The Womens just Complaint:
OR,
Mans Deceitfulness in Love.
Being a most Pleasant New Play-house Song.
Long time deceiv'd with feigned Vows, at last,
The Females find their Coyness holds not fast;
For Man, that Noble Creature, cannot Love,
Nor fix his Soul on ought but what's above:
'Tis Everlasting joy he Centers on,
And leaves soft Fools, Women to dote upon;
Which once they finding, seem to loose their Care
Of hopes they had, and fall to flat dispair.
To a pleasant New play-house Tune, much in request.
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O Love thou art a Treasure,
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could Constancy remain,
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But for an hour of Pleasure,
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we feel an Age of Pain:
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How eager is the Lover,
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But when his Joys are over,
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Poor Women to discover,
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the vow of Men are vain:
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Poor Women, etc.
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In vain are all their Swearings,
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but your Love to gain,
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In vain their promis'd Fairings,
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their Lusts for to obtain:
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Their Cringing and their Bowing,
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Is worse then Thee and Thouing,
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Poor Women find the Vowing
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of men, is all but vain:
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Poor Women, etc.
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In vain their mean and Carriage,
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their promis'd Love they feign,
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In vain they promise Marriage,
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maids honours for to stain:
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In vain their Songs and Dances,
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Plays Masquerades Romances,
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Poor Women find the Fancies,
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and vows of men are vain:
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poor Women, etc.
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All Wedlock tyes Defieing,
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when once their Wills they gain,
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Scoffing at, or denying,
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what once did cause their pain:
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When with a thousand Kisses,
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And with as many Wishes,
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Poor Women they with blisses,
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deceiv'd, which vows are vain:
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Poor women, etc.
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And whosoe're believes them,
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they snare them 'tis most plain,
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And when they'r took, deceive them,
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and leave them to complain:
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Whilst we poor Fools sit Mourning,
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They our Griefs are scorning,
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Poor Women then take warning,
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for men are false and vain:
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Poor Women, etc.
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They breath false sighs to win us,
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and Counterfeit Loves pain,
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And into Bonds they bring us,
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with Flatteries so vain
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By praising of our beauties,
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And Swearing 'tis their Duties,
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Poor Woman while she mute is,
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but find at last all vain:
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Poor woman, etc.
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Much like to Airy Vapours,
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are all the Vows they feign,
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Or like Expiring Tapours,
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that ne'r will burn again:
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But leave us in deep Sorrow,
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For joys we did but borrow,
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Poor Women bid Good-morrow,
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and leave us to Complain:
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Poor Women, etc.
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'Tis sure the God of Lovers,
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made not his Laws in vain,
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He better joys discovers,
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and makes his precepts plain:
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Why then should man delude us,
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When he has so Judas'd us,
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Poor Women why be screw'd thus,
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on things we can't obtain:
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Poor women, etc.
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Let us then be contented,
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let Lordly still remain,
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For him he was invented,
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let us not wish in vain:
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For what though we endeavour,
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Yet can deserve him never,
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Poor Women wishing ever,
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yet all our wishes vain:
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Poor women, etc.
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Then let us be contented,
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and strive no more with pain,
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Least we at last repent it,
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and past all hopes, Complain:
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When there is no Relieving,
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But still we must be grieving
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Poor Women, by deceiving,
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men shew their vows are vain:
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Poor Women, etc.
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