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EBBA 30591

British Library - Roxburghe
Ballad XSLT Template
THE
Deceiver deceived:Or, The Virgins Revenge.
Those that in Loves wide Grove delight to range,
And please themselves with pretty charming change,
Delight to triumph ore the softest spoiles
Of yielding Beauty, seldome scape the toiles,
For Love to take them has a thousand wiles.
Tune of, Ah cruel bloody fate! This may be printed, R. LS.

Man.
AH cruel Maid give ore
to punish him with scorn
Who has for you in store
a flame as bright as morn.
Come dear be kind the Powrs of Love
their Virtues misimployd
To make with such care, a Creature so fair
if not to be enjoyd.

Maid.
Tell me no more; in vain
will all your Courtship prove
I smile to hear you feign
a false pretended love:What Grave is free from broken vows
to yielding Virgins made
whom you let languish in their anguish
when to Love betrayd.

Man.
Its true some gentle hours
I trifld in their arms
Yet no sweet face but yours
coud make me own its Charms
The feeble Beauties they displaid
each moment seemd to wast
But yours my delight, is so dazling bright
it must for ever last;

Maid.
So flatterd your smooth Tongue
so were your looks addrest
Such smiles about you hung
such liking you exprest;
To those whose senceless hearts you gaind
those now that mourn their fate
In being undone, by trusting too soon
though sighs are breathd too late.

Man.
Thats their own fault, in hast
to entertain a flame,
Which in their cheeks coud blast
Th Lillies and Roses stain:Disarm them of those killing beams
which in your eyes appear
Those eyes which are bright, those eyes by whose light
my course, love bids me steer.

Maid.
In vain you try my heart
no Conquest there youl gain,
Too feeble is your art
to make me suffer pain,
You seek a triumph there in vain
no Trophy you shall boast
But in what so fain you woud now obtain
you shall be ever crost.

Man.
Such cruelty cant live
within so fair a breast
A milder sentence give
to me with love opprest,
O to a flame that burns like mine
some speedy Cordial ply
Or he that till now, Love never made bow
for love of you must dye.

Maid.
No more of love to me
though you in earnest were
As deaf as Seas Ide be,
for love ide give despair
Revenge the wrongs the softer sex
sustain by your false wiles
Revenge false man, the Nymph thats un-done
by your deluding smiles.

Man.
Just is your doom bright maid
just the disdain you show
With scorn for scorn im paid
the powrs thus let me know
What tis to sigh and pine for love
since I unmoved coud see
Beauties with tears & their tender fears
kind Virgins sigh for me.


FINIS.
Printed for J. Clark, W.
Thackery and T. Passinger.

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