The True-lovers Good-morrow

In the month of February,
the green leaves begin to spring;
Pretty Lambs trip like a Fairy,
Birds do couple, bill, and sing;
All things on earth,
That draweth breath,
In love together then do joyn,
Why should not I.
My fortune try,

And seek me out a Valentine.

Thanks kind fate I have my wishes,
for I have now met my dear,
Whom I greet with honey kisses,
her sweet sight my heart doth chear,
My dearest love,
And Turtle-Dove,
O let my arms about thee twine,
For thou art she,
I first did see,

Good morrow my fair Valenine.

Surely Sir you are mistaken,
for you met some other Maid,
Young-men they are given to scoffing,
and as much to her you said;
Then do not stay
Me on the way,
with your swéet words that you do coyn
Let me alone,
I must be gone,

Pray seek some other Valentine.

If true faith may be believed,
on you first I did set sight,
Sweet let not my heart be grieved,
who doth love your beauty bright,
Oft have I wisht
I might be blest,
With your sweet presence for to joyn
And case my mind,
Maids should be kind,

And loving to their Valentine.

Sir, to me you are a stranger,
Maids must look before they leap
In fair specehes oft there's danger,
snakes under sweet flowers Creep,
maids often find
mens words but wind,
The Sun shall set that bright did shine,
after a calm,
there comes a storm,

Go seek some other Valentine.

Fortune fair hath now decreed it,
that none but you I should meet,
Dearly I do love, believe it,
for you are my only sweet,
my grieved breast
can take no rest,
Which doth my love-sick heart conjoyn
Love I require
Love I desire,

Of thee my beautious Valentine.

For your affection Sir I thank you,
being more then my desert,
Sure I cannot be so cruel,
to procure a Lovers smart,
'Tis modesty
for to deny,
Yet from my words I may decline,
then banish pain,
take heart again,

For I will be thy Valentine.

Now thou speakest like an Angel,
and my drooping heart revive,
For to give all contentment,
day and night i'le ever strive,
thy courteous words,
much joy affords,
And thy rare beauty so divine,
sweet let me kiss,
my fair mistris,

My only joy and Valentine.

If you intend what you have promis'd
and do love me as you say,
I may yield, but if you flatter,
I can my affection stay:
now I am free
as you may see,
No man can say that I am thine.
but being bound,
no help is found,

And then no more sweet Valentine.

When I from my promise alter,
let me then no longer thrive,
And let nothing with me prosper,
while that I remain alive.
pains I'le not spare,
but still take care,
For to maintain thee neat and fine,
and for the best
that can be drest,

Then thou shalt eat sweet Valentine.

Seeing you are so kind hearted,
I have freely given consent,
And my love to thee imparted,
hoping never to repent:
i'le constant prove,
to thee my Love,
For I am thine, and thou art mine,
i'le saving be,
as thou shalt see,

Sweet Husband, friend and Valentine.

A thousand thousand thanks I render
back again to thee my love,
Who above the world I tender,
my firm faith shall ne'r remove,
then presently
to Church let's hye,
Where in Hymens band's let's joyn,
take hand and heart,
till death depart,

My life, my Wife, and Valentine.