%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Lovers mad fits and fancies. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1674-1679 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 08/24/2007 21124

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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

3.117 R180164 1 a Delightful New Tune A Delightful New Tune I Dote, I Dote, but am a Sot to show it,/ I was a very fool to let her know it; Pepys 3.117 Wing L3255; Rollins (2) 1594 (March 1, 1675, ii, 499). Pepys Library The Pepys ballads : facsimile volume Editor W.G. Day D.S. Brewer Cambridge [England] 1987 Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 3: 117 The Lovers mad fits and fancies. The Lovers mad fits and fancies. The Lover's Mad Fits and Fancies. 1/2 sheet oblong folio, 200 x 304 uneven inking cast fleurons Printer A.P. 1674-1679 London, Printed by by A.P. for F. Coles, T. Vere,/ J. Wright, and J. Clarke. F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, J. Clarke Blagden

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 Taxonomy used by Pepys to Organize Ballads in Albums A Small Promiscuous Supplement Devotion & Morality Drinking & Good Fellowship History - True & Fabulous Humour, Frollicks &c Love Pleasant Love Pleasant and Unfortunate Love Unfortunate Marriage Sea State & Times Tragedy Various Subjects Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/health alcohol animals/nature appearance Bible/biblical figures buildings/architecture catastrophe children class clothing/fashion country/nation crime death economics/trade entertainment family/procreation folklore gender historical figures & events holidays/seasons infidelity law London love maritime marriage military/war monstrosity mythology/Classical world news nobility/court politics/government punishment religious concepts religious figures religious types & sects royalty rural life servitude sex/sexuality supernatural/magic The New World travel trickery/deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgarities/crass humor Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 8/24/2007 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Love Pleasant 08/24/2007 Checker Patrick Ludolph fixed tabs 08/15/2007 Checker Patrick Ludolph Transcription and Metadata checked, XML 08/16/2006 Checker Simone Chess Transcription Checked 07/18/2006 Transcriber Unknown Original Transcription 08/24/2004 Bibliographer Simone Chess Bibliographic SQL Database Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Lovers mad fits and fancies.</hi> </seg> <lb/> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To a Delightful New Tune.</hi> </seg>
I Dote, I Dote; but am a Sot to show it, I was a very fool to let her know it; For now she doth so cunning grow, She proves a Friend worse than a Foe; She'l neither hold me fast, not let me go, For she tells me I cannot forsake her; The straight I endeavour to leave her; But to make me to stay, She throws a kiss in my way, O then I could tarry for ever. Then I retire, salute and sit down by her, Then do I fry in frost, and freeze in fire; 'Tis Nectar from her Lips I sup, Although I cannot drink all up: Yet I am Fort with kissing of the Cup, For her lips are two brimmers of Claret, When first I began to miscarry; Her Breasts of delight; Are two Bottles of white; And her eyes are two cups of Canary.
Drunk as I live, dead drunk without reprive, And all my secrets driven through a Sive, Upon my neck her Arms she layeth, Then all is Gospel that she saith, Which I lay hold on with my fudled faith, For I find a fond Lover a drunkard, And dangerous when once he flies out; With lips, and with sips, Black eyes, and white thighs, Blind Cupid sure tippled his eyes out. She bids me rise, tells me I must be wise, And be like her, for she's not in love she crys; Then do I fume, and fret. and throw, Shall I be fettered to my Foe? Then I begin to run, but cannot go: I prethee Sweet use me more kindly, 'Tis better to hold me fast, if you once dis-ingage, Your Bird from his Cage; Believe me he'l leave you at last.
L Ike a sot I sit, that fil'd the town with wit, But now I confess I have most need of it, I have been Drunk with Duck and Dear, About a quarter of a year, Beyond the cure of sleeping, or small Beer; For I think I can number the months too, July, August, September, October: thus goes my account, but a mischief light on't, For I'm sure I shall go when I am sober. My legs are lam'd, my courage is quite tam'd, My heart and my body is inflam'd: Now by experience I can prove, And swear by all the Gods above: 'Tis better to be drunk with wine then love; For good sack makes us merry and witty, Our fore-heads with Jewels adorning; and although we do grope, yet there is some hope That a man may be sober next morning. Now with command she throws me from her hand she bids me go and knows I cannot stand I measure all the ground by steps,
Was ever a Sot so drunk with Sips, Or ever man so overcome with Lips: I pray Madam Fickle be faithful, And leave off your damnable dodging: either love me, or leave me, and do not deceive me, But let me home to my lodging. I have too much, and yet my folly is such, I cannot leave, but must have tother touch: Here's a health to the King----- how now, I'm drunk, and shall speak reason I vow, But Lovers and fools, may speak any thing you know, I fear I have tyred your patience; But I'm sure 'tis I have the wrong on't: my wit is bereft me, and all that is left me Is but: just enough to make a Song on't: my Lady and I, shall never comply, And that is the short and the long on't.
FINIS.
London, Printed by A.P. for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, and J. Clarke.