%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Love-sick / SERVING-MAN: / SHEWING / How he was Wounded with the Charms of a young Lady, and did / not dare to reveal his Mind. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer 1675-1675 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 09/18/2018 35699

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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

R227260 1 Ise often for my Jenny strove. I Often for My Jenny Strove I Often For My Jenny Strove. E'Er since I saw Clorinda's Eyes, / My Heart has felt a strange surprize, No Charms above her, oh! I love her, / and will do for evermore. | For it must and shall be so. [with variation] Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. : The Love-sick / SERVING-MAN: / SHEWING / How he was Wounded with the Charms of a young Lady, and did / not dare to reveal his Mind. The Love-sick SERVING-MAN: SHEWING How he was Wounded with the Charms of a young Lady, and did not dare to reveal his Mind. The Love-sick SERVING-MAN: SHOWING How he was Wounded with the Charms of a young Lady, and did not dare to reveal his Mind. 1675-1675 P. Brooksby, J. Deacon, J. Blare. J. Back

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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 9/18/2018 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America class love marriage mythology / Classical servitude Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 9/18/2018 6:15:56 PM XBallad Zisa, Jessica Created XML Version of Ballad 9/18/2018 6:15:56 PM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 9/18/2018 6:15:56 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Ward, Jayne Transcription of ballad manuscript 9/18/2018 6:15:56 PM Transcriptionist Two Floyd, Elizabeth Transcription of ballad manuscript 9/18/2018 6:15:56 PM Transcriptionist One Russell, Jamal Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/30/2018 Checker Jessica Zisa Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 5/9/2018 Checker Kristen McCants Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/19/2016 Bibliographer Rachel LevinsonEmley Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Love-sick</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">SERVING-MAN:</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">SHEWING</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">How he was Wounded with the Charms of a young Lady, and did</hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">not dare to reveal his Mind.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To the Tune of</hi> Ise often for my <hi rend="italic">Jenny</hi> strove.</seg>
EEr since I saw Clorindas Eyes, My Heart has felt a strange surprize, No Pen is able to reveal The killing Torment which I feel; Yet I dare not let her, know it, 'Cause she's Rich and I am Poor; No Charms above her, oh! I love her, and will do for evermore.
Oh! that I might but let her know My Sighs, my Tears, my Care and Woe, And how I'm tortured for her sake, She might some kind of pity take: But I fear I should offend her Whom I dearly do adore; No Charms above her, oh! I love her, And will do for evermore.
Both Sense and Reason tells me plain, That I bestowed my heart in vain, Where no acceptance will be found, No Balsom for this bleeding Wound: She's a fair and youthfull Lady, I a Servant mean and poor; No Charms above her, etc. I value not her Gold, her Pearl, For was I either Lord or Earl, My very Heart would be the same, I raise her everlasting Fame; Yet in vain are all my Wishes, They will not my Joys restore: No Charms above her, etc.
Young Cupid bend thy Golden Bow, And let thy silver Arrows flye, That my fair charming Saint may know, The pains of Love as well as I; Tell her too, that I lye wounded, She may then my Joys restore, No Charms above her, etc. Tho' now mine Eyes like Rivers run, As here in Sorrows I condole; Her Beauty like the Rising Sun, Can soon revive my drooping Soul: But if I may ne'er enjoy her, Let me with a Dart be slain, 'Tis better kill me, then to fill me With this Love tormenting pain. The Young Lady's Answer.
Now in a Vision, or a Dream, Her Father's Serving-man did seem Before her Presence there to stand, While Cupid held him by the Hand, Saying, Lady you must love him, Therefore now some pity show; Then don't deny him, nor defie him, For it must and shall be so. A Thousand thoughts ran in her head, As many Cupids round her Bed, Which did like armed Angels stand, With Golden Bows and Shafts in hand, E'ery one was pleading for him, And their Silver Shafts did show, Saying, Receive him, do not grieve him, For it must and shall be so. The youthfull Lady did reply, What must I love, or must I dye? Tell me, is there no other way But this, to cast my self away, On my Father's meanest Servant? Well, I find it must be so, I well approve him, needs must love him, Though it proves my Overthrow.
I know my Father he will Frown, And Ladies too of high Renown, But yet I needs must love him still, Let all the World say what they will: My soft Heart is now enflamed, Love in e'ery Vein doth flow, I'll freely take him, ne'er forsake him, For it must and shall be so. What tho' my noble Father dear Disowns his Daughter utterly, I have Five Thousand Pounds a year, Of which no one can hinder me; 'Tis sufficient to Maintain us, Should my Father prove our Foe, My Love I'll Marry, long not tarry, For it must and shall be so. What tho' a Serving-man he be, Whose Substance is but mean and small; His proper Person pleases me, True Love will make amends for all: 'Tis beyond all Gold or Treasure, Him alone my Heart doth crave, I will not tarry, but will Marry, And make him Lord of all I have.
Printed for P. Brooksby, J. Deacon, J. Blare. J. Back.