The VIRGIN's COMPLAINT AGAINST Young MENS Unkindness.
Of young Mens falshood she doth much complain,
Resolving never to love Man again:
Experience tells her Men love but for fashion,
That makes her rail against them in such passion.
To the Tune of,
Cupid's Courtesie,
&c.
I Am so deep in love,
I cannot hide it,
It breaks me of my rest,
and of my quiet;
For when I see his face,
it so inflames me,
That I must love him still,
though the world blame me.
O fye upon this love,
it will undo me,
I'll ne'er love man again,
should the Gods wooe me;
For if once I can
shake off this passion,
I'll ne'er love man again,
but only for fashion.
There's no believe in man,
though they seem civil,
For when they
[...]it like saints,
they think most evil;
Therefore be rul'd by me,
never trust no man,
But if you needs must love,
pray love a woman.
I wish blind
Cupid had
been soundly sleeping.
When like a crafty lad
he came so creeping,
To wound my tender heart,
and pierce my marrow,
I felt his fatal dart,
to my great sorrow.
Never poor virgin was
in such a taking,
I oft lookt in my glass,
pleasure forsaking;
My cheeks were pale and wan,
my lips did trimble,
Because I lov'd a man
that did dissemble.
O what a simple girle
I was for certain,
For to love Lord or Earl,
I will not hearken;
Not one in twenty score
but is deceitful,
Therefore I'll love no more,
men are deceitful.
It is their constant trade
to cog and flatter,
Or to delude a maid,
her fort to batter;
But if they prate and lye,
I'll not believe them,
Such love I'll never try,
altho' it grieve them.
They'll profess and pretend
much of aff
[...]ction,
Vntil they make you bend
to love's subj
[...]ction:
Of your hearts craftily
they will bereave you,
Till a new face they spy,
then they will leave you.
Their words are all but wind,
like winter weather,
Vnconstant and unkind,
light as a feather:
I tell you flat and plain
I'll not abide it,
To love a man again,
once having try'd it.
Blame me not though I be
something in passion,
For now I plainly see
it is the fashion;
For such false-hearted men
are grown so common,
That when I love again,
I'll love a woman.
Why should a woman dote
on such a bubble,
That's good for nothing but
to procure trouble?
Every day I will pray
for to live single,
That my affection may
with no man's mingle.
Ladies take my advice,
you have rare features,
Always be coy and nice
to such false creatures;
No man will constant prove,
no not my brother;
Then if you needs must love,
love one another.
Printed for A.M.W.O. and T. Thackeray, at the Angel in Duck-lane.