%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> True Love Rewarded with Cruelty. / Being a True Account of one Mary Story, a Maid, who once lived / at Limehouse, in the County of Middlesex that was in love with one who / had promised her marriage, so that the Wedding-day was appoint- / ted, but he changed his mind, and forsook her, wherupon she took greif, / and dyed about the latter end of July, 1683. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1672-1672 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/19/2011 31357

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

R228611 1 Tender hearts of London City UNKNOWN Tender Hearts of London City YOu that ever in love delighted, / Pitty me that now am slighted Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 4: 58 True Love Rewarded with Cruelty. / Being a True Account of one Mary Story, a Maid, who once lived / at Limehouse, in the County of Middlesex that was in love with one who / had promised her marriage, so that the Wedding-day was appoint- / ted, but he changed his mind, and forsook her, wherupon she took greif, / and dyed about the latter end of July, 1683. True Love Rewarded with Cruelty. Being a true Account of one Mary Story, a Maid, who once lived at Limehouse, in the County of Middlesex that was in love with one who had promised her Marriage, so that the Wedding-day was appoin- ted, but he changed his mind, and forsook her, wherupon she took greif, and dyed about the latter end of July, 1683. True Love Rewarded with Cruelty. Being a true Account of one Mary Story, a Maid, who once lived at Limehouse, in the County of Middlesex that was in love with one who had promised her Marriage, so that the Wedding day was appointed, but he changed his mind, and forsook her, whereupon she took grief, and dyed about the latter end of July, 1683. 1672-1672 P. Brooksby

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious types & sects royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic The New World travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgarities/ crass humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 4/19/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America affliction/ health death love marriage trickery/ deceit Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 4/19/2011 11:14:12 AM XBallad Meyer, Shannon Created XML Version of Ballad 4/19/2011 11:14:12 AM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/19/2011 11:14:12 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/19/2011 11:14:12 AM Transcriptionist Two Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/19/2011 11:14:12 AM Transcriptionist One Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/27/2010 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 4/13/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 4/13/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 1/31/2009 Bibliographer Eric Nebeker Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
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YOu that ever in love delighted, Pitty me that now am slighted by a young-man too unkind, That did leave me, and deceive me, which distracts both braine and mind. I am strangely discontented, Night and day I am tormented, my heart is ready for to break; But ile give ore, and love no more, for my deceitfull Georges sake. But why talk I of giving over? That am now a dying lover, languishing through his disdain; And now with smart I break my heart, but he ner pitties this my pain.
He to me did promise Marriage; Oh! but mind this strange miscarriage, his wavering mind began to change, He pleaded debt, which made me fret, this alteration was so strange. But he strove to stand the tryall, What would follow his denyall, and to my sorrow now I know That I must die; most dreadfully Love wrought my fatal overthrow. That very day I should be married, Then, alas! I so miscarried, he said that he owd twenty pound; This cruel news did me amuse, and gave to me a mortal wound. He said hed not bring me to trouble, Then my sorrows they grew double, but twas onely a pretence Me to deceive, and strangely leave, as I have been informed since. Oh that he should be so cruel To my flame to add a fuell that a Maiden will destroy! No hope can save me from my Grave since I have lost mine only joy. In him alone I was delighted, Now my daies are all benighted, all my comforts now are fled, While I do mourn like one forlorn; mind what I say on dying-bed. Tho theres nothing here can daunt thee, Night and day ile surely haunt thee wheresoever thou dost go; You broke Loves laws, & thats the cause that has procured my overthrow.
Your false tongue was quick and nimble, With me you did so dissemble, that you gaind my tender heart, Which now will break for your dear sake, that are the cause of all my smart. Call to mind your gross offences, Broken vows, and False pretences, which my ruine did procure; My heart you won, and Ime undone, cause you to me are so obdure. Why should you be so ungratefull, When I proved not deceitfull? but as constant as the Dove; Why at this rate do you me hate, and slight me thus for my true love? Oh! remember all your wishes, Treacherous vows, and fawning kisses, that you once bestowd on me, Me to insnare; but have a care, lest my poor Ghost does trouble thee. In your baseness never glory, Boast not ore poor Mary Story, time may come when you may rue That you betrayd a harmless Maid, who provd so loyal unto you.
Though these lines may little move thee, For thy faults I must reprove thee with my latest murmuring breath; I once again do here complain that thou hast brought me to my death. You that I do leave behind me, I intreat you all to mind me, my last speeches ner forget, This cruel man his Lover kills, that he so light by her doth set. Then she did begin to shiver, All her joynts did shake and quiver, her Cherry-lips lookd wan and pale, And cruel Death did stop her breath, so strongly he did her assaile. You that hear this mournfull ditty, Cannot chuse but greive, and pitty this poor Creature, in distress, For she did find he was unkind; she died cause he was pittiless. Youngmen never prove disloyal, Put not Maidens to the tryal when you come their loves to win, Do not pretend to be a friend, unless their ruines youl begin.
Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden Ball in West Smithfield.