The True Lovers Ghost.
False Men do often prove unkind
to those that would to them be true;
Then carefully my story mind,
the like before you never knew.
To the Tune of, Tender Hearts of London-City.
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LAdies all behold and wonder,
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At the pains that I lye under,
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burning in a quenchless fire,
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What I endure theres none can cure,
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but he whose person I admire.
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Vertues in him still are shining,
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Though his pitty is declining,
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and his heart doth grow obdure,
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My tender heart doth feel the smart,
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that none but he himself can cure,
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Now I languish in my trouble,
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And my sorrows they grow double,
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night and day I do lament,
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But his disdain creates my pain,
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and all my comforts circumvent.
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Not a Maid in all the Nation,
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Ever took more recreation,
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when I was from passion free,
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But now in vain, I may complain,
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for loosing of my Liberty.
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Oh that Love should have such power,
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Maidens freedoms to devour,
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making Captive, who were free,
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You maids take care, of love beware,
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least you in chains do lye like me.
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Never did a slighting Lover,
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So much cruelty discover,
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as this Tyrant doth to me,
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Oh come kind death, and stop my breath,
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and end my pain and misery.
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As she sat thus discontented,
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Of all hopes she was prevented,
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for death with his all-killing dart,
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Did give a stroak, which her heart broke
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and so she dyd with deadly smart.
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When these tidings were brought to him
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It was enough for to undo him,
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sorrow then did him surprize,
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Oh then he said, what is she dead,
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the tears ran trickling from his eyes.
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Since my Love is gone before me,
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She that did so much adore me,
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Ile make hast with her to be,
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Deaths killing dart shall pierce my heart
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my Love I come, I follow thee.
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In this world I take no pleasure,
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But do grieve beyond all measure,
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cause I proved so unkind,
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But shes gone, my joys are flown,
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and long I will not stay behind.
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Thus he sat with grief tormented,
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Her misfortune he lamented,
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at last he struck his gentle breast,
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And sighing said, O lovely Maid,
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how for my sake wert thou opprest.
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Then to him her Ghost appeared,
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At which sight he greatly feared,
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least he should be snatchd away,
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Yet tis, said I, but equity,
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because my Love I did betray.
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Then on him the Ghost it seized,
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Whose anger could not be appeased,
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but away with him it flew,
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And through the ayr, it did him bear,
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he had no time to bid adieu.
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Lovers all but mind this Stor[y,]
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That my pen hath layd before ye,
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and prove loyal unto death,
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Then you will find, content in mind,
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when you do loose your vital breath.
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