%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A / HUE and CRY / AFTER / Beauty and Virtue. 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 02/29/2016 34408

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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

R710 WHere are you fled? I've sought in every Street, / But can no Beauty nor no Virtue meet: Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 1 1: 1 A / HUE and CRY / AFTER / Beauty and Virtue. A HUE and CRY AFTER Beauty and Virtue. A HUE and CRY AFTER Beauty and Virtue. ?-?

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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 2/29/2016 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America clothing/ appearance crime gender sex/ sexuality Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 2/29/2016 1:20:13 PM XBallad King, Joyce Created XML Version of Ballad 2/29/2016 1:20:13 PM Transcription Supervisor Palmer, Megan Transcription of ballad manuscript 2/29/2016 1:20:13 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Bell, Erik Transcription of ballad manuscript 2/29/2016 1:20:13 PM Transcriptionist Two Gately, Daniel Transcription of ballad manuscript 2/29/2016 1:20:13 PM Transcriptionist One Flores, Lizbet Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/4/2015 Checker Kristen McCants Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/8/2016 Checker Katie Adkison Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/6/2015 Checker Rachel LevinsonEmley Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/7/2014 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 10/14/2014 Checker Kristen McCants Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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[1]
WHere are you fled? I've sought in every Street, But can no Beauty nor no Virtue meet: I've fought both Hills and Dales, but all in vain, Sure they're transported o're the British Main. True Beautys lost, or cover'd o're with Paint, I find a hundred Whores for every Saint: I know not where to ask, nor to what place To run to find a True Bred English Face; The Spanish Paint, and the French Patches now Do over-spread the Chin, the Cheek, the Brow; Beauty's besmear'd, for every little Jade Doth make another Face than Nature made. Those that were born with a fresh Countrey hue, By Paint have lost it; Give the Devil his due. Whoring and Painting flourish now so well, We hardly know where Honest Women dwell: Virtue is out of Fashion; she's a Saint That can with Art and Skill Sing, Whore, and Paint. Every Apprentice Cod-piece almost itches To run a-tilt at those polluted Bitches: They are such Hair-brain'd Coxcombs, Idle Fops, That they regard no Masters, nor no Shops, Whilst these bewitching Charms appear in sight, Who with false Jewels, and false Face, shine bright. Gone are the Golden dayes, when the Chief Whore Was with Disdain, flung in the Common Shore. Few
[2] Few Rosamonds are poyson'd now: we find All sorts of People to a Whore prove kind. They ought to be abhorr'd, as the worst Fates, Like Moths, they waste both Bodies and Estates: They bring on us worse than AEgyptian curses, They waste our Credits, and consume our Purses: Yet we, fond men, are such bewitched Fools, We spend our time onely in Venus Schools; We run our brittle Ships against those Rocks, As if we long'd to slave them with the Pox. Whilst we thus Vicious are, it is not strange That we from Beauty and from Virtue range: Curse on those cursed Charms, that like old Eve, Draw Cullies on, with Apples in their sleeve. A painted, patched face I count the Charmes That draw so many Cullies to their Arms. Fine Feathers make fine Birds, we're wont to cry, Would they lay Patches, Perfumes, and Painting by, They would be far more comely to the Eye. Loath and abhor them, for their base Design Is both to Damn your Soul, and Sink your Coyn. As Rosamond, or as Jane Shore, go serve them, Keep back your Coin, and you'l be sure to starve them. They will not Work, they covet to be Idle; Learn to be Honest, let them bite o'th' Bridle: Such filthy Vermin do deserve no pity, But Want and Hunger, both in Town and City. Brand them like Cain, let Whores wear Whorish marks, Wee'l know them then in Streets as well as Parks. Thus shall our Land be happy, You be blest, And Whores have neither Coin, nor Food, nor Rest.
FINIS.