Here you will find the Long Poem Phillada flouts Me of poet Anonymous
O WHAT a plague is love! How shall I bear it? She will inconstant prove, I greatly fear it. She so torments my mind That my strength faileth, And wavers with the wind As a ship saileth. Please her the best I may, She loves still to gainsay; Alack and well-a-day! Phillada flouts me. At the fair yesterday She did pass by me; She look'd another way And would not spy me: I woo'd her for to dine, But could not get her; Will had her to the wine-- He might entreat her. With Daniel she did dance, On me she look'd askance: O thrice unhappy chance! Phillada flouts me. Fair maid, be not so coy, Do not disdain me! I am my mother's joy: Sweet, entertain me! She'll give me, when she dies, All that is fitting: Her poultry and her bees, And her goose sitting, A pair of mattrass beds, And a bag full of shreds; And yet, for all this guedes, Phillada flouts me! She hath a clout of mine Wrought with blue coventry, Which she keeps for a sign Of my fidelity: But i' faith, if she flinch She shall not wear it; To Tib, my t'other wench, I mean to bear it. And yet it grieves my heart So soon from her to part: Death strike me with his dart! Phillada flouts me. Thou shalt eat crudded cream All the year lasting, And drink the crystal stream Pleasant in tasting; Whig and whey whilst thou lust, And bramble-berries, Pie-lid and pastry-crust, Pears, plums, and cherries. Thy raiment shall be thin, Made of a weevil's skin-- Yet all 's not worth a pin! Phillada flouts me. In the last month of May I made her posies; I heard her often say That she loved roses. Cowslips and gillyflowers And the white lily I brought to deck the bowers For my sweet Philly. But she did all disdain, And threw them back again; Therefore 'tis flat and plain Phillada flouts me. Fair maiden, have a care, And in time take me; I can have those as fair If you forsake me: For Doll the dairy-maid Laugh'd at me lately, And wanton Winifred Favours me greatly. One throws milk on my clothes, T'other plays with my nose; What wanting signs are those? Phillada flouts me. I cannot work nor sleep At all in season: Love wounds my heart so deep Without all reason. I 'gin to pine away In my love's shadow, Like as a fat beast may, Penn'd in a meadow. I shall be dead, I fear, Within this thousand year: And all for that my dear Phillada flouts me.