The Distressed VIRGIN; Or,
The false young-man, and the constant maid,
The Qualities of them both displaid.
To an excellent New Tune.
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A Thousand times my love commend,
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to him that hath my heart in hold,
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I took him for my dearest friend,
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his love I more esteemd then Gold:
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When first my eyes did see his face,
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and that my ear did hear his voice,
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His love I freely did imbrace
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my heart told me he was my choice.
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O had he still continued true,
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and in perfection permanent,
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Had he performed what was due,
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then had I found true hearts content:
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But he regardless of his vow,
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which he to me did make before,
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Hath thus in sorrow left me now,
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my former follies to deplore
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Would I had never seen those eyes,
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that like atractive Adamants,
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Did my poor heart with love suprize,
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the power of love some inchants:
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I have no power to leave his love,
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though with stern hate he me persue,
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To him I will most constant prove,
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though he be faithless and untrue.
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I put my finger in the bush,
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thinking the sweetest Rose to find,
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I prickt my finger to the bone,
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but yet I left the Rose behind:
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If Roses be such prickling flowers
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they must be gathered while they be green
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And shs that loves an unkind love,
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alas she rows against the stream,
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O would he but conceive a right,
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the grief that I for him sustain.
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He could not chuse but change his spight,
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to faithful love and leave disdain:
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I love to have him still in place,
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his too much absence makes me mourn
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Yet he disdains to see my face,
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and holds my company in scorne.
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It grieves my heart full sore to think:
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that he whom I so dearly love,
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Should thus with me refuse to drink,
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yet can my passions ne'r remove,
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Though he I know could w[i]sh my Death
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so great is his inveterate hate,
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Yet could I sooner lose my breath.
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then see him wrong'd in name or state.
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Ill hap had I to come in place,
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where first I saw his tempting look,
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As soon as I beheld his face,
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I Cupid's Prisoner straight was took:
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And never since that fatal hour
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have I enjoy'd a minutes rest,
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The thought of him is of such power,
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it never can forsake my breast.
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Then was I struck with Cupid's dart,
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then was my fancy captivated,
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Then did I vow that still my heart,
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should rest with him though me he hated:
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Then did he make a show of love,
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which did much more my heart inflame,
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But now he doth perfidious prove,
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and gives me cause his love to blame.
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NAy more he made a vow to me,
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that I should be his wedded Wife,
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And he forsakes me now I see,
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which makes me weary of my life,
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I little thought what now I find,
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that young-men could dissemble so
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Sure he is the falsest of his kind,
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ill hap had I to prove him so.
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Could any man be so hard-hearted,
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to leave a harmless Maid in grief,
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From me all comfort clean is parted,
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unless his favour grant releif;
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He is the man that bred my pain
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he is the man whose love alone,
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Must be the means to cure my pain;
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or else my life will soon be gone.
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O faithless wretch consider well,
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that Heaven abhoreth perjury,
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Great torments are prepar'd in hell,
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for them that thus will swear and lye:
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O hadst thou never made a show,
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of love thou hadst excus'd thy blame,
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But thy false heart full well doth know,
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with oaths thy perjur'd tongue did frame.
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That obstacle that hinders me,
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is that which I suspect full sore,
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His fruit is on some other tree,
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and he is seduced by some whore:
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Or else he hath some other Lass,
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perhaps like me a harmless Maid,
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Whom he may bring to such a pass,
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as I am brought by Cupids aid.
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O heavens forbid that any one,
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that bears an honest loving mind,
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Should thus have cause to grieve & mourn,
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at such a knave that shames his kind:
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But why should I as pasions move,
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with bitter words upon him rail,
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Whom I am ever bound to love,
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until my vital spirits fail.
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Sweet love forget my lavish tongue,
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if I offend in any sort,
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To recompence the for the wrong,
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i'le always give thee good report
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Although to me thou art unkind,
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who never gave thee any cause,
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Yet I still resolved in my mind,
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never to break Cupids Laws.
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And if I never be thy Wife
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which is the thing I justly claim.
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I vow to lead a single life,
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and never think on lovers game:
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But why speak I of life when death,
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doth every minute claim his due,
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I cannot long detain my breath,
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having a lover so untrue.
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Let all true Lovers judge aright,
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in what a case poor soul am I,
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Come gentle death and work thy spight,
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for now I am prepar'd to dye:
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O heavens forgive my love this wrong,
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done unto me a Maiden pure,
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Who for his sake must dye e're long,
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for long my life cannot endure
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