The Mad Mans Morrice.
Wherein you shall finde
His trouble and grief, and discontent of his minde,
A warning to yong men to have a care,
How they in love intangled are.
To a pleasant new Tune.
HEard you not lately of a man,
That went beside his wits,
And naked through the stréets he ran.
Wrapt in his frantick fits?
My honest neighbours it is I,
Hark how the people flout me:
Sée where the mad man comes they cry,
With all the Boyes about me.
Into a pond stark nak'd I ran
And cast my clothes away Sir,
Without the help of any man
Made shift to run away Sir.
How I got out, I have forgot,
I do not well remember,
Or whether it was cold or hot,
In Iune, or in December,
Tom Bedlam's but a Sage to me,
I speak in sober sadnesse,
For more strange vistons do I sée.
Then he in all his madnesse.
When first this chance to me befell,
About the market walkt I.
With Capons feathers in my cap.
And to my self thus talkt I.
Did you not sée my Loue of late,
Like Titan in her glory?
Do you not know she is my mate,
And I must write her story,
With pen of gold on silver leafe,
I will so much befriend her;
For why, I am of this belief,
None can so well commend her.
Saw you not Angels in her eys,
While that she was a speaking,
Smelt you not smels like Paradise,
Betwéen two Rubies breaking?
Is not her hair more pure then gold,
Or finest Spiders spinning?
Me thinks, in her I do behold,
My ioys and woes beginning.
Is not a dimple in her chéek,
Each
[...]ye a star that
[...] starting,
Is not all grace install'd in her,
Each step all ioys imparting?
Me thinks I see her in a Cloud,
With graces round about her:
To them I cry and call alowd
I cannot live without her.
The second part to the same tune.
THen raging towards the Skie I rore,
Thinking to catch her hand,
O then to love I call and cry,
To let me by her stand,
I look behind and there I sée
My shadow me beguile,
And wish she we
[...]e as néer to mée,
Which makes my worship smile.
There is no creature can compare
With my beloved
Nancy.
Thus I build castles in the aire,
This is the fruits of fancy.
My thoughts mount high above the Skie,
Of none I stand in aw,
Although my body here do lie
Upon a pad of straw.
I was as good a harmlesse youth
Before base
Cupid caught me,
Or his own mother with her charms
Into this cage had brought me.
Stript and whipt now must I be
In Bedlam bound with chains:
Good people all, now you may sée
What love hath for his pains.
When I was yong as others are
With Gallants did I flourish.
O then was I the properest Lad
That was in all the Parish!
The bracelets which I us'd to weare
About my arme so tender
Are turned now to iron plates,
About my body slender.
My silken Sates do now decay.
My caps of gold are vanisht.
And all my friends do west away,
As I from them were banisht,
My silver cups are turn'd to earth,
I'm séer'd by every Clown,
I was a better man by birth,
Till Fortune cast me down.
I'm out of frame and temper too,
Though I am somthing chéerfull,
Oh this can love and fancy do,
If that you be not carefull!
O set a watch before your eyes,
Lest they betray your heart,
And make you slaves to vanities,
To act a mad mans part.
Declare this to each mothers sonne,
Unto each honest Lad,
Let them not do as I have done,
Lest they like me grow mad,
If
Cupid strike, be sure of this,
Let reason rule affection,
So shalt thou never do amisse,
By reasons good direction.
I have no more to say to you,
My kéeper now doth chide me,
Now must I bid you all adew,
God knows what will betide me,
To picking straws now must I go,
My time in Bedlam spending.
Good folks you your beginning know
But do not know your ending.
Humfrey Crowch.
FINIS.
LONDON, Printed for Richard Harper in Smithfield.