The damosels tragedy: or, True love in distress. Being an account of a young man, who slighting a young maiden who had fix'd her love upon him, did thereby cause her to end her days in dispair by a dreadful dose of poyson. To the tune of, Charon, &c. This may be printed, R.P. 1685-1688? Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2011-04 (EEBO-TCP Phase 2). B02713 Wing D166C Interim Tract Supplement Guide EBB65H[66] 99887091 ocm99887091 181816

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. B02713) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 181816) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A2:3[66]) The damosels tragedy: or, True love in distress. Being an account of a young man, who slighting a young maiden who had fix'd her love upon him, did thereby cause her to end her days in dispair by a dreadful dose of poyson. To the tune of, Charon, &c. This may be printed, R.P. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. (woodcuts). Printed for J[ohn]. Back, at the Black Boy on London-Bridge, near the Draw-Bridge., [London] : [between 1685-1688] Verse: "You loyal lovers attend to my ditty ..." Place, date of publication, and publisher's name from Wing. Reproduction of original in the Harvard University, Houghton Library.

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 eng Ballads, English -- 17th century. 2020-09-21 Content of 'availability' element changed when EEBO Phase 2 texts came into the public domain 2008-06 Assigned for keying and markup 2008-11 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2009-05 Sampled and proofread 2009-05 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-09 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
The DAMOSELS Tragedy: OR, True Love in Diſtreſs.

Being an account of a young Man, who Slighting a young Maiden who had fix'd her love upon him, did thereby cauſe her to end her days in Diſpair by a dreadful Doſe of Poyſon.

To the Tune of, Charon, &c.

This may be Printed, R. P.

YOu Loyal Lovers attend to my D • tty, which with a ſorrowful heart I raiſe, 'Tis of a Damſel, the more is the pitty, who with ſtrong Poyſon did end her days: Fair Elinor this Laſs was named, John the cauſe of all her Woe, Sighing ſhe ſaid, tho' I here may be blamed, No body knows what I undergo! In my ſoft Breaſt is a ſecret Fire, which by the power of Love increas'd, Nothing but Death is my earneſt deſire, hoping there by I ſhall be releaſt: For I have loſt my deareſt Iewel, this to my Grief, alas! I know, My deareſt Johnny, O why now ſo Cruel! you little think what I undergo. Here do I languiſh, by you unlamented, now my poor innocent heart's betray'd, How can you any way here be contented, when you have ruin'd a harmleſs Maid? To me you have been moſt falſe-hearted, proving my final overthrow, Since from my preſence you have departed, No body knows what I undergo! Every Vein in my heart now does tingle, while I in ſorrow am left alone, Many ſad Sighs with my Tears I mingle, while to the world here I make my moan: O that I might but once behold him, then would it Expiate my Woe, But in my arms I ſhall never infold him, No body knows what I undergo! down from her eyes the tears flow'd like a fountain being ſurrounded with Care and Grief, And tho' her ſorrows ſhe ſtill was recanting, there was no Creature to yield Relief: Many a bitter Sigh ſhe giving, while her poor heart was ſunk full low, Said ſhe, I here am a weary of Living, No body knows what I undergo. In her ſtrange Fancy ran many a Notion, before the paſſion of Love was paſt, At length it was to prepare a ſad Pation, the which bereav'd her of Life at laſt: Then as in Torments ſhe lay Dying, being oppreſt with Grief and Woe, Wringing her hands like a Lover, and crying, No body knows what I undergo. Farewel, farewel, to my deareſt for ever, I muſt ſubmit to the hand of Fate, If that you here would afford me your pitty, now you would find it is far too late: Then with thoſe words ſhe did Expire, ſaying, to Dye I am afraid, All her Relations and Friends that was nigh her, wept for to hear the ſad moan ſhe made. Here have I given a perfect Relation, of a young Damſel that Dy'd you hear, Through her falſe Lovers Diſſimulation, who can forbear now to ſhed a Tear? True Love abuſed it is ſuch a Tryal, that there is few thorow it can Wade, Therefore O young-men, now learn to be Loyal, think of the Sorrowful End ſhe made. FINIS.

Printed for J. Back, at the Black Boy on London-Bridge, near the Draw-Bridge.