Enfield Common: or, The young damsel cured of the green sickness by a lusty gallant, vvho happen'd to meet her in the mid'st of Enfield Common. To an excellent new tune.

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Title
Enfield Common: or, The young damsel cured of the green sickness by a lusty gallant, vvho happen'd to meet her in the mid'st of Enfield Common. To an excellent new tune.
Author
Lusty gallant.
Publication
[London] :: Printed for Charles Bates at the Sun and Bible in Pye-corner.,
[1695?]
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Subject terms
Ballads, English -- 17th century.
Ballads, English -- 17th century.
Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/B03301.0001.001
Cite this Item
"Enfield Common: or, The young damsel cured of the green sickness by a lusty gallant, vvho happen'd to meet her in the mid'st of Enfield Common. To an excellent new tune." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/B03301.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 11, 2024.

Pages

Page [unnumbered]

ENFIELD Common: OR, THE Young Damsel Cured OF THE GREEN SICKNESS By a Lusty Gallant, VVho happen'd to meet her in the Mid'st of Enfield Common.

To an Excellent New Tune.
ON Enfield Common I met a Woman, a bringing of her Water to the Town, Said I fair Maiden, you're heavy laden, I'll light and give you ease in a green Gown, Says she, 'tis good Sir, to stir the Blood Sir, for the Green-sickness, Friend, will make me like it, Then in a minute I left my Ginnet, and went aside with her into a Thicket, Then with her leave there, a dose I gave her, she straight confess'd her Sickness I did nick it.
I went to leave her, but this did grieve her, for panting on the Grass she did, complain, Saying Physician, my sick Condition, I fear will suddenly return again, If you deny me, and don't supply me, with many Potions of your sweetest pleasure, Then prithee Gallant improve thy Tallant, since we have Opportunity and Leisure, With such like Greeting my pritty Sweeting, she seem'd to press upon me out of measure.
'Twas summer weather, we sat together, and chatted all the pleasant afternoon, No one was near us, to over hear us, at length I said I'd put my Pipes in Tune, To give a Glister, with that I Kiss'd her, she cry'd another fit does round me hover, With the green Rushes I'll vail my Blushes, for in my Cheeks I know you may discover, What's my desire; Love never Tire, for Oh! I long, I long to be a Mother.
With that I told her, that I would hold her a Guinea to a Groat it should be so, In nine months after, a Son or Daughter, will be your lucky lot Dear love I know, Quoth she you vapour, and draw your Rapour, but yet methinks too soon you seem to tire, I'll lay a shilling if you are willing, that nine Months hence I have not my desire, Except you'll venter, once more to enter, Alas! the name of Mother I admire.
Because I'd ease her, and fully please her, I took a Lodging for my Enfield Lass, Who was a Beauty and knew her Duty, the night we did in youthful pleasures pass, With melting Blisses and Charming Kisses, on downy Beds secure from Wind or Weather, And in the Morning by days adorning, we 'rose and drank a Glass of Wine together, With joys I crown'd her, for then I found her, to have a heart far lighter than a feather.
I having cur'd her, likewise assur'd her, if e're it was my luck to come that way, I'd pawn my honour to call upon her, but for that time I could no longer stay; The loving creature, of pure good nature, she gave me twenty kisses when we parted, Because she never had found such favour, in loves soft pleasures to be so diverted, Then straight I mounted, for why I counted, 'twas time I had her company deserted.

Printed for Charles Bates at the Sun and Bible in Pye-corner.

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