%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> An Answer / To the forc'd Marriage: / Or, the old mans vindication. / I read a Song a Day or two ago, / Which says that Celia's now grown whorish too, / And makes a fine pretence because she's wed, / To one that's old, she need must wrong his bed: / I of her wantonness having suspition, / Have search'd, and found out the old mans condition; / And now I plainly see she wrongs him much, / She onely had a mind to take a touch; / With some fond foolish youngster, not for need, / For her old man as well can do the deed: / As most men can, and this may satisfie, / That Celia doth her husband much belye. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 06/18/2014 33668

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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

1 Celia's my Foe. Since Celia's My Foe Celia's my Foe. SInce Celia's a Whore, / I'le abide her no more, Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 1060 An Answer / To the forc'd Marriage: / Or, the old mans vindication. / I read a Song a Day or two ago, / Which says that Celia's now grown whorish too, / And makes a fine pretence because she's wed, / To one that's old, she need must wrong his bed: / I of her wantonness having suspition, / Have search'd, and found out the old mans condition; / And now I plainly see she wrongs him much, / She onely had a mind to take a touch; / With some fond foolish youngster, not for need, / For her old man as well can do the deed: / As most men can, and this may satisfie, / That Celia doth her husband much belye. An Answer To the forced Marriage: Or, the old mans vindication. I read a Song a Day or two ago, Which says that Celia's now grown whorish too, And makes a fine pretense because she's wed, To one that's old, she need must wrong his bed: I of her wantonness having suspicion, Have searched, and found out the old mans condition; And now I plainly see she wrongs him much, She only had a mind to take a touch; With some fond foolish youngster, not for need, For her old man as well can do the deed: As most men can, and this may satisfies, That Celia doth her husband much belie. ?-? E. Oliver

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XML Generated Automatically at 6/18/2014 4:40:33 PM Using EMC

XBallad Parsing Engine developed by Carl G Stahmer.

TEI Template developed by Gerald Egan and Modified by Carl Stahmer

All apostrophes are encoded as '.

Any dashs occurring in line breaks have been removed;

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family Featured 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 groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 6/18/2014 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America love sex/ sexuality vulgar humor Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/18/2014 4:40:33 PM XBallad Forbes, Jonathan Created XML Version of Ballad 6/18/2014 4:40:33 PM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/18/2014 4:40:33 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/18/2014 4:40:33 PM Transcriptionist Two Doran, Thomas Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/18/2014 4:40:33 PM Transcriptionist One Jaworski, Cheryl Transcription of ballad manuscript 11/13/2012 Bibliographer William Hildalgo Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 10/7/2013 Checker Phillip Cortez Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/7/2013 Checker Phillip Cortez Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/7/2013 Checker Phillip Cortez Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/7/2013 Checker Phillip Cortez Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">An Answer To the forc'd Marrige. </hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">Or,</hi> the old mans vindication.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">I Read a <hi rend="bold">S</hi>ong a Day or two ago,</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Which says that <hi rend="bold">Celia's</hi> now grown whorish too,</hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">And makes a fine pretence because she's wed,</hi></seg> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To one that's old, she need must wrong his bed:</hi></seg> <seg n="7" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">I of her wantonness having suspition,</hi></seg> <seg n="8" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Have search'd, and found out the old mans condition;</hi></seg> <seg n="9" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">And now I plainly see she wrongs him much,</hi></seg> <seg n="10" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">She onely had a mind to take a touch;</hi></seg> <seg n="11" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">With some fond foolish youngster, not for need,</hi></seg> <seg n="12" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">For her old man as well can do the deed:</hi></seg> <seg n="13" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">As most men can, and this may satisfie,</hi></seg> <seg n="14" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">That C<hi rend="bold">elia</hi> doth her husband much belye.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="15" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Tune is, C<hi rend="bold">elia's</hi> <hi rend="bold">my Foe.</hi></hi></seg>
SInce Celia's a Whore, I'le abide her no more, Let her go, Since I know, A far better in store: The ill luck was my own, That a slut I have known, Who scorns me, And horns me, And swears she'l be gone. Her Parents took care, That my wealth she should share, Crying Daughter, Hereafter, Be wife and beware.
Though your Husband be old, Prethee be not too bold, If unkind, You will find, That his Love will grow cold. Methinks their advice, Might have made her more wife; Till death Stop'd my breath, And had clos'd up my eyes. I'de have left her much coyn, And her freedom too joyn: With that Youth, Who in truth, now enjoys what is mine.
She swears I am a sot, Deform'd and what not, But I swear By the Beer, That I have in this Pot, I will cherish my blood, With the best of all food, Brisk Wine, Shall be mine, And all things that are good. I care not a pin, But let them laugh as win, Ile delight Day and Night, And ne'r count it a sin. Pritty Phillis I know, So much love doth me owe. She'd be willing, To be billing, And bend to my bow. Though she saies I am in age, Yet I am free to engage, With a beauty, Where duty, All hatr doth assuage. Since Celia's unkind, Ile be of the same mind, Let her go, Since I know, Where a better to find.
She has taught me the way, For to sport and to play, She may leave me, Not grieve me, Nor my reason betray. Being free'd from a wife, I shall live without strife; Enjoying, And toying, All days of my Life. Then think it not strange, If like Celia I range; If she Love not me, Why may not I change? Ile get free from the Charms Of those treacherous arms; And i'le yield Up the field To loves private alarms. Be happy and poor, Like a wanton young whore: We'l part With free heart, And i'le ne'r see thee more. Thy youngster at last, Whom thou now hold'st so fast; Will leave thee, And deceive thee, Then to Bridewel at last.
Then when 'tis too late, Thou wilt praise thy old Mate: And curse Thyself worse, That his Love thou didst hate. But without all redress, For no love i'le express, To a woman That's common, As herself doth confess. Ile not make my moan, To the Trees, nor to stone, Be it known, When you'r gone, I will not lye alone. To Phillis i'le shew, What my courage can do; She'l raise me, And praise me, Thus Celia adieu.
FINIS. With Permission, Ro. L'Estrange. Printed for E. Oliver, at the Gol-den-Key on Snow-hill, neer the Sarazens-head. Where any Chap-Men may be Fur-nished with all sorts of Books and Ballads.