The Kentish maiden: or, The fumbling ale-draper derided. Who gave a handkerchief and money for a night's lodging with a lass whom at length he left in the lurch. Tune of, The languishing swain. Licensed according to order. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription B25454 of text R228274 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. 4 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 B25454 Wing K326 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.8[248*] ESTC R228274 99887738 ocm99887738 183402 2240896433

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 Early English books online text creation partnership. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. B25454) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 183402) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A5:2[193a]) The Kentish maiden: or, The fumbling ale-draper derided. Who gave a handkerchief and money for a night's lodging with a lass whom at length he left in the lurch. Tune of, The languishing swain. Licensed according to order. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. (woodcuts). Printed for J. Back, at the Black-box on London Bridge., [London] : [1690?] Place and date of publication suggested by Wing. Verse: "I was a modest maid of Kent ..." Printed on verso: untitled work that begins, "To God alone let us all glory give ..." Reproduction of original in the British Library. eng Ballads, English -- 17th century. eebo The Kentish maiden: or, The fumbling ale-draper derided. : Who gave a handkerchief and money for a night's lodging with a lass whom at length he left n/a 1690 1 621 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. 2008-10 Assigned for keying and markup 2008-12 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2010-01 Sampled and proofread 2010-01 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2010-04 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
THE KENTISH Maiden : OR , The Fumbling Ale-draper Derided .

Who gave a Handkerchief and Money for a Night's lodging with a Lass whom at length he left in the lurch .

Tune of , The Languishing Swain .

Licensed according to Order .

I Was a modest maid of Kent , Who never knew what kissing meant ; Vntil my master tempted me , With gifts for my virginity . Long was I courted e'er i 'd yield , And when at last he won the field ; He gave me a lawn kerchief fine Declaring that it should be mine . Likewise a golden guinea bright , That he might lye with me one night ; I granted his demands straightway What lass alive , could say him nay ? He was right generous and free , Bestowing such large gifts on me ; Yet , I did such a conscience make , That I would not his guinea take .

My conscience said , it was too much , To take for just one single touch ; And therefore when he laid it down , I took no more then one poor crown . The which he gave me then with speed , And thus we lovingly agréed , That he should have my maiden-head : I got new cording to my bed , For fear the old ones they should brake , Which would a sad destraction make , And cause a strange discovery , Of all my master's love to me . Clean shéets I likewise did provide , Nothing was wanting on my side : Yet when he to my lodging came , Alas ! he could not play the game . Our game was single rapier first ; Now when he came to give the thrust , A pass at me could not be made , He having such a limber blade . I bid him to his weapon stand , I crav'd no favour at his hand : Yet he was forc'd to sneak away , Before the morning break of day . Thus was my expectations crost , And my dear master's labour lost : Which griev'd my very heart full sore , Was ever maid so balk'd before ? One sorrow never comes alone , Soon after this my dame did own , The handkerchief which then I wore , Saying , That it was her's before . Then did she fly at me in brief , And told me I had play'd the thief . Your words I scorn , no thief am I , Nor shall you catch me in a lye . This hankercheif not long ago , My master did on me bestow , The night before with me he lay ; Now where 's the harm of this I pray ? The mistress flew , and call'd her whore , And by the quoif , the maid she tore ; Must you forsooth , my partner be , Where there 's not half enough for me . Dear mistress be not in a rage , You speak the truth I dare ingage : For though all night by me he lay , He could not one sweet lesson play . But strait in wrath reply'd her dame , You sawcy slut you are to blame , In letting him lye in your bed ; Suppose he 'd got your maiden-head . Forsooth , said she , had it been so , It might have prov'd my overthrow ; But he can never hurt a maid , With such a feeble limber blade .

Printed for J. Back , at the Black-boy on London Bridge .