%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A new Medley, / OR, / A Messe of All-together. Parker, Martin University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1601-1601 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/20/2011 30205

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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

S119378 2 Tarltons Medley Spanish Pavan, The Tarltons Medley the same tune Spanish Pavan, The The Same Tune STrange news is come from Hounslo heath, / That all false Theeues are put to death, AT Battersey good Turnips grow, / There goes three Milke-maids on a row, Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 292 1: 293 A new Medley, / OR, / A Messe of All-together. A new Medley, OR, A Messe of All-together. A new Medley, OR, A Mess of All-together. Parker, Martin 1601-1601 H. Gosson

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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 4/20/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America alcohol news vulgarities/ crass humor Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 4/20/2011 2:16:55 PM XBallad Doss, MacKenzie Created XML Version of Ballad 4/20/2011 2:16:55 PM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/20/2011 2:16:55 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Mann, Rachel Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/20/2011 2:16:55 PM Transcriptionist Two Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/20/2011 2:16:55 PM Transcriptionist One Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/14/2008 Bibliographer Giles Bergel Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 11/24/2010 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/14/2008 Checker Meghan Fadel Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 1/31/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">A new Medley,</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">A Messe of All-together.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To the tune of <hi rend="bold">Tarltons Medley</hi></hi></seg>
STrange news is come from Hounslo heath, That all false Theeves are put to death, Nell Collins has a stinking breath, I heard Tom Phillips say: The Cobler and the Broome-mans wife, Have made a match, Ile lay my life, Come drinke a cup and end all strife, sweet Kester. They say that Turnbull-street is cleane Tranformd, there scant is left a Queane, Oh neghbour Ralph what doe you meane, to pawne your shirt for Ale: This drinking healths makes many sicke, Nan Williams has devisd a tricke, To gull her husband, silly Dicke, the Miller. Pease-porridge makes our Mall breake winde, She makes us thinke that shee is kinde, Because she speaks to us behind, as freely as before: The Butler is gone out oth way, Cause no man shall drinke here today, His Master bids him dot they say, on purpose. Will Cooke and Sisse the Dairy maide, Doe sit together in the shade, Stealing would be an excellent trade, and twere not for this hanging: The Hangman he leaves worke by noone, Sweet heart goe not away so soone, I thinke there is a man ith Moone, Star-gazer.
There is more cloathes in Birchin-lane I thinke, than would load Charles his Waine, King Edward lovd a gold-smiths Jane, the best ware in the shop: The Tanner made the King a Feast, A Mastiffe dogs a valiant Beast, He oft thinks most that sayes the least, old Hobson. Dido was a Carthage Queene, As I walkt in a Meddow greene, The fairest Lasse that ere was seene, that was the flower of Kent: Looke to your forehead honest friend, The longest day must have an end, Good fortune unto thee, God send, young Bridegroome. When as King Henry ruld this Land, All things did in good order stand, Then scarce a Lawyer had a hand, to take a double Fee: Eele Pyes are dainty meate in Lent, I prethee Roger be content, Good Land-lords doe not raise your rent so highly. The Courtier scornes the Countrey Clowne, There dwels a widdow in our Towne, Pray mother lend me halfe a Crowne to buy a wedding Ring: Tom Taylor did not use me well, To steale two yards out of one Ell, My Belly doth begin to swell, Ime pepperd.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The second part, To the same tune.</hi></seg>
AT Battersey good Turnips grow, There goes three Milke-maids on a row, Me thinks it is a seemely shew to see three honest Millers: The Sea-man and the Souldier bold, Venter their lives for fame and gold, A Slut, a Strumpet, and a Scold, three good wives. King Edgar hated drunkennesse, And Julius Caesar loathd excesse, I prethee tell me prety Besse, who lay with thee last night: AEneas was a perjurd Prince, Too many have done like him since, Sweet-heart Ile give thee eighteene pence to kisse thee. To thinke how things are changd of late, That Charities quite out of date, Would force a silent man to prate, oh the merry dayes of old, When Knights and Squires wore good broad-cloath, The poore had Beefe as well as broth, Oh doe not make us pay for froth good Tapster. Our Ladies now are like to Apes, Their mindes doe alter like their shapes, Fie Mistris, fie, your placket gapes, cover your flesh for shame: The Pander quarrels with the Whore, And sayes heel bee their man no more, The shot is paide, wipe off the score kinde Hostis.
A Usurer and a Broker be Both Brothers of a company, The Devill sure must make them free when they have servd their time: In old time Bakers usd to be, Promoted to the Pillory, Now none, unlesse for Perjury, peepe thorow. The Carrier brings up every weeke Brave Lasses, which the Bawds doe seeke, What Welchman will not were a Leeke upon Saint Davids day? Saint George lies dead at Coventrey, Oh now for such a man as he, Our Capteines dyd ith Ile of Ree, ill tydings. Queene Elinor built Charing-crosse, Which now is covered ore with Mosse, The Spanyards mourne for their late losse, I meane the rich Plate Fleet: The Dutchmen grieve, and so do we, For th death of young Prince Henry, Alas! there is no remedy, but patience. My merry Medley here I end, Which to young men and maids I send, To make them mirth, the same was pend, although it seeme non-sense: Yet is there such variety Of sense for each capacity, That old and young may pleased be to learne it.
London printed for H. Gosson. Finis. M.P.