The Diseased maiden louer being a pleasant new song, to an excellent new tune, or, may be sang [sic] to the tune of Bonny Nell. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A97312 of text S5325 in the English Short Title CatalogTextual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 3 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A97312 ESTC S5325 39960814 ocm 39960814 150507 2240937437

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. A97312) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 150507) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1950:6b) The Diseased maiden louer being a pleasant new song, to an excellent new tune, or, may be sang [sic] to the tune of Bonny Nell. 1 sheet ([1] p.). for I. Wright, Printed at London : [ca. 1635] This item is not in STC. Contains one cut. First verse has "Meddowes", "espi'd". Does not include "The faithless lover.' Reproduction of original in: Pepys Library. eng Ballads, English -- 17th century. Broadsides -- London (England) -- 17th century. eebo The diseased maiden louer. Being a pleasant new court song: to an excellent new tune. Or to be sung to the tune of Bonny Nell. [no entry] 1635 1 492 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2007-09 Assigned for keying and markup 2007-11 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-12 Sampled and proofread 2007-12 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
The diseased Maiden Louer . Being a pleasant new court Song : To an excellent new tune , Or to be sung to the tune of Bonny Nell .

AS I went forth one Summers day , To view the Meddowes fresh and gay , A pleasant Bower I espi'd , Standing hard by a Riuers side : and in 't I heard a Mayden cry , alas , there 's none ere lou'd like I. I couched close to heare her moane , With many a heauie groane , And wisht that I had beene the wight , That might haue bred her hearts delight , but these were all the words that she , did still repeat , none loues like me . Then round the Meddowes did she walke , Catching each flower by the stalke , Such as within the Meddowes grew , As Dead-mans thumbe , and Hare-bell blue : and as she pluckt them , still cryde she , alas , there 's none ere lou'd like me . A bed therein she made to lie : Of fine greene things that grew fast by , Of Poplers , and of Willow leaues , Of Sicamore and Flaggy sheaues : and as she pluckt them , still cryde she , alas , there 's none ere lou'd like me . The little Lark-foote shee 'd not passe , Nor yet the flowers of Three-leau'd grasse , With Milkemayds Honny Succles phraise , The Crowes foot , nor the yellow Crayse , and as she pluckt them , still cride she , alas , there 's none ere lou'd like me . The pretty Dasie which doth show Her loue to Phoebus , bred her woe , Who ioyes to see his chéerefull face , And mournes when he is not in place , alacke , alacke , alacke , quoth she , there 's none that euer lou'd like me . The Flowers of the sweetest sent , She bound them round with knotted Bent , And as she layd them still in bands , She wept , she wayl'd , and wrung her hands , alas , alas , alas , quoth she , there 's none that euer lou'd like me . False man , quoth she , forgiue thee heauen , As I doe wish my sinnes forgiuen , In blest Elizium I shall sleepe , When thou with periur'd soules shalt weep who when they liu'd , did like to thee , that lou'd their Loues as thou dost mee . When she had fild her Apron full , Of such sweet Flowers as she could cull , The greene leaues seru'd her for a Bed , The Flowers pillowes for her head , Then down she lay , ne're more did speake , alas with loue her heart did breake . FINIS .

Printed at London for I. Wright .