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Christopher Marlowe - Dialogue In Verse
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_Jack._ Seest thou not yon farmer`s son?
     He hath stoln my love from me, alas!
   What shall I do?  I am undone;
     My heart will ne`er be as it was.
   O, but he gives her gay gold rings,
     And tufted gloves [for] holiday,
   And many other goodly things,
     That hath stoln my love away.

_Friend._ Let him give her gay gold rings
     Or tufted gloves, were they ne`er so [gay];
   [F]or were her lovers lords or kings,
     They should not carry the wench away.

_Jack._ But `a dances wonders well,
     And with his dances stole her love from me:
   Yet she wont to say, I bore the bell
     For dancing and for courtesy.

_Dick._ Fie, lusty younker, what do you here,
     Not dancing on the green to-day?
   For Pierce, the farmer`s son, I fear,
     Is like to carry your wench away.

_Jack._ Good Dick, bid them all come hither,
     And tell Pierce from me beside,
   That, if he thinks to have the wench,
     Here he stands shall lie with the bride.

_Dick._ Fie, Nan, why use thy old lover so,
     For any other new-come guest?
   Thou long time his love did know;
     Why shouldst thou not use him best?

_Nan._ Bonny Dick, I will not forsake
     My bonny Rowland for any gold:
   If he can dance as well as Pierce,
     He shall have my heart in hold.

_Pierce._ Why, then, my hearts, let`s to this gear;
     And by dancing I may won
   My Nan, whose love I hold so dear
     As any realm under the sun.

_Gentleman._ Then, gentles, ere I speed from hence,
     I will be so bold to dance
   A turn or two without offence;
     For, as I was walking along by chance,
   I was told you did agree.

_Friend._ `Tis true, good sir; and this is she
     Hopes your worship comes not to crave her;
   For she hath lovers two or three,
     And he that dances best must have her.

_Gentleman._ How say you, sweet, will you dance with me?
     And you [shall] have both land and [hill];
   My love shall want nor gold nor fee.

_Nan._ I thank you, sir, for your good will;
   But one of these my love must be:
     I`m but a homely country maid,
   And far unfit for your degree;
     [To dance with you I am afraid.]

_Friend._ Take her, good sir, by the hand,
     As she is fairest: were she fairer,
   By this dance, you shall understand,
     He that can win her is like to wear her.

_Fool._ And saw you not [my] Nan to-day,
     My mother`s maid have you not seen?
   My pretty Nan is gone away
     To seek her love upon the green.
   [I cannot see her `mong so many:]
   She shall have me, if she have any.

_Nan._ Welcome, sweetheart, and welcome here,
     Welcome, my [true] love, now to me.
   This is my love [and my darling dear],
     And that my husband [soon] must be.
   And, boy, when thou com`st home, thou`lt see
   Thou art as welcome home as he.

_Gentleman._ Why, how now, sweet Nan!  I hope you jest.

_Nan._ No, by my troth, I love the fool the best:
   And, if you be jealous, God give you good-night!
   I fear you`re a gelding, you caper so light.

_Gentleman._ I thought she had jested and meant but a fable,
   But now do I see she hath play[`d] with his bable.
   I wish all my friends by me to take heed,
   That a fool come not near you when you mean to speed.
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