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But my distressed mother

Why weep you?' be content, You have to death delivered me,

Most like an innocent : Tormentor do thy office

On me when thou think'st best, But God, my heavenly Father,

Will bring my soul to rest.

But oh, my aged father,

Wherever thou dost lie,
Thou know'st not thy poor daughter

Is ready for to die;
But yet amongst the angels

In heaven I hope to dwell,
Wherefore, my loving father,

I bid thee now farewell.

Farewell likewise my mother,

Adieu my friends also,
God grant that you by others,

May never feel such woe.
Forsake your superstition,

The cause of mortal strife, Embrace God's true religion,

For which I lose my life.

When all these words were ended,

Then came the man of death, Who kindled soon a fire,

Which stopt this virgin's breath, To Christ her only Saviour,

She did her soul commend, Farewell, quoth she, good people,

And thus she made an end.

XXXII.

THE MAD MAN'S MORRICE.

Heard you not lately of a man,

, That went besides his wits, And naked through the street he ran,

Wrapt in his frantic fits ? My honest neighbours, it is I,

Hark, how the people flout me, See where the mad man comes ! they cry,

With all the boys about me.

Into a pond stark-naked I ran

And cast away my cloaths, Sir, Without the help of any man

Made shift to get away, Sir,
How I got out I have forgot,

I do not well remember,
Or whether it was cold or hot,

In June or in December.

Tom Bedlam's but a sage to me,

I speak in sober sadness,
For more strange visions do I see

Than he in all his madness
When first to me this chance befel,

About the market walkt I,
With capon's feathers in my cap,

And to myself thus talkt I:

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Did you not see my love of late,

Like Titan in her glory? Did you

not know she was my mate, And I must write her story, With pen of gold on silver leaf,

I will so much befriend her, For why I am of that belief,

None can so well commend her.

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Saw you not angels in her eyes,

Whilst that she was a speaking ? Smelt you not smells like Paradise

Between two rubies breaking ? Is not her hair more pure than gold,

Or finest spider's spinning ? Methinks in her I do behold

My joys and woes beginning.

Is not a dimple in her cheek,

Each eye a star that's starting ? Are not all graces install’d in her,

Each step all joys imparting ? Methinks I see her in a cloud,

With graces round about her ; To them I call and

cry

aloud I cannot live without her.

Then raging towards the sky I rore,

Thinking to catch her hand, O then to Jove I call and

cry
To let her by me stand,
I look behind, and there I see

My shadow me beguile,
I wish she were as near to me,

Which makes my worship smile.

There is no creaturc can compare

With my beloved Nancy : Thus I build castles in the air,

This is the fruit of fancy ; My thoughts mount high above the sky,

Of none I stand in awe, Although my body here doth lie

Upon a pad of straw.

I was as good a harmless youth

Before base Cupid taught me,
Or his own mother, with her charms

Into this case had brought me:
Stript and whipt now must I be,

In Bedlam bound in chains ; Good people, now you all may see,

What love hath for his pains.

When I was young as others are,

With gallants did I flourish,
O then I was the properest lad

That was in all the parish,
The bracelet that I us’d to wear,

About my arms so tender,
Are turned into iron plates

About my body slender.

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