%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A Pleasant Song made by a Souldier, whose bringing up had been dainty, and partly/ by those affections of his unbridled youth, is now beaten with his own Rod: and/ therefore termeth this his Repentance, of the all of Folly. Stryde, Thomas University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1663-1674 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 08/13/2007 21708

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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

4.42 R187309 2 Culino Callino Casturame Culino a pleasant new Tune A Pleasant New Tune IN Summer time when Phoebus raise,/ did chear each mortal mans delights, MArgaret my sweetest, Margaret I must go,/ Most dear to me, that never may be so: uneven inking, tune: To an excel[l]ent new <T>une, called, Culino. Pepys 4.42 Wing P2560A [cols 1-2]; Rollins (2) 2567 (April 24, 1588, II, 488, Rich. Jones) [cols 1-2]; Rollins (2) 1238 (Dec. 14, 1624, IV, 131) [cols 1-2]; Wing S4423 [cols 3-4]. 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. 4: 42 A Pleasant Song made by a Souldier, whose bringing up had been dainty, and partly/ by those affections of his unbridled youth, is now beaten with his own Rod: and/ therefore termeth this his Repentance, of the all of Folly. A Pleasant Song made by a Souldier, whose bringing up had been dainty, and partly by those affections of his unbridled youth, is now beaten with his own Rod: and therefore termeth this his Repentance, or the fall of Folly. A Pleasant Song Made by a Soldier, Whose Bringing up Had Been Dainty, and Partly by Those Affections of His Unrestrained Youth, is Now Beaten with His Own Rod: And Therefore Terms this His Repentance, of the All of Folly. The Souldiers Farewel to his love. / Being a Dialogue betwixt Thomas and Margaret. The Souldiers Farewel to his love. Being a Dialogue betwixt Thomas and Margaret. The Soldier's Farewell to His Love. Being a Dialogue Between Thomas and Margaret. Stryde, Thomas 1/2 sheet oblong folio, ?210 x 313 1/2 sheet oblong folio, ?210 x 313 cropped right edge cropped right edge 1663-1674 London, Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and/ J. Wright. F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright. 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 8/13/2007 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Love Pleasant and Unfortunate animals/nature death economics/trade gender holidays/seasons love marriage military/war sex/sexuality trickery/deceit vice 08/13/07 Checker Rachel Mann Transcription checked, Metadata added, XML created; Note: 2 ballads on one page--catalogued with shared keywords 09/01/06 Transcriber Kris McAbee Original Transcription 8/27/2004 Bibliographer Liberty Stanavage Bibliographic SQL Database Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">A Pleasant Song made by a Souldier, whose bringing up had been dainty, and partly</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">by those affections of his unbridled youth, is now beaten with his own Rod: and</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">therefore termeth this his Repentance, or the fall of Folly.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To an Excellent new [T]une, called, Culino.</hi></seg>
IN Summer time when Phoebus raise, did chear each mortal mans delights, Increasing of the cheerful days, and cutting off the darksome nights. When nature brought forth every thing, by just return of April showers To make the pleasant branches spring, with sundry sorts of herbs and flowers. It was my chance to walk abroad, to view Dame Natures new come brood The pretty Birds did lay on load, with sugred tunes in every wood. The gallant nightingale did set her speckled brest against a Bryer, Whose mourful tunes bewail (as yet) her Brother Thecis false desire. The Serpents having cast their coats, lay listening how the birds did sing, The pretty Birds with sugred ntoes, did welcome in the pleasant Spring. I drew me to the Green-wood side, to hear this Country Harmony; Whereas e're long I had espy'd a woful man in misery. He lay along upon the ground, and to the Heavens he cast his eye, The bordring hills and dales resound, the ecchoes of his piteous cry. He wailing sore, and sighing said, O heavens what endless grief have I, Why are my sorrows thus delaid, come therefore death and let me dye. When nature first had made my frame, and set me lose when she had done, Steps Fortune in that fickle Dame, to end what nature had begun. She set my foot upon her knee, and blest my tender age with store, But in the end she did agree, to mar what she had made before:
I could no sooner creep alone, but she forsook her fostered child, I had no Lands to live upon, but trac'd abroad the world so wild. At length I fell in company, with gallant youths of Mars his train, I spent my life in jeoperdy, and got my labour for my pain. I watched on the sieged walls, in thunder, lighting, rain, and snow, And oft being shot with poudred balls, whose costly marks are yet to show. When all my kindred took their rest at home in many a stately bed, the ground and pavement was my nest, my Flask a pillow for my head. My meat was such as I could get, of roots and herbs of sundry sorts, Which did content my hungry mind, although my commons were but short. My powder serv'd to salt my meat, my murrion for a guilded Cup, Whereas such drink as I could get in Spring or Ditch I drank it up. My Rapier always by my side my piece lay charg'd with match & light That many a month I did abide, to ward all day and watch by night. I lived in this glorious vain, until my Limbs grew stiff and lame; And thus I got me home again, regarding no such costly fame. When I came home I made a proof, what friends would do if need should be My nearest Kinsfolks lookt aloof, as though they had forgotten me. And as the Owl by chattering charms, is wondred at of other Birds, So they came wondring at my harms, and yield me no relief but words. Thus do I want while they have store, that am their equal every way, Though fortune lent them somwhat more else had I been as good as they. Come gently Death and end my grief ye pretty Birds ring forth my knell, Let Robin Red-breast be the chief, to bury me and so farewel. Let no good Souldier be dismaid, to fight in field with courage bold, Yet mark the words that I have said, trust not to friends when thou art old.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Souldiers Farewel to his love.</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Being a Dialogue betwixt <hi rend="bold">Thomas</hi> and <hi rend="bold">Margaret.</hi></hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To a pleasant new Tune.</hi></seg>
Thomas. Margaret my sweetest, Margaret I must go, Margaret. Most dear to me, that never may be so: T. Ah, Fortune wills it, I cannot it deny, M. then know my love your Margaret must dye. T. Not for the gold my Love that Croesus had, Would I once see thy sweetest looks so sad, M. Nor for all that the which my eye did see, Would I depart my sweetest Love from thee. T. The King commands, & I must to the wars M. Ther's others more enough may end that jars T. But I for one commanded am to go, And for my life I dare not once say no. M. Ah marry me, and you shall stay at home, Full thirty weeks you know that I have gone, T. There's time enough another for to take He'l love thee well, and not thy child forsake. M. And have I doted on thy sweetest face? and dost infringe that which thou suedst in chase Thy faith I mean but I will wend with thee, T. It is too far for Peg to go with me. M. I'le go with thee my Love both night and day I'le bear thy sword, i'le run and lead the way. T. But we must ride, how will you follow then, Amongst a Troop of us thats Armed men? M. Ile bear the Lance, i'le guide thy stirrop too, Ile rub the horse, and more then that ile do, T. But Margarets fingers they are all too fine, To wait on me when she doth see me dine.
Margaret. Ile see you dine, ile wait still at your back, Ile give you wine, or any thing you lack. Thomas. But you I repine when you shall see me have A dainty wench that is both fine and brave. M. Ile love your wench my sweetest, I do vow, I'le watch time when she may pleasure you. T. But you will grieve to see my sleep in bed, And you must wait still in anothers stead. M. I'le watch my love to se you sleep in rest, And when you sleep then I shall think me blest. T. The time will come you must delivered be, If in the Camp it will discredit me. M. Ile go from you before the time shall be, When all is well my love again ile see. T. All will not serve for Margaret must not go, Then do resolve my Love, what else to do. M. If nought will serve why then sweet love adieu I needs must die, and yet in dying true. T. Nay stay my love, for I love Margaret well, And here I vow with Margaret to dwell. M. Give me your hand, your Margaret livs again T. Here is my hand, ile never breed thy pain. M. I'le kiss my Love in token it is so. T. We will be wed, come Margaret let us go.
FINIS.
London, Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and J. Wright.