%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Maids Comfort: / OR, / The kinde young Man, who, as many haue said, / Sweet comfort did yeeld to a comfortlesse Maid. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1619-1619 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/18/2011 30169

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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

S120584 2 a pleasant new Tune UNKNOWN A Pleasant New Tune the same Tune UNKNOWN The Same Tune DOwne in a Garden sits my dearest Love, / Her skin more white then is the Downe of Swan, I Gaue consent, and thereto did agree / To sport with her within that louely Bower: Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 242 1: 243 The Maids Comfort: / OR, / The kinde young Man, who, as many haue said, / Sweet comfort did yeeld to a comfortlesse Maid. The Maids Comfort: OR, The kinde young Man, who, as many have said, Sweet comfort did yeeld to a comfortlesse Maid. The Maid's Comfort: OR, The kind young Man, who, as many have said, Sweet comfort did yield to a comfortless Maid. Printer the Assignes of Thomas Symcocke. 1619-1619

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity 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 youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 4/18/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America love marriage sex/ sexuality Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 4/18/2011 4:40:59 PM XBallad Doss, MacKenzie Created XML Version of Ballad 4/18/2011 4:40:59 PM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/18/2011 4:40:59 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Mann, Rachel Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/18/2011 4:40:59 PM Transcriptionist Two Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/18/2011 4:40:59 PM Transcriptionist One Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 9/27/2010 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 7/10/2008 Bibliographer Giles Bergel Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 10/31/2008 Checker Meghan Fadel Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 1/27/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Maids Comfort:</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">OR,</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The kinde young Man, who, as many have said,</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Sweet comfort did yeeld to a comfortlesse Maid.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">To a pleasant new Tune.</hi></hi></seg>
DOwne in a Garden sits my dearest Love, Her skin more white then is the Downe of Swan, More tender-hearted then the Turtle-Dove, And farre more kinde then is the Pellican: I courted her; she blushing, rose and said, Why was I borne to live and dye a Maid? If that be all your griefe, my Sweet, said I, I soone shall ease you of your care and paine, Yeelding a meane to cure your miserie, That you no more shall cause have to complaine: Then be content, Sweeting, to her I said, Be ruld by me, thou shalt not dye a Maid. A Medicine for thy griefe I can procure, Then wayle no more (my Sweet) in discontent, My love to thee for ever shall endure, Ile give no cause whereby thou shouldst repent The Match we make: for I will constant prove To thee my Sweeting, and my dearest Love. Then sigh no more, but wipe thy watry eyes, Be not perplext, my Honey, at the heart, Thy beautie doth my heart and thoughts surprise, Then yeeld me love, to end my burning smart: Shrinke not from me, my bonny Love, I said, For I have vowd, thou shalt not dye a Maid.
Pitty it were, so faire a one as you, Adornd with Natures chiefest Ornaments, Should languish thus in paine, I tell you true; Yeelding in love, all danger still prevents: Then seeme not coy, nor Love be not afraid, But yeeld to me, thou shalt not dye a Maid. Yeeld me some comfort, Sweeting, I entreat, For I am now tormented at the heart, My affections pure, my love to thee is great, Which makes me thus my thoughts to thee impart: I love thee deare, and shall doe evermore, O pitty me, for love I now implore. For her I pluckt a pretty Marigold, Whose leaves shut up even with the Evening Sunne, Saying, Sweet-heart, looke now and doe behold A pretty Riddle here int to be showne: This Leafe shut in, even like a Cloystred Nunne, Yet will it open, when it feeles the Sunne. What meane you by this Riddle, Sir, she said: I pray expound it. Then he thus began: Women were made for Men, and Men for Maids: With that, she changd her colour, and lookt wan. Since you this Riddle to me so well have told, Be you my Sunne, Ile be your Marigold.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Second part. To the same Tune.</hi></seg>
I Gave consent, and thereto did agree To sport with her within that lovely Bower: I pleased her, and she likewise pleasd mee, Jove found such pleasures in a Golden Shower. Our Sports being ended, then she blushing, said, I have my wish, for now I am no Maid. But, Sir (quoth she) from me you must not part, Your companie so well I doe affect, My love you have, now you have woon my heart, Your loving selfe for ever I respect: Then goe not from me, gentle Sir, quoth shee, Tis death to part, my gentle Love, from thee. The kindnesse you, good Sir, to me have showne, Shall never be forgot, whiles Life remaines: Grant me thy love, and I will be thine owne, Yeeld her reliefe, that now for love complaines: O leave me not, to languish in despaire, But stay with me, to ease my heart of care. Your Marigold for ever I will be, Be you my Sunne, tis all I doe desire, Your heating Beames yeeld comfort unto me, My love to you is fervent and entire: Let yours, good Sir, I pray be so to me, For I hold you my chiefe felicitie.
Content within your companie I finde, Yeeld me some comfort, gentle Sir, I pray, To ease my griefe and my tormented minde; My love is firme, and never shall decay: So constant still (my Sweet) Ile prove to you, Loyall in thoughts, my love shall still be true. Content thy selfe (quoth he) my onely Deare, In love to thee I will remaine as pure As Turtle to her Mate; to thee I sweare, My constant love for ever shall endure: Then weepe no more, sweet comfort Ile thee yeeld, Thy beautious Face my heart with love hath filld. Comfort she found, and straight was made a Wife, It was the onely thing she did desire: And she enjoyes a Man loves her as Life, And will doe ever, till his date expire. And this for truth, report hath to me told, He is her Sunne, and she his Marigold.
FINIS. Printed by the Assignes of Thomas Symcocke.