The faithful lovers of the West ... to the tune of, As I walkt forth to take the air / by William Blunten.
         Blunten, William.
      
       
         
           1600
        
      
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         A40771
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         ESTC R6359
         13089169
         ocm 13089169
         97335
         
           
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             The faithful lovers of the West ... to the tune of, As I walkt forth to take the air / by William Blunten.
             Blunten, William.
          
           1 sheet ([1] p.) : ports.
           
             Printed for P. Brooksby ...,
             [London] :
             [not before 1672]
          
           
             Place and date of publication from Wing.
             Reproduction of original in Harvard University Libraries.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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         eng
      
       
         
           Love poetry, English.
           Broadsides -- England -- 17th century.
        
      
    
     
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           THE
           Faithful
           Lovers
           of
           the
           West
           .
        
         
           
             
               
                 Come
                 joyn
                 with
                 me
                 all
                 you
                 that
                 Love
                 ,
              
               
                 And
                 faithful
                 to
                 each
                 other
                 prove
                 :
              
               
                 Example
                 take
                 by
                 this
                 my
                 Song
                 ,
              
               
                 All
                 you
                 that
                 stand
                 within
                 this
                 Throng
                 .
              
            
          
        
         
           To
           the
           Tune
           of
           ,
           
             As
             I
             walkt
             forth
             to
             take
             the
             Air.
             
          
        
         
           By
           
             William
             Blunten
          
           .
        
         
           
        
         
           
             WHy
             should
             I
             thus
             complain
             ,
             on
             thee
          
           
             So
             cruelly
             thou
             murderest
             me
             ,
          
           
             For
             unto
             thee
             it
             is
             well
             known
             ,
          
           
             Thou
             art
             the
             Maid
             I
             love
             alone
             ,
          
        
         
           
             In
             none
             but
             thee
             I
             take
             delight
             ,
          
           
             I
             think
             on
             thee
             both
             day
             and
             night
             ;
          
           
             I
             give
             to
             thee
             my
             heart
             away
             ,
          
           
             Do
             not
             with
             hatred
             me
             repay
             ,
          
        
         
           
             When
             first
             thy
             sweet
             face
             I
             did
             see
             ,
          
           
             I
             thought
             thot
             none
             was
             like
             to
             thee
             ;
          
           
             I
             wish
             I
             had
             not
             seen
             the
             day
             ,
          
           
             When
             first
             thou
             stol'st
             my
             heart
             away
             .
          
        
         
           
             Hard
             is
             thy
             heart
             ,
             harder
             then
             steel
             ,
          
           
             Colder
             then
             Ice
             ,
             that
             frost
             congeal
             ;
          
           
             How
             many
             thousand
             times
             doth
             make
             ,
          
           
             My
             heart
             to
             bleed
             for
             thy
             sweet
             sake
             .
          
        
         
           
        
         
           
             I
             was
             forewarned
             by
             thine
             eyes
             ,
          
           
             Of
             thy
             most
             killing
             Cruelties
             ,
          
           
             But
             Cupid
             hath
             so
             blinded
             me
             .
          
           
             Now
             I
             shall
             dye
             for
             love
             of
             thee
             ;
          
        
         
           
             But
             O
             how
             good
             had
             been
             my
             case
             ,
          
           
             That
             I
             had
             never
             seen
             thy
             face
             ,
          
           
             My
             captive
             heart
             had
             then
             been
             free
             ,
          
           
             But
             now
             I
             can
             love
             none
             but
             thee
             .
          
        
         
           
             When
             I
             am
             dead
             ,
             this
             thou
             wilt
             say
             ,
          
           
             That
             I
             have
             cast
             my
             love
             away
             ;
          
           
             Too
             late
             't
             will
             be
             then
             to
             complain
             ,
          
           
             If
             that
             you
             do
             ,
             it
             's
             all
             in
             vain
             .
          
        
         
           
             Therefore
             my
             dearest
             Love
             comply
             ,
          
           
             Aud
             case
             me
             of
             this
             cruelty
             ;
          
           
             Let
             not
             me
             dye
             in
             this
             dispair
             ,
          
           
             But
             grant
             thy
             love
             to
             me
             my
             dear
             .
          
        
         
           
           
             
             The
             Maids
             Answer
             .
          
           
             
               DOubt
               not
               my
               Love
               ,
               nor
               do
               not
               fear
               ,
            
             
               Thou
               art
               the
               man
               that
               I
               love
               dear
               ,
            
             
               I
               did
               but
               try
               thy
               constancy
               ,
            
             
               For
               I
               do
               love
               no
               man
               but
               thee
               .
            
          
           
             
               Then
               grieve
               no
               more
               ,
               nor
               yet
               complain
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               love
               to
               me
               is
               not
               in
               vain
               :
            
             
               For
               constant
               I
               will
               ever
               be
               ,
            
             
               And
               I
               do
               lovt
               no
               man
               but
               thee
               .
            
          
           
             
               Wy
               shouldst
               thou
               say
               thy
               hart
               will
               break
            
             
               And
               all
               for
               love
               of
               my
               sweet
               sake
               ,
            
             
               I
               constant
               to
               thee
               still
               will
               prove
               ,
            
             
               As
               ever
               was
               the
               Turtle-Dove
               .
            
          
           
             
               Nothing
               shall
               part
               my
               Love
               and
               I
               ,
            
             
               Vntil
               the
               very
               day
               we
               dye
               :
            
             
               We
               'l
               live
               in
               love
               ,
               and
               so
               agree
               ,
            
             
               As
               man
               and
               wife
               they
               ought
               to
               be
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             
             The
             Young-Mans
             Answer
             .
          
           
             
               O
               thanks
               be
               to
               the
               Heaven
               above
               ,
            
             
               Now
               I
               have
               gain'd
               my
               dearest
               Love
               ,
            
             
               Thy
               words
               doth
               me
               so
               much
               revive
               ,
            
             
               I
               am
               the
               happiest
               man
               alive
               .
            
          
           
             
               Come
               let
               us
               to
               the
               Church
               away
               ,
            
             
               And
               married
               be
               without
               delay
               :
            
             
               Although
               our
               Portions
               be
               but
               small
               ,
            
             
               True
               love
               is
               better
               worth
               then
               all
               .
            
          
           
             
               So
               hand
               in
               hand
               away
               they
               vvent
               ,
            
             
               And
               had
               their
               parents
               free
               confent
               :
            
             
               The
               musick
               then
               most
               svveet
               did
               Play
               ,
            
             
               And
               thus
               ended
               their
               Wedding
               day
               .
            
          
           
             
               Young-men
               and
               maids
               in
               love
               agree
               ,
            
             
               And
               let
               thes
               song
               a
               pattern
               be
               :
            
             
               The
               price
               you
               knovv
               it
               is
               but
               small
               ,
            
             
               A
               penny
               a
               piece
               ,
               and
               take
               them
               all
               .
            
          
           
             FINIS
             .
          
        
      
    
     
       
         
           Printed
           for
           
             P.
             Brooksby
          
           ,
           at
           the
           Golden-Ball
           ,
           in
           
             Py.
             Corner
          
           .