%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Times abuses: / OR, / Muld-Sacke his grievances briefly exprest, / Sewing the causes doth his mind molest, / But yt he merry makes, and dedicates / This Sog in love to all which basenesse hates. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1602-1602 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/22/2011 30277

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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

S100578 2 Over and under UNKNOWN Over and Under the same tune UNKNOWN The Same Tune ATtend my Masters and give eare, / whilst here I doe relate TEarme-trotting Petty=foggers, / which are so fine and nice, Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 404 1: 405 The Times abuses: / OR, / Muld-Sacke his grievances briefly exprest, / Sewing the causes doth his mind molest, / But yt he merry makes, and dedicates / This Sog in love to all which basenesse hates. The Times abuses: OR, Muld-Sacke his grievances briefly exprest, S[h]ewing the causes doth his mind molest, But y[e]t he merry makes, and dedicates This So[n]g in love to all which baseness hates. The Times abuses: OR, Muld Sacke his grievances briefly expressed, Showing the causes do his mind molest, But yet he merry makes, and dedicates This Song in love to all which baseness hates. 1602-1602 J.Wright

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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 4/22/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America alcohol vice Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 4/22/2011 2:34:25 PM XBallad Doss, MacKenzie Created XML Version of Ballad 4/22/2011 2:34:25 PM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/22/2011 2:34:25 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Zusky, Catherine Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/22/2011 2:34:25 PM Transcriptionist Two Mann, Rachel Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/22/2011 2:34:25 PM Transcriptionist One Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 9/22/2010 Checker Danielle Davey Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 7/16/2008 Bibliographer Giles Bergel Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 2/10/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/10/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/24/2008 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/22/2008 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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ATtend my Masters and give eare, whilst here I doe relate The base injurious slanders are throwne on me in hate, My wrongs and great abuses so commonly are knowne, As in in a Song to right my wrong, shall instantly be showne. They call me fudling Muld-Sacke, when drinke I have got none, Cannot they looke to their businesse, and let Muld-Sacke alone. If I sometimes a pot or so doe drinke for recreation, My reckning paid, away I goe, and follow my vocation, Not any good man grieving offensive for to be By rooking or deceiving, from that my thoughts are free. They call me fudling Muld-Sacke, when drinke I have got none, Cannot they thinke on the blacke Jacke, and let Muld-Sacke alone. As I along the streets doe sing, the people flocke about me, No harme to any one I meane, yet jeeringly they flout me, The Bar-boyes and the Tapsters, leave drawing of their Beere,
And running forth, in haste they cry, see where Muld-Sacke comes here. Thus am I jeered by them, though harme I doe them none, Cannot they looke to their small kans, and let Muld-Sacke alone. The jeering cunning Curtezan, and rooking roaring Boy, Which day and night doe take delight in drunkennesse to joy, They with their Pimps and Panders, Decoyes, and cheating Knaves, Which runs to whores & drinks & roars and simple men deceives. They have no grace to guide well, and conscience they have none, Cannot they take heed of Bridewell, and let Muld-Sacke alone. The Glutton rich that feedeth of Biefe and Mutton store, And hates the poore that needeth which goes from doore to doore, And will not spend his money, but for the love of drinke, And grieves to give a penny, so well he loves his chinke. Too many such alive is, of whom I am sure hes one, Cannot he remember Dives, and let Muld-Sacke alone.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The second part. To the same tune.</hi></seg>
TEarme-trotting Petty-foggers, which are so fine and nice, Will drinke if they meet rightly, a cup of Ale and Spice, Yet must they take their Chamber, before they doe begin, And if they can but hide it, they thinke it is no sinne. When I in the streets walke open, to the view of every one, Cannot they looke to their Clyents, and let Muld-Sacke alone. The jeering fleering Coxcombe, with hands behind his backe All day, which stands from morn til night to cry what doe you lacke, With scoffing and with taunting, will by the sleeve me pull; What ist youl buy hel to me cry, yet like a brainlesse gull, Hel cast on me a scornefull looke, though harme I doe him none, Cannot he looke to his Shop-booke, and let Muld-Sacke alone. The Taylors sawcie prentices, as I doe passe along, They at my head will cast their shreds, though I doe them no wrong, The saying old hath oft beene told, it plaine doth verifie, Poore and proud still Taylor like, for they most jeeringly Doe call me fudling Muld-Sacke, though drink I have got none, Cannot they keepe their fingers true, and let Muld-Sacke alone.
Also the jeering Tripe-wives, which Puddings fell and Sowce, Cryes there goes fudling Muld-Sacke, doth wine and beere carowse, And with disdainfull speeches, having no cause at all, Will taunt and scoffe and jeer and laugh, and basely me miscall. And calls me fudling Muld-Sacke, though I am no such one, Cannot she scrape well her greasie tripes and let Muld-Sacke alone. The Clownish country Carter, will likewise with a jeere, Point at me as I goe along, his head being fill[]d with beere, Yet for his jeeres I care not, but laughing lets him passe, To follow his Cart with gee, gee ho, most like a witlesse Asse, For like a home-bred Clownico, good manners he knowes none, Cannot he looke to his Waggon, and let Muld-Sack alone. The Bakers in the Suburbs, with hearts devoid of pitty, Bread light and small they make for all, both Country and the City, And sometimes of in two penny loafe, of weight wants ounces three, As merrily I passe them by, they cannot let me be. They call me fudling Muld-Sacke, when drinke I have got none, Cannot they looke to their conscience, and let Muld-Sacke alone.
Finis. London, Printed for J. Wright, dwelling in Gilt-spur-street.