%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A balade of a preist that loste his nose / For sayinge of masse as I suppose. 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 06/02/2021 37045

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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

S119231 WHo so list heare of a wonderous chaunce / Of late I mette with one did me tell Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 16 A balade of a preist that loste his nose / For sayinge of masse as I suppose. A ballad of a priest that lost his nose For saying of mass as I suppose. ?-?

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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 6/2/2021 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/2/2021 1:57:00 PM XBallad Wise, Juliette Created XML Version of Ballad 6/2/2021 1:57:00 PM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/2/2021 1:57:00 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Stark, Nicole Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/2/2021 1:57:00 PM Transcriptionist Two Raychawdhuri, Anita Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/2/2021 1:57:00 PM Transcriptionist One McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/20/2019 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left">A balade of a preist that loste his nose</seg> <seg n="2" rend="left">For sayinge of masse as I suppose.</seg>
WHoso list heare of a wonderous chaunce Of late I mette with one did me tell The craftiest priest in England or Fraunce Hath lost his nose, and how should he smell He went to his freinde his mynde to disclose And as he came home one cut of his nose. It is a gentleman, a priest he tolde me To tell you his name I do not much passe It is olde syr John the vycar of Lee which rayles at gods boke & reeles at his masse His cankarde mynde he cannot kepe close yet he served him shrewdly that cut of his nose. His smeller is smitten cleane from his face yet was there but one as he did saye which caught him and pluckt of his nose in that place A hie man, a lowe man, a foxe, or a graye Tenne shillinges he saith in his purse he did lose I thinke he lied therof, but not of his nose Great serching was sence that smeller to seke Some for hast left their scabbert at home Some had gunnes some halberts some forked pikes some in shyrts of maile like a lusty mome There was never sene before I suppose Such tossing and tombling for a priestes nose. Som men that thought him no harme in ther life But because they feare God, and do go about To live with pure conscience & be without strife Thei ar bound to the peas now for a priests snout But because he can kepe mens horedom so close Therfore they make such a worke for his nose. Because his scollers did mock at his masse He said he wolde make bloud run by their heles But God hath turned the plage from their arse And he with his nose did bloudy the stiles with bloud I hard saye as red as a rose he dronke well belike before he lost his nose. What maner of nose was it sir ye sought for A black nose, a red nose, or one like my fist To be without nose was the marke of an whore And now it is the marke of an whorishe priest And now you are ryd right well of the pose why do you make suche a worke for your nose. Or was your nose somewhat wan or pale A blewe nose a bottle nose, or was it yellowe Nos autem have sene it sometime at the ale Libera nos salva nos from the swap of the swalowe But why did ye use syr to lye so and glose was it any mervayle though ye lost your nose. Some men are living to whom he did say Seing he knew the truth, if ever he sayd masse He wisht that some membre might be cut away, Now at his request it is come to passe Much work he doth make for the lomp he did lose well, what will ye geve syr for a newe nose.
But what shal we say, yf men do not lye who cut of the priestes nose it is harde to judge But he himself I think did it of envy And then to bewite it to them he did grudge That therby they might ther kingdom up close As sometime Sopirus did snap of his nose For sometime he sayth it was but a mome And eftsone a talle man this he doth name But styll he affyrmeth it was but one which caught him and brought his nose out of frame Could one man so do it as you suppose Except he were willing to have of his nose. Remedie is none, but this thinge is true His snout is snapts of how[s]oever it was I thinke it were best to make him a new As sone he may do it, as god at his masse yf he cannot make him a snout, I suppose he cannot make god no more then his nose Seing the true God is gone from your towne And god Pean & Baccus doth rule in his stede with hoysty and soysty over shoulder & crowne yet hath he no more life then a lompe of leade yf he have, then charge him that man to disclose which met you & caught you, & cut of your nose. But yf you do use the true god to mocke And geve his honor to your god in the purse Loke whom ye blesse, and in blyndnesse rocke The living god will you & your blessinges curse And at length your falsehed to all men disclose And then no dout your head wyl folow your nose Take hede I saye you chaplyns of Balle Though ye have fed longe at Jesabels borde Not longe but helias shall geve you a fall Repent and returne to the livinge Lorde Though ye pricke till bloud runne by your toes ther wil a worse chance com then lesing your nose I wyll not pray for you, let them do that liste For feare God with me should be miscontent Seyng of purpose the holy ghost you resiste And if ye have cleane forgotten to repent when God shall the secretes of all men disclose ye shal have as much help as the preist of his nose But you have a vauntage syr if you mark all if a mous catch your god, when ye have made it Then ye may catche the mouse fast by the walle For how can you hurt your nose except ye had it The proverbe is true in you I suppose He cannot tell where to turne his nose.
Finis. God save the Quene.