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<DATE>2008-07-04</DATE>
<RESPSTMT>
<NAME>Mona Logarbo</NAME>
<RESP>MURP</RESP>
</RESPSTMT>
<ITEM>Proofed and reviewed as part of batch B080623.pdcc.</ITEM>
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<EEBO>
<IDG S="marc" R="UM" ID="B06236">
<STC T="W">T2734</STC>
<BIBNO T="umi">99887316</BIBNO>
<VID>182027</VID>
</IDG>
<TEXT LANG="eng">
<BODY>
<DIV1 TYPE="ballad">
<PB REF="1"><!-- PDF PAGE 17 -->
<HEAD>True Love Exalted: <HI>Or,</HI> A Dialogue between a Courteous young Knight of the City of <HI>London,</HI> and a <HI>Searge Weavers</HI> Daughter of <HI>Devon&s;hire.</HI></HEAD>
<ARGUMENT>
<P>Shewing how the young Knight was Travelling in <HI>Devon-&s;hire,</HI> and fell in Love with a fair Maid there: How he Courted her to be his Mi&s;s, but &s;he not yielding to his La&s;civious de&s;ires, he was &s;o much in Love with her Vertue, that he Marryed her, and made her a Lady, and carryed her to the Kings Court at <HI>London,</HI> where they now live in joy and happine&s;s.</P>
</ARGUMENT>
<OPENER>The Tune is, <HI>Tender Hearts,</HI> &amp;c.</OPENER>
<P><FIGURE>
</FIGURE></P>
<P><FIGURE>
</FIGURE></P>
<SP>
<LG>
<STAGE>The Author &s;peaks.</STAGE>
<L>IN the <HI>We&s;t</HI> in <HI>Devon-&s;hire,</HI></L>
<L>Liv'd a Maid of Beauty rare,</L>
<L>pretty <HI>Peggy</HI> as her name;</L>
<L>So much Beauty, &s;o much Duty</L>
<L><HI>Peggy</HI> there had all the Fame,</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Where&s;oe're that you are walking,</L>
<L>Or of <GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="missing" EXTENT="1 letter">hat&s;oever talking,</L>
<L>pretty <HI>Peggy</HI> mu&s;t come in;</L>
<L>So much Beauty, &s;o much Duty,</L>
<L>not to wor&s;hip were a Sin.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Fate that many a one does flatter,</L>
<L>Told of this the truth o'th matter,</L>
<L>to a young and lovely Knight;</L>
<L>One lov'd Plea&s;ure, more then Trea&s;ure</L>
<L>beauty was his chief delight.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Straight he was with Love involved,</L>
<L>nd to try it was re&s;olved</L>
<L>if that <HI>Peggy</HI> would be kind,</L>
<L>But did never, meet with ever,</L>
<L>&s;uch a Face, or &s;uch a mind.</L>
</LG>
</SP>
<LG>
<HEAD>The Knight:</HEAD>
<L>When he fir&s;t beheld the Creature,</L>
<L>All her Charms were &s;ent by Nature,</L>
<L>neither Spots nor Tower &s;he wore:</L>
<L>But was &s;inging, and a Spinning,</L>
<L>at her poor old Fathers door.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<HEAD>Peggy.</HEAD>
<L>When &s;he &s;aw him &s;he retired,</L>
<L>But his &s;ences were &s;o fired,</L>
<L>at the little interview;</L>
<L>Stay, he &s;aid, thou lovely Maid,</L>
<L>for now I &s;wear report is true.</L>
</LG>
<P><FIGURE>
</FIGURE></P>
<P><FIGURE>
</FIGURE></P>
<SP>
<LG>
<L>STraight ways, then he <GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="missing" EXTENT="1 letter">ent unto her,</L>
<L>And with all his art did woe her,</L>
<L>ki&s;t her hands and ble&s;t her eyes:</L>
<L>Proffer'd her Trea&s;ure for his Plea&s;ure,</L>
<L>but alas! she &s;till denies.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Golden promi&s;es he made her,</L>
<L>And with vows would fain per&s;wade her,</L>
<L>but her vertue was too &s;trong:</L>
<L>All his art, ne'r wrought her heart,</L>
<L>though poor <HI>Peggy</HI> was but young.</L>
</LG>
</SP>
<SP>
<LG>
<L>Quoth he, dear <HI>Peggy,</HI> be not cruel,</L>
<L>To your &s;elf and me my jewel,</L>
<L>Leave your homely Rurial Sport,</L>
<L>Be but mine thou shalt shine,</L>
<L>among&s;t the Glorious &s;tars at Court.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>All the Pride of <HI>London City,</HI></L>
<L>That can make proud Lady's pritty,</L>
<L>what the Changes affords that's rare,</L>
<L>All shall be, my dear for thee,</L>
<L>and none with <HI>Peggy</HI> may compare.</L>
</LG>
</SP>
<SP>
<STAGE>Peggys An&s;wer.</STAGE>
<LG>
<L>Sir, quoth she, do not endeavour,</L>
<L>The poor Daughter of a Weaver,</L>
<L>has a heart of vertuous mould;</L>
<L>That no pride, can draw a&s;ide,</L>
<L>to be corrupted by your Gold.</L>
</LG>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>The Knight.</SPEAKER>
<LG>
<L>Then quoth he, dear <HI>Peggy</HI> may be</L>
<L>You'l deny to be a Lady,</L>
<L>tell me how that &s;utes your mind,</L>
</LG>
</SP>
<SP>
<LG>
<L>Sir, quoth she, my poor degree,</L>
<L>is &s;till to humble thoughts confin'd.</L>
</LG>
</SP>
<SP>
<LG>
<L>For that, quoth he, I ne'r will fault thee,</L>
<L>But for humblene&s;s exhalt thee,</L>
<L>thou this day my Bride shall be,</L>
</LG>
</SP>
<SP>
<LG>
<L>Then he tarryed till they marryed,</L>
<L>and Lady <HI>Margaret</HI> was she,</L>
</LG>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>The Author.</SPEAKER>
<LG>
<L>You may think her friends con&s;ented,</L>
<L>And that she was well contented:</L>
<L>and I'm &s;ure &s;o was the Knight;</L>
<L>All the day they ki&s;s and play,</L>
<L>and God knows what they did at night.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Now you &s;ee how she regarded,</L>
<L>For her vertue how rewarded,</L>
<L>made a Lady for her parts;</L>
<L>Rais'd to power, without Dower,</L>
<L>only by her own de&s;erts.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>You that would be great as she is,</L>
<L>And would have a Knight as he is,</L>
<L>let her Vertues be your guide,</L>
<L>To <HI>London</HI> fair, they did repair,</L>
<L>the Knight and his beloved Bride.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Novv she hath no other care,</L>
<L>But to plea&s;e her only Dear,</L>
<L>&s;erve her Father and her Knight,</L>
<L>All his Trea&s;ure's at her plea&s;ure,</L>
<L>he her joy, she his Delight.</L>
</LG>
</SP>
</DIV1>
</BODY>
<BACK>
<DIV1 TYPE="colophon">
<P>Printed for <HI>P. Brooksby,</HI> at the Golden-Ball in Pye-corner.</P>
</DIV1>
</BACK>
</TEXT>
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