Virtue & beauty in danger, or, King Edward courting the London virgin/Virtue & beauty in danger, or, King Edward courting the London virgin

VIRTUE and BEAUTY in DANGER.

FAIR beauty of England, fair beauty most bright,
Is all my heart’s pleasure, my joy and delight,
Then grant me, fair Lady, thy true love to be,
That I may say welcome good Fortune to me.

The turtle so chaste, and so true in her love,
By gentle persuasions her fancy will move;
Then be not entreated fair Lady in vain,
For nature requireth what I should obtain.

The Phenix so famous that liveth alone,
Is vowed to chastity, being but one:
But be not my darling so ste in desire,
Lest thou like the Phenix do pennance in fire.

But, alas! Gentle Lady, I pity your fate,
In being resolv’d to lie without a mate;
For if of our courting the pleasure you knew,
You would have a liking the fame to pursue.

Long time have I sued the fame to obtain,
Yet I am requited with scorn and disdain:
But if you will grant your goodwill unto me,
You shall be advanced to princely degree.

Promotions and honour may often entice,
The chastest that liveth, though ever so nice,
What woman so worthy but would be content,
To live in a palace where Princes frequent.

Two brides young and princely to church I have led,
Two Ladies now lately have decked my bed:
Yet hath thy love taken more root in my heart,
Than all their contentments, whereof I had part.

Your gentle heart can’t men’s hearts much abide,
And women least angry, when mostly they chide;
Then yield to me kindly, and see that at length,
Men they want mercy, and women want strength.

I grant that fair Ladies may poor men resist,
And Princes may conquer, and woo when they list;
A King may command her to lie by his side,
Whose features deserveth to be a King’s Bride.

In granting your love, you shall purchase renown,
Your head shall be crown’d with England’s fair crown;
Thy garments most gallant with joy shall be wrought,
If true love with treasure of thee may be bought.

Great Ladies of honour attend on thy train,
Most richly attir’d with scarlet in grain;
My chamber most princely thy person shall keep,
Where virgins with music shall rock thee to sleep.

If there’s any pleasure thy ear can invent,
Command them, fsweet Lady, thy mind to content,
For Kings’ gallant courts where Princes do dwell,
Afford such sweet pastime as Ladies love well.

Then be not resolved to die a true maid,
But print in thy bosom these words I have said,
And grant a King favour, your true love to be,
That I may fay, Welcome sweet Virgin to me.

THE VIRGIN’S ANSWER.

O Wanton King Edward, thy labour is vain,
To follow the pleasures thou can’st not attain,
With getting thou losest, and having, do make it,
The which if thou purchase, is spoil'd if thou hast it.

But if thou obtain’st it, thou hast nothing won,
And I lose nothing, yet am quite undone;
But if of my Jewel the King does deceive me,
No King can restote though a kingdom he gave me.

My colour is chang’d since you saw me last,
My favour is vanish’d, my beauty is past;
The rosy red shes that fat in my cheek,
To paleness is turn’d which all men dislike.

I pass not for a Princess to love I protest.
The name of a Virgin contenteth me best,
I have not deserved to ly by your side,
Nor yet to be courted for King Edward's Bride.

The name of a Princess I never did crave,
No such type of honour thy handmaid will have;
My breast shall not harbour so lofty a thought,
Nor be with rich prossers to wantenness brought.

If wild wanton Rosamond, one of our fort,
Had never frequented King Henry’s fair court;
Such heaps of deep sorrow she never had seen,
Nor tasted the rage of so jealous a Queen.

All men have their freedom to show their intent,
They win not a woman except she consent;
Who then can impute unto them any fault?
Who still goes upright, until men make them halt.

’Tis counted a kindness in men for to try.
And virtue in women the fame to deny,
For women unconstant can never be prov’d,
Until by their betters therein they be mov’d.

If woman and modesty once he can sever,
Then farewel good name and credit for ever,
And royal King Edward, let me be exil’d,
E’er any man know that my body’s defil’d.

No, wo, my Father’s reverend tears,
Too deep an impression within my heart bears;
Nor shall his bright honour that blot from me have,
To bring his grey hairs with grief to the grave.

The Heavens forbid that when I shall die,
That any such thing should upon me lie;
As I have kept myself from this fin,
My heart shall not yield with a Prince to begin.

Come rather with pity, and weep on my tomb,
Then for my birth, curse my dear mother’s womb,
That brought forth a blossom that stained the tree,
With wanton desires to shame her and me.

Leave off noble King, you tempt but in vain,
These mik-white affections with lewdness to stain;
Though England will give me no comforts at all,
Yet England will give me a sad burial.