ROBERT GREENE
When thy father first did see Such a boy by him and me, He was glad, I was woe ; Fortune changed made him so. When he Jeft his pretty boy, Last his sorrow, first his joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, When thou art old there 's grief enough for thce.
Streaming tears that never stint,
Like pearl-drops fiom a flint,
Fell by course from his eyes,
That one another's place supplies;
Thus he grieved in every part,
Tears of blood fell from his heart,
When he left his pretty boy,
Father's sorrow, father's joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, When thou art old there 's grief enough for thec.
The wanton smiled, father wept,
Mother cried, baby leapt,
More he crow'd, more we cried,
Nature could not sorrow hide*
He must go, he must kiss
Child and mother, baby bliss,
For he left his pretty boy,
Father's sorrow, father's joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, When thou art old there 's grief enough for thee.
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