The mad mans morrice Wherin 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. Crouch, Humphrey, fl. 1635-1671. 1637 Approx. 6 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A19648 STC 6074A ESTC S116442 99851658 99851658 16944 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. A19648) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 16944) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1601:03) The mad mans morrice Wherin 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. Crouch, Humphrey, fl. 1635-1671. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. printed for Richard Harper in Smithfield, London : [1637?] Verse - "Heard you not lately of a man,". Signed at end: Humfrey Crowch. Publication date conjectured by STC. In two parts; woodcut illustration at head of each part. Reproductions 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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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 .