The distressed virgin: or, The false young-man, and the constant maid, the qualities of them both displaid To an excellent new tune. M. P. (Martin Parker), d. 1656? This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A08951 of text S112529 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 19228). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 6 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A08951 STC 19228 ESTC S112529 99847778 99847778 12839 2240906461

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A08951) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 12839) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1607:14) The distressed virgin: or, The false young-man, and the constant maid, the qualities of them both displaid To an excellent new tune. M. P. (Martin Parker), d. 1656? 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. for F. Coules, Printed at London : [1633] Signed: M. P., i.e. Martin Parker. Verse - "A thousand times my love commend,". In two parts; woodcuts at head of each part. Publication date from STC. Reproductions of the original in the British Library. eng Ballads, English -- 17th century. eebo The distressed virgin: or, The false young-man, and the constant maid, the qualities of them both displaid. To an excellent new tune. M. P. 1633 2 1046 1 0 0 0 0 0 9.56 B The rate of 9.56 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the B category of texts with fewer than 10 defects per 10,000 words. 2002-05 Assigned for keying and markup 2002-07 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2002-08 Sampled and proofread 2002-08 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2002-10 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
The distressed Virgin : OR , The false Young-man , and the constant Maid , The qualities of them both displaid . To an excellent new Tune .

A Thousand times my love commend , to him that hath my heart in hold , I tooke him for my dearest friend , his Love I more estéem'd than Gold . When that mine did eyes see his face , and that mine eares had heard his voyce , His Love I fréely did embrace , my heart told me he was my choice . O had he still continued true , and in affection permanent , Had hée performed what was due , then had I found true hearts content : But hee , regardlesse 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 séene those eyes , that ( like attractive Adamants ) Did my poore heart with love surprize , the power of love so me enchants . I have no power to leave his love , though with sterne hate he me pursue . To him I will most constant prove , though he be faithlesse and untrue . I put my finger unto the bush , thinking the sweetest Rose to find , I prickt my finger to the bone , and yet I left the Rose behind : If Roses be such prickling flowers , they must be gathered when tha 're gréen , But she that loves an unkind Love , alas , she rowes against the streame , Oh , would he but conceive aright , the griefe that I for him sustaine , He could not chuse but change his spight to faithfull love , and leave disdaine . I love to have him still in place , his too long absence makes me mourne , Yet he disdaines to sée my face , and holds my company in scorne . It grieves my heart full sore to thinke , that he whom I so dearely love , Should thus refuse with me to drinke , yet can my passion ne're 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 wrong'd in name or state . Ill haphad I to come in place , where first I saw his tempting looke , As soone as I beheld his face , I Cupids prisoner straight was tooke : And never since that fatall houre I have enioyed one minutes rest , The thought of him is of such power , it never can forsake my brest . Then was I strucke with Cupids Dart , then was my fancie captivated , Then did I vow that still my heart should rest with him though me he hated : Then did he make a shew of love , which did much more my heart enflame , 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 sée , which makes me weary of my life : I little thought what now I finde , that youngmen could dissemble so , Sure he 's the falsest of his kinde , ill hap have I to prove him so . Could any man be so hard hearted , to leave a harmelesse Maid in griefe : From me all comfort cleane is parted , unlesse his favour grant reliefe . Hée is the man that bred my paine , he is the man whose love alone Must be the salve to cure my paine , or else my life will soone be gone . O faithlesse wretch , consider well that Heaven abhorreth periury : Great torments are prepar'd in Hell for them that thus will sweare and lye . Oh hadst thou never made a show of love , thou hadst excus'd thy blame : But thy false heart full well doth know what oaths thy periur'd tongue did frame . That obstacle that hinders me is that which I suspect full sore : His fruit growes on some other trée , and he 's seduced by some whore : Or else he hath some other Lasse , perhaps like me , a harmlesse Maid , Whom he may bring to such a passe , as I am brought by Cupids aide . Oh Heavens forbid that any one , that beares 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 raile , Whom I am ever bound to love , untill my vitall spirits faile . Swéet Love forgive my lavish tongue , if I offend in any sort : To recompence thée for that wrong , I le alwayes give thee good repo●t , Although to me thou art unkind , who never gave thee any cause : Yet I am still resolv'd in mind , never to breake God Cupids Lawes . And if I never be thy wife , ( which is the thing I iustly claime ) I vow to live a single life , and never thinke of Lovers game . But why speake I of life , when death doth every minute claime his due ? I cannot long retaine my breath , having a Lover so untrue . Let all true Lovers iudge aright , in what a case poore soule am I : Come gentle death , and worke thy spight , for now I am prepar'd 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 .