Loves Overthrow;
OR,
A full and true account of a young Maid that lived in
Exeter-Exchange-Court, in the Strand, who being deeply in Love with a young Ser-
ving-man, whose care was so great, that he would not marry till he was in a good Con-
dition to maintain a Wife; which resolution of his bred jealousie in her, whereup-
on in reality of his Love, he presented her with a Ring, but she afterwads dispairing
of his Constancy, disdainfully returned him the Ring again, and within a short time af-
ter poysoned herself; And now she lies buried near the M[a]y-Pole in the Strand, with a
Stake drove through her body; Being there Bruied the Thirteenth day of May last.
To the Tune of, Bateman.
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ALL you that know what 'tis to love,
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come mourn a while with me,
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For unto you I will declare,
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a mournful Tragedy:
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A fair and comely Damsel did
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live lately in the Strand,
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Whose fancy taught her to obey,
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loves power and strict command.
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So that she deeply fell in Love
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with a young Serving-man,
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Who Loyal unto her did prove,
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yet here her woe began:
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Each others Love they did imbrace,
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and joyntly did agree,
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[T]hat in a very little space,
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they both should Marry'd be.
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The Young-man he was full of care,
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and fearful to ingage
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Himself in Wedlock, which did put
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this Maid into a rage:
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She loved him exceeding well,
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and so he loved too,
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But 'cause he made a small demur,
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she knew not what to do.
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He did intend all should do well,
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e're he would Marry'd be,
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And never take a Wife to bring
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her into misery:
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So for this cause he did delay,
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and Marriage did prolong,
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Till she from reason went astray,
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now mind my mournful Song.
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She did mistake his good intent,
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poor silly harmless Maid,
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And cry'd, she knew not what he meant,
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of him she was afraid:
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Quoth she, if he should prove unkind,
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what would become of me?
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He fickle is I now do find,
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and deals deceitfully.
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If Fortune will not be my friend,
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and teach him to be kind,
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My life will quickly have an end,
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my death draws near I find:
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Thus discontented did she live,
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and could not quiet be,
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For nothing could her pains remove,
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hatch'd up by Jealousie.
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Her fears did every day increase,
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least he should faithless be,
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Her panting heart could find no ease,
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a mournful Soul was she:
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At last she fell into dispair,
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and Satan prompt her on,
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To draw her Soul into a snare,
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and thus her woe begun.
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In hourly Torments still was she,
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and could not be content,
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But for to set her troubles free,
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this way to work she went:
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To Holbourn she one day did go,
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and passion was her guide;
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Which did procure her overthrow,
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and made her go aside.
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Then with a Cup of Poyson strong,
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she ends her mournful Life,
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'Cause she before her time did long,
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to be a married Wife:
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After this Poyson she had took,
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a week she lay in pain,
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Thinking her Love had her forsook,
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which made her to complain.
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And now she Buried is likewise,
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near the May-pole in the Strand,
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A Stake is through her body drove,
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as we do understand:
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Then Maidens all be sure take heed,
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in Love you ne'r dispair,
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Since Jealousie caus'd this cruel deed,
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true Lovers all beware.
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