The Maids Unhappinesse OR The Youngmens Unconstancy. When Maidens seem for to be kind, Youngmen do from them fly: But if the Maidens coy they find Then they for love can dye. Tune of Philander.
|
ALas poor Female Sex!
|
Nature your ruine meant;
|
In vain tis to perplex,
|
or still for to lament.
|
For youngmen they prove so unkind,
|
in these our latter days,
|
Theyl swear theyl love,
|
And true will prove,
|
Yet cheat you twenty ways.
|
First theyl pretend to doat,
|
by power of charming eyes,
|
Which if you well do note,
|
youl find them filld with lyes.
|
Oh! what a prating they will keep,
|
and load you with their praise,
|
Which if you mind,
|
Twill make you weep,
|
For theyl cheat you twenty ways.
|
Great Portions are the things
|
at which they chiefly aim,
|
Theyl cry that Gold hath wings,
|
and its dislike proclaim.
|
But rich or poor they will pretend,
|
to Crown their loves with Bayes,
|
But yet deceive you
|
In the end,
|
And cheat you twenty ways.
|
If you but kind do seem,
|
youe fond theyl quickly say,
|
Not worthy of esteem,
|
and quickly keep away,
|
If you seem coy theyl count you proud,
|
and loftiest of these days,
|
Do what you will
|
Ime sure they still
|
Will cheat you twenty ways.
|
If you go fine your proud,
|
unless your Portions great,
|
If poor in Cloaths, theyl flout,
|
poor Girls they say they hate.
|
And he that ner did see five pound
|
of his own in all his dayes,
|
With vows and Odaths
|
Will you confound,
|
And cheat you twenty ways.
|
The Fair Maidens Resolutions.
|
COme, come be of good cheer,
|
lets merry be, and wise,
|
For youngmen they will leer,
|
when Maidens them denies.
|
When with a prating Jack you meet,
|
ner mind him what he says,
|
Though he pretends
|
His love is great,
|
He cares for no delays.
|
Then they will be as sweet,
|
and bend unto your bow,
|
With Youngsters you may meet,
|
if you but serve them so.
|
Oh how theyl cringe at your command,
|
and you obey always,
|
If once they find
|
You are inclind
|
To hold them in delays.
|
Just as you usd to sigh,
|
so they will panting sit,
|
You weary were of life,
|
now theyr bereft of wit.
|
And as you usd most secretly
|
to spend your youthfull days,
|
So you will spy
|
Them sighing lye,
|
But hold them in delays.
|
I by experience provd
|
what here I do protest,
|
By one that said he lovd,
|
but I thought twas in jest.
|
I at a distance kept him still.
|
and gaind my self great praise;
|
He had rather die
|
He still did cry,
|
Than languish in delays.
|
Could he but see my smile,
|
His heart to heaven did fly,
|
If I but frown[]d a while
|
then was he like to die.
|
Thus did I play both fast and loose,
|
as the Old Proverb saies,
|
But now Ive got
|
Him in my Arms,
|
By seeming long delays.
|
|
|
|
|
|