<p>NOT far from here ther lives a Maid,<lb/> Who, as I've heard by many said,<lb/> Will bring a good dow're of gold and land<lb/> To him on whom she bestows her hand.<lb/> A buxom, cheerful, bustling lass,<lb/> She leads her father's kine to grass,<lb/> <pb n="uiuc_83931c29eep_fac190"/> She bakes and the brews, she spins and she sews,<lb/> And all a good houswife's duty knows.<lb/> Nimble and net of limb is she,<lb/> Good temper'd too as a lass can be;<lb/> With pouting red lips, and a cheeck that glows<lb/> With the freshest hues of the opening rose:<lb/> No burger maid in Leyden town<lb/> Can match her eyes of lustrous brown;<lb/> And were I again in my youthful prime,<lb/> To woo and to win her I'd lose no time.<lb/> I wish our Claes, that son of mine,<lb/> Would but to my advice incline,<lb/> And court her close like a sensible lad,<lb/> While she and her dow'r are yet to be had:<lb/> For oft I've heard her father say:<lb/> Whoe'er she choose, he'll not say nay;<lb/> But give her a well stock'd farm and land,<lb/> And a well fill'd purse besides in hand.<lb/> But my son Claes, he is so slow,<lb/> To her he will not courting go:<lb/> He only fancies the town-bred grace<lb/> Of a Courtly dame and a painted face.<lb/> But what's your Court or burgher dame,<lb/> With pride of birth and empty name,<lb/> To a village lass with a purse well lin'd,<lb/> And wholesome alike in body and mind?<lb/> But, Oh! this boy! 'tis vexing quite<lb/> At bait so fair he will not bite;<lb/> And all I can do, or think, or say,<lb/> Alike on the lad are thrown away.<lb/> How oft have I not brought him to<lb/> The lass, in hopes that he would woo:<lb/> But there he'd stand-like a tongue-tied lout!<lb/> Nor open his mouth-but gape about!<lb/> In vain to cheer him on I strive,<lb/> And wink to make him more alive;<lb/> But not e'en once will he take her hand,<lb/> Nor speak one word she can understand.<lb/> E'en though 'tis Fair-time now, yet he<lb/> Buys her no Cakes nor Christmas tree;<lb/> No girdle, nor ring, nor handsome coif<lb/> To set the young damsel's head-dress off.<lb/> He writes no Sonnets in her praise,<lb/> As is the custom now-a-days,<lb/> But cold as a stone, not a word will say,<lb/> That hints in the least at a Wedding-day.<lb/> But, setting all such gifts aside-<lb/> Though gifts are proper to a Bride-<lb/> E'en from her he'll not take a thing,<lb/> Nor new neck-ruff, not handsome ring!<lb/> <pb n="uiuc_83931c29eep_fac191"/> Yet lovers mostly have the sense<lb/> To look on gifts as no offence;<lb/> And if young man will aught receive,<lb/> 'Tis a sign- at least, so girls believe-<lb/> That he next day may come again,<lb/> And then p'rhaps speak his mind more plain;<lb/> For Love doth ever more hopeful burn,<lb/> When the receiver doth make return.<lb/> But oh! this Claes! he will not woo<lb/> At all as other people do!<lb/> E'en when she herself asks him to dance, <lb/> He says that he can't, and looks askance:<lb/> For her he has no pleasing talk;<lb/> He never takes her out to walk,-<lb/> And when she kindly bids him stay,<lb/> He takes up his hat to walk away!-<lb/> To lose such a chance to me is odd!<lb/> Now isn't my Claes a downright clod?<lb/> But now I find my wife was right,<lb/> When she said to me t'other night:<lb/> Do hold thy tongue, now, Father, do!<lb/> 'Tis plain our Claes don't care to woo.<lb/> Thou'lt never bring the match to pass,<lb/> He has no taking to the lass:<lb/> He's p'rhaps some other girl in view,<lb/> And take my word you may for true;-<lb/> The Love that's forc'd will never do!<lb/> Is not a lover, after all,<lb/> Best judge on whom his choice should fall?<lb/> Is courting not an impulse free,<lb/> That knows no force nor law's decree?<lb/> Do, Father, let the boy alone;-<lb/> Compulsion, never yet was known<lb/> To rule th'affections of the heart,<lb/> Nor guide the course of Cupid's dart.<lb/> Let him be free to choose his mate<lb/> According to his heart's dictate:<lb/> ''No Well so bad as that, we think,<lb/> Whose water we're compelled to drink.'<lb/> Is not the Love-chase just the same<lb/> As hunting any other game?<lb/> What though the sportsman even see<lb/> The hare, so tame as not to flee,<lb/> Squat here and there at distance short,<lb/> As though the very dogs to court;-<lb/> Yet none the more the hare is won<lb/> If that his dogs refuse to run:<lb/> For hounds which hunt against their will,<lb/> Were seldom known the game to kill.</p> <pb n="uiuc_83931c29eep_fac192"/> <p>I AM consumed with decouring fire,<lb/> Whilst Vulcane gainst me doubles thus his ire:<lb/> The hand, much like a Isthme, doth seperate<lb/> The flames, and doth it selfe praecipitate<lb/> Into open danger, shewing so its love,<lb/> The scorching flames compels it to remove.<lb/> A thriftlesse husband if he spend his state,<lb/> And so the wife loving to goe too neat;<lb/> Their stocke and meanes quickely goes to decay,<lb/> And late repentance comes, when all's away.<lb/> But if a friend their ruine would prevent,<lb/> And stay their fall; be sure he shall be shent:<lb/> He losing labour scare shall harmelesse goe,<lb/> They both against him turne their malice so.<lb/> Oft times who parteth quarrels and debate,<lb/> Against himselfe doth turne the parties hate.<lb/> FARLIE'S Emblems.</p>

uiuc_83931c29eep_emblem042b

http://hdl.handle.net/10111/EmblemRegistry:E019374

uiuc_83931c29eep

emblem pictura

emblempictura

With Unwilling Hounds it's Hard to Catch Hares

uiuc_83931c29eep_emblem043b

UIUC

EMBLEMS

ILL_BOOK

A young man refuses to court the young woman his father has chosen for him; in the background dogs refuse to hunt hares

uiuc_83931c29eep.xml

uiuc_83931c29eep_fac189

UIUC

EMBLEMS

ILL_BOOK

11Q712

25I2

31A2513(+931)

31A2521

31A2747

31D12

31D13

34A33

42B7411

53BB5

53DD1:33C21

86(MET ONWILLIGE HONDEN IS 'T QUAET HASEN VANGEN)

86(WITH UNWILLING HOUNDS IT'S HARD TO CATCH HARES)

<p>WITH UNWILLING HOUNDS IT'S HARD TO CATCH HARES</p>

uiuc_83931c29eep_pic189.jpg

uiuc_83931c29eep_emblem043