Loves lunacie. Or, Mad Besses fegary Declaring her sorrow, care and mone, which may cause many a sigh and grone: a young-man did this maid some wrong, wherefore she writ this mournfull song. To the tune of, The mad mans Morris. Crimsal, Richard. 1638 Approx. 6 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 2 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A19008 STC 5426 ESTC S108784 99844439 99844439 9250 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A19008) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 9250) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1627:17) Loves lunacie. Or, Mad Besses fegary Declaring her sorrow, care and mone, which may cause many a sigh and grone: a young-man did this maid some wrong, wherefore she writ this mournfull song. To the tune of, The mad mans Morris. Crimsal, Richard. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. printed for Iohn Wright the younger, and are to bee sold at the upper end of the Old-Bayley, At London : [1638?] Signed at the end: Richard Climsull. Publication suggested by STC. Verse - "Poore Besse, mad Besse, so they call me,". In two parts; woodcuts at head of each part. Reproduction of the original in the British Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. 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Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Ballads, English -- 17th century. 2002-03 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2002-04 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2002-05 TCP Staff (Michigan) Sampled and proofread 2002-05 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2002-06 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion Loves Lunacie . Or , Mad Besses Fegary . Declaring her sorrow , care and mone , Which may cause many a sigh and grone : A Young-man did this Maid some wrong , Wherefore she writ this mournfull Song . To the Tune of , The mad mans Morris . POore Besse , mad Besse , so they call me , I 'm metamorphosed ; Strange sights and visions I doe sée , by Furies I am led : Tom was the cause of all my woe , to him I loudly cry , My love to him there 's none doth know , yet héere he lets me lie . This Bethlem is a place of torment , héere's fearfull notes still sounding ; Héere minds are fild with discontent , and terrors still abounding . Some shake their chaines in wofull wise , some sweare , some curse , some roaring , Some shrieking out with fearfull cries , and some their cloaths are tearing . O curst Alecto that fierce fury , Megara , Tysiphon ! Are governours of my late glory ; wise Pa●las me doth shun : My jems , my sewels and my earings , are turnd to ●●on fetters ; They now doe serve for others wearings , such as are now my betters . Orcades Fairies now doe lead me , Ore mountaines , hils and valleys , Naiades doth through waters drive me , and Brizo with me dallies : O sometimes I dreame of my Tom , then with my folded armes I him embrace , saying welcome , but waking bréeds my harmes . Adrastea now robbeth me , of all my wit and patience , Angarona will not receive me , to live in peace and silence : My mind runs on my fine apparell , which once did fit my wearing : Then with my selfe I séeme to quarrell , my rags I fall to tearing . O once I was as faire as Briseis , and chast as was Cassandra , But living voyd of joy and blisses , I 'm Hero to Leander : For as chast Hero her selfe drowned , so I am droun'd in sorrow ; The Fates on me hath sorely frowned , no patience I can borrow . The second part , To the same tune . I 'M like to faire Philomela , by Tereus basely ravished ; Yet when his burning lust did thaw , he closely her imprisoned ; And even so I 'm quite defloured by Tom of all my senses ; My love and meanes he hath devowred , making no recompences . You Gods and all you Goddesses , pray listen to my mourning , And grace me with this happinesse , to sée my Toms returning . Or if you will not grant me this , to send him hither to me , Send me but word whereas he is , and Tom , I le come unto thée . If that he be in God Marses traine , where armour brightly glisters ; Be sure I le fetch him home againe , in spight of the thrée Sisters : Or if he be in Venus Court , where Cupid shoots his arrowes : I le fetch him thence from all his sport , onely to ease my sorrowes . Stay , who comes here ? t is the sisters thrée , which lately I did mention , I doubt they come to chide with me and hinder my intention . Clotho brings wool , Lachesis doth spin , Atropos cuts asunder ; Now I le away and not be séene , each one is my Commander . You Maids and Uirgins faire and pure note well my carefull calling , You cannot thinke what I endure , Cupid hath caus'd my falling : When I was as now many be . frée from God Cupids arrowes , I would have smil'd at any shée , that should tell me of sorrowes . My lodging once was soft and easie , my garments silke and sattin ; Now in a locke of straw I lie , this is a wofull pattin : My diet once was choise and fine , all which did not content me ; Now I drinke water , once good wine was naught unlesse t were sent mée . Thus pride and love together joynd to worke my vtter ruine ; They wrought my discontent in mind , which causes my undoing . And thus good people all adue , perhaps you nere may sée me , Farewell I bid once more to you , I 'm grieved sore believe me . But if you chance once more to come , bring tidings from my dearest , By all meanes bring my true love Tom , hee 's welcomst when hée s néerest : The day is past , and night is come , and here comes our commander ; Hée'l locke me into a darke roome , 't is sorrowes chiefest Chamber . FINIS . Richard Climsull . AT LONDON , Printed for Iohn Wright the younger , and are to bee sold at the upper end of the Old-Bayley .