%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Longing Virgins Choice: / OR, / The Scotch Lasses Delight. / Virgins all you that Coyness still perswades, / Though 'gainst your wills you still continue Maids; / Blush not at this, for though the Lass is kind, / She's not to blame your all so in your mind: / And fain would have the thing you dare not name, / Sighing for that which she does boldly claim: / Young-men are kind, and would not see you want, / If you but ask, what you desire they'l grant: / Then let not Blushes o're your pleasures swell, / 'Tis sure but scurvy leading Apes in Hell. 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 35236

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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

R227242 1 To a Modish new Scoth Tune, Sung at the Dukes Playhouse Bonny Lass, Gin Thou Wert Mine To a Modish new Scotch Tune, Sung at the Dukes Playhouse. BOnny Las, gin thou art mine, / and with twenty thousand pound about thee To shew the how thy Daddy got thee. [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. 1: 147 The Longing Virgins Choice: / OR, / The Scotch Lasses Delight. / Virgins all you that Coyness still perswades, / Though 'gainst your wills you still continue Maids; / Blush not at this, for though the Lass is kind, / She's not to blame your all so in your mind: / And fain would have the thing you dare not name, / Sighing for that which she does boldly claim: / Young-men are kind, and would not see you want, / If you but ask, what you desire they'l grant: / Then let not Blushes o're your pleasures swell, / 'Tis sure but scurvy leading Apes in Hell. The Longing Virgins Choice: OR, The Scotch Lasses Delight. Virgins all you that Coyness still perswades, Though ‘gainst your wills you still continue Maids; Blush not at this, for though the Lass is kind, She’s not to blame your all so in your mind: And fain would have the thing you dare not name, Sighing for that which she does boldly claim: Young-men are kind, and would not see you want, If you but ask, what you desire they’l grant: Then let not Blushes o’re your pleasures swell, ‘Tis sure but scurvy leading Apes in Hell. The Longing Virgin's Choice: OR, The Scotch Lass' Delight. Virgins all you that Coyness still persuades, Though against your wills you still continue Maids; Blush not at this, for though the Lass is kind, She's not to blame you're all so in your mind: And fain would have the thing you dare not name, Sighing for that which she does boldly claim: Young men are kind, and would not see you want, If you but ask, what you desire they'll grant: Then let not Blushes o'er your pleasures swell, 'Tis sure but scurvy leading Apes in Hell. ?-? P. Brooksby

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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 race/ ethnicity sex/ sexuality Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 3/13/2016 3:46:23 PM XBallad King, Joyce Created XML Version of Ballad 3/13/2016 3:46:23 PM Transcription Supervisor Palmer, Megan Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/13/2016 3:46:23 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Levinson-Emley, Rachel Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/13/2016 3:46:23 PM Transcriptionist Two Doran, Thomas Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/13/2016 3:46:23 PM Transcriptionist One Ward, Jayne Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/9/2016 Checker Katie Adkison Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/19/2015 Checker Erik Bell Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 1/21/2015 Bibliographer Erik Bell Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left">The Longing Virgins Choice:</seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">OR,</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Scotch Lasses Delight.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">Virgins all you that Coyness still perswades,</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">Though 'gainst your wills you still continue Maids;</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">Blush not at this, for though the Lass is kind,</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="7" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">She's not to blame your all so in your mind:</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="8" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">And fain would have the thing you dare not name,</hi></hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="9" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">Sighing for that which she does boldly claim:</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="10" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">Young-men are kind, and would not see you want,</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="11" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">If you but ask, what you desire they'l grant:</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="12" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">Then let not Blushes o're your pleasures swell,</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="13" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">'Tis sure but scurvy leading Apes in Hell.</hi></hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="14" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To a Modish new Scoth Tune, Sung at the Dukes Playhouse.</hi></seg>
BOnny Las, gin thou art mine, and with twenty thousand pound about thee I'de scorn thy gudes for thee my queen, To lig the down on any Green, To shew the how thy Daddy got thee. Bonny Lad gin thou art mine, and thousand Land about thee: I'de leave them awe to kiss thy Kueen, And gang with thee to any Green. To shew the how thy Daddy got thee.
A match, gude faith, with thee i'le gang, with the my joy i'se wou'd my lot be; To Kiss and Clip thee I do long, Yet bonny Lass i'se do no wrong, But shew thee how thy Daddy got thee. Thy Ruby Lips with joy i'se Kiss, and on the Primrose-bank i'le put thee: And there we'l take our fills of Bliss, We'l both play fair and never miss, Whilst thou knowst how thy Daddy got thee
UNder the greenest Willow shade, to live and love each e'ne our lot be, Where pritty Birds in Notes do spread, And that thou art no more a Maid, whilst I shew how thy Daddy got thee. Under the Willow shades, quo I, what mean you in this place without me: Ods Bares, quo she, I tell no ley, I hither come with thee to try, and shew me how my Daddy got me. Come ginn me then, my bonny Lad, thou'st shall have all that I can let thee: Come give me then what's to be had, Tickle my Pulse and make me glad, and shew me how my Daddy got me. I lig'd me down then by her side, and muckly there I laid about me: To get a Bantling I apply'd, I spear'd her leave, but she deny'd, said I'le shew how Daddy got me.
Whelst thus we pass the time away, and in my arms I mean to put thee: Renewing pleasures with the day, I'le respite take, and then i'le play, And shew thee how the Daddy got thee. Don't leave me yet, methinks 'tis Spring the Rose and Lillies bloom about me: And little Birds do joyous sing, In streames of pleasure sure I swim, whilst I learn how my Daddy got me. Enough my Lass, this time we's part, gang here tomorrow i'se allot the; Oh! 'tis too long, thou'lt break my heart, Less you a shorter time impart, to shew again how Daddy got me. Then by this Kiss and Violets blew, when the Moon shines I will wait thee: And so i'le bid thee now adieu, My bonny Lad be sure ye do, and shew me how my Daddy got me.
Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden-Ball, in Pye Corner.