%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Love-Sick Maid: Or, Cordelias lamentation for the/ Absence of her Gerheard. Crouch, Humphrey 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 09/12/2007 21359

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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

3.344 R188492 2 a pleasant new Tune A Pleasant New Tune a Delightful new Tune A Delightful New Tune BE gone/ Thou fatal fiery Feaver, now be gone,/ let love alone; COme on/ Thou fatal messenger from her that's gone/ lest I alone author name attributed by Simpson: different author name in other edition; another edition at 3.324 Pepys 3.344 Wing L3216[B]; Rollins (2) 1559 (Mch. 12, 1656, ii, 35, Rob. Ibbitson) [Part 1] 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. 3: 344 The Love-Sick Maid: Or, Cordelias lamentation for the/ Absence of her Gerheard. The Love-sick Maid; Or, Cordelia's Lamentation for the Absence of her Gerheard. The Lovesick Maid; Or, Cordelia's Lamentation for the Absence of Her Gerheard. The Young-Mans Answer: Or, his dying breath,/ Lamenting for his fair Cordelias Death. The Young-Mans Answer: or his dying breath, Lamenting for his fair Cordelias Death. The Young Man's Answer: Or His Dying Breath, Lamenting for His Fair Cordelia's Death. Crouch, Humphrey 1/2 sheet oblong folio, folded, 220 x 325 cropped left and right edges, torn left corner and edge 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 9/12/2007 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Love Unfortunate affliction/health appearance death love 9/12/07 Checker Rachel Mann Transcription checked, metadata updated, XML created 8/18/06 Transcriber Eric Nebeker Original transcription 8/31/04 Bibliographer Simone Chess Bibliographic SQL Database Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Love-sick Maid; Or, <hi rend="bold">Cordelia's</hi> Lamentation for the</hi> </seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Absence of her</hi> Gerheard. <hi rend="italic">To a pleasant New Tune.</hi> </seg>
B E gone Thou fatal fiery Feaver, now be gone, let love alone; Let his Etherial flames possess my breast, His fires, From thy consuming heat no aid requires, for swift desires Transports my passion to a Throne of rest: Where I, Who in the pride of health did never feel such warmth to move; By sickness tam'd, and so inflam'd, I know no joys but love. And he That trifled many tedious hours, away my love to try, In little space had gain'd the grace, to have more power then I. Depart, Thou scorching fury, quick from me depart, think not my heart To thy dull flame shall be a Sacrifice, A Maid Dread Cupid now is on the Alter laid, by thee betray'd, A rich Oblation to restore thine eyes, But yet My fair acknowledgment will prove thou hadst no craft, To bend thy bow, against thy foe, that aim'd to catch the shaft: For if That at my breast thy arrows thou all at once let flye, She that receives a thousand Sheaves, can do no more but dye.
No more You learn'd Physitians tyre your brains no more, pray give me o're, Mine is a cure in Physick never read, Although You Skilful Doctors all the world do know, pray let me go You may as well make practise on the dead: But if, My Gerheard dain to view me, with the Glory of his looks, I make no doubt, to live without, Phisitians and their books: 'Tis he That with his balmed kisses can restore my latest breath, What bliss is this, to gain a kiss, can save a Maid from death, To you That tell me of another World, I vow, and will allow, Your sacred precepts if you'l grant me this: That he Whom I esteem of next the Deity, may go with me Without whose presence there can be no bliss: Go teach Your Tenets of Eternity, to those that aged be, And not perswade a Love-sick Maid, there's any Heaven but he. But stay Methinks an Icy slumber, hath possest my frenzy brain; Pray bid him dye, if you see I, shall never wake again.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Young-<hi rend="bold">M</hi> ans Answer: or his dying breath,</hi> </seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Lamenting for his fair Cordelias Death.</hi> </seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To a Delightful new Tune.</hi> </seg>
C Ome on Thou fatal messenger from her that's gone left I alone Within that quenchless flame for ever fry, The lake, Of love being kindled, where in none can take, rest but awake, Where slumber hath no power to close the eye, Whilst I That by my fair Cordelia , desires to take a sleep With lids wide spread upon my Bed, am forc'd a watch to keep, and she That waired many tedious hours, my constancy to try, Is now at rest, whilst I opprest, fain would but cannot dye. Dispatch Thou scorching fury, quickly now dispatch, by death I watch, To be releast from this tormenting flame; The Dart Sent from dread Cupid, sticks fast in my heart; I wanting art Had not the power for to resist the same, Though she, Who by her late acknowledgment, profest thou hadst no craft, Yet from thy Bow, thou mad'st her know, what power lay in the shaft, But then Thou sent'st an other Arrow, which me of hopes bereft, Most like a foe, to wound me so, [for] whom no cure is left.
Wherefore Did you Physitians give my Mistris o're had you no more Experience, but what you in books have read, Or why (You learned Doctors) did you cease to try, your skills, when I Might have reviv'd her if she'd not been dead, And yet Suppose that I in person, had present been to view her, Is there such grace in any face, to work so great a cure? But now I'm come too late to kiss her, which were it not in vain, After her death i'de spend my breath, to fetch her back again. Unto The fair Elizium thither will I go, whereas I know, She is among'st those sacred ones prefer'd, When I Shall be admitted for to come so nigh, pardon i'le cry. For my long absence, wherein I have err'd, And since By her I was esteem'd, so much on earth being here, Hence for her sake, no rest i'le take till I have found her there. No more But only I desire to hear my Passing-Bell, That Virgins may lament the day, of Gerherds last Farewell.
Printed for J. Clarke, W. Thackeray, and T. Passinger.