%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Scornful Maid, and the Constant / Young-Man. / With mocks and taunts she doth him jear, / As in this ditty you may hear; / Yet no denyal he would have, / But still her favour he did crave: / Yet at the last she granted love, / And vowed She would constant prove; / Yet in this Ditty you may find, / It is Money that doth a bargain bind. Robins, T. 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 05/20/2021 37644

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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

R227369 2 Times Changling I will never be: Or, Sawny, Or, A Fig for France Sawney Will Never Be My Love Again Time's Changeling I Will Never Be: or, Sawney, or, A Fig for France to the same Tune Sawney Will Never Be My Love Again To the Same Tune ALL hail, all hail, thou Lady gay, / the glory of the world to me, O Fie away, thou fondling now, / my very heart thou vexest sore, One smiling glance from that twinkling eye, / Will save my life, or else I dye. [with variation] One smiling glance, &c. Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 173 The Scornful Maid, and the Constant / Young-Man. / With mocks and taunts she doth him jear, / As in this ditty you may hear; / Yet no denyal he would have, / But still her favour he did crave: / Yet at the last she granted love, / And vowed She would constant prove; / Yet in this Ditty you may find, / It is Money that doth a bargain bind. The Scornful Maid, and the Constant Young Man. With mocks and taunts she doth him jeer, As in this ditty you may hear; Yet no denial he would have, But still her favor he did crave: Yet at the last she granted love, And vowed She would constant prove; Yet in this Ditty you may find, It is Money that doth a bargain bind. Robins, T. ?-? 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 5/20/2021 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 5/20/2021 2:32:57 AM XBallad Raychawdhuri, Anita Created XML Version of Ballad 5/20/2021 2:32:57 AM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/20/2021 2:32:57 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/20/2021 2:32:57 AM Transcriptionist Two Mifflin, Natalie Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/20/2021 2:32:57 AM Transcriptionist One Raychawdhuri, Anita Transcription of ballad manuscript 9/3/2019 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Scornful Maid, and the Constant</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Young-Man.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">With mocks and taunts she doth him jear,</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">As in this ditty you may hear;</hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Yet no denyal he would have,</hi></seg> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">But still her favour he did crave:</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="7" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Yet at the last she granted love,</hi></seg> <seg n="8" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">And vowed She would constant prove;</hi></seg> <seg n="9" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Yet in this Ditty you may find,</hi></seg> <seg n="10" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">It is Money that doth a bargain bind.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="11" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Tune of, <hi rend="bold">Times Changling I will never be:</hi> Or, <hi rend="bold">Sawny,</hi> Or, <hi rend="bold">A Fig for</hi> France.</hi></seg>
ALL hail, all hail, thou Lady gay, the glory of the world to me, More beautious in mine eyes I say, then Venus in her prime could be: One smile from thee I now do crave, If so much favour I could have: One smiling glance from that twinkling eye, Will save my life, or else I dye. Stand back, good sir, what would you have your speeches let me understand, What is the thing that you do crave, do not you think me to trappan:
What beauty here Sir can you spy, Hands off, I pray come not me nigh: Either a smile, or else a frown, I think will serve for such a Clown. What ails my dearest hearts delight, sweet Lady now be not so coy, Thou seem'st to be an Angel bright, in thee is all my earthly joy: Then do not seek my life to spill, But grant me love for my good will: One glance from that bright twinkling eye, Will make me for to live or dye.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Second Part, to the same Tune.</hi></seg>
O Fie away, thou fondling now, my very heart thou vexest sore, I scorn such py'd-Nose Jacks as thou, pack, pack, I say, come here no more: That Maid which sets her love on thee, May say she is blind and cannot see: The durtiest Drabin all the Town, May prove too good for such a Clown. Oh say not so, my only joy, I am the man which loves thee dear, Thy speeches doth me sore annoy, but yet thy love I do not fear: In time I hope thou wilt change thy mind, For all thou seem'st at first unkind: One smiling glance, etc. Good Sir, I pray this answer take, you spend your time in vain on me, I pray you seek some other Mate, my heart doth scorn thy base degree: What do you think I am so blind, To have a Clown by birth or kind? Oh no, I pray you come not me nigh, For I scorn my shooes thou should'st untye. Well Lady, now if it be so, that I no favour here can have: But now by force from thee must go, some other Maidens love to crave: This Gold and Silver I will let flie, Before the next shall me deny: For all thou termest me such a Clown, I have a Year five hundred pound. Tis not your Gold, good sir, that shall tempt me to yield unto your will, That Maid which comes when you do call, will find you have but little skill: In this same case, you do profess To please a Maid, I do protest I see no skill that you can have, To give a Maid what she doth crave. If that be all my dearest Dear, if that thou please me but to prove, Then of my skill thou needst not fear, lo, I have here what Maids do love:
Here is Gold and Silver, come and see, With all delights to pleasure thee: Therefore some favour to me show, Before that I from hence do go. What dost thou think I am so fond, to yield my freedom here for Gold, Or dost thou think I dote on means, O no, it never shall be told That money shall my Master be, Therefore come thou no more at me: Be gone, be gone, stand not to prate, For fear I break thy Clownish pate. Then fare you well thou scornful Dame, for seeing it won't no better be, Yet I must needs set forth thy fame, of all the Maids that e're I see, For beauty rare within mine eyes, No Man can win a rarer prize: If thou would yield to me thy love, I constant always vow to prove. Well Sir, if you will constant prove, as now you do profess to me, Then I do grant to thee my love, and I vow to prove as true to thee: Here is hand and heart to thee I give, And I vow to love thee while I live: What more can you desire of me, For a constant wife I will prove to thee. If it be so my Dearest Dear, thou shalt never have cause to repent, For costly cloathing, with Jewels rare, I have to give my Love content: Here is my hand, my heart is thine, And blessed be the hour and time: That thou didst grant thy love to me, Come now we will go and Married be.
FINIS. By T. Robins. Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden-Ball, in West smithfield.