Coy Celia's Cruelty;
OR,
The Languishing Lovers Lamentation:
BEING
The last New Play-Song sung at the Theatre-Royal, in a New Play called Amphitrion.
To an excellent New Play-House Tune.
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1.
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CElia that I once was blest,
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Is now the Torment of my Breast;
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Since to cure me, you bereave me
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of the Pleasure, I possest:
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Cruel Creature to deceive me,
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First to love, and then to leave me;
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Cruel Creature, etc.
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2.
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Had you the Bliss refus'd to grant,
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I then had never known the want;
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But possessing once the Blessing,
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is the Cause of my Complaint:
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Once possessing is but tasting,
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'Tis not Bliss that is not lasting.
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Once possessing, etc.
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3.
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Celia now is mine no more,
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But I'm hers, and must adore;
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Nor to leave her will endeavour,
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Charms that Captiv'd me before:
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No Unkindness can dissever,
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Love that's True is Love for ever.
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No Unkindness, etc.
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4.
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Such is mine, I do declare,
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Who dotes upon the charming Fair;
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To requite me, she will slight me,
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Love I find a fatal Snare:
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Why was Celia made a Beauty,
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That can thus forget her Duty?
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Why was Celia, etc.
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5.
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Oh! What fatal killing Smart
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Do I sustain from Cupid's Dart;
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Can my Jewel be so cruel,
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to wound her Loyal Lover's Heart,
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Oh! be kinder, do not kill me,
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Nor with so much Torment fill me.
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Oh! be kinder, etc.
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6.
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If you'll Triumph in Disdain,
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Love, rather than to live in pain:
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Let Death's Arrow pierce me throrow,
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'Tis a Pleasure to be slain:
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Better so, than lye and languish,
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For to feel this fatal Anguish.
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Better so, etc.
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7.
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If my Joys thou wilt restore,
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Then cou'd I slight the Golden Oar,
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'Tis not Treasure, but sweet Pleasure,
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I so dearly do adore;
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Therefore Celia don't deny me,
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I am Loyal but try me.
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Therefore Celia, etc.
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8.
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Sometimes in a golden Dream,
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She doth kind and loyal seem,
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When I waken, I'm forsaken,
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in a far and worse extreme:
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My poor Soul is then tormented,
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And my Sighs with Tears are vented.
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My poor Soul, etc.
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9.
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Tho' she may her Love disown,
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With a Heart more hard than stone,
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There's no Blessing worth possessing,
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like fair Celia's Charms alone;
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For my mind can no ways waver,
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I will either dye, or have her.
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For my mind, etc.
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10.
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Come ye little Nymphs that wait,
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While I my Sorows do relate;
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She can cure, hasten to her,
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tell her of my wretched State;
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If she grants not my desire,
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I next minute will expire.
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If she grants, etc.
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