True love rewarded with cruelty. Being a true account of one Mary Story, a maid, who once lived at Limehouse, in the county of Middlesex that was in love with one who had promised her marriage, so that the wedding-day was appointed, but he changd his mind, and forsook her, whereupon she took greif [sic] and dyed about the latter end of July, 1683. Tune of, Tender hearts of London city. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription B06239 of text R228611 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing T2737). 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. 5 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 B06239 Wing T2737 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.8[463] Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.10[58] 99887925 ocm99887925 183575 2248539282

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B06239) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 183575) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A5:2[366]; A6:2[58]) True love rewarded with cruelty. Being a true account of one Mary Story, a maid, who once lived at Limehouse, in the county of Middlesex that was in love with one who had promised her marriage, so that the wedding-day was appointed, but he changd his mind, and forsook her, whereupon she took greif [sic] and dyed about the latter end of July, 1683. Tune of, Tender hearts of London city. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. (woodcuts) Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden Ball in West Smithfield., [London] : [between 1670-1696] Place and date of publication suggested by Wing. Verse: "You that ever in love delighted ..." Imperfect: copy cut and mounted ; copy at A6:2[58] dark affecting text. Reproduction of original in the British Library. eng Ballads, English -- 17th century. Broadsides -- England -- 17th century. eebo True love rewarded with cruelty. Being a true account of one Mary Story, a maid, who once lived at Limehouse, in the county of Middlesex that was in l anon 1696 1 826 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2008-02 Assigned for keying and markup 2008-03 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-04 Sampled and proofread 2008-04 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
True Love Rewarded with Cruelty .

Being a true Account of one Mary Story , a Maid , who once lived at Limehouse , in the Country of Middlesex that was in love with one who had promised her Marriage , so that the Wedding-day was appointed , but he changd his mind , and forsook her , whereupon she greif and dyed about the latter end of July , 1683.

Tune of , Tender hearts of London City .

YOu that ever in love delighted , Pitty me that now am slighted by a young-man too unkind , That did leave me , and deceive me , which distracts both braine and mind . I am strangely discontented , Night and day I am tormented , my heart is ready for to break ; But i 'le give o're , and love no more , for my deceitfull George's sake . But why talk I of giving over ? That am now a dying lover , languishing through his disdain ; And now with smart I break my heart , but he ne'r pitties this my pain . He to me did promise Marriage ; Oh! but mind this strange miscarriage , his wavering mind began to change , He pleaded debt , which made me fret , this alteration was so strange . But he strove to stand the tryall , What would follow his denyall , and to my sorrow now I know That I must die ; most dreadfully Love wrought my fatal overthrow . That very dar I should be married , Then , alas ! I so miscarried , he said that he ow'd twenty pound ; This cruel news did me amuse , and gave to me a mortal wound . He said he 'd not bring me to trouble Then my sorrows they grew double , but 't was onely a pretence Me to deceive , and strangely leave , as I have been informed since . Oh that he should be so cruel To my flame to add a fuell that a Maiden will destroy ! No hope can save me from my Grave since I have lost mine only joy . In him alone I was delighted , Now my daies are all benighted , all my comforts now are fled , While I do mourn like one forlorn ; mind what I say on dying-bed . Tho there 's nothing here can daunt thee , Night and day i 'le surely haunt thee wheresorver thou dost go ; You broke Loves laws , & that 's the cause that has procured my overthrow .

Your false tongue was quick amd nimble , With me you did so dissemble , that you gain'd my tender heart , Which now will break for your dear sake , that are the cause of all my smart . Call to mind your gross offences , Broken vows , and False pretences , which my ruine did procure ; My heart you won , and I 'me undone , cause you to me are so obdure . Why should you be so ungratefull , When I proved not deceitfull ? but as constant as the Dove ; Why at this rate do you me hate , and slight me thus for my true love ? Oh! remember all your wishes , Treacherous vows , and fawning kisses , that you once bestow'd on me , Me to insnare ; but have a care , lest my poor Ghost does trouble thee . In your baseness never glory , Boast not o're poor Mary Story , time may come when you may rue That you betray'd a harmless Maid , who prov'd so loyal unto you . Though these lines may little move thee , For thy faults I must reprove thee with my latest murmuring breath ; I once again do here complain that thou hast brought me to my death . You that I do leave behind me , I intreat you all to mind me , my last speeches ne'r forget , This cruel man his Lover kills , that he so light by her doth set . Then she did begin to shiver , All her joynts did shake and quiver , her Cherry-lips look'd wan and pale , And cruel Death did stop her breath , so strongly he did her assaile . You that hear this mournfull ditty , Cannot thuse but greive , and pitty this poor Creature , in distress , For she did find he was unkind ; she died cause he was pittiless . Youngmen never prove disloyal , Put not Maidens to the tryal when you come their loves to win , Do not pretend to be a friend , unless their ruined you 'l begin .

Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden Ball in West Smithfield .