The Forlorn Damsel
Well, since theres neither Old nor Young,
will pitty on me take,
My passion now doth grow so strong,
I fear my heart will break.
The Tune is, Moggys Jealousie.
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COme pitty a Damsel distressed,
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all you that have tasted the bliss,
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For while you with favours are blessed,
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I hardly can meet with a kiss:
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Which makes me resolve in my anguish,
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in Desarts to take my abode,
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For I now in my sorrows do languish,
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my Maiden-head is such a load.
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Oh! why was I born to such fortune,
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as makes me so sadly repine,
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There is no young-man so importune,
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as to pitty these sorrows of mine:
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Now must I be forcd to complain,
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to some stranger that travels the Road,
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To ease all my sorrow and pain,
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since my Maiden-head is such a load.
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By night I with dreams am tormented,
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supposing I am at the Game,
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But waking am so discontented,
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that I my hard fortune do blame:
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O then I sit sighing and sobbing,
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and send forth my wishes abroad,
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My heart is ene broken with throbbing,
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since, etc.
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ALL you that are happy by tasting,
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that which I do so much desire,
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See how I lye panting and wasting,
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consuming by amorous fire:
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Theres none that is moved with pitty,
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while plainly my folly is showd,
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And I sing this sorrowful Ditty,
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That my Maiden-head is a great load
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This burthen cannot be endured,
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but under it sadly I groan,
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Yet little hope have to be cured,
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since I am distressed alone:
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Theres many that never saw twenty,
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that in pleasure live in their abode,
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Who say to me, do not torment me,
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though your Maiden-head be a great load.
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But by them I cannot be ruled,
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my passions so violent strong,
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For never was any so fooled,
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that lived a Maiden so long;
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But I must and I will have a man,
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that with me shall make his abode,
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For let me do all that I can,
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still my Maiden-head, etc.
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How happy are you that are Married,
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and taste of Loves joys when you please
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With patience too long have I tarryd,
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till longing hath bred a Disease:
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More loathsome to me then the Venom,
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of Serpent or poysonous Toad,
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The Young-men, the Devil is in um,
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to let me lye under this load.
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And now to conclude my sad Ditty,
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some lusty young Lad come away,
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And a poor Maid take some pitty,
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whose Vitals begin to decay:
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For want of those pleasant delights,
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that to others are commonly showd,
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I pine both by days and by nights,
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since my Maiden-head is such a load.
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