%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Love-sick-Maid: Or, Cordelia's lamentation for / the absence of her Gerheard, University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer 1652-1652 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 10/16/2018 36081

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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

R227883 1 To a pleasant new Tune Gerard's Mistress To a Pleasant New Tune BE gone / Thou fatal fiery Feavor, now be gone, Manchester Central Library Blackletter Ballads Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 24 The Love-sick-Maid: Or, Cordelia's lamentation for / the absence of her Gerheard, The Lovesick Maid: Or, Cordelia's lamentation for the absence of her Gerheard, 1652-1652 R.I.

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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 10/16/2018 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 10/16/2018 12:48:12 PM XBallad Raychawdhuri, Anita Created XML Version of Ballad 10/16/2018 12:48:12 PM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/16/2018 12:48:12 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Adkison, Katie Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/16/2018 12:48:12 PM Transcriptionist Two McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/16/2018 12:48:12 PM Transcriptionist One Moreno, Ricardo Transcription of ballad manuscript 11/17/2016 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Love-sick-Maid: Or, Cordelia's lamentation for</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">the absence of her Gerheard, To a pleasant new Tune.</hi></seg>
BE gone Thou fatal fiery Feavor, now be gone, let love alone, Let his etherial flames possess my breast, His fires From thy consuming heat no aid requires, for swift desires Transports my passions to a throne of rest Where I, Who in the pride of health, did Never feel such warmth to move By sicknesse tam'd, am so inflam'd, I know no joyes but love, And he, That trifled many tedious hours away, my love to try, In little space; hath gain'd the grace to have more power then I, Depart, Thou scorching fury, quick from me depart, think not my heart, To thy dull flame shall be a sacrifice A maid, Dread Cupid now is on thine alter laid by thee betray'd A rich oblation to restore thine eyes But yet My fair acknowledgement will prove thou hadst no craft To bend thy bow against a foe, that aim'd to catch the shaft: For if That at my breast thy arrows, thou all at once let flye She that receives a thousand sheaves can do no more but dye
No more, Your learned Physitians tyre your brains no more pray y' give me ore Mine is a cure in Physick never read Although You skilful Doctors all the world do know pray ye let me go, You may as well make practise on the dead, But if, My Gerheard daign to view me, with the glory of his looks I make no doubt, to live without Physitians and their books Tis he, That with his balmed kisses, can restore my latest breath What bliss is this, to gain a kisse, can save a maid from death To you That tell me of another world I bow, and will allow Your sacred precepts, if youle grant me this That he, Whom I esteem of next the Deity may go with me, Without whose presence there can bee no blisse Go teach Your tenets of Eternity to those that aged be, And not perswade a Love-sick-Maid, there's any heaven but he But stay, Methinks an Icye slumber hath possest my frenzy brain Pray bid him dye, if you see I shall never wake again.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Young Mans Answer, or his dying breath,</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Lamenting for his fair Cordelia's Death.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To a delightful new Tune.</hi></seg>
COme on Thou fatal messenger from her that's gone, left I alone Within that quenchlesse flame forever fry, The lake Of love being kindled, wherein none can take rest, but away Where slumber hath no power to close the eye Whilst I, That by my fair Cordelia desires to take a sleep With lids wide spread upon my bed Am forc'd a watch to keep And she That waited many tedious hours my constancy to try Is not at rest, whilst I opprest, fain would but cannot dye, Dispatch, Thou scorching fury, quickly now dispatch, by death I watch To be releast from this tormenting flame The Dart Sent from dread Cupid sticks fast in my heart I wanting Art Had not the power for to resist the same Thou she, Who by her late acknowledgement Profest thou hadst no craft Yet from thy bow thou mad'st her know, what power lay in the shaft: But then Thou sent another arrow which me of hopes bereft Most like a foe to wound me so for whom no cure is left.
Wherefore Did you Physitians give my mistris ore, had you no more Experience, but what you in books have read Or why, (You learned Doctors did you cease to try your skils, when I Might have revived her, if she'd not been dead And yet Suppose that I in person Had present been to view her, Is there such grace in any face, To work so great a cure, But now I'me come too late to kiss her which were it not in vain, After her death, I'd spend my breath; to fetch her back again. Unto The fair Elizium thither will I go whereas I know; She is amongst those sacred ones preferr'd When I, Shall bee admitted for to come so nigh, pardon Ile cry For my long absence wherein I have erred And since By her I was esteemed, So much on earth being here Hence for her sake no rest Ile take, Till I have found her there No more But only I desire To hear my passing Bell That Virgins may lament the day of Gerheards last farewel.
FINIS. Printed at London for R.I. Entered according to Order.