The Unequal Match betwirt a Rich Duckworm of Fourscore and Ten, and a Young Lass scarce Nineteen.

When Dads thus old, whose Blood is cold,

Young Damsels seek to Wed,

For their neglect, they may expect

Horns grafted on their Head.

TO THE TUNE OF, All Trades (see note on p. 65).

This may be printed, R[ichard] P[ocock].

TH

Here was a young Damsel, of late, was woo'd by a Dad very old;
He had a right worthy Estate, besides store of Silver and Gold;
His Service he proffer'd her then, yet he was as pale as a Ghost,
He being full Fourscore and Ten, and she was but Nineteen at most.
But ever when he drew nigh, the Damsel would straight reply,

"I'le never have you, for what can you do? O fie upon Fumblers, fie!" 7

The Doting Old Dad's Unequal Match.

"Although I am wrinckled and lean, yet I will be loving to thee,
And deck thee as fine as a Queen, if thou wilt be Marry'd to me:
Both Silver and Gold I have store, and yet though thy Portion is small,
If I had a thousand times more, yet you shou'd be Mistris of all."
But ever when he drew nigh, the damsel would straight reply,
“I'll never have you, for what can you do? O fie upon Fumblers, fie!"
"I tell thee, my amorous Girl, if that thou wilt be but my Bride,
I'le give thee rich Jewels and Pearl, and twenty new Nick-knacks beside;
A Tower and Top-Knot so fine, a Mask and a delicate Fan:

O tell me now, will thou be mine? endeavour to love an Old Man!"
But ever when he drew nigh, &c.

He proffer'd her still to advance her, but thus with Discretion said she,
"You're old enough to be my Grandsir, and therefore no Husband for me:
For when I behold your bald Pate, and stragling Hairs white and gray,
O then, at a sorrowful rate, I weeping and sighing shall say,

O what a hard Fortune have I though Marry'd, a Maiden must dye ;
The more is my grief, I see in relief. O fie upon Fumblers, fie!"
Now, hearing the Damsel's intent, and finding he could not prevail,
Away to her Mother he went, and told her a pittiful Tale:
"Your Daughter she is in a rage, and all my kind proffers won't heed;
Besides, she dispises my Age, which ought to be Honour'd indeed:
For when to her I draw nigh, she makes this strange Reply,

'I'le never have you, for what can you do? O fie upon Fumblers, fie!'"'

413

She straight for her Daughter did send, before the Old Man went away,
In duty she straight did attend, to hear what her Mother would say:
"My Daughter, you well understand, that he has good Treasure enuff,
In Money, nay, Cattel, and Land, with abundance of good Household Stuff:
Then, Daughter, tell me but why you will not freely comply?"
Said she, "He is Old, his Blood it is cold. O fie upon Fumblers, fie!"
Her Mother did hear her therefore, she straightway did call her aside,
"You know he has Riches great store, and therefore you must be his Bride.
And as for the pleasures of Youth, if he can't get Daughter or Son,
Believe me, I'de have you, in truth, do e'ne as your Mother has done :
For when my old Dad would deny, to yield me a daily supply,
I still had a Friend my Will to attend: For Fie upon Fumblers, fie!
"Thus you may your sorrows relieve, although an Old Fumbler's Wife;
It is easie to make him believe you love him as dear as your life.
You need not his Jealousie dread, if that you will make but each nig[ht]
A Cordial, and put him to Bed, then [befooling him, laugh outright].
For, Daughter, I cannot deny, but Wives may want a supply,
Which, if it be so, abroad we must go for fye upon Fumblers, fye!"

14

21

28

35

42

49

56

The Damsel she gave her Consent, and they the next morning were Wed,
The Day was in Merriment spent, at length they did hurry to Bed:
And then said the feeble Old Man, "Thy fancy I'd willingly feed,
But [a young Nurse I need, to whom wealth I leave in my] Will for the Deed."
In Bed he Grunting doth lye, which makes her often reply,

“I [still am] a Maid, and shall be," she said, "O fie upon Fumblers, fie!" 63

Finis.

Printed for P. Brooksby at the sign [of the] Golden Ball, near the Hospital Gate in West-Smithfield.

[Black-letter. Mutilated. Centre cut is in Roxb. Coll., II. 148. Date, 1685-88.]

The Despairing Youth's Grief.

"Who knows what's fit for us? Had fate

RESEMBLING

-The Last Ride Together.

SEMBLING the sentiment thus expressed, in one of Robert Browning's most delightful Lyrics, is the thought with which Tom D'Urfey opened Lucia's song for The Banditti (first Act, 1686); the tune of which is named for the present ballad. Here is the original, sometimes given as "There is a dark and sullen hour" (music in Pills to Purge Melancholy, iv. 255, 1719 edition). In The Loyal Garland, 1686, and The Banditti, it begins "There is a black and sullen hour."

There is one black and sulle Life should know;

Else we should slight Almighty Pow'r,
Rapt with the Joys we find below:

'Tis passed, dear Cynthia! now let Frowns be gone,
A long dark Penance I have done,

For Crimes, alas! to me unknown.

In each soft Hour of silent Night,

Your Image in my Dreams appears;

I grasp the Soul of my Delight,

Slumber in Joy, but wake in Tears:

Ah, faithless charming Saint! what will you do?
Let me not think I am by you

Lov'd worse [, lov'd less] for being true.

7

14

This ends the original song, but it was afterwards lengthened for a broadside entitled "Beautie's Cruelty; or, The Passionate Lover: An excellent new Play-song, much in Request: to a new Play-House tune:" four copies of which are preserved, viz., Pepys Coll., III. 374; Douce, I. 75; Euing, No. 17, and our own. Licensed by R. P. (Richard Pocock). It has three woodcuts, viz., the man and woman in a park (given on p. 460); the woman with tree and sun (p. 409); and a man (p. 445) at beginning. Here are the additional verses, which complete the Black-letter broadside:

Before, dear Cynthia, I beheld

Thy charming Face, my heart was free,
From Love, and knew not how to yield
To any Beauty but to thee:

Bright as the Sun that in the East doth rise,
Did force me, by a sweet surprize,

To yield the Conquest to your Eyes.

16

21

Another Ballad of " Beautie's Cruelty."

One pleasing Smile, my charming Fair,
My Love-sick Heart with Joy to fill;
Thy piercing Frowns breed my Despair,
Oh! let those Eyes, that wound, not kill;
Since by a Smile my heart you did inspire,
And created in it a Fire,

That never, never can expire.

No longer then thus Tyrannize,
But all your cruelty give o'er,
And not a heart so true despise,

That will for ever you adore;

Ah! charming Nymph, grant love for love again,
Do not by Frowns create my pain,

Nor torture me by your

disdain.

Wh[at] is my Crime, dear Cinthia, that

My Punishment is so severe ?

Tell me, that I may expiate

My Crime, by a repenting Tear;

Forbear by cruelty to Torture me,
I offer you a heart that's free
From false Deceit and Flattery.

Oh! Why, you Powers did [you] frame

Her Heart so hard, and Face so fair?

Her Face did first my heart inflame,

Her Cruelty breeds my Despair:

Make her more kind, ye Powers, then, I crave,
That she may cure the Wounds she gave,

Or send me to my wish'd for Grave.

London: Printed for P. Brooksby, J. Deacon, I. Back, I. Blare.

The unknown author of "The Despairing Youth's Grief" availed himself of excellent materials for securing attention and popularity. Nothing succeeded better among young people than these "Complaints," with agonizing diagnoses of the victims' maladies. They might be considered an annoyance if listened to in private life, and in prose. Telemachus finds no sympathy for such from his Mentor, Pallas Athenæ becoming a Tor-mentor. But in ballad-history all grows acceptable. The lady overhears the outcries, justifies her former reserve, begins to thaw, then melts entirely, proves kind instead of cruel; and the wedding bells ring merrily at the close. H me! if our heart e'er grow chilly,

AB

In the flight of long years, after youth:

If we scoff at each stately white Lily,

Or mock at Love's fervour and truth!

While the young folks are happy, leave wise saws untold;

Let them joy in the present, their own Age of Gold:

Whom the Gods love are cheerful, and never grow old:

Mavourneen, Mavourneen, ashtore.

The original has "her." in 15th line, although "thee" is in the next line; also "thou" for "thee" in line 55. We combine half lines together; but all the lines here in italics are twice given (for the singer's repetition) in the broadside.

[Roxburghe Collection, II. 124; Douce's, I. 63 verso.]

The Despairing Youth's Grief

Crowned with Jop and Happiness, Bp the return of his Dear Love.

Forsaken Lovers thus complain,
nay, and for Death will call,
But when their Loves return again,
amends is made for all.

TO THE TUNE OF, [There is one] Black and Sullen hour.

This may be Printed, R[ichard] P[ocock].

AD

I never shall behold thee more, here am I left without Relief:
It was in thee I plac'd my chiefest Bliss,

But now thy company I miss;

But now thy company I miss;
Alas! what Grief and Torment's this!

Alas! what Grief and Torment's this!

7

I must exclaim against you now, whose heart will not with pitty move; Could you so soon forget your Vow, and violate the Laws of Love? No creature e'er ador'd you more than I,

Yet, yet, I here in sorrow lye, And all through your Inconstancy. 14