%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A Very Heroical EPISTLE / FROM MY / Lord ALL-PRIDE to DOL-COMMON. / The ARGUMENT. / Dol-Common being forsaken by my Lord All-pride, and having / written him a most lamentable Letter, his Lordship sends her the fol- / lowing answer. Wilmot, John University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1679-1679 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 05/06/2011 31417

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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

R202737 IF you're deceived, it is not by my cheat, / For all disguises are below the great. Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 3: 819 A Very Heroical EPISTLE / FROM MY / Lord ALL-PRIDE to DOL-COMMON. / The ARGUMENT. / Dol-Common being forsaken by my Lord All-pride, and having / written him a most lamentable Letter, his Lordship sends her the fol- / lowing answer. A Very Heroical EPISTLE FROM MY Lord ALL-PRIDE to DOL-COMMON. The ARGUMENT. Dol-Common being forsaken by my Lord All-pride, and having written him a most lamentable Letter, his Lordship sends her the fol-lowing answer. A Very Heroical EPISTLE FROM MY Lord ALL-PRIDE to DOL-COMMON. The ARGUMENT. Dol-Common being forsaken by my Lord All-pride, and having written him a most lamentable Letter, his Lordship sends her the following answer. Wilmot, John 1679-1679

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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 5/6/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America nobility/ court sex/ sexuality vice vulgarities/ crass humor Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 5/6/2011 11:03:24 AM XBallad Doss, MacKenzie Created XML Version of Ballad 5/6/2011 11:03:24 AM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/6/2011 11:03:24 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/6/2011 11:03:24 AM Transcriptionist Two Megna, Paul Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/6/2011 11:03:24 AM Transcriptionist One Foley, Christopher Transcription of ballad manuscript 2/3/2009 Bibliographer Shannon Meyer Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 12/8/2010 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 12/6/2010 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">A Very Heroical EPISTLE</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">FROM MY</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Lord ALL-PRIDE to DOL-COMMON.</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The ARGUMENT.</hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Dol-Common <hi rend="bold">being forsaken by my Lord</hi> All-pride, <hi rend="bold">and having</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">written him a most lamentable Letter, his Lordship sends her the fol-</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="7" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">lowing answer.</hi></hi></seg>
IF youre deceived, it is not by my cheat, For all disguises are below the great. What Man or Woman upon earth can say I ever usd em well above a day? How is it then that I inconstant am? He changes not, who alwayes is the same. In my dear self, I center every thing, My Servants, Friends, my Mistress, and my King, Nay Heaven and earth to that one point I bring. Well-mannerd, honest, generous and stout, (Names by dull Fools to plague mankind found out) Should I regard, I must my self constrain, And tis my maxim to avoid all pain. You fondly look for what none ere could find Deceive your self, and then call me unkind; And by false reasons would my falshood prove, For tis as natural to change as Love. You may as justly at the Sun repine Because alike it does not alwayes shine. No glorious thing was ever made to stay, My Blazing Star but visits and away; As Fatal too, it shines as those ith skies, Tis never seen but some great Lady dies. The boasted favour you so precious hold To mes no more than changing of my gold. What ere you gave, I paid you back in bliss, Then wheres the obligation, pray, of this? If heretofore you found grace in my eyes, Be thankful for it, and let that suffice. But Women Beggarlike, still haunt the door Where theyve receivd a Charity before. O happy Sultan! whom we barbarous call, How much refind art thou above us all! Who envies not the joys of thy Serrail! Thee, like some God, the trembling crowd adore, Each mans thy slave, and Woman-kind thy Whore. Methinks I see thee underneath the shade Of golden Canopies supinely laid; Thy crowching slaves all silent as the night, But at thy nod all active as the light. Secure in solid Sloath thou there dost raign, And feelst the joys of love without thy pain. Each Female courts thee with a wishing eye, While thou with awful pride walkst careless by. Till thy kind pledge at last marks out the Dame
Thou fanciest most to quench thy present flame. Then from thy bed submissive she retires, And thankful for thy grace no more requires. No loud reproach, nor fond unwelcome sound Of Womens tongues thy sacred ear dares wound. If any do, a nimble Mute straight tyes The true love knot, and stops her foolish cries. Thou fearst no injurd Kinsmans threatning blade, Nor Midnight ambushes by Rivals laid. While here with aking hearts our joys we taste Disturbd by Swords like Damocles his feast, Epigram upon my Lord All-pride. Bursting with pride the loathd Imposture swels, Prick him he sheds his venom straight and smels, But is so lewd, a Scribler that he writes With as much force to nature as he fights. Hardend in shame, tis such a baffled Fop That every School-boy whips him like a Top. And with his arm and heart his brains so weak, That his starvd fancy is compelld to rake Among the excrements of others wit To make a stinking meal of what they shit. So Swine for nasty meat to dunghills run, And toss their gruntling Snouts up when theyve done. Against his stars the Coxcomb ever strives, And to be something they forbid contrives. With a red Nose, splay-foot, and goggle eye, A plowmans looby meen, face all awry, A filthy breath, and every loathsome mark The Punchinello sets up for a Spark. With equal self-conceit he takes up arms, But with such vile successe his part performs, That he burlesques the trade, and what is best In others, turns like Harlequin to jest. So have I seen at Smithfields wondrous fair (When all his Brother Monsters flourish there) A lubbard Elephant divert the Town With making legs and shooting off a gun. Go where he will he never finds a Friend, Shame and derision all his steps attend, Alike abroad, at home, ith Camp and Court This Knight-oth burning pestle makes us sport.
Printed in the Year, 1679.