THE
LONDON TRAGEDY:
OR, THE
True Lover's Miserable Misfortunes:
BEING
An Account of a Mercer's Daughter who broke her
Heart for the Love of her Father's eldest PRENTICE, who af-
ter her Death Drownded himself in Despair.
To the Tune of, Fond Boy, etc.
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IN London there lives a rich Mercer by Trade,
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Who had one only Daughter a beautiful Maid,
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An unfortunate Damsel as it will appear,
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When this tragical Ditty at large you shall hear;
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For the Arrows of Cupid had wounded her sore,
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Yet unknown to the Person whom she did adore.
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Her Father's head Prentice, sweet William by Name,
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Was belov'd by this Damsel, a secret flame
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Having kindl'd itsself in her ivory Breast,
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She could never enjoy one true Minute of rest,
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But in private she'd Weep and make pitiful Moan,
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Yet her Love to sweet William was clearly unkown.
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Then ringing her hands, Oh! she often did cry,
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There was never poor Soul so unhappy as I,
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Who am Languishing now at the point of Despair,
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For my Grief it is more then I'am able to bear;
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In passion of Love such sad torments I feel,
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Which I now am not able the least to conceal.
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I now am a Captive, though one I was free,
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It was Cupid that play'd the harsh Tyrant with me;
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Having wounded my Heart in a silent repose,
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Like a Lo[v]er distracted I straightways arose;
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When my soft golden Trusses in passion I tore,
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For I never had suffer'd such torment before.
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I feel how my languishing Spirits do faint,
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Yet it is but a [f]olly to make my complaint;
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There's no pleasure or joy in the World I behold,
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Therefore take hence my Robes of imbroidered Gold,
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As a Mourner this day to my Chamber I'll take,
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For the Fates has decre'd I shall dye for his sake.
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Her Parents with Sorrow began to look sad,
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For she was their dear Darling and all that they had;
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Learned Doctors was sent for to yeild her relief,
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But they knew not the absolute cause of her Grief:
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Nay, she told them they could not her Sorrows remove
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For she languishing lay in a Feaver of Love.
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To her loving Mother, she then did Reply,
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Let me see my sweet William, and then let me Dye.
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He came to her in Love without longer delay,
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But it proved too late, she was dying away;
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Ay, and these was the very last Words which she spoke
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Fare you well loving William, my Heart it is broke.
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Now when she was Dead, he was troubl'd in Mind,
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And cou'd never one Day of true Happiness find,
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For he lov'd her as dear as he did his own Life,
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But was loath to presume to seek after a Wife
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Till his time was expir d, and then 'twas too late;
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He was left to bemoan her unfortunate State.
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Like one that was Frantick he walkt too and throw,
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On the Bank of a River where Tydes they did flow,
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Crying out, with a sigh, Since she's gone to the Grave
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I will here build my Tomb in a watery Wave:
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From the Bank to the River his Body he threw,
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Where he bid all the World and his Sorrows adieu.
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FINIS.
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