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EBBA 30736

British Library - Roxburghe
Ballad XSLT Template
Lamentation of Cloris
For the Unkindness of her SHEPHERD.
How she by her Strephon was strangely Beguild,
And is almost Destracted for want of a Child:
But if any brisk Ladd will come her to Imbrace,
Shes free, can they find a convenient place.
To the Tune of, O Cloris awake, etc.

MY Shepherds unkind,
alas, what shall I do?
Who shall I direct
my sad Speeches unto?
Whilst in secret I mourn,
for the loss of my dear,
Down from my poor eyes,
drops many a Tear.

He takes much delight,
with his flocks for to keep,
And minds not poor Cloris,
who for him doth Weep:

But in vain I lament
for I plainly do see,
It is all one to him,
what becometh of me.

In the morning hes gone,
before Im awake,
Then I miss my dear Shepherd,
my heart it doth ake:
The Sighs and the Groans,
by my self I do fetch,
Would move him to pitty
a sorrowful wretch.

The second part, to the same Tune.

At night he doth think
for to make me amends,
And with his fair looks,
for to make us good friends:
But alas, hes so weary,
he cannot be kind.
And this adds great sorrow,
to my pensive mind.

But I have no hopes,
that I ere shall injoy
As the fruits of my labour,
a Girl or a Boy:
Which so much I desire,
but I fear all in vain,
For my Strephons unkind,
which doth make me complain.

But if thus he continues,
ile tell you my mind,
Ile find out some friend:
who knows how to be kind:
For Im sure flesh and Blood,
long cannot endure,
The pain that I feel,
without looking for cure.

When I walk in the fields,
not thinking of harms,
And meet but a woman,
with a Babe in her arms:
It tormenteth me more,
then my tongue can relate,
Which makes me deplore
my too riged fate.

Well Strephon thy fore-head
I will certainly graft,
With a large pair of Horns,
yet dot with such Craft,

Thou shalt never be the wiser,
and when this is done,
I fear not to bring thee
a Daughter or Son.

And for my so doing,
can any me blame,
If they do but consider,
what a scurrilous Name,
Poor women receive
that no Children do bear,
Though the fault be their husbands
such dry souls they are.

Besides I am young,
and my Nature requires
A lusty young Ladd,
for to please my desires:
Yet I have as little,
of Lovers Content,
As ever had woman
which makes me lament

Then pitty poor Cloris,
all you that injoy
The content of your hearts,
and do frequently toy,
With your Lovers in private
and use Venus Game,
For you cannot deny,
but my shepherds to blame.

Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright,
J. Clarke, W. Thackeray, & T. Passinger.

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