The two Unfortunate LOVERS.
Being a true RELATION of
The lamentable End of John True and Susan Massie.
Their Lives this Ditty doth relate,
Tho they dyd Unfortunate.
To the Tune of, The Brides Burial.
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ATTEND, you Lovers, and give Ear,
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Unto my mournful Song,
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Of two that loved faithfully,
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Yet did each other Wrong:
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At Coventry in Warwickshire,
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This young Man he did dwell,
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His Name John True, a Shoemaker,
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Who livd in it full well.
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At Corley did this Maiden dwell,
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Three Miles from Coventry,
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Yet for the Love he bore to her,
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He would her often see.
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And coming to her on a Day,
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He told to her his Mind;
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Susan, quoth he, I love thee dear,
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Be not to me unkind.
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If thou canst love and fancy me,
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In Heart and eke in Mind;
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Susan, quoth he, I love thee dear,
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Be not to me unkind:
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Thy chearfull Looks rejoice my Heart,
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And merry make my Mind,
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Sweet Susan, then love me again,
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Be not to me unkind.
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Good John, I thank you for your Love,
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And wish you home to tarry.
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I am too young for you to wed,
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And have no Mind to marry:
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Where you do dwell are Maidens store,
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Of Beauty fair and free,
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Set not thy Love upon me then
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For I cannot love thee.
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This Answer struck him to the Heart,
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As cold as any Stone,
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Then homewards straight he did return,
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With many a Sigh and Groan,
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Wishing that he neer had been born,
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Or in his Cradle dyd;
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Unhappy Man to love so true,
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And yet to be denyd.
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Quoth he, I will to her again,
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And hear what she doth say;
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It may be she will be more kind,
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Tho first she said me nay,
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Then coming to the Town again,
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He sent for her straightway,
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Desiring her to speak to him,
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But still she said him nay,
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Then did he sigh, lament, and grieve,
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And knew not what to say;
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Then did he take bis Pen in Hand,
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And wrote these Words straightway,
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My Hearts Delight and only Joy,
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Kill me not with Disdain,
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Vouchsafe that I may speak with thee,
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To rid me of my Pain.
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Resolve me, Sweetest, I thee pray,
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Why is thy Hatred such;
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I know no Cause, unless it be,
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For loving thee too much:
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As is my Name, so is my Love,
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Sweet Susan, unto thee;
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True is my Name, true is my Love,
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And evermore shall be.
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My Love is loyal, just, and good,
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Kill me not with Disdain,
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Rather do me the Courtesy,
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To love for Love again.
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When she had read, and understood,
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His Mind and his Intent,
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She then began to like and love,
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And yield him Hearts Content.
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John, I am thine, if thou best mine,
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For ever and for aye,
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It was to try thy Constancy,
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That I did say thee nay:
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But heres my Hand, my Heart, and Love,
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Ill neer thee more deny,
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My Love is constant, firm, and true,
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And shall be till I die.
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Then they embracd each others Love,
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And joind in Heart and Voice,
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Tha[t] she of [h]im, and he of her,
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Had made so sweet a Choice:
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But Fortune that doth often frown,
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Where she before did smile,
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The Mans Delight, the Maiden's Joy,
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Full soon she did beguile.
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When she was settled in her Love,
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Then he would change his Mind,
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And for to try her Constancy,
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Would be to her unkind:
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And thus resolved in his Mind,
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He[]d come to her no more,
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But went and wood another Maid,
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Which grievd her Heart full sore.
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Quoth he, she proved unto me
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Inconstant and unkind,
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But now her true Love I have won,
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Ill bear the self-same Mind.
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When she perceivd his Love to her,
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Not as it wont to be,
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She did lament, sigh, weep, and Grief,
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And then these Words said she.
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False hearted Wretch, adieu, quoth she,
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Disloyal and unkind,
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And if I die for Love of thee,
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Thou shalt not know my Mind,
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Wo to the Time I did believe,
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That flattering Tongue of thine;
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O that I neer had seen the Tears
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That from those false Eyes came.
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Hard Fate had I that set my Love
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On one that mocked me,
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Scarce all the Country could yield,
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A Man so false as he,
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Thus she was brought to a mean State,
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All Comfort from her fled,
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She did desire to speak with him
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Before that she was dead.
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Her Friends did seek to chear her up,
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And to make glad her Mind,
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But she was killd with loving him,
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Who provd to her unkind.
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False-hearted Man, may never Maid
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Love thee as I have done,
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But may my Death rememberd be,
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The Time that is to come.
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But may all Maids example take
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By this my mournful Death;
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And now, my Guide, receive my Sou
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To thee I yield my Breath.
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Thus dyd the Pattern of true Love,
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Thus dyd a harmless Maid,
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Thus died as good a harmless Lass,
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As ever Love betrayd.
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Six Maids in White, as Custom is,
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Did bear her to the Grave;
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Her Parents weep, lament, and mourn,
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No Child at all they have.
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When as her Lover understood
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For Truth that she was dead,
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He ragd, and ready was to tear
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The Hair from off his Head.
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But when he came unto the Place,
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Where his true Lover lay,
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He straightway ran into the Grave,
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And then these Words did say:
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Susan, quoth he, Ill kiss thy Grave,
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Upon my bended Knee,
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Whereby Ill shew to all the World,
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How dear I loved thee.
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And as he lay upon the Ground,
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He heard a Voice to say,
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John True, if eer thou lovd me dear,
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Make Haste and come away.
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Then straight he rose up from the Grave,
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And stood like one struck dumb,
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And when he had regaind his Speech,
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He said, I come, I come.
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And thus like one out of his Wits,
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He ragd in piteous Sort,
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That all the Neighbours presently,
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Were grievd at the Report:
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And thus with Sorrow, Grief of Heart,
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He lay a whole Fortnight;
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And when he had confessd his Fault,
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He yielded up his Spirit.
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According to his Hearts Desire,
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And as he did request,
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They diggd his Grave, and laid him down
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By her whom he lovd best.
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Ye young Men all, that have true Love,
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Be true unto your Friend:
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And if you love, be sure your Love
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Be true unto the End.
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