%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> Amintor's Lamentation for Celea's Unkindness. / Both Sexes from this Song may learn, / Of what they should beware: / How in Extreams they may discern, / Unkindness and Despair. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 05/02/2011 31337

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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

T21837 2 UNKNOWN a new Tune UNKNOWN A New Tune SINCE Celia's my Foe, / To the Defarts I'll go, Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 3: 644 3: 645 Amintor's Lamentation for Celea's Unkindness. / Both Sexes from this Song may learn, / Of what they should beware: / How in Extreams they may discern, / Unkindness and Despair. Amintor’s Lamentation for Celea’s Unkindness. Both Sexes from this Song may learn, Of what they should beware: How in Extreams they may discern, Unkindness and Despair. Amintor’s Lamentation for Celia’s Unkindness. Both Sexes from this Song may learn, Of what they should beware: How in Extremes they may discern, Unkindness and Despair. ?-?

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity 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 youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 5/2/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America animals/ nature love travel Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 5/2/2011 2:06:52 PM XBallad Doss, MacKenzie Created XML Version of Ballad 5/2/2011 2:06:52 PM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/2/2011 2:06:52 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/2/2011 2:06:52 PM Transcriptionist Two Fadel, Meghan Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/2/2011 2:06:52 PM Transcriptionist One Foley, Christopher Transcription of ballad manuscript 2/22/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/22/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/22/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/8/2010 Checker Sue Hong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 1/30/2009 Bibliographer Meghan Fadel Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">Amintor</hi></hi><hi rend="italic">s Lamentation for <hi rend="bold">Celea</hi>s Unkindness.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">Both Sexes from this Song may learn,</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="indent"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">Of what they should beware:</hi></hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">How in Extreams they may discern,</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="indent"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">Unkindness and Despair.</hi></hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">To a new Tune.</hi></hi></seg>
SINCE Celias my Foe, To the Desarts Ill go, Where some River, for ever, shall eccho my Wo! The Trees will appear, More relenting than her, In the Morning adorning each Leaf with a Tear. When I made my sad Moan To the Rocks all alone, From each Hollow will follow some pitiful Groan But with silent Disdain, She requites all my Pain: To my Mourning, returning no Answer again. O why was I born, To Fate so forlorn? To inherit no Merit, But Anguish and Scorn. Yet my Affection is such, As no Blemish can touch Yet Im slighted and spighted, for loving too much.
Perhaps could I prove, More unjust to my Love, I might find her yet kinder, and Pity might move: But Ill chuse to obey; Tho I die by the Way: Yet tis better than get her, by going astray. Then why should you fly My fair Celia? O why? When to please ye, tis easie, If for Amintor to die Your Lover youd shun, You no Danger shall run; Him you banish, will vanish, and from you begone. Stay Celia unkind, Will you leave me behind? Let me enter, and venture, My self with the Wind. Ah! from me will ye part, Who so loves your Desert? Either tarry, or carry Your Slave with his Heart.
Were you but secure, Id your Absence endure, Were all Danger, a Stranger, to a Virgin so pure: But some insolent Wave, May your Merit out-brave, Both regardless, and careless, of me your poor Slave. Yet Storm shall not dare, To assault one so fair, To attend you, Ill send you, Sighs softer than Air. The Nymphs of the deep, My dear Celia shall keep, On a Pillow, each Billow, shall lull you asleep, The Seas they shall dance, And Winds shall advance, With your Gally, to dally, And guide you to France. While I from the Shoar, My fair Idol adore; till that Neptune your Captain, Hath wasted you oer.
Then Celea adieu, When I cease to pursue, Youl discover no Lover, Was ever so true. Your sad Shepherd flies, From those dear cruel Eyes Which now seeing, his being, decays and he dies. Yet tis better to run, To the Fates we cant shun; Than for ever, tendeavour, what cannot be won: What is this I have done, That Amintor alone Is thus treated, and hated, for loving but one? And thus I complain, Tho tis all in Vain; Yet the Trouble is double, to stifle my Pain: The Sea for the Shoar, I as well might implore, Theyre as moving, and Loving, as her I adore. Then since tis the Fate, Of any wretched State Without Pity, tis fit I, submit to her Hate. For as Winter comes on, When Apollo is gone, So declining, and Pining, she leaves me alone. Tis better than so, Tho you force me to go, You abuse me, to accuse me, of being your Foe, If well understood, twill be all for your good; Im the kinder, to hinder the Heat of your Blood. You swore youd be true But I well enough knew Youd deceive me, and leave me, as now I must you. For those that are Lewd, And inclind to be rude,
Tis the Fashion, in Passion, to Swear and Delude. Id slaken your Fire, Till your Flame did expire; If with Honour the Donor could grant your Desire: But much were I to blame, To extinguish your Flame. By exposing, and loosing, my Virtue and Fame. Then take it not ill, That I do not fulfil Your requesting; protesting, I honour you still, But more Safety I find, In the Waves of the Wind, To desert you, with Virtue, than staying behind. Youll Pardon my Lord That I cannot afford, Your demanding, by Landing, to fetch you abroad. Since I must not comply, You had better to try, If another will smother, the Love I deny. For Thousands there are, That are ten Times as Fair Town or City will fit ye with Feature and Air. Such as make new Delights In their amorous Sights, Who in Courting, and sporting, do wear out the Night. What Presents you make, Theyle be certain to take: When youre sleepy. theyll keep ye, with Pleasure awake, But for me silly Girl, Neither Jewels nor Pearl, Can ever awe me, or draw me to Bed with an Earl, Then good Sir away, Tis the best of your Play, To deal plainly, you vainly
perswade me to stay: For I find greater Ease In appeasing the Seas, Than asswaging the Raging, of Cupids Disease. Then since tis in Vain, And more to complain; Take your Pleasure, at Leasure, to talk of your Pain; To the Wave of the Flood Or the Trees of the Wood, Tell your Story, and Glory, in being so good. In the Notes of your Song, As you sing em along, Let your Celia in Ela, be blamd for the Wrong, But the Kingdom shall know Whether justly or no; Since Amintor in Winter compelld me to go. And yet Ill away, For a Year and a Day; Neither Reason, nor Season, shall force me to stay. Tho the Waves in their Pride, Seem the Rocks to divide; By Intreaties, to Thetis I safely shall ride. Then since we must Part, You may take back your Heart Tis a Present unpleasant, and favours of Art: I like not the Charm, For I find there is harm, If we handle, and dandle, a Snake till hes warm, Then Amintor farewel, When the Story you tell, You may blame me, and shame me, and all will be well, Yet in Spight of your Skill, Tho poor Celea you kill, You could never deceive her, to yield to your Will.
FINIS.