An excellent Ballad of the Mercers son of Midhurst, and the Clothiers Daughter of guildford.  
To the tune of, Dainitie come thou to me.  

THere was a wealthy man,  
in Sussex he did dwell,  
A Mercer by his trade,  
as many yet can tell:  
He had a youthful son,  
Whom fancy so did move,  
He tried night and day  
alack I die for love.   

alack I die for love,  
beauty disdaineth me:  
The Clothiers daughter dear,  
works my extremity.  
She hath my heart in hold,  
that did most cruel prove:  
Thus cried he night and day,  
alack I die for love.   

alack I die for love,  
fortune so sore doth frown:  
The jewel of my heart  
dwelleth in guildford town.  
There lies the Lamp of life.  
for whom this pain I prove,  
Faire Phillis pity me,  
alack I die for love.   

alack I die for love,  
and can no comfort flude:  
The Clothiers daughter dear  
beareth so high a mind.  
Sweet beauties paragon.  
faire Venus silver dove:  
Sweet Phillis pitty me,  
alack I die for love.   

alack I die for love,  
While thou dost laugh and smile  
Let not thy pleasure be  
true love for to beguile:  
My life lies in thy hands,  
then as it doth behove  
Slay not the Mercers son,  
alack I die for love.   

If that my beauty bright  
doth grieve thy fight quoth she,  
Then let the Mercers son,  
turn still his sats from me.  
I do no man disdain.  
nor can I cruel prove,  
My tongue must still say nay,  
where my heart cannot love.   

Where my heart cannot love,  
louers est I must shun:  
The Clothiers daughter thus  
answers the Mercers son.   

I bear no lofty mind,  
yet pity cannot move  
My mind to fancy him,  
where my heart cannot love.   

Where my heart cannot love,  
I must his svit deny,  
For though I laugh and smile,  
yet falsehood I defy.  
Thou art too fond a man  
lifes danger thus to prove,  
Ile not wed good friend John,  
where my heart cannot love.   

What good can there be fall  
to that now married wife,  
Where goods& wealth is small?  
want causeth daily strife:  
But where is wealth at will,  
experience plain doth prove,  
Though love at first be small  
yet goods increaseth love:   

Yet goods increaseth love,  
and I will never wed,  
But where a key of gold  
open the doors to bed.  
For she may merry be,  
what chance soever hap,  
Where bags of money come  
tumbling within her lap.   

Tumbling within her lap,  
while she her gold doth tell,  
With such a husband, Sir,  
I do delight to dwell.  
Were he young, were he old,  
deformed, or faire in show,  
My pleasure still should be  
where treasure still doth flow.   

Where treasure still doth flow,  
is that your mind quoth he?  
My father will bestow  
as much as comes to thee,  
Hadst thou five hundred pounds,  
five hundred pound beside,  
My father will afford,  
if thou wilt be my bride.   

If thou wilt be my bride,  
thus much I understand,  
My Father will give me  
his house and ske his Land.  
So that while he das live,  
with us he may remain:  
What says my hearts delight,  
this is a bargain plain.   

This is a bargain plain,  
quoth she, I am content,  
So he perform this thing,  
I give thee my consent,  
And I will merry be,  
my mind shall not remove  
Thou shalt be my sweet heart,  
Ile be thine own true love.   

Ile be thine own true love,  
then use no more delay,  
I greatly long to see  
our happy marriage day,  
To Midhurst all in hast  
goeth the Mercers son,  
He  told his father dear,  
his true love he hath won.   

The old man hearing this,  
conveyed out of hand,  
Assurance to his son,  
of all his house and land:  
When he had done this deed,  
he wept full bitterly,  
Saying, my own dear son  
thou must be good to me.   

Well worth two hundred pound  
this morning I was known,  
But the clothes to my backé,  
nothing now is mine own,  
And all this I haue done  
dear son to pleasure thee,  
think on thy fathers love,  
and deal thou well with me.   

dear father,( quoth the son)  
if I do not do so,  
God power vpon my head  
hot vengeance, grief and woe.  
The young man wedded was  
to his faire lovely bride,  
But wondrous grief and care  
thereof there did betid.   

As after you shall hear,  
in the old mans complaint,  
A tale of greater grief,  
cannot your hearts attaint:  
A warning by this thing,  
all men shall understand,  
Lest they do come to live  
under their childrens hand.   
Finis.   

A new Ballad entitled, The Old mans complaint against his wretched son, who to advance his marriage, did undo himself.  
To the tune of. Dainty come thou to me.  
 Woodcut illustration of a young man.  

ALl you that Fathers be,  
look on my misery,  
Let not affection fond  
work your extremity:  
For to advance my son  
in marriage wealthtly  
I haue myself undone,  
without all remedy.  
I that was wont to live  
uncontrolled any way,  
With many checks and taunts,  
I am grieved every day.  
alack and woe is me,  
I that might late command,  
Cannot haue a bit of bread,  
but at my childrens hand,  
Whiles I was wont to sit  
chief at the Tables end,  
Now like a seruing-slaue,  
must I on them attend:  
I must not come in place,  
where their friends mary be  
Lest I should my son disgrace  
with my vnreuerencis:  
My coughing in the night,  
offends my daughter in law,  
My deafness and ill fight  
doth much disliking draw;  
fie on this doting fool,  
this crooked churl quoth she.  
The chimney corner still  
must with me troubled be,  
I must rise from my chair,  
to give my children place:  
I must speak seruants faire,  
this is my woeful case.  
unto their friends they tell,  
I must not say they lye,  
That they do keep me here:  
even of more charity.  
When I am sick in bed,  
they will not come me nigh   
 Woodcut illustration of a young woman.  

Each day they wish me dead,  
yet say Ile never die.  
O Lord and't be thy will,  
look on my woeful case,  
No honest man before,  
ever took such disgrace,  
This was the old mans plaint  
every night and day.  
With woe he waxed faint,  
but mark what I shall say.  
This rich and dainty pair,  
the young man and his wife,  
Though clogged with golden coin  
yet lead a grievous life.  
seven year they married were  
and yet in all this space  
God gave them nere an heir,  
their riches to embrace.  
Thus did their sorrow breed,  
ioy was from them exiled:  
Quoth she a hundred pound  
would I give for a child:  
To haue a folly child:  
of mine own body born;  
Full oft I am reuil'd,  
of this my barren womb.  
Much physic dis she take,  
to make a fruitful soil,  
And with excess thereof  
her body she did spoil.  
Full of grief full of pain,  
full of ache grew she then,  
That she tried not amain,  
seek me forth cunning men,  
That I my health may haue,  
I will us money spare,  
But that which she did crave,  
fall never to her share.  
alack, alack, she said,  
what torments live I in,  
How well are they apaid,  
that any case can win.   
 Woodcut illustration of an old man.  

So that I had my health.  
and from this pain were free.  
I would give all my wealth,  
that blessed ioy to see.  
O that I had my health,  
though I were nere so poor,  
I cared not though I went  
begging from door to door?  
fie on that muck( quoth she)  
it cannot pleasure me,  
In this my woeful case  
and great extremity.  
Thus lived she long in pain,  
all comfort from her fled,  
She strangled at the last  
herself within a bed.  
Her husband full of grief,  
consuming woefully,  
His body pined away,  
suddenly he did die,  
Ere thirteen yeares were past,  
died he with out a Will,  
And by this means at last,  
the old man living still.  
enjoyed his land again  
after such misery:  
Many yeares after that,  
lived he most happily,  
far richer than before.  
by this means was he known  
He helped the sick and sore,  
the poor man overthrown:  
But this was all his song,  
let all men understand,  
Those Parents are accursed  
live on their Childrens hand.   
Finis.   

Printed at London for H. G.