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 is sung at the theater fair Coelia's kind and trusts too much her Swain, who once enjoying her returns disdain, courts other virgins and neglects her quite 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 surprize, had ruin'd her then lies her down and dyes. To a pleasant new play house tune called, Sad as death: or, Parthenia unto Cloe cryed. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription B27975 of text R216932 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. 5KB 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 B28910 Wing R1046 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.10[28] ocm99888112

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 Early English books online text creation partnership. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. B28910) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 193170) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A6:2[28]) 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 is sung at the theater fair Coelia's kind and trusts too much her Swain, who once enjoying her returns disdain, courts other virgins and neglects her quite 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 surprize, had ruin'd her then lies her down and dyes. To a pleasant new play house tune called, Sad as death: or, Parthenia unto Cloe cryed. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. (woodcuts) Printed for T. Coles, T. Vere, [J. Wright, and J. Clarke], London : [between 1674 and 1679] Date of publication from Wing CD-ROM, 1996 . Verse: "Sad as death at dead of night,". Imperfect: copy trimmed, affecting imprint and title. Reproduction of original in the British Library.

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 eng Ballads, English -- 17th century. Broadsides -- England -- 17th century. eebo 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 n/a 1676 2 697 14 0 0 0 0 0 200.86 F The rate of 200.86 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the F category of texts with 100 or more defects per 10,000 words. 2014-07 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2014-11 Sampled and proofread 2014-11 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2015-03 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
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 Theater Fair Coelia's kind and trusts too much her Swain , Who once Enjoying her returns disdain , Courts other Virgins and neglects her quite 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 surprize , Had ruin'd her then lies her down and dyes . To a pleasant new play house Tune called , Sad as Death : OR , Parthenia unto Cloe cryed .

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 reason'd with her fate . Why should man such triumphs gain and purchase such joy that gives us pain , Ah what glory can insue a helpless Virgin to undoe . Curs'd the night when curs'd the hour , when ●●rst he drew her to his Arms When Virtue was betray'd by power and yielded to unlawful charms . When approach'd with all his fires arm'd 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 shame is now thy doom , The false forsworn alass is gone and left thée here to dispair alone , Who that hears of Caelia's pain will never trust will never trust a man again . Eas'ly 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 yeild poor Caelia some relief , Oh! lock me in thy cold embrace henceforth the Grave'● 〈…〉
woodcut of women carrying a casket
Ah! and could he leave me thus wéeping , the mourning Caelia cryed , Was 't enioyment wrought my curse oh ! me that e'r had I but dy'd . Then to 'th Elizium shades i 'de gone a spotless Virgin now i 'me none , But to 'th woods my woe must sing till willing death my rescue bring . Cyp'rus shall o're shade my Tomb while on the blushing ground I lye , 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 shame betray'd my trust . Cruel powers why have ye made Man so Majestick bright and fair , Alass was 't only to invade poor silly Virgins to insnare . Vndone by their too crafty wiles Alur'd into loves fatal toiles , By the soft whispers of their breath which wound the love sick heart to death . Like a Serpent that does lye und●r a bed of gaudy flowers , Whose smell and sight invites the eyes and ravish'd sence so that no power . To shun they have but plucking strait 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 waile her own unhappiness for constant lov●rs now are rare . Words smooth as Oyl 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 warn'd 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 dye Heart-broken hear for ever lye , At which she sigh'd out her last breath and love and beauty left in death .

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