%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Mad-Mans Morrice. / Wherin you shall finde / His trouble and grief, and discontent of his minde, / A warning to yong men to have a care, / How they in love intangled are. Crouch, Humphrey University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1633-1633 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/18/2011 30189

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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

R174390 2 the same tune UNKNOWN The Same Tune To a pleasant new Tune UNKNOWN To a Pleasant New Tune HEard you not lately of a man, / That went beside his wits, THen raging towards the Skie I rore, / Thinking to catch her hand, Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 264 1: 265 The Mad-Mans Morrice. / Wherin you shall finde / His trouble and grief, and discontent of his minde, / A warning to yong men to have a care, / How they in love intangled are. The Mad-Mans Morrice. Wherin you shall finde His trouble and grief, and discontent of his minde, A warning to yong men to have a care, How they in love intangled are. The Madman's Morrice. Wherein you shall find His trouble and grief, and discontent of his mind, A Warning to young men to have a care, How they in love entangled are. Crouch, Humphrey 1633-1633 Richard Harper

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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 affliction/ health love Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 4/18/2011 5:02:10 PM XBallad Doss, MacKenzie Created XML Version of Ballad 4/18/2011 5:02:10 PM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/18/2011 5:02:10 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Mann, Rachel Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/18/2011 5:02:10 PM Transcriptionist Two Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/18/2011 5:02:10 PM Transcriptionist One Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/10/2008 Bibliographer Giles Bergel Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 11/22/2010 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/10/2008 Checker Meghan Fadel Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/10/2008 Checker Meghan Fadel Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 1/27/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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HEard you not lately of a man, That went beside his wits, And naked through the streets he ran, Wrapt in his frantick fits? My honest neighbours it is I, Hark how the people flout me: See where the mad man comes they cry, With all the Boyes about me. Into a pond stark nakd I ran And cast my clothes away Sir, Without the help of any man Made shift to run away Sir, How I got out, I have forgot, I do not well remember, Or whether it was cold or hot, In June, or in December, Tom Bedlams but a Sage to me, I speak in sober sadnesse, For more strange visions do I see, Then he in all his madnesse. When first this chance to me befell, About the market walkt I, With Capons feathers in my cap, And to my self thus talkt I.
Did you not see my Love of late, Like Titan in her glory? Do you not know she is my mate, And I must write her story, With pen of gold on silver leafe, I will so much befriend her; For why, I am of this belief, None can so well commend her. Saw you not Angels in her eys, While that she was a speaking, Smelt you not smels like Paradise, Between two Rubies breaking? Is not her hair more pure then gold, Or finest Spiders spinning? Me thinks, in her I do behold, My joys and woes beginning. Is not a dimple in her cheek, Each eye a star thats starting, Is not all grace installd in her, Each step all joys imparting? Me thinks I see her in a Cloud, With graces round about her: To them I cry and call alowd I cannot live without her.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The second part to the same tune.</hi></seg>
THen raging towards the Skie I rore, Thinking to catch her hand, O then to love I call and cry, To let me by her stand, I look behind and there I see My shadow me beguile, And wish she were as neer to mee, Which makes my worship smile. There is no creature can compare With my beloved Nancy. Thus I build castles in the aire, This is the fruits of fancy: My thoughts mount high above the Skie, Of none I stand in aw, Although my body here do lie Upon a pad of straw. I was as good a harmlesse youth Before base Cupid caught me, Or his own mother with her charms Into this cage had brought me, Stript and whipt now must I be In Bedlam bound with chains: Good people all, now you may see What love hath for his pains. When I was yong as others are With Gallants did I flourish, O then was I the properest Lad That was in all the Parish! The bracelets which I usd to weare About my arme so tender Are turned now to iron plates, About my body slender.
My silken Sutes do now decay, My caps of gold are vanisht, And all my friends do wear away, As I from them were banisht, My silver cups are turnd to earth, Im jeerd by every Clown, I was a better man by birth, Till Fortune cast me down. Im out of frame and temper too, Though I am somthing cheerfull, Oh this can love and fancy do, If that you be not carefull! O set a watch before your eyes, Lest they betray your heart, And make you slaves to vanities, To act a mad mans part. Declare this to each mothers sonne, Unto each honest Lad, Let them not do as I have done, Lest they like me grow mad, If Cupid strike, be sure of this, Let reason rule affection, So shalt thou never do amisse, By reasons good direction. I have no more to say to you, My keeper now doth chide me, Now must I bid you all adew, God knows what will betide me, To picking straws now must I go, My time in Bedlam spending, Good folks you your beginning know But do not know your ending.
Humfrey Crowch. FINIS. LONDON, Printed for Richard Harper in Smithfield.