THE
Mournful Maid of Berkshire:
CONTAINING
Her Woeful Lamentation for her dearly beloved Maiden-head,
which she unfortunately lost upon the Wheat-mow, with lusty Dick
the Dung-man. To the Tune of, The Jealous Lover. Licens'd.
|
ATtend you Friends and Parents dear,
|
Unto this sad Relation here,
|
Which to the World I here unfold,
|
A greater Truth cannot be told:
|
When Men to Wickedness are bent,
|
And Parents give their joynt-consent,
|
To the Commision of their Crimes,
|
Well may we say, Sad is the times.
|
Friends ought for to instruct them so,
|
That they the Laws of God might know;
|
But some are of another mind,
|
As by this Sequel you shall find:
|
Their lives a Woman in Berk-shire,
|
Who has one lubey Son we hear,
|
And he endeavur'd night and day,
|
A modest Damosel to betray.
|
That lived with his Mother then;
|
She could not be at quiet, when
|
He found her all alone, for still
|
He prest to gain her kind good will.
|
The modest Damosel often cry'd,
|
His wanton suit must be deny'd;
|
Yet ne'er the less, this would not do,
|
For still he did his ends pursue.
|
Sometimes he'd to her Chamber creep,
|
When she perhaps was fast asleep,
|
Thinking he might acceptance find,
|
But she was of another mind:
|
And would not yield to his Request,
|
Yet he'd not let her be at rest,
|
Swearing that he himself would kill,
|
If he of her had not his will.
|
Say what you will, 'tis all in vain,
|
My Reputation i'll not stain;
|
Forbear your importunity,
|
Why should you strive to ruin me.
|
If you do not your suit forbear,
|
Then do I solemnly declare,
|
Your Mother, she the truth shall know,
|
How you would seek my overthrow.
|
He never valu'd what she said,
|
So that at length this modest Maid,
|
Inform'd his Mother out of hand,
|
Who gave the Lass, this Repremand,
|
Why Houswife, Houswife, she reply'd
|
Why must my Son be thus deny'd,
|
Let him enjoy his Heart's Delight,
|
Perhaps he may your love requite:
|
For if by him with Child you prove,
|
My Son I will in kindness move
|
To take you for his lawful Wife,
|
Then will you lead a happy life.
|
The Maid was loath to trust to this,
|
But said, I pray sweet Mistress.
|
Let me go seek some other place,
|
For fear he brings me to disgra[c]e.
|
Her Dame reply'd, As I am true,
|
I can't, nor will not part with you;
|
Therefore pray set your heart at ease,
|
And see my Son you strive to please.
|
Soon after this, he chanc'd to meet
|
The Damosel on a Mow of Wheat,
|
Whom he with vows soon over came.
|
Amd [r]eapt what I forbear to name.
|
Now when the Damosel prov'd with Child,
|
She then was bitterly revil'd,
|
Both by the Mother and the Son,
|
They from their former vows did run.
|
The Damosel then in sad distress,
|
With grief of heart and heaviness,
|
Cry'd out, Behold my wretched state,
|
A Creature most unfortunate.
|
Would I the Wretch had never known
|
For here in bitter tears of moan,
|
I do my Lamentation make,
|
This heart of mine with grief will break.
|
Ye youthful Damsels, fair and young,
|
Take care that no deluding tongue;
|
Does e'er insnare you for you'll find,
|
Men most unconstant, like the wind.
|
They seldom value what they swear,
|
Therefore young Damsels all beware;
|
Least at the last you weep like me,
|
In tears of sad extremity.
|
|
|
|
|
|