Thou art my choice, I constant ám s
I mean to die unspotted;

With thee ile live, for thee I love,
And keepe my name unblotted.
A vertuous life in maide and wife,
The spirit of God commends it:
Accursed he for ever be,

That seeks with shame to offend it.

With that she rose like like nimble roe,
The tender grasse scarce bending,
And left me there perplext with feare
At this her sonnets ending.

I thought to move this dame of love,
But she was gone already;

Wherefore I pray that those that stay
May find their loves as steddy.

From Hans Beer-Pot his invisible Comedie of See mee and see me not. 1618. A copy of this Song, wanting the fifth stanza, is printed in Ellis's Specimens.

The following seems worth insertion, as being the burden, or, to use the language of the time, the Foote of many popular old songs.

SONG

BY MOROS, OR THE FOOL.

Brome, brome on hill,

The gentle brome on hill hill,

Brome brome on hive hill,

The

Here as I stayde I saw a mayde,
A beauteous lovely creature,

With angels face and goddesse grace,
Of such exceeding feature.

Her lookes did so astonish me,

And set my heart a quaking,

Like stagge that gaz'de was I amaz'de,

And in a stranger taking.

Yet rouzed myself to see this elfe,

And loe a tree did hide me;

Her voyce was sweet melodiously,
Shee sung in perfect measure;

And thus she said with trickling teares;

Alas, my joy and treasure,

Ile be thy wife, or lose my life,
Theres no mau els shall have me;
If God say so, I will say no,
Although a thousand crave me,

Oh stay not long, but come, my deare,

And knit our marriage knot;

Each houre a day, eace month a yeare,

Thou knowst I think God wot.

Delay not then, like worldly men,

Good works till withered

age:

Bove other things, the King of Kings

Blest a lawful marriage.

Thou

Thou art my choice, I constant áme s
I mean to die unspotted;

With thee ile live, for thee I love,
And keepe my name unblotted.
A vertuous life in maide and wife,
The spirit of God commends it:
Accursed he for ever be,

That seeks with shame to offend it.

With that she rose like like nimble roe,
The tender grasse scarce bending,
And left me there perplext with feare
At this her sonnets ending.

I thought to move this dame of love,
But she was gone already;

Wherefore I pray that those that stay

May find their loves as steddy.

From Hans Beer-Pot his invisible Comedie of

See mee and see me not. 1618. A copy of this Song, wanting the fifth stanza, is printed in Ellis's Specimens.

The following seems worth insertion, as being the burden, or, to use the language of the time, the Foote of many popular old songs.

SONG

BY MOROS, OR THE FOOL!

Brome, brome on hill,

The gentle brome on hill hill,

Brome brome on hive hill,

The

Her lookes did so astonish me,

And set my heart a quaking,

Like stagge that gaz'de was I amaz'de,

And in a stranger taking.

Yet rouzed myself to see this elfe,

And loe a tree did hide me;

Where I unseene beheld this queene

A while, ere she espied me.

Her voyce was sweet melodiously,

Shee sung in perfect measure;

And thus she said with trickling teares;

Alas, my joy and treasure,

Ile be thy wife, or lose my life,
Theres no mau els shall have me;
If God say so, I will say no,
Although a thousand crave me,

Oh stay not long, but come, my deare,

And knit our marriage knot;

Each houre a day, eace month a yeare,

Thou kuowst I think God wot.

Delay not then, like worldly men,

Good works till withered age:

Bove other things, the King of Kings
Blest a lawful marriage.

Thou

With that she rose like like nimble roe,
The tender grasse scarce bending,
And left me there perplext with feare
At this her sonnets ending.

I thought to move this damne of love,
But she was gone already ; ·

Wherefore I pray that those that stay

May find their loves as steddy.

From Hans Beer-Pot his invisible Comedie of

See mee and see me not. 1618.

1618. A copy of this Song, wanting the fifth stanza, is printed in Ellis's Specimens.

The following seems worth insertion, as being the burden, or, to use the language of the time, the Foote of many popular old songs.

SONG

BY MOROS, OR THE FOOL!

Brome, brome on hill,

The gentle brome on hill hill,

Brome brome on hive hill,

The