The Covetous Mother, Or, The terrible Overthrow of Two Loyal Lovers.
You that these woful tydings hear,
surely your hearts may bleed;
Who can forbear to shed a tear,
when they these lines shall read?
Tune of, O [...] [...] a creature.
This may be printed, R. P.
THere was a wealthy young Squire,
whom a fair Damosel did love;
Nay, and it was so intire,
nothing his fancy could move:
She born of ordinary Parents.
which when his Friends this did know,
They strove to set them at variance,
proving their sad overthrow.
Son, said his indulgent Mother,
pray you now listen to me;
I have consider'd another
suitable to-your degrée;
That you may rise to promotion,
she is both virtuous and fair,
Two thousand pound to her Portion;
therefore your folly forbear.
Mother, those Charms does inflame me
which in my Dear I behold;
Therefore I pray do not blame me,
True Love is better than Gold.
Might I have Wealth out of measure,
nothing my mind can remove;
I'le never marry for Treasure,
give me the Creature I love.
I can maintain like a Lady
she whom I much do adore;
Have I not Riches already?
what need I covet for more?
If you give me not one penny,
I have a Hundred a Year:
Now if I marry with any,
it shall be
Nancy my Dear.
Son, if your Love be so rooted
that from her you cannot part,
By me it shan't be disputed,
take her then with all my heart.
But she in this was deceitful,
as by this Ditty you'l find,
Never was action more hateful,
Malice remain'd in her mind.
Straight she repair'd to this Creature.
vowing to send away;
Yet with a smile she did meet her,
saying, dear Daughter this day
We will go buy your Attire,
every thing i'le provide;
'Tis my unfeigned desire,
that you shall be my Sons Bride.
Thus was the matter contrived.
just as his Mother would have;
Then to a Captain in private
she sold her to be a Slave:
She from Old
England did send her,
fill'd with much sorrow and woe;
There was no Soul to defend her,
but was compelled to go.
When her invention was over,
then she return'd to her Son,
Freely to him to discover,
presently what she had done:
When he heard what she had acted,
his Rapier straight he pull'd forth.
Raving like one quite distracted,
crying, you've ruin'd us both.
Then on the point of his Rapier
he did immediately fall;
His Life did go out like a Taper,
this was the ruine of all.
His Mother more than uncivil,
was of a covetous mind:
Money the Root of all evil
caus'd this confusion we find.
Now does his Mother with weeping
weary out many a day;
While her dear Son he lies sléeping
low in a cold Bed of Clay.
This is a sad Desolation,
she whom he much did adore,
Now is sent far from the Nation,
where she will ne'r see him mor
[...]
Printed for I Deacon at the Angel in Guiltspur-street, without [...]ew [...].