%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> Mistris Turners / Farewell to all women. / Angell (turn'd Diuell) Pride: / by thee I fell / When heere on earth I dwelt / too'th pit of Hell: / Yet spite of all thy Poysons, / I am faire / Now in Gods eyes, / Women by me Beware. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer 1615-1615 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 10/24/2018 36326

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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

S3047 THou, of all sinnes the first, of all, the highest, / Because thou fell'st from Heauen before Mans fall, Society of Antiquaries of London - Broadsides Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 2: 143 Mistris Turners / Farewell to all women. / Angell (turn'd Diuell) Pride: / by thee I fell / When heere on earth I dwelt / too'th pit of Hell: / Yet spite of all thy Poysons, / I am faire / Now in Gods eyes, / Women by me Beware. Mistress Turner's Farewell to all women. Angel (turned Devil) Pride: by thee I fell When here on earth I dwelt to the pit of Hell: Yet spite of all thy Poisons, I am fair Now in God's eyes, Women by me Beware. 1615-1615 Iohn Trundle

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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 10/24/2018 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America gender religious concepts vice Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 10/24/2018 11:07:58 AM XBallad Messner, Milena Created XML Version of Ballad 10/24/2018 11:07:58 AM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/24/2018 11:07:58 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/24/2018 11:07:58 AM Transcriptionist Two Stark, Nicole Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/24/2018 11:07:58 AM Transcriptionist One Raychawdhuri, Anita Transcription of ballad manuscript 8/30/2017 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 8/22/2018 Checker Minh Hua Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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Mistris Turner. 1 THou, of all sinnes the first, of all, the highest, Because thou fell'st from Heaven before Mans fall, Who, when to Happines thou wert the nighest,) In envy of the best of all, lost all. 2 Wo worth that whorish face of thine, which tempted Me to more Hells then thou hast vaine attires, For which my spotted Soule, is not exempted (Without Gods mercy) from eternall fires. 3 Shee-Divell, (destroyer both of man and Woman, That with thy sorcerous Drugges didst catch my Soule: To the last Barre Tribunall, thee I summon, Where I shall stand all white, thou black and foule. 4 Washd are my spots away by Christs red passion, For I am there whence headlong thou wert throwne: And now I glory in triumphant fashion, That thou art there whether I should have gone: From Heaven thou fellst to Hell, and I being drownd In Sinnes, got up and now in Heaven sit Crownd.
Lady Pride. 1 THou, of all Woemen worst of all, the basest, Who (when I am of Sinnes the worst and proudest, And throwne from Heaven me in thy bosome placest; And what thy heart lov'd best, now rail'st at loudest. 2 'Tis not thy hate of Pride, makes thee to cry Wo worth my Whorish Face, but tis because Thy Pride hath caught her fall, and thou must dye, And frighted art with Hels devouring Jawes. 3 Enough it is for me that I have made thee Drunke with my cup: nor care I though thou boast That from eternall fires Gods mercy staid thee; For say thy soule be sav'd, thy bodyes lost. 4 As for thy yellowed Ruffes, phantastick Tires, Paintings, and Poysonings (now by thee abhorred) I laugh to see thee wrap them up in fires, For Pride hath more to bewitch many a Forehead. And though thy soule should climbe the highest Sphere, Ile pluck downe thousands that shall nere come there.
Printed for John Trundle.