%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Mother and Daughter, Or, / A Dialogue betwixt them composed in Verse, / If you will attend, I will rehearse; / How the Mother did chide the Daughter for folly / The Daughter with her Mother did not dally, / To silence her Mother her self she did fix. / And proved her Mother to be a Meretrix. / Still'd her Mothers tongue that so loud did sound, / Nuncl'd her Mam, and got twice fifty pound. / Those two Fadillaes, as chaste as Jane Shore, / Live quiet, that never did so before. 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 07/09/2021 37474

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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

R236068 1 Come sweet heart and embrace thy own, or The dancing of Primrose Hill [unknown] Come, Sweetheart, and Embrace Thy Own, or, The Dancing of Primrose Hill WHy how now Nan, what is the reason, / that you look so pale and wan? British Library - Bagford Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 2: 122 2: 123 The Mother and Daughter, Or, / A Dialogue betwixt them composed in Verse, / If you will attend, I will rehearse; / How the Mother did chide the Daughter for folly / The Daughter with her Mother did not dally, / To silence her Mother her self she did fix. / And proved her Mother to be a Meretrix. / Still'd her Mothers tongue that so loud did sound, / Nuncl'd her Mam, and got twice fifty pound. / Those two Fadillaes, as chaste as Jane Shore, / Live quiet, that never did so before. The Mother and Daughter, Or, A Dialogue betwixt them composed in Verse, If you will attend, I will rehearse; How the Mother did chide the Daughter for folly The Daughter with her Mother did not dally, To silence her Mother herself she did fix. And proved her Mother to be a Meretrix. Stilled her Mother's tongue that so loud did sound, Nuncled her Mam, and got twice fifty pound. Those two Fadillaes, as chaste as Jane Shore, Live quiet, that never did so before. ?-? W. Thackeray, T. Passinger and W. VVhitwood

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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 7/9/2021 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 7/9/2021 6:59:30 PM XBallad Henderson, Olivia Created XML Version of Ballad 7/9/2021 6:59:30 PM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/9/2021 6:59:30 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Stark, Nicole Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/9/2021 6:59:30 PM Transcriptionist Two McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/9/2021 6:59:30 PM Transcriptionist One Raychawdhuri, Anita Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/4/2019 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">The Mother and Daughter,</hi></hi> <hi rend="italic">Or,</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">A Dialogue betwixt them composed in Verse,</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">If you will attend, I will rehearse;</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">How the Mother did chide the Daughter for folly</hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Daughter with her Mother did not dally,</hi></seg> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To silence her Mother herself she did fix.</hi></seg> <seg n="7" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">And proved her Mother to be a Meretrix.</hi></seg> <seg n="8" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Still'd her Mothers tongue that so loud did sound,</hi></seg> <seg n="9" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Nuncl'd her Mam, and got twice fifty pound.</hi></seg> <seg n="10" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Those two Fadillaes, as chaste as <hi rend="bold">Jane Shore,</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="11" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Live quiet, that never did so before.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="12" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Tune is, <hi rend="bold">Come sweetheart and embrace thy own,</hi> or <hi rend="bold">The dancing of Primrose Hill.</hi></hi></seg>
Mother. WHy how now Nan, what is the reason, that you look so pale and wan? Nan. Alas Mother, all this Lent season, I am scarse able to go or stand, Hot broth it doth me cherish, Warm flesh it doth me nourish: This cruel hard lent, the time I repent: Pease pottage hath poysoned me. Mother. It is a thing was never heard, that peas in lent they should be yoyson, Some other thing is to be fear'd, but thou wilt not tell me the reason, Thy face it looks so pale and yellow, thy nose is sharp and thy eys are hollow: Somethings the matter, good Nan do not flatter, tell me the truth whatever betide. Nan. O mother I will speak the truth, and not a lye to you will tell: You know that George is a hangsom youth, and other young men doth excel.
He loves me beyond all measure: I am his joy, his delight and his Treasure: Fine things he doth give me, if you'l believe me, O mother I love his company. Mother. How come you to love him now, when formerly you did him hate? Nan. Mother I dare protest and vow, I value him at a mighty rate. I love him as I love my life, He said that I should be his wife, if I was willing, with him to be billing, He vow'd that I should be his Bride. Nan. I walkt with him into the field: and there I cropt a dainty flower: He embraced me and then we bill'd, and in the space of half an hour, And lying down upon his belly, What sport we had I will not tell ye: He did embrace me, kiss me and face me, O mother he made me merry.
Mother. O fie upon thee for thy pains, now to be sure thou art with child: And honest people will disdain's, and I cannot be reconcil'd. Lent peas hath poysoned up your belly, something else, did I not tell ye, And for this feat I will thee beat, Nan. O mother pray hold your hand. Mother. Come brazen face let me see your breast, that I may know what will ensue, And looking on't she did protest, that her Daughter was with child with two, Nan. I think that twenty times before, I have been on the very same score: Yet never beguil'd to prove with child, O mother pray pardone me. Mother. To pardon thee it is not best, neither will I put up this wroung: Nan. sure mother you do but jest, I do you desire to hold your tongue: If I should speak that which is true, and that which I have seen by you: You would not be willing to hear of your billing O mother Ive mumpt you now. Mother. You dirty slut, why did you ever see me in action of disgrace? Nan. Remember the weaver and you together, you said his beard did prick your face. You did say he was too slack, and that same time you hurt your back, And being too kind you broke your winde, O mother i've mumpd you now.
Mother. Further I do put into your head, and remember as well as I can: The Tinker laid you upon the bed and said he was a mettal man. He peeping in your face likewise, some of the smoot fell in your eyes, And in that place he collied your face, O mother i've mumpt you now. Nan. And going to a Fair on a day, you said that it was for your pleasure, And there you must buy new array, and have the Taylor to take measure And coming home you did lie down The Taylor gave you a green gown; being in the Corn you catch a thorn: O mother i've mumpt now. Mother. O good sweet Nan, come hold thy tongue; thou art too hard for me I find, I will never do thee rong, for every Cat will after kind. Thou art my dear and onely Daughter, ile give the right ready hereafter. If thou wilt be quiet and will not repeat, And never to mump thy mother no more. Nan. Upon condition you will give, me all the bonds of your use-money, To maintain me brave while I live, that I may be both blith and boney, Mother, yes daughter, that I am willing and excuse thee another time for billing. Two fifty pound bonds Ile give into thy hands, Sweet Nan it is all thy own:
London, Printed, for W. Thackeray, T. Passinger and W. Whitwood.