%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Mad Man's MORICE: / Or, His Sorrowful Lamentation: / Together with his Advice to all Young PEOPLE. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 06/20/2014 33051

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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

HEARD you not lately of a Man, / That went besides his Wits: Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 490 The Mad Man's MORICE: / Or, His Sorrowful Lamentation: / Together with his Advice to all Young PEOPLE. The Mad Man’s MORICE: Or, His Sorrowful Lamentation: Together with his Advice to all Young PEOPLE. The Mad Man's MORRIS: Or, His Sorrowful Lamentation: Together with his Advice to all Young PEOPLE. ?-?

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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 Featured 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 6/20/2014 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America affliction/ health love Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/20/2014 11:17:30 AM XBallad Jaworski, Cheryl Created XML Version of Ballad 6/20/2014 11:17:30 AM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/20/2014 11:17:30 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Doran, Thomas Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/20/2014 11:17:30 AM Transcriptionist Two Rendt, Ariel Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/20/2014 11:17:30 AM Transcriptionist One Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/17/2013 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/31/2012 Checker Elizabeth Aguilar Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/29/2012 Checker Elizabeth Aguilar Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/29/2012 Checker Elizabeth Aguilar Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/22/2012 Bibliographer Elizabeth Aguilar Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 1/31/2013 Checker William Hildalgo Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Mad Man's MORICE:</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">Or,</hi> His Sorrowful Lamentation:</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Together with his Advice to all Young PEOPLE.</hi></seg>
HEARD you not lately of a Man, That went besides his Wits: And naked thro' the Streets he ran, wrapt in his frantick Fits. My honest Neighbours, it is I, hark! how the People flout me, See where the Mad-man comes they cry, with all the Boys about me. Into a Pond I naked ran, and cast away my Cloaths, Sir. Without the Help of any Man, made shift to get away, Sir. How I got out I have forgot, I do not well remember: Or whether it was cold or hot, in June, or in December.
Tom Bedlams but a Sage to me, I speak in sober Sadness. For more strange Visions I do see than he in all his Madness. When first to me this Chance befell, about the Market walk'd I. With Capon Feather in my Cap, and to my-self thus talk'd I. Did you not see my Love of late? like Yiian, in her Glory? Did not you know she was my Mate? and I must write her Story, With Pen of Gold, or Silver Leaf, I will so much befriend her, For why I am of that Belief, none can so much commend her.
Saw you not Angels in her Eyes? whilst that she was a speaking? Smelt you not Smells like Paradise? between two Rubies breaking. Is not her Hair more pure than Gold, of finest Spiders spinning? Methinks in her I do behold My Joys and Woes beginning. Is not a Dimple in her Cheek? each one a Star that's startling? Is not all Grace install'd in her, each Step all Joys imparting. Methinks I see her in a Cloud, with Graces round about her; To them I call and cry aloud, I cannot live without her. Then raging towards the Sky I rove, thinking to catch her Hand: O! then to Jove I call and cry, to let her by me stand. I look'd behind, and there I saw, my Shadow me beguile: I wish she was as near to me, which makes my Worship smile. There is no Creature can compare with my beloved Nancy: Thus I build Castles in the Air; this is the Fruit of Fancy. My Thoughts mount high above the Sky. of none I stand in Awe: Altho' my Body here doth lie, upon a Pad of Straw. I was as good a harmless Youth, before base Cupid caught me, Or his own Mother with her Chains, into this Case had brought me. Stript and whipt must I be, in Bedlam bound in Chains: Good People, now you all may see what Love hath for its Pains.
When I was young, as others are, with Gallants did I flourish. O then I was the properest Youth, that was in all the Parish. The Bracelet which I us'd to wear, about my Arms so tender: Are turned into Iron-Plates, about my Body slender. My silken Suits do now decay, and Cups of Gold are vanish'd. And all my Friends do wear away, as I from them am banish'd. My Silver Cups are turn'd to Earth, I'm jeer'd of ev'ay Clown. I was a better Man by Birth, Fortune cast me down. I am out of Frame and Temper too, tho' I am somewhat chearful: O! this can Love and Fancy do, if that you be not careful. O! fet a Watch before your Eyes, lest they betray your Hearts. And make you Slaves to Vanities, to act a Mad-Man's Part. Declare this to each Mother'[s] Son, unto each honest Lad. Let them not do as I have done, lest they, like me, grow mad. If Cupid strikes, be sure of this, let Reason rule Affection, Thus shalt thou never do amiss, by Reason and Direction. I have no more to say to you, my Keepers now do chide me. Now must I bid you all adieu: God knows whar will betide me. To picking Straws now must I go, my Time in Bedlam spending. Good Folks, you your Beginning know but do not know your Ending.
Printed and Sold in Bow-Church-Yard, London.