Forsaken Lovers Resolution.
Poor Silvia's much pretended friend,
Against her Honour laid a Plot;
But when she would not give consent,
His Passion then was soon forgot.
To the Tune of, Philander .
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A Dieu false men adieu,
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deceive poor maids no more,
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Not one in ten is true,
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which grieves poor Maids full sore:
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And I poor soul beleiv'd too soon,
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the flatteries of my dear,
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Who made me mourn,
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Left me forlorn,
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to part with many a tear.
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Now I too late lament,
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my fond Credulity,
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Which caus'd my discontent,
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whilst I in flames did fry:
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But it shall ne'r be said of me,
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for love I broke my heart,
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But i'le defie
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Those Darts that flye,
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and cause poor Lovers smart.
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Thy Quiver and thy Bow
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blind Cupid I do scorn,
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It shall no more be so
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that I shall be forlorn:
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Nor never will I man believe,
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whilst I enjoy my breath,
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Cringes, and Bows,
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And flattering vows,
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I hate far worse than death.
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I had been bravely fool'd,
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had I gave my consent,
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By reason I was School'd,
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his offers to prevent;
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He aim'd at my Virginity,
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I plainly did perceive,
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But for his sake,
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This vow I make,
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no man for to believe.
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The second part, to the same Tune .
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I kept my Virgins Fort,
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and stoutly did deny,
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Hir vigorous assault,
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and never would comply:
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For that had sure my ruine been,
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had I thereto agreed,
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I did espy
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His Treachery,
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and he could not proceed.
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Trust not the fairest Tongue,
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for young-men will deceive,
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And Maidens that are young,
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are apt for to believe:
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But they too late do oft Lament,
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and can find no redress,
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Oh! then beware,
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And have a care,
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of such like simpleness.
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For when you are undone,
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the World will you deride,
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For so soon being won,
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let reason be your guide:
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And never do a promise trust,
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for when their wills they gain,
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They'l laugh you see,
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Exceedingly,
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and will you quite disdain.
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'Tis sad to see a Soul,
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rob'd of Virginity,
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How she will then condoule,
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for her simplicity:
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But those that can their plots find out
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full happy sure they are,
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Then Maidens all,
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Both great and small,
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of such like men beware.
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Ten thousand are beguil'd,
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by false deceitful men,
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And when they are quite spoil'd ,
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there is not one in ten
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That will upon them pitty take,
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but cry too kind they were,
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Tho' now forsook,
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They might have took
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of their repute more care.
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FINIS.
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