%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The merry Maid of Middlesex. / OR, / A pretty Song made by a pretty Maid, / Which had seven Suitors, she her self so said, / And yet (poor soul) she hath been strangely crost, / And through her Mothers means, her Sweet.heart's lost: / But yet she is resolved in this Sonnet, / To have a Husband, whatsoer'e comes on it. 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 03/13/2016 34626

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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

R214176 IT was not long agone / since Cupid with his Dart, NExe Tom the Taylor trim, / he brought me a brave new gown Let Father angry be, / let mother brawl, and chide, / A Husband I will have, / what ever me betide, [with variation] But now let Father frown, / let Mother brawl and chide: / A Husband I will have, / what ever me betide, [with variation] Houghton Library Huth EBB65H Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 2: 184 The merry Maid of Middlesex. / OR, / A pretty Song made by a pretty Maid, / Which had seven Suitors, she her self so said, / And yet (poor soul) she hath been strangely crost, / And through her Mothers means, her Sweet.heart's lost: / But yet she is resolved in this Sonnet, / To have a Husband, whatsoer'e comes on it. The merry Maid of Middlesex. OR, A pretty Song made by a pretty Maid, Which had seven Suitors, she herself so said, And yet (poor soul) she hath been strangely crost, And through her Mothers means, her Sweet.heart’s lost: But yet she is resolved in this Sonnet, To have a Husband, whatsoer’e comes on it. The merry Maid of Middlesex. OR, A pretty Song made by a pretty Maid, Which had seven Suitors, she herself so said, And yet (poor soul) she hath been strangely crossed, And through her Mother's means, her Sweetheart's lost: But yet she is resolved in this Sonnet, To have a Husband, whatsoever comes on it. Printer E. Crowch ?-? F. Coles, T. Vere, & J. Wright

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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 3/13/2016 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America affliction/ health family labor/ craft marriage sex/ sexuality Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 3/13/2016 5:42:05 PM XBallad King, Joyce Created XML Version of Ballad 3/13/2016 5:42:05 PM Transcription Supervisor Palmer, Megan Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/13/2016 5:42:05 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Bell, Erik Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/13/2016 5:42:05 PM Transcriptionist Two Levinson-Emley, Rachel Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/13/2016 5:42:05 PM Transcriptionist One Bowden, Antigone Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/9/2016 Checker Erik Bell Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/3/2014 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 11/20/2015 Checker Erik Bell Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
The merry Maid of Middlesex. OR, A pretty Song made by a pretty Maid, Which had seven Suitors, she herself so said, And yet (poor soul) she hath been strangely crost, And through her Mothers means, her Sweet.heart's lost: But yet she is resolved in this Sonnet, To have a Husband, whatsoer'e comes on it. To a dilicate Northern Tune: Or, The Maid that lost her way.
IT was not long agone since Cupid with his Dart, Shot through my tender skin, and prickt my love-sick heart And since that desprate time, I am so love-sick grown, I neither can nor will no longer lye alone: Let Father angry be, let mother brawl, and chide, A Husband I will have, whatever me betide, It is well known that I am fifteen years of oge, Yet live as weary a life, as a Bird pen'd in a Cage. Therefore Young-men I pray, give eare unto my Song, And you shall know in what, my Parents did me wrong: But now let Father frown, etc.
Seven Suitors in one day, unto me came a wooing, And every one of them would fain with me be doing: First Will the Weaver came with Silks & Ribonds brave, And out of his pure love, these Tokens to me gave, Let Father fret and frown, etc. Full many a honied kisse the Weaver did me give, Which was enough to make a dying Maid to live: But yet my Parents would not give me their consent, That I should marry with him, which makes me to lament. But now let Father frown, let Mother brawl, and chide, A Husband I will have whatever me betide.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The second part, to the same Tune.</hi></seg>
NEre Tom the Taylor trim, he brought me a brave new gown And would have gave it me for to have laid me down, My Mother standind by, would not thereto agree, whereby I did both lose my gown and sweet-heart, woe is me. But now let Father frown, let Mother brawl and chide: A Husband I will have, whatever me betide, Then Sam the Shoo-maker brought me a pair of shooes To fit my pretty feet as he did often use: But at the drawing on his hand by chance did slip, Which made my Mother vex, and sorely bite the Lip, But now let Father greive, etc. George Glover he gave me a pair of dainty Gloves, Such as your bravest Batchlors do use to give their Loves; And therewithal kind heart, he kist me tenderly: And then my Mother she did soon break up our company. But now let Father angery be, etc.
There came a bonny Lad, a Vintner neat and fine, And in his hand he brought a bottle of Muskadine, And bad me for to drink as long as I could pull: For he had an intent to fill my belly full: At which my Mother she began to frown and chide, Yet I will have a Husband whatever me betide. A nimble Tapster next gave me a gay gold Ring, And promised to bestow on me a better thing: But in the bringing he had wondrous ill luck, My Mother she did chance to see and would not let us truck. But now let Father frown, etc. Then came a noble Spark, a Souldier stout and bold, And quickly cast into my lap full sevenscore pound in gold O he was a brave Young-man, I lov'd him as my life: & yet my Mother she would not now let me be his Wife. But now let Father frown, etc.
The Cobler he poor fool, fell sick and needs must dye, Except my Love would grant him love, as a remedy: Cobler my Mother said, you have of late been dipt, Before you shall my Daughter have Ile see you soundly whipt. But now let Father frown, etc. A Maiden-head it is a load too heavy for me to carry; Therefore I will make all the speed that ever I can to marry, No matter for his wealth nor Trade, what er'e it be, For I will dearly love the Man if he could fancy me. So now you know my mind, although my Mother chide, A Husband I must have, whatever me betide.
FINIS. London, Printed by E. Crowch, for F. Coles, T. Vere, & J. Wright.