TRUE LOVE MURDERED
OR A NEW
DIALOGUE
BETWEEN
A Young GENTLEMAN and a MAID of lower Degree.
To the Tune of Fortune my Foe.
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THere was a worthy young Squyer,
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Whom a fair Damesel did love,
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Ay and it was so intyre,
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That nothing his Fancy could move,
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She Born of Ordinary Parents.
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This when his friends did know,
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Straight wayes to set them at varience,
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Proving their sad overthrow,
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Son said the diligent Mother,
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I pray thee come listen to me,
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For I have considered another,
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More suteable to thy degree,
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That thou mayest rise to preferment,
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She is both vertuous and Fair,
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A Thousand pound to her Portion,
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Therefore thy Folly forbear:
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O Mother this love doth inflame me,
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In which my Dear I behold,
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Therefore I pray you do not blame me,
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For true love is better then Gold:
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Might I have wealth out of measure,
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Nothing my Fancy can move,
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For I will never Marry for Treasure,
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Let me have the Creature I love,
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I can mantain like a Lady,
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She whom I do much adore,
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Then having got Riches already,
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What need I Covet for more,
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If you give me not on penny,
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I have a hundreth a year.
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And if I Marry with any,
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It shall be with Nansie my Dear:
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Now Son if your Love be so Rooted,
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That from her ye can not part,
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Then by me it shall not be disputed,
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Then take her with all my heart,
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But she in this was deceitful,
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As by this ditty you will find.
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For never was Person more hateful,
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For Malice remain'd in her mind,
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Then straight she repaired to the Creatur
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Vowing to send her away,
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Yet with a smile she did meet her,
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Saying dear daughter this day,
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Let us buy thy atyre,
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And all other things well provide,
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For it is my full desire,
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That thou should be my Sons Bride,
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Then was the matter contrived,
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Just as the mother would have,
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Then into a Captain in private,
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She sold her to be a slave;
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She from old England did send her,
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Filled with Sorrow and Woe,
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There was no Soul to defend her,
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But was compelled to go,
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But when her Invention was over,
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Straight she returns to her Son,
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Freely to him did discover,
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Perfectly what she had done,
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When he heard what she had Acted,
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His Raper he straight did pull forth,
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Crying like creature Distracted,
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Saying ye ruin'd us both.
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Then on the point of his Raper:
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He did immediatly fall,
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His Life went out like a Taper,
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This was the Ruine of all:
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His Mother more then useual,
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Was of a courteous mind,
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Money is the root of all evil,
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Causes contension we find,
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Then did his Mother outweren,
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Wearie out many a day,
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Whilst her dear Son lay a Sleeping,
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In a low Bed of Clay,
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This was a sorrowful Ditty,
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She whom He did most adore,
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Straight to be sent from the Nation,
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Where he shall never see her more.
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