%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Dying Tears of a true lover forsaken,/ Made on his Death=bed; the Hour before his Death. 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 09/13/2007 21372

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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

3.357 R188229 1 Come live with me Come Live With Me and Be My Love Come Live With Me THose gentle hearts that true love crave,/ Where true love can no harbour have, COme young Lasses and listen well,/ Unto the tale that I shall tell, Pepys 3.357 Wing H1987[A]; Rollins (2) 1168 (Dec. 14, 1624, IV, 131); Rollins (2) 659 (Mch. 1, 1675, ii, 496) 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: 357 The Dying Tears of a true lover forsaken,/ Made on his Death=bed; the Hour before his Death. The Dying Tears of a true lover-forsaken, Made on his Death-bed; the Hour before his Death. The Dying Tears of a True Lover Forsaken, Made on His Deathbed; The Hour Before His Death. The second Part, The second Part, The Second Part, 1/2 sheet oblong folio, ?215 x 325 torn top edge 1684-1686 Printed for I. Clarke, W. Thackeray, and T. Passinger. H. 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 9/13/2007 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Love Unfortunate advice affliction/health death infidelity love 9/13/07 Checker Rachel Mann Transcription checked, metadata updated, XML created 8/18/06 Transcriber Eric Nebeker Original transcription 9/9/04 Bibliographer Simone Chess Bibliographic SQL Database Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Dying Tears of a true lover-forsaken,</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Made on his Death-bed; the Hour before his Death.</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Tune is,</hi> Come live with me.</seg>
THose gentle hearts that true love crave, Where true love can no harbour have, From shedding tears cannot refrain, But mourn with me that lov'd in vain, Sore sick in love sore sick in mind, Come gentle death my life unwind, For Cupids shaft and golden Bow, Now seeks my joys to overthrow. Upon my death-bed I have pen'd, The story of my woful end; Vain world behold I dye I dye Here murthered by loves cruelty: O Sarah Hill hou art the Wight, That turn'd my joy to sharp delight, Thou art the causer of my death, Farewel false love farewel my breath. Be warn'd you wantons by my fall, In love there is no truth at all; Although in love you live untrue, There is some maids as false as you: Her beauty dazled so mine eyes That in her breast my heart st[i]ll lies, I lov'd her but she lov'd not me, Wherefore behold I dye I dye. O cursed eyes why did you gaze, Upon her fair and flattering face O wherefore did my eyes unfold; One fram'd of such unconstant mould: Come wrap me in my winding-sheet, And bear me sadly through the street, That from her eyes salt tears may shed, When for her sake she sees me dead.
In outward shew we joyned hands, And lov'd to live in Wedlock bands, But she unkind hath me dispis'd, And broke my heart so highly priz'd: O Lord what grief do I sustain, Which liv'd despis'd, and lov'd in vain, But Lord how well are they apaid, Which hap to chuse a constant Maid. There is no living wight that knows, The pineing pain and endless woes, That we forsaken Lovers hide, But such as have their torments try'd; I needs must yield when death doth fade, Deaths coming cannot be deny'd: O reach my Bible, pray to me, For that my Souls true love shall be. Go tole my pasing-bell dear friends, For here a Lovers journey ends, But mark what fortune she will have, When she hath clos'd me in the Grave, I do not doubt but you shall see, Her body paid in misery: And made a laughing-stock to those, Who now her great unkindness knows. You of the Gentlecraft that be, Shew this kind favour unto me, That to the world this mournful song, Be chanted sweetly you among, And some of you I do request, To bear me to my longing rest, And lay my carkess in the ground, With ringing Bells melodious sound. To my dear love then go and say, Her change of mind cast me away, Bid her hard heart more constant prove, To him that next shall be her love: With that he yielding up his life, Where Death gave end to further strife, Desiring God that sits in Heaven, His lovers sins might be forgiven. Thus have you heard Hugh Hills good mind Who never proved in love unkind, But to his end continued true, Not changing old friend for a new.
FINIS.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The second Part, to the same Tune</hi>.</seg>
COme young Lasses and listen well, Unto the tale that I shall tell, For unto you I will unfold, A matter worthy to be told: There was a young-man lov'd me well, A Shooe-maker his name Hugh Hill, His heart with love did burn amain, And I seem'd to love him again. Then were we made sure together, But I unconstant as the weather, Did him forsake, I was so nice, When in the Church was asked thrice: When that he saw I was unkind, And that I had a cruel mind, For love of me he left his life, Because I would not be his wife. I never car'd what he did say, But suffer'd him to pine away, And when he yielded up his breath, I quickly had forgot his death; But in my bed upon a time, As many things came in my mind, There smiling to my self I said, I think that I shall dye a Maid. Then many a Youth I thought upon, I lov'd and fancy'd many a one, I hated some, and some reserv'd, To like and love as they deserv'd, But in the mid'st of all my choice, I heard a lamentable voice, With Musick sounding to the ear, But not to me as did appear. For when I heard what it might be, And the cause of this melody, Then at my window a voice did cry, Hugh Hill id dead, fie, Sarah, fie; My Conscience then tormented me, Of my false heart and treachery, And evermore the voice would cry, Go pine they self, repent and dye.
Methoughts it was the voice of Hugh, Of good Hugh Hill that was so true, That was so faithful unto me, Yet used him most wickedly: O there he did my faults express, And I the same must needs confefs, For I kill'd him with cruelty, For which I would, but cannot dye. And since that time my heart is light, And all my body altered quite, My eyes are sunk into my head, Which makes me look like one that's dead My face that was so fresh and fine, As clear as is the Claret wine, Is now transform'd to another hue, Borth grim and loathsome to the view. My Skin is withered my flesh is gone, And nothing left but skin and bone, And now I pine most wofully, I wish for Death but cannot dye: Therefore sweet maids that suitors have Yield unto them that true love crave, O do not cast a many away, Lest you your selves go to decay. If unto you a Young-man come, You are so fine you'l ne'r have none, Until your beauty fade away, You scorn most men you are so coy, Fie, fie, remember what you are, Do not refuse whilst you are fair, Unto your true loves be not coy, 'Tis good to take them while you may. As you be coy so I have been, But see the misery I live in, That was it not for my Souls health, I could be willing to kill my self: Therefore fair Maids amend in time, Lest that your woes be like to mine, And pray to God to end my grief, Or else to rid me of my life.
Printed for J. Clarke, W. Thackeray, and T. Passinger.