%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> 'Tis a plaine Case GENTLEMEN: University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1643-1643 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 05/01/2012 32191

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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

R212059 OH the distraction of this Factious age! / Have not wile-men (who are starke mad with rage, Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 123905 'Tis a plaine Case GENTLEMEN: 'Tis a plaine Case GENTLEMEN: 'Tis a plain Case GENTLEMEN: Printer STEPHEN BVKLEY 1643-1643

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas 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 groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 5/1/2012 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America advice London politics/ government religious groups Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 5/1/2012 3:25:28 PM XBallad Martino, Alexandra Created XML Version of Ballad 5/1/2012 3:25:28 PM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/1/2012 3:25:28 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/1/2012 3:25:28 PM Transcriptionist Two McCants, Kristy Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/1/2012 3:25:28 PM Transcriptionist One Wong, Bethany Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/21/2011 Checker Jonathan Forbes Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 4/30/2011 Bibliographer Shannon Meyer Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 4/30/2011 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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OH the distraction of this Factious age! Have not wile-men (who are starke mad with rage, Brought this faire Land to such a combustion, That through their means we may feare confusion. A horrid Tragedy is now begun, And still continues, would to God twere done. Tis write in bloud, as all the World may see, And plainely reade this Kingdoms misery. Oh! who would ha thought that two yeares agoe, That so much Christian bloud should on th earth flow, As hath been shed this last yeare? curst be he That was the cause of this Phlebotamie. Some are confident in their opinion, Papists have fomented this Division; Others say, the Brownists (of whome beware) Have stird up this unnaturall, wretched Warre: For my owne part, I thinke they both have been The Ruine of this Nation. These still spin The thread of our undoing: these a[r]e those Besides these two that are this Islands foes. Nay besides these, there are some high in State, Who to this Land are most unfortunate. I dare not name them yet thers few but knowes Who are the Kings and Kingdomes profest foes. May all that wish ill will unto this Land, Never subsist in Peace, but may the hand Of divine Justice bring them unto shame; Blaste their fame, forgotten be their name. They that breath bloud, and do defie faire Peace, May they want joy their sorrows never cease: Torne with possessed whirlewinds may they dye, And Dog, barke at their murtherous memory. There is no honest heart but needs must greive, To consider the Times wherein we live. What eye can refraine from shedding salt teares? To see the many mischiefs our vaine feares, And causelesse jealousies have on us brought, Kindled this strange fire, and all our woes wrought. These are the Jonahs, that the tempest rayse, These are the Achans that our Israell amaze. Wert not for feares and jealousies at first, We had not with the plague of Warre been curst, But blest with happy Peace; there had not come On this same Kingdame such a Martyrdome: The King had not gon from us, no discontent Arose at all, twixt Him ands Parliament. But we ourselves have causd our severall woes; Though we be victors, yet whave overthrowes. Let the King or Parliament have the best, Both King and Kingdomes suffers lyes opprest; Let who can have the day, with your favour, Both Armies are loosers, for their labour: Much precious bloud is lost, many a poore soule, And cannot the thought of this condole This civill, uncivill warre? But youl say, If it please God our Forces get the day We shall be then most happy, live secure, Our dwellings being entrenched about most sure From our enemies. Do not yourselves deceive, The enemis within you, that beleive. Tis not your Bulwarks can save your muck nor pelfe, Man is the greatest enemy to himselfe. Tis not your boasting that yare safe i th City.
Yare nowhere safe, though ye seeme neere so witty And thus much know from me, for verily, W are certaine of nothing but uncertainty. The King not certaine is of s Royall Crowne, Nor the Subject of what he calls his owne. Such is th inconstantcy of this worlds Ball, No man knowes whether he shall stand or fall. Rely not therefore on the Arme of flesh, Depend not on the Army, neither trust fresh Horses, nor the power or prowis of Kings; All these without the Lord are but vaine things. Unlesse God keepe your City, the watchmen watch In vaine, and without him much harms youle catch. Oh! whether is our ancient courage fled? With our forefathers it is long since dead, And now we English are even like our Bowes, That once won Battailes, now skares non but Crows, Our home-bred jarrs and civill contestations, Have renderd us a storme to Forraigne Nations. LONDON yon count is yours, & the Courts yours, The King must then be yours, and his Crown yours, And what are you then? Royall theeves, youle blow, Seditious fire, which still doth spread and growe To such a huge intollerable flame, That all your wit can never quench the same. You that sit threatning what stormes youle raise here, Do you know where theyl light? Ile tell you where, You like so many Joves, do throwe them downe; You regared none, neither Scepter nor Crowne,) And what then? you like Tyles on houses tops. When foule wether comes, will shift the rainy drops, From one, to one and whilest from you it sheads, Where falls the showers? on the poor Peoples heads, Ile tell you a pretty tale. There grew a tall A goodly fence of Hawthorn and of Bryer, That when the Sunne was chollericke and hot Kept sheepe and yeaning Lambs safe from his rage Or when the Sky stormd did his wrath asswage. This goodly rowe of Bryers still anon, Would as the Sheep went by, teare from their backs Rags of their wooly coates, at which the sheepe (Though by protection of this good old Bryer They were fed fatt, and therefore were grown proud Repind, and did preferre bills of complaint Up to the shepheards: The rude hairbrain shepheards Cryed down with this proud Bryer; the hedging bills So layd about them down the Bryer did fall, And what ensued? a tale most tragicall. Being layd along, they trod ont in despite, Put fire unto it, and burnt it in the flame, The green bows wept, seeing men past ruth or shame What follows next? marry haile, raine and snow, Beat on the sheepe and Shepherds, cold winds blow But whers their shelter? gon Then did the heat So scorch them, that they had no list to eate. But whers their coole shade now? gon, gon, & then Others breake in, and feed, whilest these fed leane. At last starved wolves and ravenous foxes came, And eate up all left neither ewe, nor lambe; The Shepherds pind to nothing and like men Made wise by their harmes, wisht th ole Bryer agen. I have read a Text, preach you upont tis plaine, They stab themselves, that strike their Soveraigne.
YORKE, Printed by STEPHEN BUKLEY, 1643.