The Unhappy Lady of Hackney.
To an Excellent New Tune.
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YOU youthful charming ladies fair,
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I pray now give attention,
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Unto this dismal tragedy,
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Of which I now shall mention;
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At Hackney livd a gentleman,
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Who had three comely daughters,
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And one was marryd to a Squire,
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Who causd this sad disaster.
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The youngest sister being fair,
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And of a comely feature,
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Her sisters husband night and day,
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Did tempt this lovely creature.
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Telling of her it was no sin,
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If she let him embrace her;
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Besides hed take a special care,
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It never should disgrace her.
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This innocent unto his bow,
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Indeed he quickly brought her,
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Then took her from her fathers house,
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With many tears they sought her.
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Crying, alas! where is she gone:
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My youthful child so tender,
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Thus in distraction night and day,
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Her parents did lament her.
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In all the news both far and near,
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Her father advertisd her,
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Yet he no tidings of her heard,
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So secret did he hide her.
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At length she big with child did grow,
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While this her amorous lover,
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Did oft frequent her company,
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None knew it was her brother.
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At length in travail strong she fell,
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So great it was her sorrow,
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That she could not deliverd be,
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So sending for her brother;
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With wringing hands and weeping eyes,
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In dreadful lamentation,
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O worst of men! she then did say,
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Youve wrought my desolation.
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Your wife my tender sister dear,
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Does little know my sorrow,
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My troubled soul will take its flight,
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From hence before to-morrow;
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O sister dear, forgive the crime,
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And heaven shew some pity,
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For heinous was the fault of mine,
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You wretch that did deceive me.
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Before my soul forsakes this world,
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And deaths cold arms enfold me,
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Ill write unto my Parents dear,
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Who will never more behold me;
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And you, vile traitor, while you live,
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Seek no more Virgins ruin,
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Repent, repent, I say in time,
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For Vengeance is pursuing.
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See how the pains in evry part,
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Do rend my heart asunder,
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O Death! now send thy piercing dart,
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I cant endure it longer:
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Seize ye the Infants life also,
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Whose name would be infamous,
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Because its parents wrong did do,
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By acting things incestuous.
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She being deliverd of her child,
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Her life did soon expire,
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Likewise her tender infant dear,
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Which thing she did desire.
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In Covent-Garden-Church, indeed,
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In private she was buryd,
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But Heavn did bring this thing to light,
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The lines she wrote were carryd.
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Unto her tender parents dear,
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These words were then expressed,
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My loving friends all pity me,
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Whose case is most distressed;
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With floods of tears these lines I write,
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It was my cruel brother,
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My Sisters loving husband dear,
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Whose fault I will not smother.
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He overcome me once with wine,
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And usd me at his pleasure,
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Then took me from my Parents house,
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In sorrow out of measure;
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I lay surrounded night and day,
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With child then by my brother;
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Which struggling lay within my womb,
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And I the unhappy mother.
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At length in travail I did fall,
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While many did lament me,
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It was the cry of one and all,
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That there was none could help me.
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And I my precious life must loose,
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So before my life departed,
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I wrote these lines to let you know,
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The traitor proved false hearted.
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When her dear parents read the same,
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It scard their souls with terror,
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Her father cryd, my daughter dear,
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Would I had known thy sorrow.
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Her corps they quickly had took up,
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And surgeons for to view her,
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For fear that she had murderd been,
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By him that did undo her.
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Her eldest brother a hopeful youth,
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Grief burst his heart asunder,
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And he this life did soon depart,
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Her sister raves like thunder.
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To think her husband was so base,
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To prove her sisters ruin,
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Her parents said, alas! my child,
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Your death is our undoing,
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