[Bagford Collection, II. 150; Pepys, iii. 90.]
An Answer to the

Unconstant Shepherd:

Dr,

Fair Cynthia's grief and care crowned with joy and
Happiness, by her Lover's Return.

To AN EXCELLENT NEW TUNE.

Y

My Dear, let nothing trouble thy Heart,

for here I am returned again,

In order to cure that killing Smart,

of which thou so often didst complain.

'Tis true I was banish'd from my Love,
which was a Torment and grief to me;
Yet now I will ever Loyal prove,
so long as I have my Liberty.

As I am thy true entire Friend,
thy faithfull and ever loving Swain;
There's no evil Tongue shall thee offend,
so long as I do alive remain.

1

In Kisses and sweet Embraces still, our Minutes we'll freely pass away, As void of the thoughts of any ill,

as innocent Lambs that sport and play.

16

Thy Wishes at length are come to pass, my Chamber and all I have is thine; I never did see a sweeter Lass,

thy Beauty has won the Heart of mine. By wandring shady Groves about,

expressing true Sorrow, Grief, and Care, Thy wandring Heart hath found me out, now I am thy Captive, charming Fair. 'Tis true thou saidst thou sett'st Love as light as the Wind that blew from Tree to Tree, But thy former Wrongs I now will right, and we'll live in Love and Loyalty. Love, dry up thy flowing Tears, he cry'd, and bid all thy Sorrows and Cares adieu; Tho' Fortune a while did us divide,

yet I'll Love none in the World but you. The whistling Winds did soon convey thy scornful Sighs, and Groans to me, And therefore I made no more delay, but readily came, my Love, to thee.

And now in the Circuit of mine Arms,

the former delights thou still shalt find; For viewing thy Youthful pleasing Charms, Young Phaon he cannot prove unkind.

I pittied thy bitter Sighs and Cries,

and sorrowful Groans that fill'd my Ears; My Senses was struck with a strange surprize,

40

and straightways my Eyes did flow with Tears. 44

Such killing Torments I then did feel,

which neither my Tongue nor Pen can tell;

No longer I could my Love conceal,

to hear thee taking thy last Farewell.

And now my sweet Cynthia and charming Fair,
if thou wilt but pardon but what is past,

Thy Pheon do's solemnly declare,

he'll love thee as long as Life shall last.

48

52

Printed for Charles Bates next to the Crown Tavern in West

Smithfield.

[In Black-letter. Date, 1690-1702.]

The Complaining Shepherdess.

THE tune named, "Ah, Jenny Gin," refers to "Charlot's Scotch Song," by Mrs. Aphra Behn, in the third act of her comedy, "The City Heiress," 1682. It is found, with the music (composer unnamed), in Playford's Choice Ayres, v. 25, 1684: also in Pills to P. Mel., iii. 262. Extended, as a broadside ballad, Roxb. Coll., ii. 304; iv. 18, it bears title "Jockey's Lamentation turned into Joy; or, Jenny yields at Last": to a new Playhouse tune. Elsewhere, "The Loves of Jockey and Jenny; or, the Scotch Wedding." The original, as found in Mrs. Behn's Plays, ii. 218, has no more than two verses :

AH

H Jenny, gen your Eyes do kill,
You'll let me tell my Pain;
Gued Faith, I lov'd against my Will,
But wad not break my Chain.
I ence was call'd a bonny Lad,
Till that fair Face of yours
Betray'd the Freedom ence I had,
And aw my bleether Howers.

But noo, ways me! like Winter looks

My gloomy showering Eyne,
And on the Banks of shaded Brooks
I pass my wearied time.

I call the Stream that gleedeth on,
To witness if it see
On all the flowery Brink along,
A Swain so true as Iee.

This passed as a "Scotch song," in the days of Tom D'Urfey.

[Bagford Collection, II. 152; Pepys, iii. 117.]

The Complaining Shepherdess

Satisfied at last:

Or,

Lobe lost and found again, Being a most pleasant New Play-Song.
Phillis mourning long, at last does find

A Lover far more then her former kind,
Who to her dear Embraces is assign'd,
Which unto Virgins may a Maxim be,
Not to lament tedious Virginity,

For if one fails, the next ['s] more kind and free.

TO THE TUNE OF, Ah! Jenny Gin, &c.

Whilst he does Revel with his Joy,
whom more then me he loves,
Whilst they rejoyce, shall I destroy
my self 'cause false he proves?
No, no, I now have griev'd so long,
too long I sad have been,

But he, forsworn wretch, did me wrong,
yet pardon Gods his sin.

I envy her no happiness
who has him in her arms,
Yet let her look to it, unless

at last he slights her Charms:
For he's unconstant as the wind,
or wandering Clouds that flye,
To any Nymph can prove unkind,
and let her sigh and dye.

DA

What if he be a comely Youth,
there's falshood in him still,
And hence I will be kind and true
if I may have my will:
Be he ne'r so mean a Swain,

that feeds his bl[e]ating Sheep,
In the Woods or flowery Plain,

that man my heart shall keep. If he an honest meaning have, and constant still will prove, For I too long have been a slave, to one that could not love: