London astrologer, or, A young girl put to the blush/The London Astrologer

THE LONDON ASTROLOGER.

THERE was an old Aſtrologer,
⁠in London he did dwell,
For telling girls their Fortunes,
⁠all others did excel.

And many a pretty fair young maid,
⁠to this old man would go,
All of them being willing,
⁠their Fortunes for to know.

Amongſt the reſt, a pretty girl,
⁠to this old man ſhe went,
All for to have her Fortune told,
⁠it was her whole intent.

She aſked for the Cunning Man,
⁠anſwer to her was made,
He is up ſtairs in his chamber,
⁠go call him down ſhe ſaid.

When that ſhe ſaw the Cunning Man,
⁠ſhe thus to him did ſay,
I have heard you can tell Fortunes,
⁠come tell me mine I pray.

And if that you the ſame will do,
⁠I'll pay you well, ſaid ſhe;
No fear of that, my Girl, he ſaid,
⁠come walk up ſtairs with me.

I will not come up ſtairs with you,
⁠nor any man indeed,
She ſpoke with as much modeſty,
⁠as if ſhe'd been a maid.

Beſides I am in haſte, Sir,
⁠and thought not to have ſtaid,
Come be as nimble as you can,
⁠I'm but a ſervant maid.

Then he ſtood and viewed her,
⁠his ſkill began to riſe,
He ſpoke ſuch words unto this maid,
⁠which did her quite ſurpriſe.

It is true you are a ſervant,
⁠but ſure you are no maid;
It is time that you were wed my girl,
⁠you have the wanton play'd.

You would have laugh'd to've ſeen her bluſh,
⁠hearing him what he ſaid,
But ſtill ſhe told for anſwer,
⁠that yet ſhe was a maid.

Deny it not, my girl, he ſaid,
⁠and tell me nothing ſo,
For you lay with your maſter,
⁠not many nights ago.

Then ſhe began to curſe and ſwear,
⁠ſhe would her maſter bring,
That he would teſtify for her,
⁠that there was no ſuch thing.

Deny it not my Girl, he ſaid,
⁠it makes your caſe look worſe,
For your maſter gave to you a crown,
⁠you have it in your purſe.

When ſhe ſaw him ſo poſitive,
⁠ſhe could it not deny,
She turn’d herſelf right round about,
⁠to him made this reply;

Indeed I am a maiden yet,
⁠and hopes ſo to remain,
My Maſter got my Maidenhead,
⁠but he gave it me again.