%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A / Mornings Ramble: / OR, / Islington Wells Burlesq't. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer 1684-1684 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 06/19/2014 33741

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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

R32292 SAted with Love and Wine last Night, / The Joys that yield us most Delight. Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 1038 A / Mornings Ramble: / OR, / Islington Wells Burlesq't. A Morning's Ramble: OR, Islington Wells Burlesqued. Printer George Croom 1684-1684

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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 6/19/2014 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America affliction/ health alcohol entertainments London trickery/ deceit urban life vulgar humor Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/19/2014 11:31:58 AM XBallad McCants, Kristen Created XML Version of Ballad 6/19/2014 11:31:58 AM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/19/2014 11:31:58 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/19/2014 11:31:58 AM Transcriptionist Two Gutierrez-Jones, Natalia Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/19/2014 11:31:58 AM Transcriptionist One Doran, Thomas Transcription of ballad manuscript 11/16/2012 Bibliographer Shannon Meyer Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 10/9/2013 Checker Christopher Foley Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/9/2013 Checker Christopher Foley Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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SAted with Love and Wine last Night, The Joys that yield us most Delight. I took my Leave, and stole to Bed, But Rose this Morn with Aching-Head. To ease my Pain, and take the Air, I did to Islington Repair; Where every Whore, and every Rogue, Meet at the Wells so much in Vogue: Resolving with myself to stay, And drive an Hour or two away. I entred in, and viewed the Place, With every squeamish Breeding Face; Of City Wives, who thither come, Whilst their poor Cuckolds wait at Home. Hoping the Springs may do them Good, To Purge their Veins, and clear their Blood. When they alas have no Design, Only to tipple off their Wine: And treat those Brawny Lads they Hire, To do the Drudgery they require. But walking on, I chanced to see A pretty piece of Comedy. A Spark in Gown and Slippers stood, Courting a Wench who'd newly Spew'd: Madam I Grieve, or I'me a Turk, To see the Waters upwards Work. And fear your Stomach is too Cold, Since Purging Streams you cannot hold. Take my Advice if you are ill, To enter in, and take a Gill Of cooling Nants, that may support The weakness of your Stomachs Fort: And Faith and Troth I'le Treat you freely, With that which I am sure will Heal ye. This offer was no sooner made, But being Mistris of her Trade, She soon accepts; when of a sudden She shook and Quak'd like any Pudden. The reason strait I could not tell, But soon perciev'd her Guts Rebell: And that which made her Spew before, Now through her Tail Work't three times more. With that she Curs't the fatal Hour, And trudg'd away to Secret Bower. In hopes when once she had done her Stool, Back to return and catch the Fool. But powerful Waters Work't so fast, She thought she should have Purg'd her Last. And e're she reach't the place design'd, As Cotton of his Dido feign'd,
A Yellow Aromatick Matter, Dropt down her Heels comix't with Water. When this I'de seen, away I stray'd, And met a Quack in Plush array'd, With Crouds of People at his Heels, Like a Scotch Meeting in the Fields. With Looks Demure he made a stand, Taking his Hat into his Hand; And to the People thus held forth, My Friends did you but know the worth, The value of these English Spaws, With nothing else you'd fill your Maws. So Medicinal, and so good, 'Tis better for you than your Food. At which a general Hum went round, That made the Neighbouring Fields Resound. The Doctor when the noise was done, Made Reverend Scrape, and thus went on, If Barren Womb does want specifick, To make her Fruitful and Prolifick; These Waters will effect the Cure In nine Months time you may be sure. They ease the Gout and also Claps, Beyond the danger of Relaps. People may talk of Epsom Wells, Or Tunbridge Springs which most Excells. I'le tell you by my ten years practice Plainly what the matter of fact is. Those are but good for one Disease, To all Distempers this gives Ease. But in the midst of this Oration A Roguish Cheat had fixt his Station, Close by the Learned Doctors side Whose Pocketts both were well Suppli'd. And in a trice he stole a way The ready Cash he'd gain'd that Day. I had no sooner left this Place, But walking on with gentle pace, And Musing Thoughts that oft do Clog us, I step'd into the Womens Boghouse: Where four or five together sat, Like Hunted Hares upon the Squat. But strait endeavouring to retire, They flew upon me with such Ire; Threatning my Carkass down to fling, And make me savour worse than Ling. With much ado I scap'd the Danger, And fled like Lightning from their Anger: Resolving when I had reacht the Door, To see those Shitten Wells no more.
London, Printed by George Croom, for the Author. 1684.