heard 'tis dainty lye along with Ene
We love; say Soflie, be't so dainty then?
Soflin.
Dainty? Ay dainty more than heart may weet
Don't look at me, Pap, and I'll tell thee what.
I putten hand in's bosom now that be's,
So silkie soft! then gently gave't a kiss!
Soft simpering saiden this the lovely Maid.
While Paplet 'tween her twey her hand fair had;
Who oft would turn and shift, as ill at ease:
Cubbin did too to see't. Ah careful Case!
Paplet.
Stay, Soflin, list! Heard I not some one sneeze
'Twas 'mong the Sedge; fast by those murmuring Bees!
Soflin.
Poor Chick, how thou dost quake! prethee leave quake.
Sooth 'twas some Bird but chirp'd in th' bushie brake
Paplet.
Much Wonder give it me, my gentle Dear!
Thou nought, ne any one, suspectest 'ere.
Soflin.
Paplet.
Then do Lads like in sooth, or seemen they?
I've heard say, Youngling Swain will harm Young Mey.
Yet Florrey looks so pretty and so pert,
Nought I know how, fancy he could not hurt.
And Collikin, O me! but Collikin,
Of all the Swains, for me—he is the Swain!
Soflin.
Now much I marl: 'Tis pretty; if tell Truth!
But say; Ha, Ha! Be He so soft in sooth?
Soflin.
My gentle Mey, he is of gentlest mood.
Oh that he were my Brother! sure I would
Taken his Hand and tender lead him in,
Whenso he to the distant Field had been.
20
See Soflin there, O see! A fawning Maid!
In his soft Bosom I my Hand would slip,
And hang epon the sweetness of his Lip.
Paplet.
Don't, Soflin, don't! how can'st talk so? Lips sweet;
How meanest sweet? How doen know be sweet?
Soflin.
All as a-green I walk with Collikin,
The lovely'st Lad that ever walk'd a-green.
If be I'm fray'd by Flood, by Boar or Bull,
He sooth's me soft, and calls me softest Soul.
Be it not pretty? b'lieve me, Pap, he doth!
And holds me 'neath his lilly Arm now sooth!
And sweet the Swain my Hand in his will nip,
Then kiss me with the kisses of his Lip.
21
(Why tarest the Flow'rs so fierce, my pretty Mey?)
But hear me, Chick! I seemen oft be fray,
When I be not: But Maids should seem they say.
Paplet.
And so; why but—and pretty'st be't then Maid,
Be lip'd when frayed art? I'll be afraid!
Soflin.
Prettier? Oh prettier, Child, than may be thought,
You mayn't hug Men, if be you fearen nought:
But sure, so sweet it is, so hug in Arms!
Skuttle to Dear, and have him hide from harms!
Paplet.
No more, but then? Yet kind be Swains, you said;
How kind? Mayn't kiss. Would kissing kill 'em, Maid?
But soft! meseem'd—oh I'd have heard for nought
Our simple Chat, for ours is simple Chat!
22
Set still Sweet! Wind might wag: Or Leverit rush,
With Cock-up Ears: don't go! or Bird from bush.
Paplet.
That Cubbinet I fear, for whom the Meys
Late joyn'd, and bought a Pipeit; all I guess
To busy him, and keep from kissing so.
The Swain that whispers us in Ear, you know,
That he can sing, then snatches a quick kiss;
Sooth, as the Mey suspecteth nought amiss.
Now the poor Heart's so pleased with his Pipe!
'Fore Great Ones he can't hold, but lay'th to's lip.
Soflin.
I know the Swain, a tender Swain is he!
Fear him not Paplet, fear him not Sweet Mey.
I know the Swain, Who sooths so soft as he!
Believe me Lass, he'll never harm Sweet Mey.
23
Oh, but he often skulks a-hind a balk,
To hear the harmless Shepherdess in talk.
Then tells the Chat to Sparks at the great-Town,
Who maken Mock at Speech of simple Clown.
Ne strange, I trow; for say me, Sweet, is't fit
Our weetless Tittletattle weren writ?
Unkindly Cubbinet! untoward boy!
Else, by my fay! he is a Gentle Boy.
Soflin.
Sooth is he, but to kissing he's so given!
He'll kiss till he's odd, and then kiss to come even.
He'll kiss at the Hedge, and he'll kiss at the Gate;
He'll kiss if the chattering Magpie but prate!
Paplet.
But how must do if Swain should ere kiss me?
He'll put my Arms around him, didst not say:
24
May strive pull 'way, and that will pull him close!
Soflin.
Be sure look tender, when to lip he go:
But, sooth if say, Thou canst not help look so.
That dainty dimple in thy little Cheek,
So soft thee show's, so modest, and so meek!
Paplet.
Worst is, if ever Youngling cast to lay
My hand in's bosom, 'twill so pretty be,
Not I know how, O I shan't help the fault,
But blush, poor son! how Soflie must I not?
So Paplet, softest Paplet, as she said,
Her sweer-dew Lips on Soflies Bosom laid.
Soflin.
No help, I ween; what will be, best let be.
But bad in thee, my Chick, more bad in me.
25
Yet Striplin Cheek look pretty so, meweet;
(All as the Rose in bed of Lillys set.)
For Florrey late to the great-town ha' been;
But oh, when first me saw, how blush'd the Swain!
Cause why; the sweetlip boy then cast to kiss;
Yet say me soft, be that so much amiss?
Soflin.
If be but why, small harm ybe I weet.
Colly and I late roved, Nuts to get.
I witless was so bonny and so brag,
(Paplet beware not be with Love so wag)
I scratchen Chin; ah luckless Lass the when!
See here but, Paplet! I all scratch'd my Chin!
The Wound he wiped, and kist it 'ore and 'ore;
Why sooth now, Paplet, else 'twould been a sore.
Colly and I late roved, Nuts to get.
I witless was so bonny and so brag,
(Paplet beware not be with Love so wag)
I scratchen Chin; ah luckless Lass the when!
See here but, Paplet! I all scratch'd my Chin!
The Wound he wiped, and kist it 'ore and 'ore;
Why sooth now, Paplet, else 'twould been a sore.
Whatso I could to bar my blush, I did;
Yet ween not whether somedeal look'd not red.
But 'twas all for his Eyes so soft did seem:
While Honeybreath epon my Neck would steam.
And oh, his ringlet-locks too, where they fell
Tittled my breasts! and I was 'shamed to tell.
Yet ween not whether somedeal look'd not red.
26
While Honeybreath epon my Neck would steam.
And oh, his ringlet-locks too, where they fell
Tittled my breasts! and I was 'shamed to tell.
Paplet.
Why 'shamed? I would ha' stroak'd 'em off his Face:
And sooth now so, had'st felt how soft it was!
Oh pleasant! how you've lived! Didest not tho'
Out's Bosom take his Locks, when in did blow?
Do let me lye A-Lea with ye, now wo't?
For oft ye setten so, Lass, do ye not.
Soflin.
This Morn sweet sate we 'neath this sweet May-bough;
Ye Kentish Swains, no softer seat ye know!
The Flowers suck'd Honey-dew (O dainty draught!)
Soft for the Bees to sip that sip so soft.
27
Then sinking down yclosen sleepie Eye.
Paplet.
Ay? say'st in sooth? and then—why dost not say?
Was it not lovely, when so loose he lay?
Meseems I should ha' pleased with tender Tongue
Or sooth'd, the while, with softness of a Song.
So us she said (and who so sweet can sain)
Her little Leg would in her Fellow's twine.
Then dainty'd droppen Hand in Soflie Breast:
Ah dainty Hand! how Cubbin yearn'd to kiss't!
Soflin.
Oh soft I lull'd him, soft as I could lull;
And in my Bosom put his Head to loll!
Sweet glow'd the while, his pretty rosie Cheek;
Smooth lay elong his Limbs, so slim and slieke.
Fair fed I on the fairness of his Face;
O Paplet, didst but ween how pleasant 'twas!
28
I've heard 'tis dainty lye along with Ene
We love; say Soflie, be't so dainty then?
Soflin.
Dainty? Ay dainty more than heart may weet
Don't look at me, Pap, and I'll tell thee what.
I putten hand in's bosom now that be's,
So silkie soft! then gently gave't a kiss!
Soft simpering saiden this the lovely Maid.
While Paplet 'tween her twey her hand fair had;
Who oft would turn and shift, as ill at ease:
Cubbin did too to see't. Ah careful Case!
Paplet.
Stay, Soflin, list! Heard I not some one sneeze
'Twas 'mong the Sedge; fast by those murmuring Bees!
Soflin.
Poor Chick, how thou dost quake! prethee leave quake.
Sooth 'twas some Bird but chirp'd in th' bushie brake
29
Much Wonder give it me, my gentle Dear!
Thou nought, ne any one, suspectest 'ere.
Soflin.
Why wouldst have fear? I wonder why dost warn!
When I have wrong'd, then I to fear will learn.
Sure Soflin none will harm; if Soflin none;
And well I ween, I never any one.
When I have wrong'd, then I to fear will learn.
Sure Soflin none will harm; if Soflin none;
And well I ween, I never any one.
But look, ah me! how Flow'rs be blown out hair;
And bosom too!—But Lovie likes it bare.
And bosom too!—But Lovie likes it bare.
Paplet.
Then do Lads like in sooth, or seemen they?
I've heard say, Youngling Swain will harm Young Mey.
Yet Florrey looks so pretty and so pert,
Nought I know how, fancy he could not hurt.
And Collikin, O me! but Collikin,
Of all the Swains, for me—he is the Swain!
30
O simple he's of Chear, and meek of Mein;
All-fine his Flesh, and sooth as soft his Skin!
So prettily his Words slip off his Tongue,
With a little waggish Lisp emong!
But when he sooths too pleasant 'tis to bear!
He kisses, I ask if a rosie be near!
All-fine his Flesh, and sooth as soft his Skin!
So prettily his Words slip off his Tongue,
With a little waggish Lisp emong!
But when he sooths too pleasant 'tis to bear!
He kisses, I ask if a rosie be near!
But see there! Lallet's Cade! how that came there?
Sure by the Lamb the Lassie should be near!
Oh! Well beween'd! We bath in Brook this Eve
You see where Sprays so sweet a shadow give.
You're one; and Lallet Lass so heavenly hewn;
And Poppit maiden ripe as Rose in June.
This Florey loves; and Fauney fresh love that;
Cuddleit say some. Up Lass! mayhap they wait
Sure by the Lamb the Lassie should be near!
Oh! Well beween'd! We bath in Brook this Eve
You see where Sprays so sweet a shadow give.
You're one; and Lallet Lass so heavenly hewn;
And Poppit maiden ripe as Rose in June.
This Florey loves; and Fauney fresh love that;
Cuddleit say some. Up Lass! mayhap they wait
31
They go: Their Bosoms ope to th' Evening Air:
And dip their blooming Beautys fresh and fair:
They pretty play and paddle in the Wet:
And strow with fairest Flow'rs the Streamulet.
And dip their blooming Beautys fresh and fair:
They pretty play and paddle in the Wet:
And strow with fairest Flow'rs the Streamulet.
But Paplet wistful was; On bank she set,
Siping the Honeysukles juicie Sweet.
But ah, her mind elsewhere! alass on love!
Oh Soflin, thou hast wrong'd a tender Dove!
Siping the Honeysukles juicie Sweet.
But ah, her mind elsewhere! alass on love!
Oh Soflin, thou hast wrong'd a tender Dove!
When parted All; and All hied home; she made
As if she too; but silent by Moonshade,
Stale back to th' Bush; with hands in bosom laid,
(Those hands all fair as flower) and hanging head.
Mayhap (soft said she) now He goes to Bed.
I wonder how He lyes when there he's laid!
Besure He mind's not me when 'mong the Swains.
O could I touch Him but, just touch meseems!
As if she too; but silent by Moonshade,
Stale back to th' Bush; with hands in bosom laid,
(Those hands all fair as flower) and hanging head.
Mayhap (soft said she) now He goes to Bed.
I wonder how He lyes when there he's laid!
32
O could I touch Him but, just touch meseems!
Yet looked she at Moonshine on the Stream;
That twinkled fair, and strove not think on him.
Mused too on th' varying Figures made on Grass,
By th' Light, that 'tween the waving Trees did pass.
Where fancyeth she depainten this and that,
(But all of Love) atill to th' Bush did get.
That twinkled fair, and strove not think on him.
Mused too on th' varying Figures made on Grass,
By th' Light, that 'tween the waving Trees did pass.
Where fancyeth she depainten this and that,
(But all of Love) atill to th' Bush did get.
There blush'd when first it saw to think that she
Should so steal back to th' place where Colly lay.
And am I then? And am I grown, she sain,
(With that gan pretty finger put in Eyen).
So sly and false? Oh Heav'n! don't see! or do,
Forgive!—small weeneth Soflin where I now.
Should so steal back to th' place where Colly lay.
And am I then? And am I grown, she sain,
(With that gan pretty finger put in Eyen).
So sly and false? Oh Heav'n! don't see! or do,
Forgive!—small weeneth Soflin where I now.
33
So saying on the bank adown she laid.
Just where the Swainet lean'd, as Soflin said.
Then, smiling, thus: Mayhap his head was put
Where mine is now: Who knows? O happy Root!
Just where the Swainet lean'd, as Soflin said.
Then, smiling, thus: Mayhap his head was put
Where mine is now: Who knows? O happy Root!
This gentle Cubbinet did see and hear,
Waiting abie, the pretty Heart to chear.
He went to sooth her soft, and warn her how
She thought on Collikin. All would not do.
Soon as she saw, she started from her seat:
Ne would she hear him Pipe, ne talk awhit.
So that he made as if went strait away;
But went no farther then afore he lay.
Waiting abie, the pretty Heart to chear.
He went to sooth her soft, and warn her how
She thought on Collikin. All would not do.
Soon as she saw, she started from her seat:
Ne would she hear him Pipe, ne talk awhit.
So that he made as if went strait away;
But went no farther then afore he lay.
The dainty-limbed Lass, as soft to see,
As springing Flowrets in the Month of May,
Smooth laid her slender Features down again,
All on the sweetness of the Flowrie Plain.
Ah gentle Heart! ah Heart of prettiness!
Where is the Dalliance, and the tender Kiss?
As springing Flowrets in the Month of May,
Smooth laid her slender Features down again,
All on the sweetness of the Flowrie Plain.
34
Where is the Dalliance, and the tender Kiss?
Then sigh'd out this the rosie-liped Lass,
Soft as her Eye on Heaven yfixen was.
What aileth, O what aileth thee, my Heart;
Now sooth meseem's thou be'st not as thou wer't.
Be Collikin (ah would he other was!)
Far fairer than the fairest Lad or Lass,
Yet what have I to do with Collikin?
Let me not be, e're be for Softie's Pain!
Tho', methinks, were he not her's, I could well
Wish he were mine, Oh me, how wish him well!
Soft as her Eye on Heaven yfixen was.
What aileth, O what aileth thee, my Heart;
Now sooth meseem's thou be'st not as thou wer't.
Be Collikin (ah would he other was!)
Far fairer than the fairest Lad or Lass,
Yet what have I to do with Collikin?
Let me not be, e're be for Softie's Pain!
Tho', methinks, were he not her's, I could well
Wish he were mine, Oh me, how wish him well!
Thus sate the Youngling Mey, till far the Night
Was spent, and sooth the Moon nigh lost her light.
Then up gan rise; but 'ere she 'gan up rise,
Tuck'd up her Hair, and wiped her dewie Eyes.
Was spent, and sooth the Moon nigh lost her light.
Then up gan rise; but 'ere she 'gan up rise,
Tuck'd up her Hair, and wiped her dewie Eyes.
35
The Softheart Swain (for Swainets all are so)
Staid till he wept, and when he wept did go.
Unhappy Soflin! Now there love's with thee,
The sweetest Mey that ever Sun did see.
Staid till he wept, and when he wept did go.
Unhappy Soflin! Now there love's with thee,
The sweetest Mey that ever Sun did see.
All he had seen or heard, in head kept he,
To cut on Crook, or mark upon his Tree.
For sure there is not who can envy that;
Not one, I ween, can envy Lasse's Chat.
But why so fond of Lasses Chat, say you.
Oh, had you seen 'em, you'd ha' been so too!
To cut on Crook, or mark upon his Tree.
For sure there is not who can envy that;
Not one, I ween, can envy Lasse's Chat.
But why so fond of Lasses Chat, say you.
Oh, had you seen 'em, you'd ha' been so too!
Ye gentle Youths! who rove where led by chance,
Ifbe on Paplet's grief your Eye should glance,
Think the poor Lass mishap enough has had;
Ah don't you add, by hating what she said!
Ween, if ye maken mock at it, ye make
At Paplet mock; don't so, for Pappie's sake!
Ifbe on Paplet's grief your Eye should glance,
Think the poor Lass mishap enough has had;
Ah don't you add, by hating what she said!
Ween, if ye maken mock at it, ye make
At Paplet mock; don't so, for Pappie's sake!
End of the first Pastoral.
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