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EBBA 20020

Magdalene College - Pepys
Ballad XSLT Template
A Love-sick maids song, lately beguild,
By a run-away Lover that left her with Childe.
To the tune of, In Melton on a day.

A Las and well away,
that ere I trod on ground
To see this haplesse day,
wherein such griefes abound.
Alas I cannot sleepe,
my joyes are cleane exilde:
I cannot choose but weepe,
because I was beguild.

When I oshuld take the meat,
that should my life sustaine:
There is nothing that I eat,
but aggravates my paine,
Oh, fie on him whose deede
doth cause me thus complaine
My heart within doth bleede,
with sorrow griefe and paine.

Ah, evill might he thrive,
that spoil'd me of my health:
The cruelst wretch alive,
hath me undone by stealth.
For where I liv'd a maid,
a maiden in good fame,
He hath me now betrayde,
and brought me unto shame.

My maidenhead is lost,
oh, cursed be the hower:
When he that lov'd me most:
should seeke me to deflower.
Now am I great with childe,
as great as I may goe:
He that hath me beguild,
a way is gone me fro.

And left me here alone,
within this desart place:
To waile and make my moane,
O most distressed case.
What shall of me betide,
none but the Lord doth know:
He that should be my guide,
hath left me here in woe.

Ye windes resound my cryes,
within the Misers eares:
That he with watry eyes,
may shed his brinish teares.
To waile the late done deede.
that he committed have:
Or else to come with speede,
my babe and me to save.

The trees can witnesse well,
my privy griefe and paine:
These Rocks and stones can tell
the sorrowes I substaine
My meate is hawes and hips,
my drinke is water cleare:
Nought els may my tender lips,
have tasted this halfe yeare.

O whelpe of Tigers broode,
couldst thou finde in thy hart,
With her that did thee good,
to play so lewde a part.
Woe worth me poore woman,
that did thee alwaies helpe,
And cursed be the Dam,
brought forth so bad a whelp.

Thou hadst me at thy call,
as hawkes are at the lure:
My selfe, my goods and all,
and what I might procure.
Thou hadst it at thy neede,
I never sayd thee nay,
To stand thee ought in steede,
or helpe thee any way.

And now thou doest requite,
this love I beare to thee:
With deadly deepe dispite,
as now I plainely see,
To leave me comfortlesse,
my luklesse state to rue:
Thou canst not say no lesse,
but thou hast ben untrue.

Woe worth the time that I
gave credit to thy words:
For now I plainely trie,
thou bushes giv'st for birds.
Woe worth those fained teares,
which thou hast often spent:
They brought me in the [b]ryers
which make me now lament.

O would to God I had
not knowne thy perjur'd face:
I might have then bene glad,
where now I reape alasse.
For I did never offend,
before that time with thee:
Nor never did intend,
to spot my chastity.

But sith no words will serve,
to countervaile thine act:
And that thou doest deserve,
hell torments for thy fact.
I will hold me content,
till that I breathe my last:
I cannot now privent,
the thing is done and past.

Ye maides be warnd by me,
let no such cogging mates,
Spot your virginitie,
by any subtill feates.
Least in the ende you say,
and sing as now I doe:
Alas and well away,
we are beguiled too.

Consider words are winde,
or of small force at least:
And men are most unkinde,
I speake probatum est.
There is no truoch in men,
the best is all to had:
Who trusts their dealings then
I hold them worse than mad.

Who trusts to rotten boughes
shall fall ere they bewares:
Who credites fayned vowes:
are sonest brought to care.
My selfe may justly say.
I prov'd it to my paine:
I never saw the day,
but words & deeds were twain

And thus to end my song,
I wish you all beware,
And of the flattering tongue,
to have a speciall care.
Keepe well your honest name,
as the apple of your eye,
So shall your lasting fame.
remaine eternally.


Printed at London
for I.W.

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