Olimpya's unfortunate love: or Gallius his treacherous cruelty. A new song, as it is sung in a play, called, The Spanish fryer. At the Dukes theatre, with great applause. Fairest Olimpia at last being won, did yield to Gallius, who has her undone, her honour's lost, and he does her neglect his ends being gain'd he shews her no respect: but flies her arms, whilst that false man she crys, and in her blood her fatal dagger dyes. To a pleasant new play-house tune. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription B27599 of text R229030 in the English Short Title Catalog. 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. 4KB 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 B27599 Wing O289 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.10[26] ESTC R229030 ocm99888110

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 Early English books online text creation partnership. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. B27599) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 193168) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A6:2[26]) Olimpya's unfortunate love: or Gallius his treacherous cruelty. A new song, as it is sung in a play, called, The Spanish fryer. At the Dukes theatre, with great applause. Fairest Olimpia at last being won, did yield to Gallius, who has her undone, her honour's lost, and he does her neglect his ends being gain'd he shews her no respect: but flies her arms, whilst that false man she crys, and in her blood her fatal dagger dyes. To a pleasant new play-house tune. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. (woodcuts) Printed for J. Deacon, at the Angel in Guilt-spur-street without Newgate, [London] : [1681?] Date of publication from Wing CD-ROM, 1996. Verse: "Farewel ungrateful traytor,". Imperfect: heavily stained. Reproduction of original in the British Library.

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 eng Ballads, English -- 17th century. Broadsides -- England -- 17th century. eebo Olimpya's unfortunate love: or Gallius his treacherous cruelty. : A new song, as it is sung in a play, called, The Spanish fryer. At the Dukes theatre n/a 1681 1 608 1 0 0 0 0 0 16.45 C The rate of 16.45 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2014-06 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2014-08 Sampled and proofread 2014-08 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2015-03 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
OLIMPYA'S Unfortunate Love : OR GALLIUS his Treacherous Cruelty . A new Song , as it is Sung in a Play , called , The Spanish Fryer . At the Dukes Theatre , with great applause . Fairest Olimpia at last being won , Did yield to Gallius , who has her undone , Her Honour 's lost , and he does her Neglect His ends being gain'd he shews her no respect : But flies her arms , whilst that false Man she crys , And in her Blood her fatal Dagger dyes . To a pleasant new Play-House Tune .

man
man

FArewel ungrateful Traytor , farewel my Perjur'd Swain ; Let never injur'd Creature , believe a Man again : The pleasure of possessing , Surpasses all expressing , But 't is too short a Blessing , and love too long a pain . 't is easie to deceive us , in pitty of your pain , But when we love , you leave us , to rail at you in vain : Before we have discry'd it , There is no Bliss beside it , But she that once has try'd it , will never love again . The passion you pretended , was only to obtain , But when the Charm is ended , the Charmer you disdain : Your love by ours we measure Till we have left our Treasure , But dying is a Ple●sure , when living is a pain . For who would live in Torment , to be each moment slain ; By flames of love so fervent , enrag'd by mans disdain : When death has power to ease us , Of all the woes that seize us , And sorrows that displease us , so ne'r to grieve again . No Torture's like to loving , and not belov'd again , Yet we are oft approving , of such a fatal bane : By crediting their wishes , Their Toying and their Kisses , Which do but raise our Blisses , to fall beneath disdain . They only are for pleasure , our Honours so to stain , Then let us grieve at leisure , they 'l Laugh when we complain And still will prove more cruel , By adding of new Fuel , In which they think they do well , to Martyr us with pain . Whilst like the Phenix frying , we in sweet Gums remain , They triumph in our Dying , and boast they Trophies gain : But cruel man 't is faded , Since you my Love invaded , I will not be upbraided , first Death shall end my pain . O witness all ye powers , how he my Love did gain , Whilst oft in shady Bowers , he swore he wou'd remain The constantest of Lovers , But now my Loss discovers , How black my fate it hovers , and how his vows were vain . With that a sigh the breathed , whilst in her breast the flame . Did struggle to be eased , when ah , she did proclaim : Too Cruel Galius flying , When thy Olimpia's Dying , With gloomy Eyes then eying each corner of the Plain . When as the Deaths keen message , out of her Bosom drew , And gave it speedy passage , her Life for to subdue : Then cry'd false Man , her passion , Who first for you took Station , Fate weds past alteration , Olympia Dyes for you .

Printed for J Deacon , at the Angel in Guilt-spur-street without Newgate .