The distressed Virgin: OR, The false Youngman, and the constant Maid, The qualities of them both displayed.  
To an excellent new Tune.  

 
 

A Thousand times my love commend,  
to him that hath my heart in hold,  
I took him for my dearest friend,  
his Love I more esteemed than Gold.  
When that mine did eyes see his face,  
and that mine ears had heard his voice,  
His Love I freely did embrace,  
my heart told me he was my choice.   

O had he still continued true,  
and in affection permanent,  
Had he performed what was due,  
then had I found true hearts content:  
But he, regardless of his vow,  
which he did make to me before,  
Hath thus in sorrow left me now,  
my former follies to deplore.   

Would I had never seen those eyes,  
that (like attractive Adamants)  
Did my poor heart with love surprise,  
the power of love so me enchants.  
I have no power to leave his love,  
though with stern hate he me pursue.  
To him I will most constant prove,  
though he be faithless and untrue.   

I put my finger unto the bush,  
thinking the sweetest Rose to find,  
I pricked my finger to the bone,  
and yet I left the Rose behind:  
If Roses be such prickling flowers,  
they must be gathered when they're green,  
But she that loves an unkind Love,  
alas, she rows against the stream,   

Oh, would he but conceive aright,  
the grief that I for him sustain,  
He could not choose but change his spite  
to faithful love, and leave disdain.  
I love to have him still in place,  
his too long absence makes me mourn,  
Yet he disdains to see my face,  
and holds my company in scorn.   

It grieves my heart full sore to think,  
that he whom I so dear love,  
Should thus refuse with me to drink,  
yet can my passion ne'er remove:  
Though he, I know, could wish my death,  
so great is his inveterate hate,  
Yet I could sooner lose my breath,  
than see him wronged in name or state.   

Ill haphad I to come in place,  
where first I saw his tempting look,  
As soon as I beheld his face,  
I Cupid's prisoner strait was taken:  
And never since that fatal hour  
I have enjoyed one minutes rest,  
The thought of him is of such power,  
it never can forsake my breast.   

Then was I struck with Cupid's Dart,  
than was my fancy captivated,  
Then did I vow that still my heart  
should rest with him though me he hated:  
Then did he make a show of love,  
which did much more my heart inflame,  
But now he doth perfidious prove,  
and gives me cause his love to blame.    

The second part, To the same tune.  
 
 

NAy more, he made a vow to me,  
that I should be his wedded wife,  
And he forsakes me now I see,  
which makes me weary of my life:  
I little thought what now I find,  
that young men could dissemble so,  
Sure he's the falsest of his kind,  
ill hap have I to prove him so.   

Could any man be so hard hearted,  
to leave a harmless Maid in grief:  
From me all comfort clean is parted,  
unless his favour grant relief.  
He is the man that bred my pain,  
he is the man whose love alone  
Must be the salve to cure my pain,  
or else my life will soon be gone.   

O faithless wretch, consider well  
that Heaven abhorreth perjury:  
Great torments are prepared in Hell  
for them that thus will swear and lie.  
Oh hadst thou never made a show  
of love, thou hadst excused thy blame:  
But thy false heart full well doth know  
what oaths thy perjured tongue did frame.   

That obstacle that hinders me  
is that which I suspect full sore:  
His fruit grows on some other tree,  
and he's seduced by some whore:  
Or else he hath some other Lass,  
perhaps like me, a harmless Maid,  
Whom he may bring to such a pass,  
as I am brought by Cupid's aid.   

Oh Heavens forbid that any one,  
that bears an honest loving mind,  
Should thus have cause to grieve and moan,  
for such a knave that shames his kind.  
But why should I as passions move,  
with bitter words upon him rail,  
Whom I am ever bound to love,  
until my vital spirits fail.   

Sweet Love forgive my lavish tongue,  
if I offend in any sort:  
To recompense thee for that wrong,  
I'll always give thee good repo●t,  
Although to me thou art unkind,  
who never gave thee any cause:  
Yet I am still resolved in mind,  
never to break God Cupid's Laws.   

And if I never be thy wife,  
(which is the thing I justly claim)  
I vow to live a single life,  
and never think of Lover's game.  
But why speak I of life, when death  
doth every minute claim his due?  
I cannot long retain my breath,  
having a Lover so untrue.   

Let all true Lovers judge aright,  
in what a case poor soul am I:  
Come gentle death, and work thy spite,  
for now I am prepared to dye:  
O Heaven forgive my Love his wrong,  
done unto me a Maiden pure,  
Who for his sake must dye erelong.  
for long my life cannot endure.   M. P.  
FINIS.   

Printed at London, for F. Coules.