%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Young-Mans A. B. C./ OR/ Two Dozen of Verses which a Young-Man sent/ to his Love, who proved unkind; wrote in the manner of an Alphabet. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1684-1686 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/23/2008 20241

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

1.508-509 R234207 1 Aim not too high Fortune My Foe Aim Not Too High ACcept dear Love/ these shadows of my grief, Let tender pitty/ move thy gentle heart Pepys 1.508-509 Wing Y109B; Rollins (2) 3059 (July 16, 1634, IV, 323, Jno. Wright & partners); Rollins (2) 3060 (Mch. 1, 1675, ii, 498). Woodblock 1: first 1/2 sheet, below title, above column 1, to left of column 2: A small cut shows a portly man in high riding boots with spurs, standing facing the right of the cut. He has is left hand extended, and his right hand at his hip. A sword is visible behind his short coat.: 50 x 40 Pepys Library The Pepys ballads : facsimile volume Editor W.G. Day D.S. Brewer Cambridge [England] 1987 Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 508 The Young-Mans A. B. C./ OR/ Two Dozen of Verses which a Young-Man sent/ to his Love, who proved unkind; wrote in the manner of an Alphabet. The Young-Mans A. B. C. OR Two Dozen of Verses which a Young-Man sent to his Love, who proved unkind; wrote in the manner of an Alphabet. The Young Man's A. B. C. Or Two Dozen of Verses Which a Young Man Sent to His Love, Who Proved Unkind; Wrote in the Manner of an Alphabet. 1/2 sheet folio, originally left part, 260 x 178 1/2 sheet folio, originally right part, 265 x 177 cropped left edge torn, holed decorative initials decorative initials 1684-1686 Printed for I. Clarke, W. Thackeray, and T. Passinger J. Clarke, W.Thackeray, T. Passinger Blagden

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 Taxonomy used by Pepys to Organize Ballads in Albums A Small Promiscuous Supplement Devotion & Morality Drinking & Good Fellowship History - True & Fabulous Humour, Frollicks &c Love Pleasant Love Pleasant and Unfortunate Love Unfortunate Marriage Sea State & Times Tragedy Various Subjects Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/health alcohol animals/nature appearance Bible/biblical figures buildings/architecture catastrophe children class clothing/fashion country/nation crime death economics/trade entertainment family/procreation folklore gender historical figures & events holidays/seasons infidelity law London love maritime marriage military/war monstrosity mythology/Classical world news nobility/court politics/government punishment religious concepts religious figures religious types & sects royalty rural life servitude sex/sexuality supernatural/magic The New World travel trickery/deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgarities/crass humor Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 4/23/2008 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America A Small Promiscuous Supplement affliction/health historicalfigures&events love Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 04/23/2008 Checker Patrick Ludolph checked transcription, metadata added, xml created 08/16/2006 Checker Catherine Zusky checked transcription 02/10/2005 Transcriber Dolly Smith original transcription 07/29/2004 Bibliographer Simone Chess Bibliographic SQL Database Record Created
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ACcept dear Love these shadows of my grief, And let thy pitty send me some relief, A Captive to thy will I must remain, For thou art only she, must ease my pain. BE kind to me, as I am kind to thee, Blast not thy fame, with cruelty to me, But let thy inward parts be like thy face, Beauty in heart adorns the outward face, COnsider how, my service hath been bent Continually to gain thy sweet content, Can'st thou my dear, be so obdure to me, Cross unto him that is so true to thee. DEfer no time, to understand my grief, But with some speed, come ease me with relief: Thy beauty rare, hath struck my heart so deep, That all my days, I mean to wail and weep.
EXcept thou do some favour to me yield, I shall be slain, with love in Venus field, I am so discontent in mind and heart, That neither means Nor time can cure my smart. FOrget thou not the woe wherein I dwell, My torments do all other griefs excell, Consider well my woful sable nights And days I spend away, without delights. GRant me thy love, to mittigate my pain, The like thou shalt receive from me again; So love will we as doth the Turtle Dove, Whose firm affection ever constant prove. HAve you respect of this the grief I take, Which out of sleep, doth Sometimes me awake: In dreams I see that which I most desire; But waking sets my sences all on fire. IN doleful sort, these words I now relate, Which makes me think, my self unfortunate, To set my heart where I had nought but scorn, Which makes me rue the time that I was born. KIll me not in this desperation deep, To think how I neither eat, nor drink nor sleep, To think of that which I cannot obtain, The which hath near my heart with sorrow slain.
LEt tender pitty move thy gentle heart And so from thee, my love shall never start, To gain thy Love, i'le venture life and Limb, And for thy sake, the Ocean I will swim. MY life I loath, because my woes increase, Therefore my torments cease, and me release, Then be not harsh, whereas thou should'st bekind, But for my love let me no hatred find. NEither deny to grant me this request, Nor seek thou not, to work me more unrest, For if thou do, the worst share fall to thine, The worst can come, ends but one life of mine. OH that thou would'st but now conceive aright, Then would my darkness soon be turn'd to light My greatest sorrows should then I destroy, And all my grief, and care exchange to joy. PIerce then no deeper, to my bleeding heart, The which is ready now for to depart, He still that loves and is not belov'd again, Had better dye, then still to live in pain. QUench thou the flames, of this my burning breast, Which for thy sake. no time nor tide can rest, My love to thee hath ever more been true, Therefore the same see still I have from you. REgard my grief, how still it more exceeds, My life is like the Herb, that's spoil'd with weeds: Amongst the finest Wheat, the tares do grow, And thou my love hath wrought my overthrow,
SWeet love, now take, on me thy friend some care, Regard his grief that still lives in dispair Of thy true love, which is more dear then Gold, My griefs are more than numbers can be told. TOo long I have liv'd, and yet too late repent, For why the Glory of my life is spent; In loving her, that never did love me, O then what days, of pleasure can I see. WOuld I had never liv'd thy face to have seen, O then full happy surely had I been: For never any one, under the Sun, But thou alone, could me this wrong have done. X Thousand times more cruel is thy mind, Then Heathens, Jews, or Turks are in their kind, Or any one that on the earth doth go, And woe is me, For I have found it so. YEt if thy mind be so perversly bent That nothing can procure my hearts content Know this from me, that I have learn'd of late No more to dote on her that doth me hate, ZENOBIA to Tamberlain ne'r was More dear then thou to me, but now alas, I find my toyl my sighs and sobs in vain why should I love and not be lov'd again. & Now to set a period to my woe, If thou wilt have me prithee tell me so; If otherwise thou mean'st thy mind it send Resolve me off or on and there's an end.
Printed for J. Clarke, W. Thackeray, and T. Passinger