True Love Rewarded with Cruelty.
Being a true Account of one Mary Story, a Maid, who once lived
at Limehouse, in the County of Middlesex that was in love with one who
had promised her Marriage, so that the Wedding-day was appoin-
ted, but he changed his mind, and forsook her, whereupon she took greif,
and dyed about the latter end of July, 1683.
Tune of, Tender hearts of London City.
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YOu that ever in love delighted,
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Pitty me that now am slighted
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by a young-man too unkind,
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That did leave me, and deceive me,
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which distracts both braine and mind.
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I am strangely discontented,
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Night and day I am tormented,
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my heart is ready for to break;
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But i'le give o're, and love no more,
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for my deceitfull George's sake.
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But why talk I of giving over?
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That am now a dying lover,
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languishing through his disdain;
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And now with smart I break my heart,
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but he ne'r pitties this my pain.
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He to me did promise Marriage;
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Oh! but mind this strange miscarriage,
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his wavering mind began to change,
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He pleaded debt, which made me fret,
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this alteration was so strange.
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But he strove to stand the tryall,
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What would follow his denyall,
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and to my sorrow now I know
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That I must die; most dreadfully
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Love wrought my fatal overthrow.
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That very day I should be married,
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Then, alas! I so miscarried,
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he said that he ow'd twenty pound;
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This cruel news did me amuse,
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and gave to me a mortal wound.
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He said he'd not bring me to trouble,
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Then my sorrows they grew double,
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but 'twas onely a pretence
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Me to deceive, and strangely leave;
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as I have been informed since.
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Oh that he should be so cruel
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To my flame to add a fuell
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that a Maiden will destroy!
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No hope can save me from my Grave
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since I have lost mine only joy.
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In him alone I was delighted,
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Now my daies are all benighted,
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all my comforts now are fled,
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While I do mourn like one forlorn;
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mind what I say on dying-bed.
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Tho there's nothing here can daunt thee,
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Night and day i'le surely haunt thee
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wheresoever thou dost go;
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You broke Loves laws, & that's the cause
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that has procured my overthrow.
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Your false tongue was quick and nimble,
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With me you did so dissemble,
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that you gain'd my tender heart,
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Which now will break for your dear sake,
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that are the cause of all my smart.
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Call to mind your gross offences,
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Broken vows, and False pretences,
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which my ruine did procure;
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My heart you won, and I'me undone,
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cause you to me are so obdure.
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Why should you be so ungratefull,
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When I proved not deceitfull?
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but as constant as the Dove;
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Why at this rate do you me hate,
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and slight me thus for my true love?
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Oh! remember all your wishes,
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Treacherous vows, and fawning kisses,
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that you once bestow'd on me,
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Me to insnare; but have a care,
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lest my poor Ghost does trouble thee.
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In your baseness never glory,
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Boast not o're poor Mary Story,
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time may come when you may rue
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That you betray'd a harmless Maid,
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who prov'd so loyal unto you.
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Though these lines may little move thee,
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For thy faults I must reprove thee
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with my latest murmuring breath;
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I once again do here complain
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that thou hast brought me to my death.
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You that I do leave behind me,
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I intreat you all to mind me,
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my last speeches ne'r forget,
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This cruel man his Lover kills,
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that he so light by her doth set.
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Then she did begin to shiver,
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All her joynts did shake and quiver,
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her Cherry-lips look'd wan and pale,
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And cruel Death did stop her breath,
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so strongly he did her assaile.
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You that hear this mournfull ditty,
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Cannot chuse but greive, and pitty
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this poor Creature, in distress,
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For she did find he was unkind;
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she died cause he was pittiless.
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Youngmen never prove disloyal,
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Put not Maidens to the tryal
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when you come their loves to win,
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Do not pretend to be a friend,
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unless their ruines you'l begin.
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