The Kind VIRGINs Complaint
AGAINST
A Young MANs Unkindness.
Of young Mans Falshood she doth complain,
Resolving never to love Man again;
Experience tells her Men love but for Fashion,
That makes her rail against them in such a Passion.
To the Tune of, Cupids Courtesy, etc.
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I AM so deep in Love,
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I cannot hide it,
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It breaks me of my Rest,
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And of my Quiet:
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For when I see his Face,
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It so inflames me,
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That I must love him still,
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Though the World blame me.
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O fie upon this Love,
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It will undo me;
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Ill never love Man again,
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Should the Gods woo me:
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Now if that once I can,
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Shake off this Passion,
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Ill neer love Man again,
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Only for Fashion.
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Theres no Belief in Man,
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Though they seem civil;
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For when they sit like Saints,
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They think most Evil:
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Therefore be ruld by me,
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Never trust a Man;
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But if you needs must love,
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Pray love a Woman.
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I wish blind Cupid had
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Been sound a sleeping,
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When like a crafty Lad
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He came so creeping,
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To wound my tender Heart,
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And pierce my Marrow,
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I felt his fatal Dart,
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To my great Sorrow.
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Never poor Virgin was
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In such a Taking,
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I oft lookd in my Glass,
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Pleasure forsaking:
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My Cheeks were pale and wan,
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My Lips did tremble,
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Because I lovd a Man
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That did dissemble.
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Oh! what a simple Girl
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I was for certain,
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For to love Lord or Earl,
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I would not hearken:
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Not one in twenty Score,
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But is deceitful;
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Therefore Ill love no more,
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Men are ungrateful.
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It is their constant Trade
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To cog and flatter;
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Or to delude a Maid,
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Her for to banter:
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But if they prate and lie,
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Ill not believe them;
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Such Love Ill never try,
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Although it grieves them.
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Theyll profess, and pretend
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Much of Affection,
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Until they make you bend
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To Loves Subjection:
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Of your Hearts craftily
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They will bereave you,
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Till a new Face they spy,
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Then they will leave you.
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Their Words they are but Wind,
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Like Winter Weather,
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Unconstant and unkind,
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Light as a Feather:
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I tell you flat and plain,
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Ill not abide it,
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To love a Man again,
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Once having tryd it.
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Blame me not, though I be
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Something in Passion;
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For now I plainly see,
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It is the Fashion,
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For such false-hearted Men,
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Are grown so common,
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That when I love again,
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Ill love a Woman.
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Why should a Woman dote
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On such a Bubble,
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Thats good for nothing, but
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To procure Trouble:
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Every Day I will pray
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For to live single,
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That my Affections may
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With no Mans mingle.
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Ladies, take my Advice,
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You have rare Features,
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Always be coy and nice
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To such false Creatures;
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No Man will constant prove,
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No not my Brother,
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Then if you need must love,
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Love one another.
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