HAMMON

Cousin, beat every brake, the game's not far, This may with winged feet he fled from death, While the pursuing hounds senting his steps: Find out his high way to destruction, Beside, the millers boy told me even now, He saw him take sail, and he hallowed him, Affirming him so embossed, That long he could not hold. How now boy, where the dear? speak, sawest thou him? 'Tis true my Lord. My brother in law. I thank your Lordship: cousin, on my life For our lost venisou, I shall find a wife. exeunt. Sweet mistress Rose, Misconstrue not my words, nor misconceive Of my affection, whose devoted soul Swears that I love Thee dearer then my heart. Boy God amerey, cousin lets away, I hope we shall find better sport to day. exeunt. God save you fair ladies. And which way went they? faith weel hunt at those Boy, which way went he? This way he ran indeed, fair mistress Rose, Our game was lately in your orchard seen. A dear, more deer is found within this place. I chaced the dear, but this dear chases me. 'Tis here: Oh stay. My heart is lost. This poor lost heart would I with you might find. Why Luck had horns, so have I herd some say. Sweet Rose, be not so strange in fancying me, Nay never turn aside, shun not my sighed, I am not grown so found, to found my love On any that shall quit it with disdain, If you will love me, so, if not, farewell. Yes faith my Lord. But not to die one, pause ere that be said. aside. What, would you have me pule, & pine, and pray, With lovely lady mistress of my heart, Pardon your servant, and the rimer play, Railing on Cupid, and his tyrants dart, Or that I undertake some martial spoil, Wearing your glove at turney, and at tilt, And tell how many gallauts I unhorsed, Sweet, will this pleasure you? Inforced love is worse then hate to me, There is a wench keeps shop in the old change, To her will I, it is not wealth I seek, I have enough, and will prefer her love Before the world: my good lord Mayor adieu, Old love for me, I have no luck with new. That which thou wilt not fell, faith yet I'll try: How do you fell this handkerchief? And how these ruffs? And how this band? All cheap, how fell you then this hand? To be given then: nay faith I come to buy. Good sweet, leave work a little while, lets play. I'll pay you for the time which shall be lost. Look how you wound this cloth, so you wound me. 'Tis so. Nay faith you are too coy. I will do any task of your command, I would let go this beauty, were I not In mind to disobey you by a power That controls kings: I love you. With hands I may, but never with my heart, In faith I love you. Shall a true love in me breed hate in you? Then you must love. All this I hope is but a woman's fray, That means, come to me, when she cries, away: In earnest mistress I do not jest, A true chaste love hath entered in my breast, In love you dearly as I love my life, I love you as a husband loves a wife. That, and no other love my love requires, Thy wealth I know is little, my desires Thirst not for gold, sweet beauteous Jane whats mine, Shall (if thou make my self thine) all be thine, Say, judge, what is thy sentence, life or death? Mercy or cruelty lies in thy breath. Why dost thou not believe me? Chaste and deer woman, I will not abuse Thee, Although it cost my life, if thou refuse me, Thy husband pressed for France, what was his name? Damport, heres a letter sent From France to me, from a deer friend of mine, A gentleman of place, here he does write, Their names that have been slain in every fight. Cannot you read? Beruse the same, To my remembrance such a name I read Amongst the rest: see here. Have patience, deer love. Nay sweet Jane, Make not poor sorrow proud with these rich tears, I mourn thy husbands death because thou mournest. I'll bring Thee letters sent beside to many Carrying the Like report: Jane 'tis too true, Come, weep not: mourning though it rise from love Helps not the mourned, yet hurts them that mourn. Whither dost thou turn? Forget the deed, love them that are alive, His love is faded, try how mine will thrive. 'Tis now best time for you to think on love, because your love lives not. I would kill my soul to leave Thee drowned in moan: Answer me to my suit, and I am gone, Say to me, yea, or no. Then farewell, one farewell will not serve, I come again, come dry these wet cheeks, tell me faith sweet Jane, yea, or no, once more. Nay then I will grow rude by this white hand, Until you change that cold no, here isle stand, Till by your hard heart O blessed voice, deer Jane I'll urge no more, Thy breath hath made me rich. Pardon me deer love for being misled, It rumord here in London thou Wertenberg dead. Hold fool, sirs he shall do no wrong, Will my Jane leave me thus, and break her faith? Good fellows, hear me speak: and honest Rafe, Whom I have injured most by loving Jane, Mark what I offer Thee: here in fair gold Is twenty pound, I'll give it for thy Jane, If this content Thee not, thou shalt have more. Say, wilt thou freely cease thy claim in her, And let her be my wife? I love you, by this hand. Then by my life I swear. In faith you jest. Nay chide her not my Lord for doing well, If she can live and happy virgins life, 'Tis far more blessed then to be a wife. Yonders the shop, and there my fair love sits, She's fair and lovely, but she is not mine, Oh would she were, thrice have I courted her, Thrice hath my hand been moistened with her hand, While my poor famished eyes do feed on that Which made them famish: I am infortunate, I still love one, yet no body loves me, I muse in other men what women see, That I so want? fine mistress Rose was coy, And this too curious, o no, she is chaste, And for the thinks me wanton, she denies cheer my cold heart with her sunny eyes: How prettily she works, o pretty hand! O happy work, it does me good to stand to see her, thus I oft have stood, In frosty evening's, a light burning by her, Enduring biting cold, only to eye her, One only look hath seemed as rich to me As a kings crown, such is loves lunacy: Muffled I'll pass along, and by that try Whither she know me. Unmannerly rude slave, whats that to Thee? Villains, hands off, how dare you touch my love? What means my Jane? I will not touch one penny, but in lieu Of that great wrong I offered thy Jane, To Jane and Thee I give that twenty pound, Since I have failed of her, during my life I vow no woman else shall be my wife: Farewell good fellows of the Gentle trade, Your morning's mirth my mourning day hath made. exeunt