Repentance too Late: Being fair Celia's complaint for the loss of her Virginity. OR, The wronged Lover finds no cure but Death. Being a pleasant new play Song: As it i● sung at the theatre 
Fair Coelia's kind and trusts too much her Swain,  
Who once Enjoying her returns disdain,  
Courts other Virgins and neglects her quiter  
What love he had is turned now to spite.  
For which she grieves at her too quick belief  
And warns all Virgins by her doleful grief,  
How to beware of man whose false surprise,  
Had ruined her then lies her down and dyes.   
To a pleasant new play house Tune called, Sad as Death: OR, Parthenia unto Cloe cried.  
 woodcut of woman  woodcut of man  

SAd as death at dead of night  
the fair complaining Caelia sat  
But one poor lamp was all her light  
whilst thus she reasoned with her fate.  
Why should man such triumphs gain  
and purchase such joy that gives us pain,  
Ah what glory can ensue  
a helpless Virgin to undo.   

cursed the night when cursed the hour,  
when ●●rst he drew her to his Arms  
When Virtue was betrayed by power  
and yielded to unlawful charms.  
When approached with all his fires  
armed with hopes and strong desires,  
S ● s and tears and every vile  
with which the men the maids beguile.   

Dream no more pleasures past  
since all thy torments are to come,  
The secret is m●de known at last  
and endless shane is now thy doom,  
The false forsworn alas is gone  
and left thee here to despair alone,  
Who that hears of Caelia's pain  
will never trust will never trust a man again.   

easily I believed his vows  
and yielded up my honour bright,  
For which hard fate no cure allows  
but it is never set in night.  
Come gentle death and ease my grief  
yield poor Caelia some relief,  
Oh! lock me in thy could embrace  
henceforth the Grave'● 〈…〉   

 woodcut of women carrying a casket  
Ah! and could he leave me thus  
weeping, the mourning Caelia cried,  
Was't enjoyment wrought my curse  
oh! me that e'r had I but died.  
Then to'th elysium shades i'd gone  
a spotless Virgin now i'm none,  
But to'th woods my woe must sing  
till willing death my rescue bring.   

Cyp'rus shall o'er shade my Tomb  
while on the blushing ground I lie,  
Where Violets and sweet Roses bloom  
I care not now for coming nigh.  
Since I have lost my Virgin state  
by trusting man such my hardfate,  
That proves perfidious and unjust  
and has to shane betrayed my trust.   

Cruel powers why have ye made  
Man so majestic bright and fair,  
alas was't only to invade  
poor silly Virgins to ensnare.  
undone by their too crafty wil●ss  
Alur'd into loves fatal toils,  
By the soft whispers of their breath  
which wound the love sick heart to death.   

Like a Serpent that does lie  
under a bed of gaudy flowers,  
Whose smell and sight invites the eyes  
and ravished sense so that no power.  
To shun they have but plucking straight  
they meet their unexpected fate,  
So men with sweet words deceive  
till they have got their ends then leave.   

The yielding Virgin to possess  
for constant v●ws the wandring Air,  
To wail her own unhappiness  
for constant lov●rs now are rare.  
Words smooth as oil are soon fo●got  
oaths they suspend or value not,  
Her whom they swear now Angel bright  
when once en●oy●d is black as night.   

Virgins all be warned by me  
who now must mourn my ill stat'● fate,  
Oh! trust not your virginity  
least love should turn to cruel hate.  
Which I have prov d for which I die  
Heart-broken hear for ever lie,  
At which she sighed out her last breath  
and love and beauty left in death.    

London Printed for F coals T Ve●e I 〈…〉