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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,
Is ready for to die;
In heaven I hope to dwell,
I bid thee now farewell.
Farewell likewise my mother,
Adieu my friends also,
May never feel such woe.
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.
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,
I do not well remember,
In June or in December.
Tom Bedlam's but a sage to me,
I speak in sober sadness,
Than he in all his madness
About the market walkt I,
And to myself thus talkt I:
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.
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
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
My shadow me beguile,
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,
Into this case had brought me:
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,
That was in all the parish,
About my arms so tender,
About my body slender.