%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Prodigal Son Converted, / OR / The Young-man return'd from his Rambles. / Wit ne're till now, was cry'd about the street, / At the low rate o a poor Penny sheet; / Sharp times will make sharp wits, not fear sharp tongues, / 'Tis we who money want which suffer wrongs; / You can't command a Poet with a frown / To write new Songs: but yours, for a Crown: / Here's that will please you sure, and much befreind ye. / You'll thank the Author, if the Devil be n't in ye. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1640-1640 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/26/2011 30655

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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

R216132 15 UNKNOWN UNKNOWN UNKNOWN UNKNOWN UNKNOWN UNKNOWN UNKNOWN UNKNOWN UNKNOWN UNKNOWN UNKNOWN UNKNOWN a pleasant New Play-house Tune Delights of the Bottle, The A Pleasant New Play-House Tune The Delights of the Bottle, &c. Delights of the Bottle, The The Delights of the Bottle, etc. the same Tune UNKNOWN The Same Tune THe delights & the pleasures / of a man without care, First the Tavern me courted / to lend it some coin, Debauches are sorrows, / and robs us of rest, / Tis temperate man / with enjoyment is blest. | These tickl'd my fancy / with vice all a-mode, / Then I must be riding / in that pleasant Road. [with variation] The fidlers to curse / and the drawers command / Is enough for those Fops / who no more understand. | Then home to her lodging / She might easily draw me, / My flames made me bold / that I car'd not who saw me. [with variation] | For swearing and cursing / in common discourse, / I thought, if left out, / made my language the worse [with variation] | Yet with a true friend / merry and jolly, / With a Bottle or two / I do count it no folly. Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 3: 188 3: 189 The Prodigal Son Converted, / OR / The Young-man return'd from his Rambles. / Wit ne're till now, was cry'd about the street, / At the low rate o a poor Penny sheet; / Sharp times will make sharp wits, not fear sharp tongues, / 'Tis we who money want which suffer wrongs; / You can't command a Poet with a frown / To write new Songs: but yours, for a Crown: / Here's that will please you sure, and much befreind ye. / You'll thank the Author, if the Devil be n't in ye. The Prodigal Son Converted, OR The Young-man return’d from his Rambles. Wit ne’re till now, was cry’d about the street, At the low rate of a poor Penny sheet; Sharp times will make sharp wits, not fear sharp tongues, ‘Tis we who money want which suffer wrongs; You can’t command a Poet with a frown To write new Songs: but yours, for a Crown: Here’s that will please you sure, and much befreind ye. You’ll thank the Author, if the Devil be n’t in ye. The Prodigal Son Converted, or the young man returned from his rambles. Where never till now, was cried about the street, at the low rate of a poor Penny sheet; Sharp times will make sharp wits, not fear sharp tongues, It is we who money want which suffer wrongs; You can’t command a Poet with a frown to write new Songs: but yours, for a crown: Here’s that will please you sure, and much befriend you. You’ll thank the Author, if the Devil be not in ye. 1640-1640 R, Burton

This document follows the guidelines specified for TEI.

XML Generated Automatically at 4/26/2011 4:13:30 PM Using EMC

XBallad Parsing Engine developed by Carl Stahmer.

TEI Template developed by Gerald Egan and Modified by Carl Stahmer

All apostrophes are encoded as '.

Any dashs occurring in line breaks have been removed;

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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 4/26/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America alcohol Bible/ biblical figures sex/ sexuality vice Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 4/26/2011 4:13:30 PM XBallad Mellon, Gillian Created XML Version of Ballad 4/26/2011 4:13:30 PM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/26/2011 4:13:30 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Zusky, Catherine Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/26/2011 4:13:30 PM Transcriptionist Two Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/26/2011 4:13:30 PM Transcriptionist One Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 11/8/2010 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/21/2008 Bibliographer Meghan Fadel Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 11/21/2008 Checker Meghan Fadel Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/21/2008 Checker Meghan Fadel Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/21/2008 Checker Meghan Fadel Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 1/14/2009 Checker Meghan Fadel Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Prodigal Son Converted,</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">OR</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Young-man returnd from his Rambles.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Wit nere till now, was cryd about the street,</hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">At the low rate of a poor Penny sheet;</hi></seg> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Sharp times will make sharp wits, not fear sharp tongues,</hi></seg> <seg n="7" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Tis we who money want which suffer wrongs;</hi></seg> <seg n="8" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">You cant command a Poet with a frown</hi></seg> <seg n="9" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To write new Songs: but yours, for a Crown:</hi></seg> <seg n="10" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Heres that will please you sure, and much befreind ye.</hi></seg> <seg n="11" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Youll thank the Author, if the Devil be nt in ye.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="12" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To a pleasant New Play-house Tune calld <hi rend="bold">The Delights of the Bottle,</hi> etc.</hi></seg>
THe delights & the pleasures of a man without care, For the present are sweet, but ith end prove a snare, The extravagant youth, who in Frolicks runs mad, Being vitious ore much, will have cause to be sad. Debauches are sorrows, and robs us of rest, Tis the temperate man with enjoyment is blest. From fifteen till thirty just halfe of my time, I have lived in excess, and have thought it no crime. My Father being dead, I was left a young fool, Companion for none, but for boys in the school, Debauches are sorrows and robs us of rest Tis the temperate man with enjoyment is blest.
Then some of my friends did begin for to chat That I had an estate I soon hearkend to that, And I quickly found Tutors to show me the way, In ranting and roaring to spend night and day; These tickld my fancy with vice all a-mode, Then I must be riding in that pleasant Road. I quickly arrivd to a wretched estate To act what the Devil could think or Creat, But since they are past I will count it no sin To name them in order as I did begin. But my chief delight was in vice all-a-mode, And I often was riding in that pleasant Road.
First
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Second part, To the same Tune.</hi></seg>
FIrst the Tavern me courted to lend it some coin, And to taste of these blessings that sprang from the vine, Whhich I found to be pleasant and always inviting So sweet is that sin, which we most do delight in The Fidlers to curse and the drawers command Is enough for those Fops who no more understand. The Bottles of Bacchus did my strength overcome, And with empty Pockets sent me realing home, Sick qualms of the stomach did blame my hard drinking, But I counted repentance was scarce worth my thinking; The Fidlers to curse and the drawers command Is enough for those Fops who no more understand. Then high for a Wench when my blood it was warm, If she were but in rags she might easily charm, And enjoy all I had if she seemd to be kind; And would simper out Bawdy to tickle my mind; Then home to her lodging she might easily draw me, My flames made me bold that I card not who saw me. Though it was but a hole where this Lady did ly, Yet she made me amends you shall hear by and by With a kiss and a smile and a sigh all-a-mode She guided my hand to the very right Road, Which home to her lodging full often did draw me My joyes were so great that I card not who saw me.
That sport I soon learnd, and that which is worse, She taught me to swear to damn and to curse, That in half a years time I had practicd so well, That for drinking and whoring thers none did excells, For swearing and cursing in common discourse, I thought, if left out, made my language the worse. Then next to accomplish my self like a man, I must learn for to game well, as fast as I can: With some Bully Hector, I must venture a pound, Theres enough of those blades that may quickly be found, Forswearing and cursing in common discourse, And to win all my Guinneys which I [t]hought much worse. All which by degrees my estate did so waste, I began to think that I made too much haste Being cloyd with enjoymen[t]s of such foolish pleasure, Ile now lead my life in a tempera[t]e measure Yet with a true friend merry and jolly, With a Bottle or two I do count it no folly. What we drink in excess makes the appetite dull, And empties the bags be they never so full: It shortens our lives and deprives us of health Then Young men beware and make much of your wealth Yet with a true friend to be merry and jolly, With a Bottle or two I do count it no folly.
Printed for R, Burton, at the Horse-shooe in West-Smithfield.