The Fatal VIRGIN:
Or, the young Lady's Drowning herself
In the River of Thames,
Who leap'd out of a Boat in the middle of the River
on Saturday last at Ten at Night, and taken up on Sun-
day morning the 23d. of July, 1710. at break of Day.
Tune of, forgive me if your Looks I thought, etc.
Licens'd and Enter'd.
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GOod People listen and you'll find,
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the Ruin of a Maiden;
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Whose tender Years to love inclind'd,
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her mind was heavy laden,
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Not Eighteen Year she was 'tis said,
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and yet was discontented,
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Ah fair unhappy youthful maid,
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who was in mind tormented.
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She was of wealthy Parents bred,
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and had good Education,
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And was a comly vertuous Maid,
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as any in the Nation,
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The Father and the Mother to,
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with her they much were pleased,
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But Death about six Month ago,
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on her dear Father seized.
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And since with melancholliness,
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this maiden has been taken,
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And 'twas for love as many guess,
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if they are not mistaken.
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Her Mother with a tender care,
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was still to please her Daughter,
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Sent her to Hamstead for the Air,
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but mark what hapned after.
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On Saturday this maiden fair,
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unto the Wells was walking,
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Two or three did attend her there
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to please her in her talking:
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But when they of young Lovers spoke,
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and happen'd to name many,
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She sigh'd as if her heart had broke,
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and wish'd she ne're had any
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But these divertions would not do,
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the maiden was for moving,
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Well madam stay, and we'll go to,
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you'll find me at my Lodging,
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She walked on with such a speed,
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that they could not come nigh her,
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And privately took Coach indeed,
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for London, saying, drive her.
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And when the Coachman she had clear'd,
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to Powls-Wharf straight she highed,
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Which was at ten a Night we heard,
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Next Skuller the men cryed,
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But she replied, No, no, no,
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the little Boys i'le go we'th',
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And to the Bankside I will go
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and thither Children row me.
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When in the middle they were row'd,
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without one Word of speaking,
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Out of the Boat herself she throw'd,
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the Boys hearts they were aking,
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For they their Fair could see no more,
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and being thus benighted,
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They hastily Row'd to the shoar,
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and terribly were frighted.
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But the next morn at break of day,
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near London-Bridge was 'spyed
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Hitch'd to the Post this maiden lay,
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who in the River died,
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And in her Pocket there was found,
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a Letter did discover,
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The cause why she herself did drown,
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for a perjur'd Lover.
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Oh! cruel Lovers be more kind,
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unto soft hearted maidens,
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And keep the Oaths that you do bind,
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which makes them heavy Laden,
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For perjur'd Vows who can them bear,
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young men I do declare it,
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When you break what you vow & swear
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young maidens cannot bear it.
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And this Advice she left behind,
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young maids be not deceived,
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tho' young men swear & seem most kind,
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they're not to be believed,
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But shun them least you Perish to,
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Yet this I must discover,
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Blest is the Maid whose Lover's true,
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and happy is the Lover.
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