Pastorals Viz. The Bashful Swain: And Beauty and Simplicity. By Mr. Purney |
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SCENE II.
A large Wood. Cuddleit. Paplet. Dillin.Cud.
Sure gentle Paplet 'tis I see!
My gentle Paplet, where away?
Pap.
I hope t'ant Cuddleit that I see!
I prethee Shepherd stand away!
Cud.
Send me sweet Mey; go thou, where wo't, and play
How should thy tender Limbs with Frost away?
This Place ill suits a Lass so fair;
Pap.
How should it, Swain, when you are here?
Cud.
Oh, see the Dirt doth touch thy Foot!
Pap.
I'ad rather That than Thou should'st do't!
Cud.
Nay I am going; thro' this Wood; I staid
But only 'cause I thought I heard some Tread.
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Oh, Paplet! I've a thing to say!
You know the Haycock; there to Day,
Six Swainets and as meny Meys,
A Match have made at Kiss and Brace!
You'll go? You'll hap be judge (O lucky Lass!)
Whose Grasp is tend'rest, whose the sweetest Kiss.
Pap.
You know the Haycock; there to Day,
Six Swainets and as meny Meys,
A Match have made at Kiss and Brace!
You'll go? You'll hap be judge (O lucky Lass!)
Whose Grasp is tend'rest, whose the sweetest Kiss.
Lucky? He! He! When Colly's there?
And Cubbin too? O teazing Pair!
Cud.
Then 'blieve me Lass, not one will be!
For Colly goes to hunt to day.
And Cubbin to Great-Town; 'tis talk'd, to tell
The Gay-Maids there what Lallet late befell!
Pap.
To day?—Well, what harm's that, I trow?
I wish you'd get ye gone there now!
Say he does tell, Leud Boy! He shall,
Tell all; Why he can't help it well;
They get him there, poor Swain, and make him prattle,
And he has nothing else, you know, to tattle.
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May he do it? Why then he may.
But Paplet, you a while a-way,
When he would go, would hang on's Waste,
And hit his Cheek, Ne let him rest,
Till you had forc't him turn, and cry anon,
Sweet mine own Heart, I ne're will go agen!
Pap.
And sweet my Pain, I think you ne're
Will go at-all! what do ye here?
Come Dilly, let's along!—what now?
Good Servant Swain! I call'd not you!
Cud.
But I this dull Wood pass too, gentle Mey.
Pap.
Then call it dull no more, 'twill dismal be!
Thus pretty Paplet saith in sooth,
And ope's the Gate, and onward go'th,
But was so grieved for the Swain,
Went little way, and came agen.
Yet knew not why, ev'n then (sweet Life) tho' strove,
Could'nt help be rough: O Love! O cruel Love!
And ope's the Gate, and onward go'th,
But was so grieved for the Swain,
Went little way, and came agen.
Yet knew not why, ev'n then (sweet Life) tho' strove,
Could'nt help be rough: O Love! O cruel Love!
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Up to the Swain she came, but there
Could only turn, and drop a Tear.
The head she hung, to seem so rough,
But saw full sad, One Love's enough.
Now on they pass, the Shepherd too did pass;
And walking on, such Chat they had as this.
Cud.
Could only turn, and drop a Tear.
The head she hung, to seem so rough,
But saw full sad, One Love's enough.
Now on they pass, the Shepherd too did pass;
And walking on, such Chat they had as this.
Ha! Ha! I ne're shall love, I know;
But should it ever happen tho',
A Cade I'd keep, and teach it how
Lick Lasse's Hand. and pat her Shoe.
Oh, ev'n the Air should never breath on Face,
Save when did breath as soft as any Glass.
But should it ever happen tho',
A Cade I'd keep, and teach it how
Lick Lasse's Hand. and pat her Shoe.
Oh, ev'n the Air should never breath on Face,
Save when did breath as soft as any Glass.
How I should love, in heat of Day,
To watch her, as Asleep she lay!
The Shepherds Strawb'rys she should get;
And beat their Lambs, if would 'em beat.
A Bear's Cub have I, now it hate's a Maid;
But that too on her Knee should lay it's Head.
To watch her, as Asleep she lay!
The Shepherds Strawb'rys she should get;
And beat their Lambs, if would 'em beat.
A Bear's Cub have I, now it hate's a Maid;
But that too on her Knee should lay it's Head.
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But I shall never love I find;
So, Paplet, if you have a Mind,
The Cub is your's, and 'tis I-Fay,
A Cub as fair as Dawning-day!
Pap.
So, Paplet, if you have a Mind,
The Cub is your's, and 'tis I-Fay,
A Cub as fair as Dawning-day!
Keep, Swain, thy Cubs! They're rough and fit for thee,
But what am I to Cubs, or Cubs to Me?
But what am I to Cubs, or Cubs to Me?
Cud.
Nay, where it is, the sooth to say,
'Tis well enough; 't has room to play.
But soft ye! Here's an end of th' Track!
We've lost the way; ah less the luck!
'Tis well enough; 't has room to play.
But soft ye! Here's an end of th' Track!
We've lost the way; ah less the luck!
Pap.
Quick scale that Tree, mayhap the Side you'll ken.
O hapless I, to follow such a Swain!
O hapless I, to follow such a Swain!
But take-ye-heed! the Wind is high!
That Bough will break, good gentle Boy!
See, how you sweave! what see you there?
Cud.
That Bough will break, good gentle Boy!
See, how you sweave! what see you there?
No Edge:—I see a falling Star.
Oh me! In th' Plat that's hem'd with Trees thro'-out,
Meseem's I see some Fairys dance about!
Oh me! In th' Plat that's hem'd with Trees thro'-out,
Meseem's I see some Fairys dance about!
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And there! (O would you saw the Sight!)
A Will-a-whisp with Lanthorn light!
Pap.
A Will-a-whisp with Lanthorn light!
What they to us: O good come down!
O how you swing! I well'y swoon.
Don't drop so fast. What must We must We do?
So now you're safe: Come, this way let us go.
O how you swing! I well'y swoon.
Don't drop so fast. What must We must We do?
So now you're safe: Come, this way let us go.
Cud.
O I hard Heart! more hard than Stone!
To lead out way so tender One.
Here Paplet, sweetest Paplet take
My Coat, and throw ebout thy back!
The Frost will bite thy dainty Lip, I fear!
And oh, the Dew will stain thy Bosom bare!
To lead out way so tender One.
Here Paplet, sweetest Paplet take
My Coat, and throw ebout thy back!
The Frost will bite thy dainty Lip, I fear!
And oh, the Dew will stain thy Bosom bare!
But ha! where now? What Hole is this?
Pap.
We go but more and more amiss!
Cud.
Alas sweet Mey, what can I do?
And oh that Thorn has claw'd thee too!
And oh that Thorn has claw'd thee too!
Pap.
Tis nothing that; my Breast is tore, and Arm!
Cud.
Hold thee about my Waste! 'twill hide from harm.
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O Paplet! (why 'tis best of bad)
I see a Haycock; to it speed!
We'll lay Us warm awhile in it,
'Twill soon be Day my gentle Sweet!
I'll cover thee so close, No whit of Wet
Shall to thy Face or Hands or Bosom get!
Pap.
I see a Haycock; to it speed!
We'll lay Us warm awhile in it,
'Twill soon be Day my gentle Sweet!
I'll cover thee so close, No whit of Wet
Shall to thy Face or Hands or Bosom get!
No; better is to walk I weet;
Sure we or Way or Man shall meet.
Sure we or Way or Man shall meet.
Cud.
But gentle you! a Swain I see.
Stay here; I'll step and ask the Way.
Stay here; I'll step and ask the Way.
Pap.
Be quick. O Paplet! were not better now,
Thy pure warm Bed? What's here but Frost and Snow!
Thy pure warm Bed? What's here but Frost and Snow!
Alas, and is, and is this then
To Love? O harmful gentlest Swain!
Then let me keep this tender Boy,
From loving where no hope may be!
His youngling-heart is now as late was mine;
O me! (thought I) sure Love is fair and fine!
To Love? O harmful gentlest Swain!
Then let me keep this tender Boy,
From loving where no hope may be!
His youngling-heart is now as late was mine;
O me! (thought I) sure Love is fair and fine!
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Why dost thou lean agenst the Tree;
And wrap thy Face in Vest, my Mey?
Look up, sweet Life! why yonder Swain
Has shewn me to my Way agen!
Step here, twill wet thee else: I prethee take
My Hand, or sooth the Breer thy Breast will prick!
And wrap thy Face in Vest, my Mey?
Look up, sweet Life! why yonder Swain
Has shewn me to my Way agen!
Step here, twill wet thee else: I prethee take
My Hand, or sooth the Breer thy Breast will prick!
Pap.
Be quiet! I can go alone!
Ne lack I Swains to help me on!
Ne lack I Swains to help me on!
Cud.
Sweet Paplet, here's the way. And see
The Moon, meseem's, gin brighter be.
But good my Paplet, walk a-neath my Vest;
I-Fay 'twill chop thy Lip and blue thy Breast!
The Moon, meseem's, gin brighter be.
But good my Paplet, walk a-neath my Vest;
I-Fay 'twill chop thy Lip and blue thy Breast!
Pap.
You care that's not your Care; what be
My Breasts, I trow, or Lips to thee?
I wa'nt for me you'd roll in Snow;
You do so blith and bonny show!
My Breasts, I trow, or Lips to thee?
I wa'nt for me you'd roll in Snow;
You do so blith and bonny show!
Cud.
Ah for such talk wa'nt made that Tongue, sweet MEY!
Suiten sweet Mey soft Song or Virilay.
Suiten sweet Mey soft Song or Virilay.
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But see, my Paplet! do but see!
We're gotten out of Wood I-fay!
We're gotten out of Wood I-fay!
Pap.
Ay, now we're well; and were we rid
Of thee as well, 'twere well indeed.
Of thee as well, 'twere well indeed.
Cud.
Why Paplet, thee to please, I'll try my way
To find a-back;—tho' fearful 'tis Yfay!
To find a-back;—tho' fearful 'tis Yfay!
He said; and when he once had said,
She kept him to his word indeed.
And sooth to say, how could she 'ere
Meet Collikin, while he was there?
But oh, how loath the young Heart is to go!
Yet 'sham'd he be what said to unsay now.
She kept him to his word indeed.
And sooth to say, how could she 'ere
Meet Collikin, while he was there?
But oh, how loath the young Heart is to go!
Yet 'sham'd he be what said to unsay now.
With folded Arms, and hanging Head,
Athro' the Wood a while he stray'd;
Then lean'd his Head agenst an Oak,
And in the Snow did write with Crook,
Paplet to kiss; (he knew not what to do)
I-faith I 'blieve a thousand times wrote so!
Athro' the Wood a while he stray'd;
Then lean'd his Head agenst an Oak,
And in the Snow did write with Crook,
Paplet to kiss; (he knew not what to do)
I-faith I 'blieve a thousand times wrote so!
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But Collikin the Lass espyed,
All as she on with Dillin hied;
For Colly was the Swain that show'd
The gentle Cuddleit to the Road.
And heard how all unwilling Paplet was
To let him love, and willing not to please.
All as she on with Dillin hied;
For Colly was the Swain that show'd
The gentle Cuddleit to the Road.
And heard how all unwilling Paplet was
To let him love, and willing not to please.
For all the way she went along,
Unseen he crep the Breers emong.
Oh gentle-hearted Lass! (quoth he
Soft to himself) O meekly Mey!
Was ever Lass so kind, to keep from hope
A Swain so young, 'cause was no room for hope!
Unseen he crep the Breers emong.
Oh gentle-hearted Lass! (quoth he
Soft to himself) O meekly Mey!
Was ever Lass so kind, to keep from hope
A Swain so young, 'cause was no room for hope!
But now the tender-triping Lass
Out Wood upon the Heath does pass.
And he at Edge a while doth wait,
Till out of sight the Mey might get.
She, pretty Heart, her little Hands did lay
All in her Bosom; and thus soft gan say.
Out Wood upon the Heath does pass.
And he at Edge a while doth wait,
Till out of sight the Mey might get.
She, pretty Heart, her little Hands did lay
All in her Bosom; and thus soft gan say.
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