The Ruined Lovers.  
Being a rare Narrative of a young Man that died for his cruel Mistress, in june last, who not long after his death, upon a consideration of his entire Affection, and her own coyness, could not be comforted, but lingered out her days in Melancholy, fell desperate sick, and so died.  
Tune of, Mock-beggars Hall stands empty.  

 

Mar shall to Cupid now submit,  
for he hath gained the glory;  
You that in Love were never yet,  
attend unto my story,  
For it is new, 'tis strange and true  
as ever age afforded;  
A tale more sad, you never had  
in any Books Recorded.   

A Youngman lately loved a Maid  
more than his life or fortune,  
And in her ears the same conveyed,  
for thus he did importune:  
Dear, pity me, the Lover cried,  
Sweet let thy heart come to me;  
And often said unto the Maid,  

Love me, or you'll undo me.    

I never was engaged before,  
I must and will be true to t'ye,  
Love never made me cry and roar,  
until I saw thy beauty.  
No creature could, of flesh and blood,  
bring more delight unto me:  
Which makes me cry perpetually,  

Love me, or you'll undo me.    

He made Addresses to the Maid,  
and proffered to advance her:  
I cannot love thee, than she said,  
pray take it for an answer:  
In many ways, he sung her praise,  
Love shot his Arrow thorough me,  
Why did not he, do so to thee,  

Love me, etc.    

She made him such a strange reply,  
he durst no more come near her:  
Quoth he I will go home and die,  
once there is nothing dearer.  
The joys of all the Christian World,  
(said he) are nothing to me;  
'Tis Death only, can set me free:  

Love me, etc.    

He took his Bed, he raged and burned,  
(sure this must greatly grieve him.  
His scorching love was quickly turned  
into a burning Fever:  
And then he died, but first he cried,  
O! will she not come to me:  
Then sheds a fear; his last words were,  

Love me, or you'll undo me,     

The second part, Containing the misery, sorrow, and death of the Maid.  
To the same Tune.  
 
 

THe Virgin when she heard news  
was very greatly troubled;  
And when ice coffined Corpse she views,  
her woes were all redoubled;  
And hast thou died, for me she cried,  
thou hast in love outrun me;  
Too late I may, thus sadly say,  

Thy death hath quite undone me.    

Had I a thousand worlds, I would  
give them all to restore thee,  
For I am guilty of thy blood,  
how dare I stand before thee;  
I am a Murderess, woe is me,  
Let all true Lovers eat me;  
And I must cry until I die,  

Thy death hath, etc.    

It is in vain for me to live,  
thy memory will haunt me,  
I only have a short Re●rieve,  
th● sorrown daily daunt me;  
Where ever th● dead Corpse do lie,  
(Once thou in death hast won me)  
I will be laid, a woeful Maid,  

Thy d●ath hath quite undone me.    

With that the tears fell from her eyes  
she could no longer bear it,  
For Love and Death did tyrannize,  
she could no longer bear it:  
Pray have me home to bed, she cried,  
my sorrows overrun me:  
I am rewarded for my pride;  

Thy death hath quite undone me.    

She took her bed, and in her head,  
a thousand frantics dreams are,  
Sadly she lies, and in her eyes  
a hundred flowing streams are;  
What wretched fool am I? cried she,  
O whether am I going?  
Poor soul (she cried) and so she died:  

Thy death hath etc.    

Let all fair Maids that are in love,  
by this poor Soul take warning,  
Lest that like her, you sadly prove  
the purchase of her scorning:  
Let all by this, mend what's a miss,  
before grief overrun  
Lest you be forced to die, and cry,  

Thy death hath quite undone me.     
FINIS.   

London, Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and J. Wright.