The women's just Complaint: OR, Man's Deceitfulness in Love.  
Being a most Pleasant New Playhouse Song.  
Long time deceived with feigned Vows, at last,  
The Females find their Coyness holds not fast;  
For Man, that Noble Creature, cannot Love,  
Nor fix his Soul on aught but what's above:  
'Tis Everlasting joy he Centres on,  
And leaves soft Fools, Women to dote upon;  
Which once they finding, seem to lose their Care  
Of hopes they had, and fall to flat despair.  
To a pleasant New playhouse Tune, much in request.  
 

O Love thou art a Treasure,  
could Constancy remain,  
But for an hour of Pleasure,  
we feel an Age of Pain:  
How eager is the Lover.  
But when his joys are over,  

Poor Women do discover,  
the vow of Men are vain:  
Poor Women, etc.    

In vain are all their Swear,  
'tis but your Love to gain,  
In vain their promised Fairings,  
their Lusts for to obtain:  
Their Cringing and the●r Bowing,  
Is worse t●en Thee and Thouing,  

Poor Women find the Vowing  
of men, is all but vain:  
Poor Women, etc.    

In v●●n their mean and Carriage,  
their promised Love they feign,  
In vain they promise Marriage,  
maids honours for to slain:  
In vain their Songs and Dances,  
Plays Masquerades Romances,  

Poor Women find the Fancies,  
and vows of men are vain:  
poor Women, etc.    
 
 

All Wedlock ties Defieing,  
when once their Wills they gain,  
Scoffing at, or denying,  
what once did cause their pain:  
When with a thousand Kisses,  
And with as many Wishes,  

Poor Women they with blisses,  
deceived, which vows are vain:  
Poor women, etc.    

And whosoever believes them,  
they snare them 'tis most plain,  
And when they're took, deceive them,  
and leave them to complain:  
Whilst we poor Fools at Mourning,  
They our Griefs are scorning,  

Poor Women than take warning,  
for men are false and vain:  
Poor Women, etc.    

They breathe false sighs to win us,  
and Counterfeit Loves pain,  
And into Bonds they bring us,  
with Flatteries so vain.  
By praising of our beauties;  
And Swearing 'tis their Duties,  

Poor Woman while she mute is,  
but find at last all vain:  
Poor woman, etc.    

Much like to Airy Vapours,  
are all the Vows they feign,  
Or like Expiring Tapours,  
that ne'er will burn again:  
But leave us in deep Sorrow,  
For joys we did but borrow,  

Poor Women bid Good-morrow,  
and leave us to Complain:  
Poor Women, etc.    

'Tis sure the God of Lovers,  
made not his Laws in vain,  
He better joys discovers,  
and makes his precepts plain:  
Why them should man delude us,  
When he has so Judased us,  

Poor Women why be screwed thus,  
on things we can't obtain:  
Poor women, etc.    

Let us then be contented,  
let Lordly still remain,  
For him he was invented,  
let us not wish in vain:  
For what though we endeavour,  
Yet can deserve him never,  

Poor Women wishing ever,  
yet all our wishes vain:  
Poor women, etc.    

Then let us be contented,  
and strive no more with pain,  
Lest we at last repent it,  
and past all hopes, Complain:  
When there is no Relieving  
But still we must be grieving  

Poor Women, by deceiving,  
men show their vows are vain:  
Poor Women, etc.     

Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Hospital-gate, in West-smithfield.