The Mad Man's MORICE:
Or, His Sorrowful Lamentation:
Together with his Advice to all Young PEOPLE.
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HEARD you not lately of a Man,
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That went besides his Wits:
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And naked thro' the Streets he ran,
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wrapt in his frantick Fits.
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My honest Neighbours, it is I,
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hark! how the People flout me,
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See where the Mad-man comes they cry,
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with all the Boys about me.
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Into a Pond I naked ran,
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and cast away my Cloaths, Sir.
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Without the Help of any Man,
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made shift to get away, Sir.
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How I got out I have forgot,
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I do not well remember:
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Or whether it was cold or hot,
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in June, or in December.
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Tom Bedlams but a Sage to me,
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I speak in sober Sadness.
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For more strange Visions I do see
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than he in all his Madness.
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When first to me this Chance befell,
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about the Market walk'd I.
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With Capon Feather in my Cap,
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and to my-self thus talk'd I.
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Did you not see my Love of late?
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like Yiian, in her Glory?
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Did not you know she was my Mate?
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and I must write her Story,
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With Pen of Gold, or Silver Leaf,
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I will so much befriend her,
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For why I am of that Belief,
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none can so much commend her.
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Saw you not Angels in her Eyes?
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whilst that she was a speaking?
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Smelt you not Smells like Paradise?
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between two Rubies breaking.
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Is not her Hair more pure than Gold,
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of finest Spiders spinning?
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Methinks in her I do behold
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My Joys and Woes beginning.
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Is not a Dimple in her Cheek?
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each one a Star that's startling?
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Is not all Grace install'd in her,
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each Step all Joys imparting.
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Methinks I see her in a Cloud,
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with Graces round about her;
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To them I call and cry aloud,
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I cannot live without her.
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Then raging towards the Sky I rove,
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thinking to catch her Hand:
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O! then to Jove I call and cry,
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to let her by me stand.
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I look'd behind, and there I saw,
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my Shadow me beguile:
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I wish she was as near to me,
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which makes my Worship smile.
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There is no Creature can compare
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with my beloved Nancy:
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Thus I build Castles in the Air;
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this is the Fruit of Fancy.
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My Thoughts mount high above the Sky.
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of none I stand in Awe:
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Altho' my Body here doth lie,
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upon a Pad of Straw.
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I was as good a harmless Youth,
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before base Cupid caught me,
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Or his own Mother with her Chains,
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into this Case had brought me.
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Stript and whipt must I be,
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in Bedlam bound in Chains:
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Good People, now you all may see
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what Love hath for its Pains.
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When I was young, as others are,
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with Gallants did I flourish.
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O then I was the properest Youth,
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that was in all the Parish.
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The Bracelet which I us'd to wear,
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about my Arms so tender:
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Are turned into Iron-Plates,
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about my Body slender.
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My silken Suits do now decay,
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and Cups of Gold are vanish'd.
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And all my Friends do wear away,
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as I from them am banish'd.
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My Silver Cups are turn'd to Earth,
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I'm jeer'd of ev'ay Clown.
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I was a better Man by Birth,
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Fortune cast me down.
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I am out of Frame and Temper too,
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tho' I am somewhat chearful:
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O! this can Love and Fancy do,
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if that you be not careful.
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O! fet a Watch before your Eyes,
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lest they betray your Hearts.
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And make you Slaves to Vanities,
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to act a Mad-Man's Part.
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Declare this to each Mother'[s] Son,
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unto each honest Lad.
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Let them not do as I have done,
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lest they, like me, grow mad.
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If Cupid strikes, be sure of this,
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let Reason rule Affection,
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Thus shalt thou never do amiss,
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by Reason and Direction.
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I have no more to say to you,
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my Keepers now do chide me.
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Now must I bid you all adieu:
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God knows whar will betide me.
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To picking Straws now must I go,
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my Time in Bedlam spending.
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Good Folks, you your Beginning know
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but do not know your Ending.
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