Tixall Poetry/Mopsus and Marina

by unknown author

LI.

Mopsus and Marina.

 

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Mo.Come, Marina, let's away,
For both bride and bridegroome stay;
Fie, for shame, are you so long,
Pinning of your head geere one?
  Parnell neat,
  All com pleat,
Is gone by with Amarillis;
  Jolly Dorus,
  Is before us,
With his pritty blacke ey'd Phillis.

Ma.On, my loving Mopsus, on,
I am ready, all is done;
From my head unto my foot,
I am fitted each way toot.
  Buskins gay,
  Gowne of gray,
Best of all our flocks can render;
  Hat of straw,
  Platted through,
Cherry lip, and middle slender.

Mo.And I think you will not find
Mopsus any whitt behind;
For he loves as well to goe,
As most part of sheapards doe:
  Cap of browne,
  Bottle crowne,
With a leg I won a dancing:
  And a pump,
  Fitt to jump,
When we sheapards fall a prancing.

Come along then, and let's see there,
What a merry world wil be there;
Ther's Alexis of the rockes,
Come to shake his flaxen lockes,
  There's such tripping,
  Mounting, skipping,
Hei brave boies in lively measure:
  Kitt, and Kate,
  There will waite,
Tibb and Tom will take their pleasure.

Ma.How my mind doth longing run,
On the merry sports begun;
But, my Mopsus, much I feare,
Croud the fidler is not there.
  Mo.If not he.
  There wil be
Drone the piper that will trounce it;
  Ma.But if Croud
  Strucke aloud,
Lord, methinks how I could bounce it.

Mo.Bounce it, Mall, if you soe please,
Like a Meremaid on the seas;
And I thinke, you there wil find
Store of straines to please your mind:
  Roundelaies,
  Irish haies,
Cogs, and Rongs, and Peggie Ramsy;
  Spaniletto,
  The venitto,
John come kis me, Wilson's fancie.

Ma.But of all, there's none soe spritly,
None soe sweet, as Touch me lightly.
Were I at the gaspe of death,
Such a charme revives my breath.
  There, there, there,
  To a haire,
O, Tom Croud, methinks I heare thee:
  Young or old,
  Nere could hold,
But must rouse if they come nere thee.

Mo.All too long (deare love) I ween,
Have we stood upon this theame:
Let each lasse, as once it was,
Love her swain, and swain his lasse:
  So shall wee
  Honour'd bee
In our mating, in our meeting,
  While we stand
  Hand in hand,
Honest swainling with his sweeting.
Here we prate, and linger long,
While we doe our selves great wrong;
Wanting sence to understand,
What a serious worke's in hand.

Ma.My desire is all on fire,
Yet you goe to fast for Molly.

Mo.Deare the day runs away,
And it is no time to dally.