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EBBA 22137

Magdalene College - Pepys
Ballad XSLT Template
Coy Celia's Cruelty;
The Languishing Lovers Lamentation:
The last New Play-Song sung at the Theatre-Royal, in a New Play called Amphitrion.
To an excellent New Play-House Tune.

CElia that I once was blest,
Is now the Torment of my Breast;
Since to cure me, you bereave me
of the Pleasure, I possest:
Cruel Creature to deceive me,
First to love, and then to leave me;
Cruel Creature, etc.

Had you the Bliss refus'd to grant,
I then had never known the want;
But possessing once the Blessing,
is the Cause of my Complaint:
Once possessing is but tasting,
'Tis not Bliss that is not lasting.
Once possessing, etc.

Celia now is mine no more,
But I'm hers, and must adore;
Nor to leave her will endeavour,
Charms that Captiv'd me before:
No Unkindness can dissever,
Love that's True is Love for ever.
No Unkindness, etc.

Such is mine, I do declare,
Who dotes upon the charming Fair;
To requite me, she will slight me,
Love I find a fatal Snare:
Why was Celia made a Beauty,
That can thus forget her Duty?
Why was Celia, etc.

Oh! What fatal killing Smart
Do I sustain from Cupid's Dart;
Can my Jewel be so cruel,
to wound her Loyal Lover's Heart,
Oh! be kinder, do not kill me,
Nor with so much Torment fill me.
Oh! be kinder, etc.

If you'll Triumph in Disdain,
Love, rather than to live in pain:
Let Death's Arrow pierce me throrow,
'Tis a Pleasure to be slain:
Better so, than lye and languish,
For to feel this fatal Anguish.
Better so, etc.

If my Joys thou wilt restore,
Then cou'd I slight the Golden Oar,
'Tis not Treasure, but sweet Pleasure,
I so dearly do adore;
Therefore Celia don't deny me,
I am Loyal but try me.
Therefore Celia, etc.

Sometimes in a golden Dream,
She doth kind and loyal seem,
When I waken, I'm forsaken,
in a far and worse extreme:
My poor Soul is then tormented,
And my Sighs with Tears are vented.
My poor Soul, etc.

Tho' she may her Love disown,
With a Heart more hard than stone,
There's no Blessing worth possessing,
like fair Celia's Charms alone;
For my mind can no ways waver,
I will either dye, or have her.
For my mind, etc.

Come ye little Nymphs that wait,
While I my Sorows do relate;
She can cure, hasten to her,
tell her of my wretched State;
If she grants not my desire,
I next minute will expire.
If she grants, etc.

Printed for Charles Bates next the Crown Tavern in West-smithfield.

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