%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> No Money, no Friend. / The Spend-thrift he, when 'tis too late, / Laments his sad and Wretched state: / And all good Men he doth advise, / That they would Merry be, and wise. 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 03/31/2016 35335

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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

R31099 ALL you that freely spend your Coyn, / Come learn by this advice of mine; Yet is not spending all the Crime, / For idly then I spent my time, Houghton Library 25242.67 Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 2: 141 No Money, no Friend. / The Spend-thrift he, when 'tis too late, / Laments his sad and Wretched state: / And all good Men he doth advise, / That they would Merry be, and wise. No Money, no Friend. The Spend-thrift he, when ‘tis too late, Laments his sad and Wretched state: And all good Men he doth advise, That they would Merry be, and wise. No Money, no Friend. The Spend-thrift he, when 'tis too late, Laments his sad and Wretched state: And all good Men he doth advise, That they would Merry be, and wise. ?-? F. Coles, T. Vere, J. VVright, J. Clarke, VV, Thackeray, and T. Passinger

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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 3/31/2016 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 3/31/2016 3:20:57 PM XBallad Levinson-Emley, Rachel Created XML Version of Ballad 3/31/2016 3:20:57 PM Transcription Supervisor Palmer, Megan Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/31/2016 3:20:57 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Adkison, Katie Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/31/2016 3:20:57 PM Transcriptionist Two Bell, Erik Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/31/2016 3:20:57 PM Transcriptionist One McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/17/2016 Checker Erik Bell Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/3/2015 Bibliographer Rachel LevinsonEmley Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">No Money, no Friend.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Spend-thrift he, when 'tis too late,</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Laments his sad and Wretched state:</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">And all good Men he doth advise,</hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">That they would Merry be, and wise.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Tune is, <hi rend="bold">All you that do desire to play</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="7" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">At Cards, to pass the time away.</hi></hi></seg>
ALL you that freely spend your Coyn, Come learn by this advice of mine; That you no more so play the Fool, Nor Ripple in the Fuddling-School: For when that you have spent your store, Your Host will turn you out o' th door. This by experience I do know, Who too too lately found it so: Five hundred pound was left to me, Which I consum'd immediately: And when my Money was all gone, I like an Ass was lookt upon. While I had Gold and Silver store, I thought the world did me adore: For then each false dissembling Curr, Would cry, your humble servant Sir: But now my Money is all spent, Too late, poor Fool, I do lament.
When I was in Prosperity, Each Tap-lach that I passed by: Would cringe and bow, and swear to be My Servant to Eternity: But now alas, my Money's gone, And Servants I have never a one. But now if to their House I go, E're drink they draw, they'l surely know, If that my Pocket it will speak, Which is enough my heart to break: If not, then he who was my friend, Out of the door soon will me send. Oh what a dreadful thing is this, That I of all my Servants miss: And those who did me oft invite, To drink with them, now do me slight: But if again I Money get, I surely then shall have more wit.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Second Part, to the same Tune.</hi></seg>
Yet is not spending all the Crime, For idly then I spent my time, And rather then Companions lack, I'de pick up every Idle Jack: And he that would me Master call, Should me command, my Purse and all. The Hostis she would flatter then, And say I was a pritty Man: And this so tickled then mine ear, That I my praise so oft did hear: Come hang 't said I, giv 's 'tother Pot, And thus I feasted every Sot. At last I had no Money left, And then was I of joys bereft: My Host and Hostis they did frown, And said I was a Drunken Clown: So then was I dispis'd by all, That me before did Master call. From street to street as I did pass, Folks cry'd, there goes a Drunken Ass, Who not long since had Money store, But now no Creature is more poor: For Pots and Pipes made him so low, That like a Beggar he doth go. Then who would pitty such a one, Who could not keep himself alone, If Wife and Children he had had, The case had then been far more sad: But he no pitty doth deserve, If for a bit of Bread he starve. This is the pitty I do find, That when I had it was so kind, To him that said he was my friend, I'de give him Wine, and money lend: But now myself I have undone, My company all men do shun.
Let this my case a warning be, That none may play the fool like me, A greater plague there cannot be, Then falling from Prosperity, Into a state so deadly low, Your nearest friends will not you know. Account your Money as your Friend, So shall you flourish to the end, But when you come of friends to borrow, It will but aggravate your sorrow: To see how they will slight you then, And say you are the worst of men. Your Pot-Companions will you slight, In whom they once did take delight: And while your Money it doth last, With Oaths they'l tye their friendship fast But when that you have wasted all, Then from you will your Servants fall. Such servants you may have good store, Who help to eat you out of Door: And by their drinking in Excess, Will help to make you Moneyless, Then Young-men warning take by me, That of my Money was too free. This doth my Passion much provoke, To think when I am like to Choake, Those that I heretofore did feast, They will not mind me in the least: Nor make me drink, who once were proud To drink with me to be allow'd. My Kindred and Relations near, Who once did vow they lov'd me dear: Will know me not, but me despise, As loathsom to their scornful eyes: For without Money there's no Friend, And thus my Song in Woe doth End.
FINIS. Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, J. Clarke, W, Thackeray, and T. Passinger.