%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> Virginity grown Troublesome: / OR, The Younger Sisters Lamentation for / want of a Husband. / Being a most pleasant and Delightful New Song much in use, &c. / Each Age grows Riper, love does still prevail, / And Maiden-heads at Sixteen now are stale; / Young Girls to Mothers will be turn'd e're they / Know what it means, slie Cupid does betray, / Fires them with love, and then there's nothing can / Cure their distemper, unless Oyl of Man. 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 05/30/2021 36980

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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

R227454 I Have a good old Mother at home, / which keeps me from Wedlock still, What shall I do, shall I dye for love, / and never have my will. [with variation] Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 222 Virginity grown Troublesome: / OR, The Younger Sisters Lamentation for / want of a Husband. / Being a most pleasant and Delightful New Song much in use, &c. / Each Age grows Riper, love does still prevail, / And Maiden-heads at Sixteen now are stale; / Young Girls to Mothers will be turn'd e're they / Know what it means, slie Cupid does betray, / Fires them with love, and then there's nothing can / Cure their distemper, unless Oyl of Man. Virginity grown Troublesome: OR, The Younger Sister's Lamentation for want of a Husband. Being a most pleasant and Delightful New Song much in use, etc. Each Age grows Riper, love does still prevail, And Maidenheads at Sixteen now are stale; Young Girls to Mothers will be turned ere they Know what it means, sly Cupid does betray, Fires them with love, and then there's nothing can Cure their distemper, unless Oil of Man. ?-? 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 5/30/2021 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 5/30/2021 2:49:44 PM XBallad Wise, Juliette Created XML Version of Ballad 5/30/2021 2:49:44 PM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/30/2021 2:49:44 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/30/2021 2:49:44 PM Transcriptionist Two Mifflin, Natalie Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/30/2021 2:49:44 PM Transcriptionist One Raychawdhuri, Anita Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/14/2019 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left">Virginity grown Troublesome:</seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">OR, The Younger Sisters Lamentation for</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">want of a Husband.</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">Being a most pleasant and Delightful New Song much in use,</hi> etc.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Each Age grows Riper, love does still prevail,</hi></seg> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">And Maiden-heads at Sixteen now are stale;</hi></seg> <seg n="7" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Young Girls to Mothers will be turn'd e're they</hi></seg> <seg n="8" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Know what it means, slie <hi rend="bold">Cupid</hi> does betray,</hi></seg> <seg n="9" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Fires them with love, and then there's nothing can</hi></seg> <seg n="10" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Cure their distemper, unless Oyl of Man.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="11" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">to a pleasant New West-Country Tune.</hi></hi></seg>
I Have a good old Mother at home, which keeps me from Wedlock still, What shall I do, shall I dye for love, and never have my will. As I walkt forth within the fields, to see the Bushes spring; The little Birds they chang'd their notes, and I heard the Cuckoo sing. My Sister is married to her content, and is made a wedded Wife;
And with her Husband she doth live, a sweet contented life. But I poor soul must lye alone, who am more fair than she; What shall I do, shall I dye for love, and never, etc. There is ne'r a one in all the Town, that can compare with me: What shall I do, shall I dye for love, and never Married be.
NOw I must into some far Countrey, or into some forraign Land; For to find out a bonny Lad, to be at my command. Love pleasures all things do surpass, as I do plainly see; What shall I do, shall I dye for love, and never married be. Come some brisk Lad, O come with speed, and me from care set free; O what shall I do, shall I dye for love; and never, etc. Alas, for what was beauty made, was't only for to see: What shall I do, I am afraid I ne'r shall, etc. To languish thus is worse then death, some sweet youth come wedd me; What shall I loose my Virgin breath, and never Married be. Kind Heaven my Sister did befriend, whilst none's more lov'd then she: What shall I do, shall I dye for love, and never Married be. Good Cupid at some gentle heart let thy swift Arrow flee; Will no kind Young-man take my part, that I may Married be. O cruel young men, what d'ye mean, from joy to hinder me;
What shall I do, shall I dye for love, and never married be. Is it my Portions smallness then, that make you not agree; What shall I do, shall I dye for Love, and never married be. If it be that i'le make it more, to labour i'le be free; What shall I do, shall I dye for love, and never married be. Oh how I sigh to lye alone, and wish for Company; What shall I do, shall I make moan, and never married be. To tear my Hair I scarce refrain, when Weddings I do see; What shall I always feel this pain, and never married be. How bless'd are they who in each Grove, receive embraces free, What shall I do, shall I dye for love, and never married be. Then some kind youth come pluck the fruit from blooming beauty's Tree: What shall I dye, in this dispute, and never married be. These twenty years now have I liv'd, and none e're asked me: Let me not dye, kind youths for love, and never married be.
Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden-Ball, in West-smithfield.