1 /. < >C f fry OLD BALLADS, HISTORICAL AND NARRATIVE; FORMING A SUPPLEMENT TO PERCY'S RELIQUES, AND ELLIS'S SPECIMENS OF ANTIENT POETRY. OLD BALLADS, HISTORICAL AND NARRATIVE, WITH SOME OF MODERN DATE; COLLECTED FROM RARE CQPIES AND MSS. BY THOMAS EVANS. A NEW EDITION, REVISED AND CONSIDERABLY ENIiARGED FROM PUBLIC AND FRITATE COLLECTIONS, BY HIS SON, R. H. EVANS. IN FOUR VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: PRINTED FOR R. II. EVANS, PALL-MALL, BY W. BULMER AND CO. CI.EVELAND-110W. 1810. I BIO ADVERTISEMENT. VV iTH considerable diffidence I submit ? to the reader, a new edition of my Father's Collection of Old Ballads; and would wil- _, lingly dismiss it without a single prefatory - observation, did it not appear incumbent on me, to state thenatiireof the alterations I have presumed to make, in a work which has been honoured by the public appro- bation. The repeated perusal of Percy's Reliques of Ancient Poetry, first suggested to the late editor, the idea of the present work. The genius and taste, which pervade that beautiful compilation, fascinated his at- tention, and excited his curiosity : he re- gretted, that the Doctor had confined his 11 ADVERTISEMENT. work to the scanty liniitsof three volumes, and he resolved to collect the scattered ballads, Avhich were yet to be found dis- persed through various libraries, in hopes they might furnish the same eutertain- ment to others, that he had himself de- rived from them. I will here take the liberty of saying a few words on the Re- liques of Ancient Poetry ; I esteem it the most elegant compilation of the early poetry of a nation that has ever appeared in any age or country. Every page evin- ces the refined taste, the genius and learns ing of the edit'.r; it deserved, and has received unbounded applause from men fully capable of appreciating its merits. It must be remembered to its praise, that when it first appeared, nothing had been published, that deserved the name of a history of our early poetry ; the field was unexplored, and Percy threw a steady light on the subject, which first stimu- lated the public to the acquisition of more extensive and accurate information. His work has been attacked with unusual ADVERTISEMENT. HI acrimony by Ritson ; the editor has been branded with ignorance, imposition, and every species of reproach which malignity could suggest; and every fault which learned petulance could discover, has been pointed out with a curious and offensive officiousness: even the profession of the Doctor has not escaped numerous sneers ; and it is singular, that a man whose own avocation has been the constant theme of vulgar animadversion should have conde- scended to this lowest species of ribaldry. I have dilated with pleasure on the merits of Bishop Percy's work ; I will now state with the sincerest humility, what I esteem its only serious imperfection ; 1 conceive it to be the duty of an editor, to republish every work in the state he finds it in an- cient copies or manuscripts, and not to make arbitrary alterations, without previ- ously' informing his readers ; and still less pardonable is it to pretend that he posses- ses an ancient manuscript, in which his new readings are to be found. The alter- ations of Percv are numerous : I am con- IV ADVERTISEMENT. vinccd that hardl}^ a single poem, I had almost said a single page, is to be found in the work, in which material changes are not made. I will willingly concede that these (abstractedly considered), may have been improvements ; but I contend that when such alterations are frequent, syste- matic, and unnoticed, the poetry of differ- ent ages is confounded ; the reader is in a state of perpetual delusion, he is deprived of some pleasure, and much instruction in marking the progress of our ancient bards in the refinement of their diction, and the euphony of their numbers ; it would be invidious to dwell on the minor defects, of a work of so much excellence. I cheerfully pass them over, and shall simply state, that the venerable prelate has ascribed a false importance to the English ballad singer, who never was " High placed in hall, a welcome guest," like the more fortunate foreigner, who visit- ed this island ; but was compelled to earn a scanty subsistence, by chaunting his bal- ADVERTISEMENT. V ]ads, and playing his crowd for the amuse- ment of the middling, and lower classes of society. In the year \7n, the late Mr. Evans published the first edition of this Collec- tion in two volumes. Its success surpas- sed his warmest expectations; a large im- pression was soon exhausted, and the encreasing demand for copies induced him to reprint, and encouraged him to extend the work. In 1784, a second edition ap- peared in four volumes; this latter edition was as fortunate as its predecessor ; it has long since been out of print, and had begun to be numbered among the scarcities of collectors. The attention of the public has been re- cently directed to every branch of our ancient literature. The poetical depart- ment has been explored with avidity, and every recovered fragment has been cher- ished with almost a romantic enthusiasm ; such researches caused the enquiries for the present collection to be renewed, and the office of superintending it seemed na- VI ADVERTISEMENT. turaliy to devolve on one, so nearly allied to the late editor. For a long time I shrunk from the undertaking, conscious of my want of leisure and abilities to do justice to it, and I had nearly relinquished it altogether, when the unexpected access to some new and interesting materials, finally determined me to engage in a revi- sion and enlargement of the work. I will now succinctly state the alter- ations that have been made in the present'' edition, and whence the materials for the additions have been chiefly drawn. ^ Wherever I have had an opportunity, I have collated the ballads with the earliest editions, which were frequently inaccessi- ble to the late editor, and have restored the genuine readings, which had been materi- ally changed, and deteriorated in the mo- dern copies. I have omitted all the poems of Gold- smith, Gray, Sir William Jones, Chatterton and other eminent modern writers, whose works have been collected, and may be presumed to be in the reader's possession. ADVERTISEMENT. VU I hope I shall not be charged with a want of gallantry, for leaving out the effusions of Mrs. Robinson, and Helen-Maria Wil- liams. I felt no tenderness for the feeble productions of Jern ngham, Ball, Black- lock, and a few others ; they never deserved a place in this collection, and even had they possessed more merit than they can claim, it must be admitted that they occupied too large a portion of a work destined to ex- hibit the legitimate productions of our early Minstrels. These omissions, and the augmentation of the size of each volume, have enabled me to introduce a considerable number of ancient productions; many of which are of rare occurrence, and have not been in- serted in any other collection. The late Duke of Roxburghe possessed a very singular, and almost matchless col- lection of Old Ballads. The history of these I will subjoin in the words of Mr. Nicol, extracted from an unpublished preface to the Catalogue of his friend and patron : " This collection of Ancient Ballads was via ADVERTISEMENT. originally formed for the celebrated library of the Earl of Oxford, in the beginning of the last century, and was then supposed to exceed the famous Pepys Collection at Cambridge. It was obtained, as well as many other curious articles, from the Har- leian Library by Mr. West, at whose sale it was purchased by Major Pearson, a gen- tleman, who had made old English litera- ture his particular study ; in his possession, with the assistance of his friend Mr. Isaac Reed, the collection received very great, additions, and was bound in two large volumes; in this state it was bought at Major Pearson's sale by the Duke of Roxburghe. After the industrious exer- tions of two such skilful collectors as Major Pearson and Mr. Reed, the Duke did not flatter himself with ever being able to add much to the collection; but as usual he undervalued his own industry. Finding that his success far exceeded his expectations, he determined to add a third volume to the collection. Among these new acquisitions are some very rare bal- ADVERTISEMENT. IX lads ; one quoted by Hamlet, of which no other is now known to exist."* This valuable collection has been dili- gently examined, and I hope, very consi- derable advantage has been derived from it. The Pepys Collection, at Magdalen College, Cambridge, in five volumes folio, furnished some materials, which have been duly acknowledged in the progress of this work. To the Rev. Mr. Todd I am indebted for the inspection of many rarities, and for two poems taken from a manuscript in his possession. Mr. Douce most obligingly favoured me witli the loan of some scarce articles, particularly two volumes of Old Ballads, originally collected by the late Mr. Baynes, one of the few persons distin- guished by the praise of Ritson. In ex- pressing my thanks to Mr. Todd, and Mr. Douce, I must not confine myself to the sub- ject of books lent ; I have applied to them for the solution of some difficulties I was * SeeVol. I.p. 7. X ADVERTISEMENT. unable to explain, and have always found them extremely liberal, and communica- tive, and entitled to my warmest acknow- ledgments. The most difficult part of this undertak- ing, is to express the gratitude I feel to my friends, Messrs. George and William Nicol, for the uniform kindness, with which they have promoted the prosecution of this M'ork. By their intervention, I in- spected the Roxburghe Collection, and can confidently say, they could not have dis- played more zeal, had they themselves been personally interested. It would be superfluous and ridiculously ostentatious, to enumerate every book made use of in the compilation of this work. I have pointed out the leading sources, whence the materials have been drawn. It will afford me much gratifica- tion, should the publick esteem this new edition improved by the researches of the editor; if otherwise, his efforts cannot be too soon consigned to oblivion, " The family vault of all llie Capulets." ADVERTISEMENT. XI It is only necessary to add, that the poems contained in the .first volume (ex- cept No. v.), are now first printed in this collection. The additional matter, inter- spersed through the other volumes, is dis- tinguished by a t prefixed to the title in the general table of contents, annexed to the first volume. R. H. Evans. Pall-Mall, March, 1. 1810. ERRATUM. Tlie reader will please to make the following correction in vol. 3, p. 6. instead of Through the Town of Fortune wc did him bring, read. Through the Town of Forden we did him bring. In the note subjoined at the bottom of the page, I had intimated my dissent from Mr. Weber's emendation ; a subsequent inspection of Speed 8 Theatre of Great Britain, enables me to restore the genuine reading. CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. Page 1 A Nosegay always sweet, for Lovers to send for tokens of Love - - - - 1 2 Jepha, Judge of Israel - - - - 7 3 The Constancy of Susanna - - - 1 1 4 Ancient Song, from Lusty Juvenlus - - IT 6 AiiCient Drinking Song, from Gammer Gurton's Needle - - - - - 18 6 Yorkshire Song, by Elderton 1584 - - 20 7 A most sweet Song of an English Merchant, born in Chichester - - - - - 28 8 Fair Portion for a Fair Maid - - - SS 9 Country Lass - - - - - 41 10 Maiden's Nay, or I Love not you - - - 46 11 Young Palraus and fair Sheldra - - - 60 12 Proper New Song, by a Student in Cambridge - - 59 13 Address to a Disappointed Lover wearing a Willow branch - - - - - 63 14 The Deceased Maiden Lover - - - 64 15 True Maid of the South - - - - 70 16 Pleasant History of Alexander and Lodwicke - - 7T 17 London Lass's Lamentation - - - 85 18 Lovely Northern Lass - - - - 88 19 Fickle Northern Lass - - - - 93 20 Stout Cripple of Cornwall - - - - 9T 21 Lamentation of John Mus;;rave, executed at Ken- dal, for robbing tlie King's Receiver - - 102 82 Jockie is Cuo v. no a Gentleman ... jqt 23 Complaint of the Shepherd Harpalus - - 110 24 Shepherd's Deiight - - - - 113 25 Northern Lass's Laracatation - - - Hi xir CONTENTS. Page 26 A Lover'* Praise of his Lady - - - 119 27 Fain would I have a Pretty Thing - - 122 28 Ballad from the Romance of Fragosa and his three SoM - - - - - 125 29 Maiden's Vow, that would Marry and knew not how - - - - 12T 30 Maid's Complaint of her Mother - 133 31 Rare example of a Virtuous Maid in Paris, burnt for Popery - - - - 135 32 The Mad Man's Morrice - - - 139 33 Urchin's Dance - - - - 144 34 The Elves Dance - - - - 145 35 Old Christmas Returned - - - 146 36 The Merry Hostess - - - - 150 3T The Little Barley-Corn - - - 156 38 Good Fellow's Frolic - - - - 162 39 London Ordinary, or every Man in his Humour - 166 40 The Cruel Shrow - - - - 170 41 Merry Careless Lover - - - - 176 41* Married Man's Lesson . _ . i82 42 Merry Jest of John Tomson and his Wife - - 18T 43 Countryman's Bill of Charges for coming to London - - - - - 104 44 Robin Good-Fellow's Adventures at a Wedding - 200 45 True Relation of one Susan Higges, executed for Robbery and Murder . _ . 203 46 Maiden's Tragedy . - . . 209 47 Young Seaman's Misfortune - - - 213 48 Dorastus and Faunia . - . . 216 49 Death of Iffida - - - - - 227 50 Rossalind's Ditty - . . . 229 51 Pithias"s Lament for the Loss of Damon - - 232 62 Old Tithon - - - - - 234 53 Three-Man's Song . . _ - 235 54 Three-Man's Sons .... 236 CONTENTS. XV Page 55 Song from the fair Maid of the Exchauge - - 23T 56 Hedone . . . - . 239 6T Lullahy Song - - - - - 240 58 Lullaby Song - - - - - 241 59 Lullaby Song . - - - . 242 60 The May Pole - - - - 243 61 May-Day Song .... 245 62 Symptoms of Love , - - 246 63 Shepherd's Love for Philliday - - - 248 64 Maiden's Complaint of her Love's Inconstancy - 249 65 No Constancy in Man _ , . . 254 66 Lady Wronged by False Suspect - - 255 67 The New Balow - - - - 259 68 Musidorus and Amadine ... 263 69 Countryman's Lamentation for the Death of his Cow - . - - - 268 70 Take Time while 'tis offered - , _ 272 71 Wanton Wife of Bath _ . . . 277 72 Most excellent Ditty of Sampson and the Phi- listines . - . . _ 283 73 David and Bath-Sheba , . . ggi 74 The Dead Man's Song , - . 297 75 The Turtle Dove - - - - 305 76 Mad kind of Wooing .... 3J2 77 Nothing to be had without Money - - 31a 77* Lewd Life of a Marchant's Sonne of London - 323 78 Shepherd's Slumber - . _ . 332 79 The Barginet of Aatimachus ... 337 to The Lover compareth himself to the painful Falconer - - - - - 340 81 MerryBallct of thcHathorne Tree - - 342 82 The Woodman's Walk - . . . 345 83 Jack Dove's Resolution ... 349 84 Alphonso and Ganselo ... 354 S6 Pleasant Ballad of two Lovers - - - 362 XTi contents: Page 86 Courage Crowned with Conquest, or Sir Eglamore and the Dragon ... - 365 87 Sir Hugh the Grime - - - - 36T 88 The Seven Champions. - - - - 372 CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME. 1 Duke of Cornwall's Daughter - - - 1 2 Noble acts of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table - - . - 5 S King Alfred and the Shepherd - - - 1 1 4 King Edgar's deception in Love - - - 22 5 The freeing of Coventry by Gordina Countess of Coventry - - - - - 29 6 The Valiant Courage and Policy of the Kentishmcn 32 7 The Brave Men of Kent - - - - 38 8 Memorables of the Montgomeries - - 41 9 The Drowning of the Children of King Henry the First as they came from France - - IT 10 Strange Lives of two Young Princes of England 53 1 1 King Henry the Second crowning his Son in his life- time - - - - - - 62 12 The Unfortunate Concubine ; or, Rosamond's Over- throw - - - _ . 68 13 The Lamentation of Queen Elinor, Wife to Henry the Second - - - - - 7$ 14 A Princely Song of Richard Cordelion - - 81 15 The Pedigree, Education, and Parentage of Robin Hood - - - - - -87 16 Robin Hood's Progress to Nottingham - - 97 17 and the Pindar of Wakefield - - 100 CONTENTS. XVII Page 18 Robin Hood and the Bishop - - 103 19 and the Butcher - - - 107 20 and the Tanner - - - 113 21 and the Jolly Tinker - - 119 22 and Allen a Dale - - - 121 23 and the Shephe d - - - 132 24 Robin Hood's Meeting and Fighting with his Cousin Scarlet - - - - 137 25 The Famous Battle between Robin Hood and the Curtal Friar - - - - 152 26 Robin Hood's famous Archery before Queen Cathe- rine -- -' - - -159 27 Chase; or Merry Progress between 28 29 Robin Hooa and King Henry Goiden Prize 16T 171 rescuing Will. Stutelyfrom the Sheriff 176 30 The Noble Fisherman; or, Robin Hood's Preferment 183 31 Robin Hood's Delight - - 32+ and tlie Beggar 33 turned Beggar 34 Little John and the Four Beggars 35 Robin Hood and the Ranger 36 and Little John' 37 Robin Mood's Entertainment of the Bishop of Here- ford 38 rescuinjr the Widow's Three Sons from llie Slierilf ;uui Maid Marian 39 f 40 The King's Disguise and Friendship with Robin Hood 40*Robin Robin Hood and the Golden Arrow 11 and the Valiant Knight 12 Robin Hood's Death and Burial 43 Epitaph ... VOI,. I. b 188 193 210 216 22f) 224 231 235 2!0 24 i 252 258 2(12 2 (it; STul CONTENTS. Page 44 Warning Piece to England; or, the Fall of Queen Eleanor, Wife of Edward the First - 26T 46 Song of Quuen Isabel, with the Fall of the Spenceri 276 45tEdward the Second's Deposition and imprisoninent in Berkeley Castle - - - 28S 46 Lamentable aud Cruel Murder of King Edward the Second - - - - - 28T 4T Doleful Lamentation of the Lord Matrevers and Sir Tho. Gurney - - - - 291 48 Edward the Third's Expedition to Brabant - 296 49 Edward the Third aud the Countess of Salisbury 301 50 The Winning of the Isle of Man by the Earl of Salisbury .- - - - - 308 51 Rebellion of Wat Tyler, Jack Straw, and others, against King Richard the Second - - 311 62 Banishment of the Dukes of Hereford and Norfolk by Richard the Second t - - 315 63 Sir Richard Whittington's advancement - - 323 54 Deposition of Richard the Second, and his Murder in Pomfret Castle . - . . 330 65+Siege of Harfleur and Battle of Agincourt - - 334 56 The Victory of Agincourt - - - 351 6T The Wooing of Queen Catherine by Owen Tudor 356 58 Cupid's Revenge. - - - - 361 CONTENTS OF THE THIRD VOLUME, 1 Lamentable Fall of the Dutchess of Gloucester, Wife to Duke Humphry - .... 1 9 Princely Wooing of the Fair Maid of London - 8 3 Cruel Murder of Edward V. and the Duke of York iu the Tower - 13 CONTENTS. six Page 4 Life and Death of the great Duke of Buckingham 18 J+Sorrowful Son^; of the miserable end of Banister, who betrayed the Duke of Buckingham - 23 6 Life and Death of Richard III. - - - 30 7 Union of the Red and White Rose - - - 35 StDelightful Song of the Four Famous Feasts of England --44 9 Rueful Lamentation on the Death of Queen Eliza- beth, Wife of Henry VII. ... - 50 10 Marriage of Margaret Daughter of Henry VIII. to James I V. of Scotland - - - - 52 11+The King's [Henry VIII.] Balad - - - 53 12+Floddon Field ....... 55 13f Ballad of the Battle of Floddon Field - - 58 15 The Story of 111 May-day - - . - 76 16 A Song of an English Knight that married Lady Mary, Sister to Henry VIII. - 84 17 Doleful Complaints of Anne Boleyn - - - 89 18 Doleful Death of Queen Jane, Wife to Henry VIII. 91 19 Princely Song of the Six Queens that were married to Henry VIII. 95 20 Johnny Armstrong's Last Good Night - - 101 21 Sir John Armstrong and Musgrave's contest - lOT 22l"Anne Askew, burnt for heresy - - - 114 23tThe Hospitable Oak 118 2 1+Description of a most noble Lady (Queen Mary) 120 25 Lamentable Ditty on the Death of Lord Guildford Dudley and Lady Jane Grey ... 124 26 Lamentable Complaint of Queen Mary for the unkind departure of Philip 127 27 The Battle of Corichie 132 28 The Dutchess of Suffolk's calamity - - 135 29 Queen Elizabeth's behaviour at Tilbury - - 143 30 Life and Death of Lord Stukely - - - 148 XX CONTENTS. Page 31 Queen Elizabeth's Champion, or a Victory obtained by Lord Essex over the Emperor of Germany 154 32 ^Lamentable Ditty on ' the Beheading of Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex - - - - 158 S3 Lamentable Ballad on the Earl of Essex's death 167 34 Life and Death of Queen Elizabeth - - 171 35 The Honour of a London Prentice - - - 178 36 True Lover's Knot untied _ _ - - 184 37tSong from the Lorde's Mask on the marriage night of the Count Palatine and the Royal Lady Eli- zabeth 189 38 Servant's Sorrow for the loss of his mistress Queen Anne, wife of James the First _ - - 191 39 Excellent Song of the Successors of Edward IV. 196 40+Lord Russell's Farewel 202 41tYoung Jemmy, or the Princely Shepherd (the Duke of Monmouth) 208 42tEnglaml's Darling, or Great Britain's Joy and Hope in ihe Duke of Monmouth - - - 211 43 Se'\ Fight off Cape La Hogue in 1692 - - 215 44 Complaint and Lamentation of Mistresse Arden of Feversham - - - - - - 217 45 Lord Wigraore and the Fair Maid of Dunsmore 2?6 46 The Cruel Black 232 47 The Tragedy of Phiilis ----- 241 48 Blew-cap for me 245 49 Seldom comes the better - - - - 251 50 Love's Lamentable Tragedy . _ - - 256 51 Fair Susan of Somcrsetshiiie - - - , 258 62 Time's Alteration . - . - _ 262 53 The Merchant's Son and Beggar-Wench of Hull 267 54+The Felon Sow and ihe Freeres of Richmond - 270 55+Truth's Jr.tegrityp or Love will faid out the way - 282 56tEarly Marriage rccomraeuded - - - 2S7 CONTENTS. xxi Page 57 The Spanish Tragedy 288 68 Roman Charity 296 59 Notable Example of an ungracious Son who in pride denied his own Father . . . - 304 60 The Mercer's Son of Midhurst and the Clothier's Daughter of Guilford - - - - 311 eitLife and Death of the Two Ladies of Finsbury, that gave Moor-fields to the City - - ol8 62+Song from the Lord's Mask _ . . . 324 63 f Constancy protested 325 64+Freedom from Charms . . - . . 326 65+ Cupid's Artillery - - - - - - 32T 66tHopeIess Love cured by Derision - -;*" - 328 67+ A Doubt resolved - - - - - 329 68+Counselto a Maid 330 69tAmintor's Well-a-day 831 70 Sir James the Ross - . - - . 332 T^The Dowy Den 342 72 Duncan - .-_..- 345 73 The Fair Penitent - - - ' - - 351 :4 Lord George and Lady Dorothy - - 354 75 The Renewing of Love , . - _ 36O 76 The Pleasures of Love - - - - - 363 CONTENTS OF THE FOURTH VOLU.ME. l+Tom Thumb 1 2f Murder of the t'.vo brothers, Lewis and Edmund West, by lac Sons of the Lord Darsy - - 16 3 The Poor Child 25 * Sympatlii-jlng Lover - . , . - 29 xxii CONTENTS. Page 5 Amorous Distress - - - - - - 31 6 Loyal Lover 33 7 The Lover's Expostulation - - - - 35 8 The Lover's Indifference - - - - - 38 9 Bachelor's Plea against Matrimony - - - 40 10 Caveat against Idle Rumours - - - - 41 II +Sonnet to the Virgin Mary - - - - 43 I2+Balade of a Shepharde - - - - - 46 13 Sonnet sung before Queen Elizabeth, attributed to the Earl of Essex 48 14 Sonnet on Elizabeth Markharae - - - 49 15 Bishop Thurstan and the King of Scots - - 51 16 Battle of Cuton Moor 58 17 Murder of Prince Arthur - - - - - 77 18 Prince Edward and Adam Gordon - - - 86 19 Cumnor Hall - - - - . - 94 20 Arabella Stuart ------ 99 21 AnnaBullen 105 22 The Lady and TJie Palmer - - - - 110 23 Fair Maniac IIT 24 The Bridal Bed 128 25 The Lordling Peasant 134 26 Red-Cross Knight 148 27 Wandering Maid - - - - - -166 28 Triumph of Death 176 29 Julia ...--- - 184 .00 Bitter Fruits of Jealousy - - - - 187 31 Death of A.Ilen 192 32 Mad Shepherdess 194 33 Athelgiva 197 34+Sir John Barley-Corn 314 35tMasMault - - - . . 220 3Gt Tlie Devonshire Nyninli - - 226 ST tVenus'* Lament f'.>r /U!. ._ 230 CONTENTS. xxiii Page 38 Song of Richard, Coeur de Lion . - - 231 39 Military Song on the French Champion, Roland 231 40 Song by Thibaut, King of Xavarre ... 238 41 Laidley AVorm of Spiiidleston Heughs - - 241 42 Zayde and Zelindaxa - - - - - 24S 43 Til e Hermit of Warkwortb .... 251 44 Ragiiar Lodbrach 293 45 Hirlas Owain, or the Drinking-IIorn of Owen - SOT 46 Elphin"s Consolation 315 47+Anglo-\orman Drinking Song - - - 313 48 Lord Henry and Fair Catherine . - - 32O 49 Cadwallo and Elmira 323 50 The Prophecy of Queen Emma ... 32T 51 Death of Earl Oswald 333 52 Elfrida and Sir James of Perth ... 336 53tAncient Hunting Song ., - - - 343 51+A pleasant new Court Song . - . - 345 55tVenus"s Search after Cupid - - - - 350 56+Love and Constancy - - . - - - 353 67 1 Ungrateful Nanny ..,.-- 355 68+Song by Sir Robert Aytonn . . - _ 357 69+The Duke of Suffolk's Address to Queen Ka- therine - - 35S 60f Queen Katherine's Song to the Duke of Suffolk - 360 61 +The Marquis of Montrose's Address to his Mistress 361 EVANSES COLLECTION OF OLD BALLADS. ** A Nosegaie alwaies sweet, for Lovers to send for -Tokens of Love, at Newyeres Tide, or for fain- ings as they in their minds shall be disposed to write." Reprinted from a very rare volume entitled a " Handefull of pleasant Delites,'' by Clement Robinson and divers others; printed by Richard Ihoaes, 1384, 12mo. The following Ballad is well entitled to a place in this Collection from its own merits; but acquires additional interest f.ora the allusion made to it by the frantic Ophelia, when strewing the flowers in her phrensy. " There's rosemary, that's for remembrance, &.c Vid Hamlet, Act IV. Scene 5. A. NOSEGAY lacking flowers fresh. To you now do I send, Desiring you to look thereon, When that you may intend : VOL. I. B OLD BALLADS. For flowers fresh begin to fade. And Boreas in the field. E'en with his hard congealed frost. No better flowers doth yield. But if that winter could have sprung, A sweeter flower than this, I would have sent it presently To you withouten miss : Accept this then as tim6 doth serve, Be thankful for the same, Despise it not but keep it well. And mark each flower his name. Lavender is for Lovers true. Which evermore be fain : Desiring always for to have Some pleasure for their pain : And when that they obtained have. The love tliat they require. Then have they all their perfect joy, And quenched is the fire. Rosemary is for Remembrance, Between us day and night. Wishing that I might always have You present in my sight. OLD BALLADS. And when I cannot have. As I have said before, Then Cupid with His deadly dart. Doth wound my heart full sore. Sage is for Sustenance, That should man's life sustain. For I do still lie languishing, Continually in pain, And shall do still until I die. Except thou favour shew. My pain, and all my grievous smart. Full well you do it know. Fennel is for Flatterers, An evil thing it 's sure. But I have always meant truly. With constant heart most pure : And will continue in the same As long as life doth last, Still hoping for a joyful day When all our pains be past. Violet is for Faithfulness, Which in me shall abide. Hoping likewise that from your heart, You will not let it slide ; OLD BALLADS. And. will continue in the same. As you have now begun. And then for ever to abide. Then you my heart have won. Thyme is to try me, As each be tried must ; Trusting you know, while life doth last, I will not be unjust : And if I should I would that God To hell my soul should bear. And eke also that Belzebub, With teeth he should me tear. Roses are to rule me. With reason as you will. For to be still obedient. Your mind for to fulfill : And thereto will not disagree. In nothing that you say. But will content your mind truly, In all things that I may. Gillyflowers is for Gentleness, Wliich in me shall remain. Hoping that no sedhion shall Depart our heart in twain ; oiD BALLADS. As soon the sun shall loose his course. The moon against her kind. Shall have no light, if that I do Once put you from my mind. Carnations are for Gratiousness, Mark that now by the way. Have no regard to flatterers. Nor pass not what they say. For they will come with lying tales, Your ears for to fulfill : In any case do you consent Nothing unto their will. Marigold is for Marriage, That would our minds suffice, Least that suspicion of us twain, By any means should rise : As for my part I do not care. Myself I will still use. That all the women in the world For you I will refuse. Pennyroyal is to print your Love, So deep within my heart. That when you look this nosegay on. My pain you may impart, OLD BALLADS. And when that you have read the same, Consider well my woe ; Think ye then how to recompense E'en him that loves you so.> Cowslips are for Counsel, For secrets us between. That none but you and I alone Should know the thing we mean : And if you will thus wisely do. As I think to be best. Then have you surely won the field. And set my heart at rest. I pi*ay you keep this Nosegay well. And set by it some store : And thus farewell, the Gods thee guidcj Both now and evermore ; Not as the common sort do use. To set it in your breast. That when the smell is gone away, In ground he takes his rest. OLD BALLADS. t IL " A proper New Ballad, intituled, JEPHA JUDGE OF ISRAEL." From a Copy printed in black letter, in two columns, for F. Coles, T. Vere, and W. Gilbertson. With a cut exhibiting A Soldier with a drawn 1 [A Lady with a fan sword and fagot. J \ in her hand. This ballad is singularly rare. It is quoted by Hamlet, and notwithstanding the elaborate researches of the com- mentators on Shakspeare, it has hitherto eluded all their vigilance. Dr. Percy indeed has printed a very imper- fect copy of it, wanting two Avhole stanzas, and other- wise mutilated by repeated alterations and omissions; which is not to be wondered at, as he never had an op- portunity of consulting the original, but printed from a transcript made by a lady " who Wrote it down from memory, as she had formerly heard it sung by her father." The late Duke of Roxburghe fortunately met with a copy of the original edition, which is now, for the first time, accurately reprinted. 1 will extract the passage in which Hamlet banters Polonius, and then subjoin the ballad. Ham. Jephlhah judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou ! Pol. What a treasure had he, my Lord ? 8 OLD BALLADS. Bam. Why One fair daughter, and no more, The which he loved passing well. Pol. Still on my daughter. Ham. Am 1 not i' the right, old Jephthah ? Pol. If you call me Jephthah, my Lord, I have a daughter, that I love passing well. Ham. Nay, that follows not. Pol. What follows then, my Lord ? Ham. fVhy, as by lot., God wot; and then, you know, /f came to pass, as most like it was. 1 HAVE read that many years agoe. When Jepha, judge of Israel^ Had one fair daughter and no more. Whom he loved passing well. And as by lot, God wot, Tt came to passe most like it was. Great warrs there should be. And who should be the chiefe, but he, but he. When Jepha was appointed now, Chiefe captain of the company, To God the Lord he made a vow. If he might have the victory. At his return to burn For his offering the first quick thing. Should meet with him then. From his house when he came agen, agen. OLD BALLADS. It chanced so these warrs were done. And Iiome he came with victory. His daughter out of doors did run. To meet her father speedily, And all the way did play To tabor and pipe, and many a stripe. And notes full high. For joy that he was so nigh, so nigh. When Jepha did perceive and see His daughter firm and formostly. He rent his cloths and tore his haire. And shrieked out most piteously. For thou art she (quoth he) Hath brought me low, alas for woe. And troubled me so. That I cannot tell what to doe, to doe. For I have made a vow (quoth he) Which must not be diminished, A sacrifice to God on high. My promise must be finished. As you have spoke, provoke. No further care but to prepare. Your will to fulfill. According to God's will, God's will. 10 OLD BALLADS. For sithence God hath given you mighf, To overcome your enemies. Let one be ofFer'd up as right. For to perform all promises. And this let be, quoth she. As thou hast said be not afraid. Although it be /. Keep promise with God on high, on high. But father do so much for me^ As let me go to wildern^sse, There to bewaile my virginity. Three months to bemoan my heavinessCj And let there go some moe. Like maids with me. Content, quoth he. And sent her away. To mourn till her latter day, her day. And when that time was come and gone^ That she should sacrificed be, This virgin sacrificed was. For to fulfill all promises 5 As some say for aye : The virgins there three times a year, Like sorrow fulfill. For the daughter of Jepha still, still, still. OLD BALLADS. 11 IIL " An excellent Ballad, intituled, THE CONSTANCY OF SUSANNA." This is the Ballad the first line of which Sir Toby Belch cites, with other poetical fragments, in Twelfth Night. 1 H E R E dwelt a man in Babylon Of reputation great by fame. He took to wife a fair woman, Susanna she was called by name ; A woman fair and virtuous ; Lady, lady : Why should we not of her learn thus To live godly? Virtuously her life she lead. She feared God, she stood in awe. As in the story we have read, Was well brought up in Moses' law 5 Her parents they were goodly folk. Lady, lady : Why should we not, then, sing and talk Of this lady ? 12 OLD BALLADS. That year two judges there were made. Which were the elders of Babylon, To Joachim's house was all their, trade. Who was Susanna's husband then : Joachim was a great rich man. Lady, lady ; These elders oft to his house came For this lady. Joachim had an orchard by Fast joining to his house or place, Whereas Susanna commonly Herself did daily there solace. And that these elders soon espied. Lady, lady. And privily themselves did hide For that lady. These elders came to her anon. And thus they said. Fair dame God speed. Thy doors are fast, the maids are gone. Consent to us and do this deed. For we are men of no mistrust. Lady, lady. And yet to thee we have a lust, O fair lady ! If that to us thou dost say nay, A testimonial we will bring. OLD BALLADS. 13 We will say that one with thee lay, How canst^thou then avoid the thing : Therefore consent, and to us turn. Lady, lady. For we to thee in lust do burn, O fair lady ! Then did she sigh, and said alas ! Now woe is me on every side. Was ever wretch in such a case, Shall I consent and do this deed ? Wliether I do, or do it not. Lady, ladyj It is my death right well I wot, O true lady ! Better it were for me to fall Into your hands this day guiltless, Then that I should consent at all To this your shameful wickedness 5 And even with that (whereas she stood) Lady, lady. Unto the Lord she cried aloud. Pitifully. These elders both likewise again. Against Susanna aloud they cried. Their filthy iiist could not obtain, Their wickedness tliey sought to hide. 14 OLD BALLADS. Unto her friends they then her brought, Lady, lady, And with all speed the life they sought Of that lady. SECOND PART. On the morrow she was brought forth Before the people there to stand. That they might hear and know the truth. How these two elders Susanna found. The elders swore and thus did say. Lady, lady. How that they saw a young man lay With that lady. Judgment there was for no offence, Susanna causeless then must die. These elders bore such evidence. Against her they did verify. Who were believed then indeed. Lady, lady. Against Susanna to proceed. That she should die. Susanna's friends that stood her by. They did lament, and were full woe. When as they saw no remedy. But that to death she then must go. OLD BALLADS, 15 Then unto him that Is so just, Lady, lady, (In God was all her hope and trust,) To him did cry. The Lord her voice heard, and beheld The daughter's cry of Israel, His spirit he rais'd in a child. Whose name was called young Daniel, Who cried aloud whereas he stood. Lady, lady, I am clear of the guiltless blood Of this lady. Are you such fools, quoth Daniel then. In judgment you have not done well, Nor yet the right way have you gone. To judge a daughter of Israel : By this witness of false disdain. Lady, lady. Wherefore to judgment turn again For that lady. And when to judgment they were set. He called for those wicked men : And soon he did them separate. Putting the one from the other, then, He asked the first where he did see That fair lady. He said under a mulberry tree. Who lied falsely. 16 OLD BALLADS. Thou liest, said Daniel, on thy head. Thy sentence is before the Lord, He bad that forth he might be lead. And bring the other that bore record, To see how they two did agree. For this lady. He said under a pomgranate tree. Who lied falsely. Said Daniel as he did before. Behold the messenger of the Lord, Stands waiting for you at the door. E'en to cut thee with a sword. And even with that the multitude Aloud did cry. Give thanks to God, so to conclude For this lady. They dealt like with these wicked men, According as the scripture saith. They did as with their neighbour then, By Moses' law were put to death, The innocent preserved was, Lady, lady. As God by Daniel brought to pass For this lady. i [For John Wright, near Pye Corner.] OLD BALLADS. 17 IV AN ANCIENT SONG, From the old enterlude, called " Lusty Juventus." 1 N a herber gi'ene aslepe where as I lay. The byrdes sange swete in the middes of the daye, I dreamed fast of myrtli and play : In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure. Methought I walked stil to and fro. And from her company I could not go ; But when I waked it was not so : In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure. Therefore my hart is surely pyght Of her alone to have a sight. Which is my joy and hartes delyght : In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure. VOL. I. 18 OLD BALLADS. V. AN ANCIENT DRINKING SONG, From " a ryght pithy, pleasaunt and merie Comedie : in- tytulcd Gammer Gurtons Nedle, imprinted by Tliomas Colwell, 1575." Backe and syde go bare, go bare. Booth foote and hande go colde : But bellye God send thee good ale ynoughe, Whether it be newe or olde, 1 CAN not eate, but lytle meate, My stomacke is not good ; But sure I thinke that I can drynke With him that weares a hood. Thoughe I go bare, take ye no care, I am nothinge a colde : I stuife my skyn so full within, Of joly good ale and olde Back and syde go bare, go bare. Booth foote and hand go colde : But belly God send thee good ale inoughe. Whether it be new or olde. I love no rost, but a nut brown toste. And a crab layde in the fyre, A lytle bread shall do me stead, Much breade I not dcsyre : OLD BALLADS. 19 A'^o froste nor snow, no winde, I trowe. Can hurt mee if I wolde, I am so wrapt and tlirowly lapt Of jolygood ale and olde. Backe and syde go bare, &c. And Tyb my wyfe that as her lyfe Loueth well good ale to seeke, Full ofte drynkes shee, tyll ye may see The teares run downe her cheekes : Then dooth she trowle to me the bowle. Even as a mault worm shuld, x\nd sayth, Sweete hart, I took my part Of this ioly good ale and olde. Backe and syde go bare, &c. Now let them drynke, tyll they nod and winke. Even as good felowes shoulde doe. They shall not mysse to have the blisse, ondon : 22 OLD B.\LLADS. And he brought to the field with him One Speck, an archer proper and trim^ And Smith, that slioot about the pin. As if it had been at London. York, York, &c. Then came from. Cumberland archers three. Best bowmen in tlte nortli country, I will tell you their names what they be. Well known to the city of London : Walmsley many a man doth know, And Bolton how he draweth his bow. And RatclifFe's shooting long ago Well known to the city of London. York, &c. And the noble Earl of Essex came To the field himself to see the same. Which shall be had for ever in fame. As soon as I come to London : For he shew'd himself so diligent there,. To make a mark and keep it fair, It is worthy memory to declare Through all the city of London. York, &c. And then was shooting out of cry ; The skantling at a handful nigh. And yet the wind M'as very high, As it is sometimes at London : OLD BALLADS. 23 They clapt the clouts so on the rags, There was such betting and such brags. And gallopping up and down with nags. As if it had been at London. York, &c. And never an archer gave regard. To half a bow nor half a yard, I never see matches go more hard. About the city of London : For fairer play was never play'd. Nor fairer lays were never laid. And a week together they kept this trade. As if it had been at London. York, &c. The mayor of York, with his company. Were all in the fields, I warrant ye. To see good rule kept orderly. As if it had been at London : Which was a dutifuU sight to see. The mayor and aldermen there to be. For the setting forth in archery, As well as they do at London. York, &c. And there was neither fault nor fray. Nor any disorder any way, But every man did i)itch and pay. As if it had l)een at London : 24 OLD BALLADS. As soon as every match was done. Every man was paid that won, And merrily up and down they run, As if it had been at London. York, &c. And never a n\ah that went abroad. But thought his money well bestow'd. And money laid on heap and load. As if it had been at London : And gentlemen there, so frank and free, As a mint at York again should be. Like shooting did I never see. Except I had been at London. York, &c. At York were ambassadors three. Of Russia lords of high degree. This shooting they desired to see. As if it had been at London : And one desir'd to draw a bow. The force and strength tliereof to know^ And for his delight he drew it so. As seldom seen in London. York, &c. And tliey did marvel very much. There could be any archer such, To shoot so far the clout to touchy Which is no news at London : OLD BALLADS. \ 25 And they might well consider then. An English shaft will kill a man. As hath been proved where and when. And chronicled since in London. York, &c. The Earl of Cumberland's arcliers won Two matches clear, ere all was done : And I made haste apace to run. To carry these news to London : And Walmsley did the upshot win. With both the shafts so near the pin, You could scant have put three fingers in. As if it had been at London. Yi3rk, &c. I pass not for my money it cost. Though some I spent, and some I lost, I wanted neither sod nor I'oast, As if it had been at London : For there was plenty of every thing. Red and fallow deer for the" king, I never saw so merry a shooting, Since first I came from London. York, &c. God save the city of York therefore. That hath such noble friends in store, And such good aldermen send them more. And the like good luck at London : 26 OLD BALLADS. For it is not little joy to see. When lords and aldermen so agree. With such according commonalty, God send us the like at London. York, &c. God save the good Earl of Cumberland, His praise in golden lines shall stand. That maintains archery through the land. As well as they do at London : Whose noble mind so courteously Acquaints himself with the commonalty. To the glory of his nobility, I will carry the praise to London. York, &c. And tell the good Earl of Essex thus. As he is now young and prosperous. To use such properties virtuous. Deserves great praise in London : For it is no little joy to sec. When noble youths so gracious be. To give their good wills to their country. As well as they do at London. York, &c. Farewell, good city of York to thee. Tell Alderman Maltby this from me. In print shall this good shooting be. As soon as I come to London : OLD BALL.\DS. l'7 And many a song will I bestow, On all the musicians that I know. To sing the praises where they go. Of the city of York in London. York, &c. God save our Queen and keep our peace, Tliat our good shooting may encrease. And praying to God, let us not cease. As well at York as London : That all our country round about. May have archers good to hit the clout. Which England cannot be without, No more than York and London. York, &c. God grant that once her Majesty, Would come, her city of York to see. For the comfort of that gi'eat country. As well as she doth to London : Nothing shall be thought too dear. To see her iiighness person there. With such ol)edIent love and fear. As ever she had in London. York, York for my money, Of all the cities that ever I see, For merry pastime and company. Except the city of London. [From Yorke by W. E. i. c. William Elderton.] 28 OLD BALLADS. VIL " A most sweet Song of an English Merchant bora In Chichester." From a black letter copy in the Pepys Collection, printed by Clarke, Thackeray, and Passenger. A RICH merchant-man there was. That was both grave and wise. Did kill a man at Embden town Through quarrels that did rise ; Through quarrels that did rise ; The German being dead; And for that fact the merchant-man Was judg'd to lose his head. A sweet thing is love. It rules botli heart and mind. There is no comfort in this world To women that are kind. A scaffold builded was Within the market place, And all the people far and near Did thitlier flock apace. Did tliither flock apace OLD BALLADS. 29 This doleful sight to see ; Who all in velvet black as jet Unto the place came he. A sweet, &c. Bareheaded was he brought. His hands were bound before, A cambrick ruff about his neck As white as milk he wore : His stockings were of silk. As fine as fine might be. Of person and of countenance A proper man was he. A sweet, &c. When he was mounted up Upon the scaffold high ; All women said great pity 't was So sweet a man should die. The merchants of the town. From death to set him free. Did proffer there a thousand pound. But yet all would not be. A sweet thing is love It rules both heart and mind. There is no comfort in this world To women that are kind. 30 OLD BALLADS. Tlie prisoner hereupon Began to speak his mind^ Quoth he, I have deserved death In conscience I do find. Yet sore against my will This man I kill'd, quoth he, As Christ doth know, which of my soul Must only saviour be. A sweet, &c. With heart I do repent This most unhappy deed, And for his wife and children small My very heart doth bleed : The deed is done and past My hope of life is vain And yet the loss of this my life. To them is little gain. A sweet, &c. Unto the widow poor. And to the babes therefore, I give a hundred pounds a piece Their comforts to restore : Desiring at their hands No one request but this, They will speak well of Englishmen, Though I have done amiss. OLD Bx\LL.\DS. 31 A sweet thing is love, It rules both heart and mind, There is no comfort in tliis world. To women that are kind. This was no sooner done But that to stint the strife. Four goodly maids did proffer him For love to save his life : This is our law, quoth they. We may your death remove. So you in lieu of our good will Will grant to us your love. A sweet, &c. Brave Englishman, quoth one, 'Tis I will save thy life. Nay, quoth the second, it is I, So I may be thy wife, 'Tis 1, the third did say. Nay, quoth the fourth, 'tis I, So each one after the other said, Still waiting his reply. A sweet, &c. Fair maidens every one, I must confess and say. That each of you well worthy is To be a lady gay. 32 OLD BALLADS. And I unworthy far. The worst of you to have, Though you have profFer'd willingly. My loathed life to save. A sweet thing is love. It rules both heart and mind, / Tliere is no comfort in this world. To women that are kind. Then take a thousand thanks Of me, a dying man. But speak no more of lo^e, nor life, For why my life is gone : To Christ my soul I give. My body unto death. For none of you my heart can have Sith I must lose my breath. A sweet, &c. Fair maids lament not me. Your coimtry law is such. It takes but hold upon my life. My goods it cannot touch. Within one chest I have Of gold a thousand pound, I give it equal to you all For love that I have found. A sweet, &c. OLD BALLADS. 33 And now, dear friends, farewell, Sweet England now adieu. And Chichester, where I was born, Where first this breath I drew : And now thou man of death Unto thy weapon stand ; nay, another damsel said. Sweet headsman hold thy hand. A sweet, &c. I Now hear a maiden's plaint. Brave Englishman, quoth she. And grant me love for love again. That craves but love of thee : 1 woo and sue for love. That had been woo'd ere this, Then grant me love, and therewithal She proffered him a kiss. A sweet, &c. I'll die within thy arms If thou wilt die, quoth she, Yet live or die, sweet Englishman, I'll live and die with thee : But can it be, quoth he. That thou dost love me so, 'Tis not by long acquaintance, sir, \Vherel)y tme love doth grow. A sweet, &c. VOL. I. D 54 OLD BALLADS. Then beg my life, qxioth he, And I will be thy own. If I should seek the world for love. More love cannot be shewn ; The people at that word, Did give a joyful cry. And said great pity it was > So sweet a man should die. A sweet, &c. I go my love, she said, I run, I fly for thee. And, gentle headsman, spare awhile My lover's head for me ; Unto the Duke she went. Who did her grief remove. And with an lumdred maidens more She went to fetch her love. A sweet, &c. With music sounding sweet. The foremost of the train. The gallant maiden, like a bride. Did fetcli him back again ; Yea, hand in hand alway they went Unto the church that day, And they were married presently In sumptuous rich array. A sweet, &c. OLD BALLADS. 35 To England came he then With his fair lady bride ; A fairer woman never lay By any merchant's side ; Where we must leave them now In pleasure and delight. But of their names and dwelling place I must not here recite. vm. A FAYRE PORTION FOR A FAYRE MAID." JNow all my friends are dead and gone, Alas what shall Ijctide me. For I poor maid am left alone, Witliout a house to hide me : Yet still I'll be of merry cheer. And liave kind welcome every where. Though I liave but a mark a year, And that my mother gave me. 36 OLD BALLADS. I scorn to think of poverty, Or wanting food and cloathing, I'll be maintained gallantly, And all my life want nothing, A frolick mind I'll always bear, ]My poverty shall not appear, Tliough I have but a mark a year. And that my mother gave me. Though I am but a silly wench Of country education. Yet I am woo'd by Dutch and French, And almost every nation : Both Spaniards and Italians swear, Tliat with their hearts they love me dear. Yet I have but a mark a year. And that my mother gave me. The Welch, the Irish, and the Scot, Since I came to the city. In love to me are wondrous hot. They tell me I am pretty : Therefore to live I will not fear. For I am souglit with many a tear. Yet I have l)ut a mark a year. And that my motlier gave me. OLD BALLi\DS. This London is a gallant place, To raise a lass's fortune, For I that came of simple race. Brave roarers do importune : I little thought in Worcestershire, To find such high preferment here, For I have but a mark a year. And that my mother gave me. One gives to me perfumed gloves, Tlie best that he can buy me, Live where I will I have tlie loves Of all that do live nigh me. If any new toys I will wear, I have them, cost they ne'er so dear, And this is for a mark a year. And that my mother gave me. IVIy fashions with the moon I change. As though I were a lady ; All quaint conceits, both new and strange, I'll have as soon as may be : Your courtly ladies I can jeer, In clothes but few to me come near, Wt I liave l)ut a mark a year. And that my niother gave me. !''.5-' i^yi^s'k 38 OLD BALLADS. SECOND PART. French gowns, with sleeves like pudding-bags, I have at my requesting, Now I forget my country rags. And scorn such plain investing : My old acquaintance I cashier, And of my kin I hate to hear ; Though I have but a mark a year, And that my mother gave me. My petticoats of scarlet brave, Of A elvet, silk, and sattin, Some students oft my love do crave. That speak both Greek and Latin , The soldiers for me domineer, And put the rest into great fear, All tliis is for a mark a year. And that my mother gave me. The Precisian sincerely woos. And doth protest he loves me. He tires me out Avitli ayes and no's. And to impatience moves me, Altliough an oath he will not swear, To lie at no time doth he fear. All this is for a murk a year, And that my mother gave me. OLD BALL.\DS. S9 jNIy coach, drawn with four Flanders mares, Each day attends my pleasiue. The watermen will leave their fares. To wait upon my leisure. Two lackies labor every where, And at my word run far and near, Though I have but a mark a year, And that my mother gave me. In the pleasantest place the suburbs yield, My lodging is prepared, I can walk forth into the fields, \Miere beauties oft are aired : WTien gentlemen do spy me there. Some compliments I'm sure to hear, Though I have but a mark a year. And that my mother gave me. And if my friends were living still, I would them all aljandon, Though I confess they loved me well, Yet I so like of London : That farewell Dad and Mammy dear. And all my friends in Worcest<;rshire, I li\e well with a mark a year. Which my old mother gave me. 40 OLD BALLADS. I would my sister Sue at home. Knew how I Uve in fashion. That she might up to London come. To learn this occupation : For I live like a lady here, I wear good clothes and eat good cheer. Yet I have but a mark a year. And that my mother gave me. Now blessed be that happy day. That I came to the city, And for the carrier will I pray, Before I end my ditty. You maidens tliat this ditty hear. Though means be sliort yet never fear, For I live with a mark year. Which my old mother gave me. OLD BALLADS, 41 IX. THE COUNTREY LASSE. To a daintle new note, hich if you can hit, There's another tune miU as well rit." To the tune of, the mother beguiid the daughter. [From a black letter copy printed for the Assigns of Symcocke.] Although 1 am a country lass, A lofty mind I bear a, I think myself as good as those That gay apparell wear a, My coat is made of comely gray. Yet is my skin as soft a. As those that with the chiefest wines a, Do bathe tlieir bodies oft a, Down, down derry, dery down. Heigh down a down a down a, A dery, dery, dery, dery down. High down a down a dery. Wliat, though I keep my father's sheep, A thing that must be done a, A garland of tbe fairest flo.\ers Shall shroud me from the sun a. 4:2 OLD BALLADS. And wKen I see them feeding be. Where grass and flowers spring, Close by a crystal fountain side, I sit me down and sing a. Dame Nature crowns us with delight. Surpassing court or city. We pleasures take from morn to night. In sports and pastimes pretty : Your city dames in coaches ride Abroad for recreation, We country lasses hate their pride. And keep the country fashion. Your city wives lead wanton lives. And if they come in the country. They are so proud, that each one strives For to outbrave our gentry. We country lasses homely be. For seat nor Mall we strive not. We are content with om* degree. Our debtors we deprive not. J care not for the fan or mask, WTien Titan's heat reficcteth, A liomely hat is all I ask, Wliich well my face protccteth. OLD BALLADS. Yet I am in my country guise, Esteemed lass as pretty, As those that every day devise, New shapes in court or city. In evciy season of the year I undergo njy labour, No shower, nor wind, at all I fear. My limbs I do not favour. If summer's heat, my beauty stain. It makes me ne'er the sicker, Sith I can wash it off again With a cup of Christmas liquor. SECOND PART. At Christmas time in mirth and glee I dance witli young men neatly. And who in the city like to me. Shall surely taste completely. No sport, but pride and luxury In the city can be found then, But bounteous hospitality In the country doth abound then. In the spring my labour yields delight, To walk in tlie merry morning, Wlien Flora is (to please my sight) The ground with flowers adorning : 44 OLD BALLADS. With merry lads to make the hay I go, and do not grumble. My work doth seem to be but play, When with young men I tumble. The lark and tlirash from briar to bush Do leap, and skip and sing a, xVnd all this then to welcome in The long and look'd for spring a ; We fear not Cupid's arrows keen. Dame Venus we defy a, Diana is our honour'd Queen, And her we magnify a. Iliat which your city damsels scorn, Vv^e hold our chiefest jewel, Without, to work at hay and corn. Within, to bake and brew well. To keep tiie dairy decently, And all things clean and neatly. Your city minions do defy. Their scorn we weigh not greatly. ^V hen we together a milking go With pails upon om- heads a, And walking over woods and fields. Where grass and flowers spread a. OLD BALL.IDS. 45 In honest pleasure we delight, Wliich makes our labour sweet. And mirth exceeds on every side Wlien lads and lasses meet. Then do not scorn a country lass, Though she be plain and meanly. Who takes the country wench to wife, (Tliat goeth neat and cleanly) s better sped, than if he wed A fine one fi'om the city, For then they are so nicely bred. They must not work for pity. I speak not this to that intent, (As some may well conjecture). As though to wooing I were bent. Nor I ne'er learn lover's lectures ; But what I sing is in defence Of all plain country lasses. Whose modest honest innocence All city girls surpasses. 46 OLD BALLADS, X. THE MAIDEN'S NAY, OR, I LOVE NOT YOU. 1 SPIED a nymph trip over the plain, I lur'd to her, she turned again, I woo'd her as a young man should do. But her answer was. Sir, I love not you. I thought she seem'd in every part. So lovely fram'd by Nature's art, Her beauty soon allured me to woo. But her answer was, Sir, I love not you. I told her all the sweet of love, And whatever her mind might move, To entertain a lover true. But her answer was. Sir, I love not you. I told her how I would her deck. Her head witli gold, with pearls her neck, She gave a fro-' n, and away she flew. But her answer was. Sir, I love not you. Not me (sweet heart) oh tell me wliy ! TLou should my profl\;r'd love deny. OLD BALLADS. 47 To wliom my lieart I have vow'd so true. But her answer was. Sir, I love not you. My sweet, and dearest love, quoth I, Art thou resolv'd a maid to die, Of such a mind I know but few. But her answer was. Sir, I love not you. Til's is the pleasant maying time, This is the pleasant golden prime, But age will come and make you to rue. That e're you said, Sir, I love not you, do not thou my suit disdain. Nor make me spend my tin^e in vain, But kindly grant a lover's due. Yet still she said. Sir, I love not you. Fair nymph, quoth I, Itnt grant me this, To enrich my lips with one poor kiss, 1 grant you that, which I grant but few. Yet still she said. Sir, I love not you. The young man ])rofFering then to depart, It griev'd this maiden then to the heart, For liaving kist, O then did she rue. That ere she said, Sir, I love not you. 48 OLD BALLADS. Wherefore with speed she thought it best. To stay him by her kind request ; Whose counsels thus hath caus'd her to rue. That ere she said. Sir, I love not you. But now at last she did begin With gentle words to lure him in : The second part shall plainly shew She chang'd her note of, I love not you. SECOND PART. Kind Sir, quoth she, what needs this haste. With that a smile on him she cast. Shame curb'd her long, but affection drew These words, I love no man but you. I feel the force of Cupid's dart. So deep hath pierc'd my tender heart : Believe me then, for my words are true, You will I love, Sir, and none but you. Do not deny my proffer'd love. Nor think tliat I the wanton prove : Though women seldom use to woo. Yet I will love, Sir, and none but you. OLD BALLADS. 4i When women love, they will it hide^ Untill their lover they have tried, TTiough I say nay, as maidens do, You will I love. Sir, and none but you. Here is, quoth she, my heart and hand, My constant love thou shalt command : And I do vow to be ever true. You will I love. Sir, and none but you. Whilst golden Titan does display. His beams unto the chearful day. Whilst spring the winter doth ensue. You will I love. Sir, and none but you^ On thee my love is fixed fast. On thee my love is firmly plac'd ; For thee I'll bid the world adieu. You will I love. Sir, and none but you. If Hero should Leander leave. Fair Lucrece Collatine deceive. Or Syrinx prove to Pan untrue. Yet I'll love you, Sir, and none but you. Object no former coy reply. Suspect no future constancy ; Accept my love as a tribute due Only to you, Sir, and to none but you. VOL. I. 50 OLD BALLADS. The young man noting well her words, This courteous answer then affords ; Give me thy hand, take mine in lieu : My love I grant here, and so do you. To church with speed then let us hie In marriage bands ourseh'Es to tie, Where interchanging hands and hearts I'll love thee dearly till death us parts. Mark well my song you maiden's coy, That count true love a foolish toy : Do not disdain when young men woo. But love them freely as they love you. [Printed for F, Coles, T. Vere, and J. Wright.] XI. "A most excellent Song of the Love of young Palmus and faire Sheldra, with their unfortunate love." To the tune of Shackley-hay. 1 o u X G Palmus was a ferryman. Whom Sheldra fair did love, At Shackley, where her sheep did graze. She there his thoughts did pro\'e ; OLD BALLADS. ^1 But he unkindly stole away, And left his love at Shaekley-hay. So loud at Shackley did she cry. The words resound at Shackiey-hay. But all in vain she did complain. For nothing could him move, Till wind did turn him back again. And brought him to his love : When she saw him thus turn'd by fate, She turn'd her love to mortal hate. Then weeping to her did he say, I'll live with thee at Shackley-hay, No, no, quoth she, I thee deny, My love thou once did scorn. And my prayers wouldst not hear. But left me here forlorn. And now being turn'd by fate of wind. Thou thinkst to win me to thy mind. Go, go, farewell, I thee deny. Thou shall not live at Shackley-hay. If that thou do'st my love disdain. Because I live on seas. Or that I am ferryman. My Shcldra doth displease, 52 OLD BALLADS. I will no more in that estate. Be servile unto wind and fete. But quite forsake boats, oars, and sea. And live with thee at Shackley-hay. . My Sheldra's bed shall be my boat. Her arms shall be my oars. Where love instead of storms shall float On pleasant downs and shores ; Her sweetest breath my gentle gale. Through tides of love to drive my sail. Her look my praise, and her my joy. To live with me at Shackley-hay. Not Phaon shall with me compare. So fortunate to prove : Fair Venus never was his fare, I'll bear the queen of love ; The working waters never fear. For Cupid's self our barge shall steer. And to the shore I still will cry. My Sheldra comes to Shackley-hay. To strew my boat for thy avail, I'll rob the flowery shores. And whilst thou guid'st the silken sail, ril row with silver oars; OLD BALLADS. 53 And as upon the streams we float, , A thousand swans shall guide pur boat. And to the shore still will I cry. My Sheldra comes to Shackley-hay : And have a story painted there. Wherein there shall be seen, How Sappho lov'd a ferryman. Being a learned queen : In golden letters shall be writj How well in love himself he quit, That all the lasses still shall cry. With Palmus we'll to Shackley-hay. And walking lazily to the strand. We'll angle in the brook. And fish with thy white lilly hand. Thou need'st no other hook : To which the fish shall soon be brought. And strive which shall the first be caught, - A thousand pleasures will we try. As we do row to Shackley-hay. And if we be opprest with heat. In mid-time of the day. Under the willows tall and great. Shall be our quiet bay. 54 OLD BALLADS. Where I will make thee fans of boughs, From Phoebus' beams to shade thy brows, And cause them at the ferry cry, A boat, a boat to Shackley-hay. A troop of dainty neighbouring girls Shall dance along the sti'and, Upon the gravel all of pearls, To wait when thou shalt land, And cast themselves aljout thee round. Whilst thou with garlands shalt be crown'd. And all the shepherds with joy shall cry, O Sheldra, come to Shackley-hay Although I did myself al^sent, 'Twas but to try thy mind: But now thou mayst thyself repent For being so unkind ; For now thou ait turn'd by wind and fate, Instead of love thou hast purchas'd hate^ Therefore return ^thee to the sea, And bid farewell to Shackley-hay. SCON]3 PART. Thufi all in vain did he complain, And no remorse could find, Young Paluras, tlu-ough his own disdain, iMade Siieldra fiir ui>kii\d, OLD BALLADS. 55 And she is from him fled and gone; He laid- him in his boat alone, And so betook him to the sea, And bade farewell to Shackley-hay. Then from the happy sandy shore. Into the floating waves His vessel, fraught with brinish tears, Into the main he laves : But all in vain, for why, he still With weeping eyes his boat did fill ; And launcht his boat into the sea. And bad farewell to Shackley-hay Now farewell to my Sheldra fair. Whom I no more shall see, I mean to lead my life at sea. By thy inconstancy. Come, Neptune, come, to thee I cry. With thee I'll live, with thee I'll die. Thus he launch'd himself into the sea. And bad farewell to Shackley-hay. But far from thence he had not gone. Ere Sheldra fair return'd. Whose heart kind pity made to moan. Such pasdon in her burn'd : 56 OLD BALLADS. But when she to that place arriv'd She found the shore from him deprived, And her dear Palmus, now at sea. Had bad farewell to Shackley-hay. She then with bitter sighs complain'd. Her grief did so abound. Oft grieving that she him disdain'd. Whom she so loving found ; But now (alas) *t was all in vain. For he was gone by her disdain. Leaving that place to her alone. Who now laments that he is gone. O wretched Sheldra ! then quoth she, Confess what fond disdain Hath wrath caused to fall on thee j Could this long suffering pain. By thee, alas ! so soon forgot, Serv'd to thy love's strange hateful lot. And thus to lie, and for him to cry Whom thou so fondly didst deny. Who once did tridy love, I see. Shall never after hate, As doth too well appear by me In my forsaken state, OLD B.\LLADS. 5f Alas, I meant my scorn to prove. By only trial of his love. Now hapless me, now I do see. He hath forsaken woeful me. Thus all this while in roughest seas. Poor Palmus' boat was tost. But more his mind by his disease. Because he Sheldra lost ; In midst of this he her forswears. He rent his boat, and tore his hairs. Threw hope away, for he, alas ! Could be no more drown'd than he was. E'en as his grief had swallow'd him, So strove the greedy waves About his boat and o'er the brim, Each lofty billow raves ; There is no trust to swelling powers That what they may they still devour, But by the breach the seas might see The boat felt more the rage than he. Thus wreckt and scatter'd was their state. While he in quiet swam. Through liquid paths to Thetis gate. By soft degrees went down 58 OLD BALLADS. Wlaoni when the Nymphs beheld, the girls Soon laid aside their sorting pearls, And up they heav'd him as a guest, Unlook'd for now come to their feast. His case they pitied, but when they Beheld his face right fain. For very love, into the sea, , They puU'd him back again j So were they with his beauty mov'd, For what is fair is soon belov'd, Tlius with Nymphs he lives in the sea. That left his love at Shackley-hay. Then Sheldra fair to Shackley went. To end her woeful days. Because young Palmus cast himself Into the floating seas. At Shackley-hay did fair Sheldra die. And Palmus in the sea doth lie. So as they liv'd, so did they die. And bad farewell to Shackley-hay. OLD BALLADS. 59 XIL ^*A PROPER NEW SONG MADE BY A STUDENT IN CAMBRIDGE." From the " Handefull of Pleasant Delites, 1584." To the tunc of, I -vvish to see those happy daj. 1 WHO was once a l^-ppy wight, And l'"^"h "li iortune's grace : And who did spend my golden prime In ruiuiiug pleasure's race, Am now enfor'it cf late Contrariwise to mourn. Since Fortune joys into annoys My fonner state to turn. Tlie toiling o:c, the horse, the ass, Have tune to take their rest, Vca, all tiungs else which nature wrought, Sometimes have joys in breast : Save only I and stich Who vexed are with pain ; I'ur siiU in tears my life it wears, And ;;o I must remain. ^0 OLD BALLADS. How oft have I in folded arms Enjoyed my delight. How oft have I excuses made. Of her to have a sight ! But now to fortune's will I caused am to bow. And for to reap a hugie heap. Which youthfull years did sow. Wherefore, all ye which do as yet Remain, and bide behind. Whose eyes Dame Beauty's blazing beams. As yet did never bind : Example let me be To you and other more ; Whose heavy heart hath felt the smart Subdued by Cupid's lore. Take heed of gazing over much On damsels fair unknown ; For oftentimes the snake doth lie With roses overgrown : And under fairest flowers Do noisome adders lurk, Of whom take heed, I thee areed. Least that thy cares they work. OLD BALLADS. 61 What though that she doth smile on thee. Perchance she doth not love. And though she smack thee once or twice. She thinks thee so to prove, And when that thou dost think She loveth none but thee. She hath in store perhaps some more. Which so deceived be. Trust not therefore the outward shew. Beware in any case : For good conditions do not lie Where is a pleasant face : But if it be thy chance, A lover true to have. Be sure of this, thou shalt not miss Each thing that thou wilt crave. And when as thou (good reader) shalt Peruse this scroll of mine. Let this a warning be to thee. And say a friend of thine Did write thee this of love. And of a zealous mind. Because that he sufficiently Hath tried the female kind. 62 OLD BALLADS. Here Cambridge now I bid farewell, Adieu to students all ; Adieu unto the colleges, And unto Gunvil-hall : And you my fellows once. Pray unto Jove that I May have relief for this my grief. And speedy remedy : And that he shield you everichone From beauty's luring looks. Whose bait hath brought me to my bain. And caught me from my books : WTierefore for you my prayer shall be. To send you better grace. That modesty with honesty May guide your youthful race. [Finis quod Thomas Richardson, sometime Student in Cambridge.] OLD BALLADS. 63 xm. ADDRESS TO A DISAPPOINTED LOVER, WEARING A WILLOW BRANCH. [From " the Muses Gardin for Delights," by Robert Jones, 1610.] 1am so farre from pittying thee, Tliat wear'st a branch of willow tree, That I do envie thee and all, That oiice were high and got a fall : wiliov',-. willow, willo tree, 1 would ihoii didst belong to mee. - Thy wearing willow doth imply. That thou art happier farre then I, For once thou wert Avhere thou wouldst be, Thougli now thou wear'st the willow tree ; O willcw, willow, sweete willow. Let me once lie upon her pillow. I doe defie both boughe and roote. And all the fiends of hell to boote One hoiH-e of paradised joye. Makes purgatorie seenie a toye : O willow, willow, doe thy worst, 'JTiou canst not make me more accurst. 64 OLD BALLADS. I have spent all my golden time In writing many a loving rime, I have consumed all my youth In vowing of my faith and trueth : O willow, willow, willow tree. Yet can I not beleeved bee. And now alas it is too late. Gray hayres, the messenger of fate. Bid me to set my heart at rest. For beautie loveth yong men best : O willow willow I must die, Xhy servant's happier farre then I. XIV. THE DECEASED MAIDEN LOVER. Being a pleasant new Court-song." [From a black letter copy printed for the assigns of Thomas Symcocke.J As I went forth one summer's day, To view the meadows fresh and gay, A pleasant bower I espied. Standing hard by a river side. And in 't a maiden I heard cry, Alas there's none ere lov'd like I. OLD BALLADS. 65 I couched close to hear her moan. With many a sigh and hea\'y groan, And wisht that I had been the wight, That might have bred her heart's delight, But these were all the words that she Did still repeat. None loves like me. Tlien round the meadows did she walk. Catching each flower by the stalk. Such as within the meadows grew. As dead-man's thumb and hare-bell blue. And as she pluckt them, still cried she, Alas, there's none ere lov'd like me. A bed therein she made to lie. Of fine green things that grew fast by. Of poplar's and of willow leaves. Of sicamore and flaggy sheaves. And as she pluckt them, still cried she, Alas, there's none ere lov'd like me. ITie little larkfoot she'd not pass. Nor yet the flowers of three-leaved grass. With milkmaids honey-suckle's phrase. The crow's-foot, nor the yellow crayse. And as she pluckt them, still cried she, Alas, there's none ere lov'd like me. yoL. I. F 66 OLD BALLADS. The pretty daisy which doth shew Her love to. Phoebus bred her woe. Who joys to see his chearful face, And mourns when he is not in place, Alack, alack, alack, quoth she. There's none that ever loves like me. The flowers of the sweetest scent, She bound them round with knotted bent, And as she laid them still in bands, She wept, she wail'd, and wrung her hands, Alas, alas, alas, quoth she. There's none that ever lov'd like me. False man (quoth she), forgive thee heaven, As I do wish my sins forgiven. In blest Elysium I shall sleep. When thou with perjured souls shall weep, WHio when they liv'd did like to tliee. That lov'd their loves as thou dost me. When sue had fill'd her apron full. Of such sweet flow^ers as she could cull. The green leaves serv'd her for a bed. The flowers pillows for her Iiead, Then down she lay, ne'er more did speak, Alas with love her heart did break. OLD BALLADS. 67 THE FAITHLESS LOVER, (A second part to the preceding.) When I had seen this virgin's end, I sorrowed as became a friend. And wept to see that such a maid. Should be by faithless love betray'd. But woe I fetir will come to thee. That was not in love, as she. The birds did cease their harmony. The harmless lambs did seem to cry, Tlic flowers they ciid hang tlieir liead. The flower of maidens being dead. Whose life by deatli is now set free. And none did- love more dear than she. The bu1)b!ing 1)rooks did seem to moan. And Echo from the vales din groan, Diana's nymphs did ring her knell, And to their queen the same did tell, Wlio vowed l)y her chastity. That none should take revenge but she. When as I saw her corpse was cold, I to iier lover went, and told 6g OLD BALLADS. What chance unto this maid befell. Who said I'm glad she sped so well. D'ye think that I so fond would be To love no maid, but only she. t I was not made for her alone, I take delight to hear them moan. When one is gone I will have more. That man is rich that hath most store, I bondage hate, I must live free. And not be tied to such as she, O, Sir, remember then (quoth I) The power of heaven's all-seeing eye. Who doth remember vows forgot. Though you deny you know it not. Call you to mind this maiden free, The which was wrong'd by none but thee. Quoth he, I have a love more fair. Besides she is her father's heir, A bonny lass doth please my mind. That unto me is wondrous kind. Her will I love, and none but she. Who welcome still shall be to me. False minded man that so would prove Disloyal to thy dearest love. OLD BALLADS. 69 Who at her death for thee did pray. And wisht thee many happy days, I would my love hut would love me, E'en half so well as she lov'd thee. Fair maidens will example take. Young men will curse thee for her sake, They'll stop their ears unto our plaints. And call us devils seeming saints. They'll say to-day that we are kind. To-morrow in another mind. 70 DLB BALLADS. XV. THE TRUE MAYDE OF THE SOUTH, OR, A rare example of a maide dwelling at Rie In Sussex, who for the love of a young man of Lester-shire, went bej^ond sea in the habit of a page, and after, to their hearts content were both marryed at Magrum in Germany, and now dwelling at Rye aforesaid/' To the tune of " Come, come my sweet and bonny one." From a black letter copy printed for F. Coules. VV I T H I N the haven town of Rye, That stands in Sussex fair, Tliere dwelt a maid whose constancy Transcendeth all compare : This turtle dove Did dearly love A youth, who did appear In mind and face. To be the grace And pride of Leycestershire. OLD BALLADS. 71 This young man with a noble peer, Wlio Hk't his service well, Went from his native Leicestershire, In Sussex for to dwell : Where living nigh The town of Rye, Tliis pretty maid did hear Of his good parents. Who by deserts. Were pride of Leycestershire, For coming once into that town. It was at first his chance. To meet with her whose brave renown All Sussex did advance : And she likewise In his fair eyes, When once she came him near, Did plainly see That none but he Was pride of Leycestershire. Then little Cupid, God of Love, Began to play his part. And on the sudden from above, He shot his golden dart, 72 OLD BALLADS. Whldi did constrain These lovers twain To prize each other dear, Sweet Margery Lov'd Anthony, The pride of Leycestershire. Thus with concordant sympathy These lovers were combin'd. One lov'd the other heartily. Yet nehher told their mind : She long'd to speak Her mind to break. Unto her lover dear. She durst not tell. Though she lov'd well, Tlie pride of Leycestershire. Within short time it came to pass To sea the young man went, And left this young and pretty lass In woe and discontent : Who wept full sore And griev'd therefore, When truly she did hear, That her sweet-heart From her must part. The pride of Leycestershire, OLD BALLADS. 73 SECOND PART. It was his hap that time to go To travel with his lord, Which to his heart did breed much woe. Yet could he not afford A remedy To 's misery, Eat needs he must leave here His Madge behind. Who gricv'd in mind For the pride of Leycestershire. She being then bereaved clean Of hope, yet did invent By her rare policy a mean To work her heart's content : In garments strange She straight did change Herself, rejecting fear, T*b go with him Whom she did deem The pride of Leycestershire. And in the habit of a page She did entreat his lord, That being a boy of tender age He would tlii grace afford. 74 OLD BALLADS. That he might go Service to shew To him both far and near. Who little thought. What love she ought. To the pride of Leycestershire. This lord did take her, as she seem'd To be a pretty lad. And for his page he her esteem'd. Which made her heart full glad : To sea went she. And so did he, Whom she esteem'd so dear, Who for her sake. Great moan did make. And shed fall ni..ny a tear. Thus he, poor lad, lay with his love. Full many a tedious night. Yet neither of them both did prove A lover's true delight : She heard him weep. When he should sleep, And shed forth many a tear For Margery, Who then lay by The pride of Leycestershu'e. OLD BALLADS. 75 Long time these lovers travell'd. And were bed-feliovvs still. Yet she did keep her maiden-head Untill she had her will. She heard his moan. Yet still unknown, She kept herself for fear. Yet at the last She cleaved full i7>,>t To the pride of Leycestershire. For having travelled six weeks, Unknovvn unto her lover, Witli rosy blushes h\ lier cl-eeks. Her mind she did discover : See hero, quoth she. One, that for tiice Hath left her parents ti^ar : Poor JVIargory, The maid of Rye, I am, behold me here. When Anthony did hear this word. His heart with joy did leap. He went unto his noble lord. To whom he did report. 76 OLD BALLADS. . This wonderful thing Which straight did bring Amazement to him there. Of such a page In any age, Quoth he, I did not hear. At Magrum then, in Germany, Their lord did see them married. From whence unto the town of Rye, In England were they carried. Where now they dwell. Beloved well Of neighbours far and near. Sweet Margery Loves Anthony, The pride of Leycestershire. You maids and young men warning take By these two lovers kind. Whoever you your choice do make. To them be true in mind : For perfect love Comes from above, As may by this appear, Wliich came to pass By Sussex lass And the lad of Leycestershire. OLD BALLADS. 77 XVI. THE TWO FAITHFUL FRIENDS, * The pleasant History of Alexander and J-odwicke, who were so like one another, that none could know thera asunder; wherein is declared how Lodwicke married the Princesse of Hungaria, in Alexander's name, and how each night he layd a naked sword betweene him and the Princesse, because he would not wrong his friend." To the tune of Flying Fame. [From the Pepys Collection.] 1 H E Emperor of Germany A turney did ploclaim. When many princes of renown. Resorted to the same ; Amongst the rest Prince Lodwicke, And Guido, prince of Spain, Prince Alexander likewise came. Great honors to obtain. The Emperor's promise was to give To him that won the day. His only daughter as his bride. The story thus doth stay. rs OLD BALLADS. The champions entert d the field With carriage stout and bold, Lodowicke of France most manfully, Whose armour shin'd like gold. Prince Alexander was the next That entered in the field. And like a champion stout and bold. He did advance his shield ; The haughty Spaniard with the rest His valor there did shew. But Alexander by his strength. Gave him the overthrow. Tlie valiant Prince of Hungary, Brave Alexander he, From all the champions in the field He won the victory. Thus he by valor did obtain The princess from them all. But yet in Hungary she liv'd. That had his heart in thrall. The Emperor his promise kept, And to the conqueror gave His only daughter for his wife, AVhom Lodwick most did crave. OLD BALL.\DS. 79 For love had so inflam'd his thoughts. And set his heart on fire, That for to gain the princess' love, It was his chief desire. This Alexander was so like To Lodvvick prince of France, That lie so lately had overthrown. By fate and fortime's chance. None could distinguish them aright. Or know one from the other, In shape, stature, and countenance. As if they had been brothers ', Which bred such love betwixt them, As could not be divorc'd. Yet fortime's frown, and fickle chance. Asunder them enforst ; Prince Alexander gave his friend The Emperor's daughter free. Which he before had won in field. By manly chivalry. The envious Spaniard being vext. And tortured in his mind. He and the devil devised how To cross these lovers kind. 80 OLD BALLADS. He to the Emperor accus'd The Princess of base lust. And vow'd vnth sword for to maintain These accusations just. SECOND PART. Prince Lodwick being thus accus'd By Guido prince of Spain, Hi^ friend, prince Alexander then This combat did maintain : And sent his friend prince Lodwick To Hungary with speed, There in his room for to possess ITie high imperial weed. Friend Lodwick, Alexander said. Go thou to Hungary, Against the Spaniard I'll maintain Thy cause most manfully. The King I understand is dead. Go then, and in my place Possess the crown and dignity, And all the royal grace. That they will there bestow on thee. Let it not be denied ; His daughter likewise in my name^ Make her thv wedded bride. OLD B.ILLADS. 81 But by our" friendship I entreat Tliis kindness at thy hands, That thou by no means violate. True constancy's chaste bands. Ahhough thou wed her as thy wife. Yet know 'tis in my name. Let her remain a virgin pure, I do request the same. Because my heart she has in hold. And love her as my life, Away, begone, thou know'st my mind. Leave me to end this strife. Prince ^dwick now is on his way. And Alexander he By fortune's aid the Spaniard slew. And set the Princess free, Lodwicke in Alexander's name, Receiv'd in Hungary The crown, and likewise in the church His wife received he. But every night between them twain. His naked sword he'd lay, Such constant friendship at that time His heart and thoughts did sway, VOL. I. G 82 OLD BALLADS. Prince Alexander came himself. Then Lodwicke took his leave. Of Alexander, his dear friend. Which did him not deceive. The Queen in heart was vexed sore, That she so long should lie, With him that was her husband dear. And not love's pastimes try. Unto a lord she made her moan, And they did both agree To be rcveng'd upon the king, And poison'd he should be. The poison took not full effect. But brake forth on his face, Tliat he a leper did appear. And then in great disgrace They kickt and spurn'd him from the court, Thus in most shameful manner. He was compel'd to beg for food. That lately liv'd in honor. To Lodwick's court he did repair. Thus like a leper poor. And for relief he did entreat At his friend Lodwick's door. OLD BALLADS. 83 A ring he sent unto his friend. Who well the same did know. And came in love to greet his friend. Willing to ease his woe. Quoth Alexander unto him. Kind friend there is no way To ease mj'' pain unless that thou Thy loving babes do slay. What is 't but I'll do for thee. Quoth LodM'icke by and by. To ease my friend of this great pain, My pretty babes shall die. For which he to the cradle goes Where they were fast asleep. And with a knife he lets them blood. His promise for to keep : And with their bloods he washt the sores. From Alexander's face. Thus he like to a loyal friend The path of love did trace. Thus Alexander being cleared. Of all his torturing pain, Lodwick unto his Queen made known. How he his babes had slain. 84 OLD BALLADS. This news did grieve her at the heart. But straight she runs to see. Whether it was so or no. It prov'd the contrary. For both the babes she found alive. As God would have it so. Which did revive her drooping heart. Now joys exceed all woe. King Alexander being well. To Hungary he goes, And Lodwick, his beloved friend. To overthrow his foes. The victory they soon obtain'd. And took the Lord and Queen, And doom'd them to such cruel deaths, As yet had not been seen, King Alexander again was crown'd By help of his good friend. Their griefs to joys converted M-ere, Their pleasures did transcend. OLD BALLADS. 85 xvn. LONDON LASSES LAMENTATION ; OR, Her fear she should never be married." To the tune of I marry, and thank ye too. Alas! I am in a rage. And bitterly weep and cry. Because I'm nineteen years of age. Yet cannot be married, not I. No gallant regards my moan. For love I am like to die. It grieves my heart to lie alone. Yet cannot be married, not I. Mine eyes do like fountains flow. As I on my pillow lie. There's none know what I undergo, Yc. cannot be married, not I. There's Margery, Sue and Kate Have husbands with them to He, Yet none regard my wretched fate. Yet cannot be married, not I. 86 OLD BALLADS. Young men I must tell you true, I scorn to report a lie : I am both fair and handsome too. Yet cannot be married, not L My Father is grey and old. And surely ere long will die. And though he '11 leave me all his gold Yet cannot be married, not L Oh this is my grief and care ! The wliich I cannot pass by. To think I am my father's heir ; Yet cannot be married, not L I am in distraction hurl'd. And do for a husband cry. It's more to me than all the world Yet cannot be married, not L I am a poor love-sick girl, And ready with grief to die, I proffer'd jewels and gold, Yet cannot be married, not L in silks I am still array'd, And ev'ry new fasliion buy, Because I'm loth to die a maid. Yet cannot be married, not I. OLD BALLADS. 87 I paint and I powder still. To tempt all that I come nigh. But yet let me do what I will. Yet cannot be married, not L There's n'er a lass in town, For beauty can me come nigh. But fortune she has sent a frown, I cannot be married, not L The gold which I have in store, I value no more than clay, I'd give all had I ten times more. So I might be married to day. 88 OLD B.\LLADS. XVIII. THE LOVELY NORTHERN LASS, Who in this ditty here complaining shews What harm she got milking her daddy's ewes." To a pleasant Scotch tune called The Broom of Cowdon Knowes. I 1 HROUGH Liddersdale as lately I went, I musing on did pass^ I heard a maid was discontent. She sigh'd and said, alas ! All maids that ever deceived were. Bear a part of these my woes. For once I was a bonny lass When I milkt my daddy's ewes. With O the broom, the bormy broom. The broom of Cowdon Knowes, Fain would I be in the north country. To milk my daddy's jev/es. My love into the fields did come When my daddy was at liome, vSugar'd words he gave me there, ihais'd me for such a one, OLD BALLADS. 89 His honey breath and lips so oft. And his alluring eye, And tempting tongue hath woo'd me oft. Now forces me to cry. All maids, &c. He joy'd me with his pretty chat, *{j^o well discourse could he. Talking of this thing and of that. Which greatly liked me, I was so greatly taken with his speech, And with his comely making. He used all the words could be To enchant me with his speaking. All maids, &c. In Dauby forest I was born. My beauty did excell. My parents dearly loved me Till my belly began to swell : I might have been a prince's peer. When I came over the Knoes, Till the shepJierd's boy beguiled me. Milking m.y daddy's ewes. All maids, &c. When once I felt my belly swell. No longer might I abide, ^.ly mother put me out of doers, And bang'd me back and side : 90 OLD BALLADS. Then did I range the world so wide. Wandering about the Knoes, Cursing the boy that helped me To fold my daddy's ewes. All maids, &c. Who would have thought a boy so young. Would have us'd a maiden so. As to allure her with his tongue. And then from her to go. WTiich hath, alas, procured my woe. To credit his fair shews, Which now too late repent I do The milking of the ewes. All maids, &c. I often since have wisht that I Had never seen his face, needed not thus mournfully Have sigh'd, and said alas ; I might have matched with the best. As all the countiy knows, Had I escap'd the shepherd boy Helpt me to fold my ewes. All maids, &c. OLD BALLADS. 91 SECOND PART. All maidens fair then have a care. When you a milking go. Trust not to young men's tempting tongues. That will deceive you so ; Them you shall find to be unkind. And glory in your woes ; For the shepherd's hoy beguiled me. Folding my daddy's ewes. All maids, &c. If you your virgin honors keep. Esteeming of them dear. You need not then to waU ana weep, Or your parents anger fear : As I have said of them beware. Would glory in your v/ocs, You then may sing with merry cheer. Milking your daddy's ewes. All maid's, &c. A young man hearing her complaint, Did pity this her case, Saying to her, sweet beauteous saint, I grieve so fair a face 92 OLD BALL.\DS. Should sorrow so, then sweeting know To ease thee of thy woes, ril go with thee to the north country. To milk thy daddy's ewes. All maids, &c. ' Leander like I will remain. Still constant to thee ever. As Pyramus or Troilus Till death our lives shall sever : Let me be hated evermore Of all men that me know, If false to thee, sweetlieart, I be, MlU.ing thy daddy's ewes. All maids, &c. Then modestly she did reply. Might I so happy be. Of you to find a husband kind. And for to marry me ; Then to you I would, during life, Continue constant still. And be a true obedient wife. Observing of your will. With O the broom, the bonny broom. The broom of Covvden Knowes, Fain would I be in the north country. Milking my daddy's ewes. OLD BALLADS. 93 Thus with a gentle soft embrace, He took her in his arms. And witli a kiss he smiling said, I'll shield thee from all harms, And instantly will marry thee. To ease thee of thy woes. And go with thee to the north country, To milk thy daddy's ewes. With O the broom, the bonny broom, The broom of Cowden Knowes, Fain would I be in my own country. Milking my daddy's ewes. XIX. '^ THE FICKLE NORTHERN LASS, OR, The Wronged Shepherd's Resolution." From a black letter copy printed by F. Coles, Vera, Wright, and Clarke. 1 HERE was a lass in the north country. And she had lovers two or tliree ; But she unkindly dealt by one Who had to her great favour shown, 94 OLD BALLADS. Which made him thus for to complain, I ne'er will see my love again, For since that she hath changed her mind, I'll trust no more to women-kind. I gave her ribbons for to wear. And now and then a pair of gloves. But she unkindly dealt by me. And gave them to her other loves, But now in the country will I hie. And for to seek a new victory. ' , For since that she hath changed her mind, ril trust no more to women-kind. Sometimes she vow'd she did me love. And I was apt for to believe. But all her flattering words did prove No more than baits for to deceive. As I do find it to my pain, , Therefore I'll ne'er believe^, again, For since that she hath changed her mind, I'll trust no more to women-kind. ' I must confess that in my eye. She was a pearl I valued high. But what is beauty without grace. Or one where virtue hath no place, Her false alluring smiles no more, Shall draw my senses out of door. OLD BALLADS. 95 For since that she hath changed her mind, I'll trust no more to women-kind. I gave her heart, I gave her hand^ And all I had at her command, She could not ask what she would have. But presently the same I gave. Yet all my labours prov'd in vain. For she would not requite my pain. Then since that she hath changed her mind, I'll trust no more to women-kind. Wlien I did think her most secure. Another did her mind allure, And by some crafty wiles she went. To undermine my sweet content. So that I now repent the day, That ere I cast my love away. For since that she hath changed her mind, I'll trust no more to women-kind. But now my resolution 's such. To suffer for my lovii;g much, All women's company I'll shun. For fear I further be undone, And go where none hath power to know, The subject of my grief and Wi-c. For since that she hath cliangcd her mind, I'll trust no more to women-kind. 98 OLD BALLADS. And in some dark and dismal place. There will I build myself a cave. And in some low and barren ground, Where npne but shepherds can be found, I'll find a place for to bewail. My sorrows which do me assail. For since that she hath changed her mind, I'll trust no more to women-kind. Some shady desart I will choose. Which other mortals all refuse. And on the trees her name I'll carve. That doth from me so ill desen^e. That future ages all may know. What love to her I oncp did owe. For since that she hath changed her mind, I'll trust no more to women-kind. The purling streams with me shall mourn. And leaves relenting all shall turn, The wood nymphs who my plaints do hear. Shall now and then afford a tear, All blaming her for cruelty. That brought me to this misery. For since that she hath changed her mind, I'll trust no more to women-kind. And when my time is drawing nigh, I will prepare myself to die. OLD BALLADS. 97 Tlie robin redbreasts kind will be, . Perhaps with leaves to cover me. Then to the world I'll bid adieu. And unto her that prov'd untrue. For since that she hath chang'd her mind. Young men beware of women-kind. XX. ' THE STOUT CRIPPLE OF CORNWALL, VVlierein is shewed his dissolute life and deserved death." Of a stout cripple that kept the high-way. And begg'd for his living all time of the day, A story I'll tell yo\i that pleasant shall be. The Cripple of Cornwall surnamed was he. He crept on his hands and his knees up and down, In a torn jacket and a ragged torn gown. For he had never a leg to the knee. The Cripple of Cornwall surnamed was he. VOL, 1. H 98 OLD BALLADS. He was of a stomach courageous and stout. For he had no cause to complain of the gout j To go upon stilts most cunning was he, ~ With a staif on his neck most gallant to see. Yea, no good fellowship would he forsake. Were it in secret a horse for to take. His stool he kept close in an old hollow tree, That stood from the city a mile two or three. Tlius all the day long he begg'd for relief. And all the night long he play'd the false thief. For seven years together this custom kept he. And no man knew him such a person to be. There were few graziers went on the way. But unto the cripple for passage did pay. And every brave merchant that he did descry. He emptied their purses ere they did pass by. The noble Lord Courtney, both gallant and bold. Rode forth with great plenty of silver and gold, At Exeter tliere a purchase to pay, But tliat the false Cripple the journey did stay. For Avhy, the false Cripple lieard tidings of late. As he sat for alms at the nobleman's gate. This is, quoth the Cripple, a booty for me. And I'll follow it closely, as closely may be. OLD B.\LLADS. 99 Then to his companions the matter he mov'd, * Which their false actions before had prov'd. They make themselves ready and deeply they swear, The money's their own before they come there. Upon his two stilts the Cripple did mount. To have the best sliave it was his full account, All cloathed in canvas down to the ground. He took up liis place his mates with him round. Then came the Lord Courtney with half a score men. Yet little suspecting these thieves in their den, And they perceiving them come to their hand, In a dark evening bid ihcm to stand. Deliver thy purse, quoth the Cripple, with speed. We be good fellows and therefore have need. Not so, quoth Lord Courtney, but this I'll tell ye. Win it and wear it, else get none of me. With that the Lord Courtney stood in his defence, And so did his servants, but ere they went Jience, Two of the true men were slain in this fight. And four of the thieves were put to the flight. And while for their safeguard they run thus away, The jolly bold Cripple did hold them in play. And with his pike-staff he wounded them so, As they were unable to run or to go. 100 OLD BALLADS. With fighting the Lord Courtney was out of breath. And most of his servants were wounded to death, Then came other horsemen riding so fast. The Cripple was forced to fly at the last. And over a river that nui there beside. Which was very deep, and eighteen foot wide. With his long staff and his stilts leaped he. And shifted himself in an old hollow tree. Then throughout the city was hue and cry made. To have these thieves apprehended and staid. The Cripple he creeps on his hands and his knees. And in the high- way great passing he sees. And as they came riding he begging doth say, O give me one penny, good masters, I pray. And thus unto Exeter creeps he along, No man suspecting that he had done wrong. Anon the Lord Courtney he spies in the street. He comes unto him and kisses his feet, God save your honor and keep you from ill, And from the hands of your enemies still. Amen, quoth Lord Courtney, and therewith threw down Unto the poor Cripple an English crown, Away went the Cripple, and thus he did think. Five hundred pounds more will make me to drink. OLD BALLADS. 101 In vain that hue and cry It was made. They found none of them though the country was laid. But this grieved the Cripple night and day. That he so unluckily mist of his play. Nine hundred pound this Cripple had got. By begging and thieving, so good was his lot, A thousand pound he would make it, he said. And then he would give over his trade. But as he striv'd his mind to fulfill, In following his actions so lewd and so ill. At last he was taken the law to suffice. Condemned and hanged at Exeter 'size. W'Tiich made all men amazed to see. That such an impudent cripple as he. Should venture himself such actions as they. To rob in such sort upon the high-way. 102 OLD B.\LLADS. XXL " LAMENTATION OF JOHN MUSGRAVE, Wlio was executed at Kendal, for robbing the King's Receiver^ and taking away from him great store of treasure." . - 1 o lodge it was my chance of late, At Kendal in the 'sizes week. Where I saw many a gallant state Was walking up and down the street. Down Plumpton Park as I did pass, I heard a bird sing in a glen : 'Ihe chiefest of her song it was. Farewell the flower of serving-men. Sometimes I heard the music sweet, Which was delightful unto me ; At lengtli I heard one wail and weep, A gallant youth condemned to die. 9 A gentleman of courage bold, His like I never saw before ; But when as I did him behold, , My grief it grew still more and more. OLD BALL.\DS. 103 Of watery eyes there was great store. For all did weep that did him see, He made the heart of many sore. And I lamented for company. To God above (quoth he) I call. That sent his son to suffer death, For to receive my sinful soul. As soon as I shall lose my breath. O God I have deserved death, For deeds that I have done to thee, Yet never liv'd I like a thief. Till I met with ill company. For I may curse the dismal hour. First time that I did give consent, -^ - For to rob the King's Receiver, And to take away his rent. You gallants all be warned by me. Learn cards and dice for to refrain. Fly whores, eschew ill company. For these three things will breed you pain. All earthly treasures are but vain. And worldly wealth is vanity : Search nothing else but heaven to gajn. Remember all that we must die. 104 OLD BALLADS. Farewell good fellows, less and more, Be not dismay'd at this my fall : I never did offend before, John Musgrave all men did me call. SECOND PART. The bait beguiles the bonny fish. Some care not what they swear or say j The lamb becomes the fox's dish. When as the old sheep runs away : Down Plumpton Park as I did pass, I heard a bird sing in a glen. The chiefest of her song it was, Farewell the flower of serving-men. The fowlers that the plovers get, Take glistering glass their net to set ; The ferret, when the mouth is cop't. Doth drive the coney to the net. The pike devours the salmon free, Which is a better fish than himself : Some care not how whose children cry So that themselves may keep their ptlf. OLD BALLADS. 105 Farewell good people less and more, Both great and small that did me ken. Farewell rich, and farewell poor. And farewell all good serving men. Now by my death I wish all know. That this same lesson you may teach, Of what degree of high or low, Climb not, I say, above your reach. Good gentlemen, I you entreat. That have more sons than you have land. In idleness do not them keep. Teach them to labour with their liands. For idleness is the root of evil. And this sin never goes alone ; But theft and robbery follows after. As by myself is plainly shewn. For youth and age will not understand That friends in want they be but cold. If they spend their portions and lack land. They may go beg when they are old. FareVf'ell, farewell, my brethren dear. Sweet sisters make no dole for me, My death's at hand, I do not fear, We are all mortal, and born to die. lOS OLD BALLADS. I know that Christ did die for me. No earthly pleasures would I have, I care not for the world a fly. But mercy^ Lord, of thee I crave. Come, man of death, and do me right. My glass is run, I cannot stay : With Christ I hope to lodge this night. And all good people for me pray. The man of death his part did play, Which made the tears blind many an eye He is with Christ, as I dare say. The Lord grant us that so we may. OLD BALLADS. 107 XXIL JOCKIE IS GROWNE A GENTLEMAN." This ^tire was most probably levelled against the nume- rous train of Scotch adventurers who wisely emigrated to B^ngland in the time of James the First, in the full ex- pectation of being distinguished by the particular favour and patronage of their native sovereign. The realization of these hopes, and perhaps some disappointment of his own, excited the gall of the unknown Satirist, and pro- duced this effusion. Its extreme rarity cannot be better exemplified than by simply stating, that no other copy of it was ever seen by Mr. Chalmers, whose knowledge respecting every subject of Scottish history and Utera- ture is proverbial: and the late Mr. Ritsoii absolutely questioned it's existence till he was convinced of his error by the production of the original. The ensuing tran- script is made from a verycuriousnianuscri.pt in the pos- session of the Rev. H. J. Todd, who has given an account of the other parts of the volume in his preliminary ob- servations on the Sonnets of Milton. Well met, Jockie, whether* away? Shall \\'e two have a worde or tway ? Thow was so lousie the other day. How the devill comes thow so gay ? Ha ha ha, by sweet St. An, Jockie is growne a gentleman. * ]\IS. fVhether ii the old spellin^r fur whithcT, a in tke Sth stanza also. 108 OLD BALLADS. T!iy shoes that thow wor'st when thow wenst to plow. Were made of the hyde of a Scottish cow, They are turnd into Spanish leather now, Bedeckt with roses I know not how. Ha ha ha, by sweet St. An, Jockie is growne a gentleman. Thy stockings that were of a northerne blew. That cost not past 1 2d when they were new. Are turnd into a silken hew. Most gloriously to all men's vew. Ha ha ha, by sweet St. An, Jockie is growne a gentleman. Thy belt that was made of a white leather thonge, Which thow and thy father ware so longe. Are turnd to hangers of velvet stronge. With golde and pearle embroydred amonge. Ha ha ha, by sweet St. An, Jockie is growne a gentleman. Thy garters that were of the Spanish say, Which from the taylor thow stoll'st away, Are now quite turnd to silk, they say, With great broade laces fayre and gay. Ha ha ha, by sweet St. An, Jockie is growne a gentleman. OLD BAU^ADS. 109 Thy doublet and breech that were so playne. On which a louse could scarse remayne. Are turnd to sattin, god a mercie brayne. That thow by begging could'st this obtayne. Ha ha ha, by sweet St. An, Jockie is growne a gentleman. Thy cloake which was made of a home-spun thread. Which thow wast wonte to flange on thy bed. Is turnd into a skarlet red. With golden laces aboute thee spread. Ha ha ha, by sweet St. An, Jockie is growne a gentleman. Thy bonnet of blew which thow wor'st hether. To keep thy skonce from wind and wether, Is throwne away the devill knowes whether. And turnd to a bever hat and feather. Ha ha ha, by sweet St. An, Jockie is growne a gentleman. Westminster hall was covered with lead. And so was St. John many a day ; The Scotchmen have begd it to buy them bread ; The devill take all such Jockies away ! Ha ha ha, by sweet St. An, Jockie is growne a gentleman. no OLD BALLADS. XXIIL "THE COMPLAINT OF THE SHEPHEARD HARPALUS." [Black letter; for the assigns of Symcocke.] r o o R Harpalus opprest with love Sat by a chrystal brook : Thinking his sorrows to remove, Oftimes therein to look. And hearing how on pebble stones. The murmuring river ran, As if it had bewail'd his groans. Unto it thus began. Fair stream, quoth he, that pities me. And hears my matchless moan. If thou be going to the sea. As I do now suppone. Attend my plaints past all relief. Which dolefully I breath. Acquaint the sea nymphs with the grief Wliich still procures my death. OLD BALLADS. . Ill ^^lio sitting in the cliffy rocks May in their songs express. While as they comb their golden locks. Poor Harpalus' distress; And so perhaps some passenger That passeth by the way. May stay, and listen for to hear. Them sing this doleful lay. Poor Harpalus a shepherd swain More rich in youth than store, Lov'd fair Phileua, hapless man, Philena oh therefore ! Who still, remorseless-hearted maid. Took pleasure in his pain : And his good will, poor soul, repaid. With undeserv'd disdain. Ne'er shepherd lov'd a shepherdess More faithfully than he, Ne'er shepherd yet beloved less Of shepherdess could be. How oft did he with dying looks. To her his woes Impart, How oft his sighs did testify The dolour of his heart. 112 OLD BALLADS. How oft from vallies to the hills Did he his grief rehearse. How oft re-echoed they his ills Aback again alas ! How oft on barks of stately pines. Of beech, of holly green. Did he engrave in mournful lines The grief he did sustain. Yet all his plaints could have no place To change Philena's mind. The more his sorrows did encrease The more she prov'd unkind. The thought thereof with wearied care Poor Harpalus did move. That, overcome with high despair. He lost both life and love. OLD BALLADS. 113 XXIV. SHEPHERD'S DELIGHT. To the tune of Frog's Galliard. [Black letter, for the Assigns of Symcocke.] vJn yonder hill there springs a flower, Fair befall the dainty sweet, And by that flower there stands a bower Where all the heavenly Muses meet. And in that bower there stands a chair. Fringed all about with gold, And therein sits the fairest fair That ever did mine eyes behold. It was Phillida fair and bright, And the shepherd's only joy. She whom Venus most did spite. And the blinded little boy. It v.as she the wise, the rich, Whom all the world did joy to see^, It was, Ipsa quffi, the which. There was none but only she. VOL. I. I 114 OLD BALLADS. Tliou art the shepherd's queen, Pity me, tliy woful swain, For by thy virtue have been seen Dead men restored to life again ; Look on me now with thy fair eyes One smiling look and I am gone. Look on me for I am he. Thy poor afflicted Cory don. , Dead I am to all delights, Except thy mercy quicken me. Grant, oh queen, or else I die, A salve for this my malady. The while we sing with cheerful noise, Wood nymphs and satyrs all may play. With silver sounding music's voice. Rejoicing at this happy day. OLD BALLADS. 115 XXV. THE NORTHERN LASSES LAMENTATION, OR The Unhappy Maid's Misfortune." " Since she did from her friends depart, No earthly thing can cheer her heart, But still she doth her case lament, Being always filled with discontent, Resolving to do nought but mourn, Till to the north she doth return." To the tune, I would I were in my own country. A NORTH country lass Up to London did pass, Ahhough with her nature it did not agree. Which made her repent. And so often lament. Still wishing again in the North for to be, O the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree, Do flourish at home in my own country. 116 OLD BALLADS. Fain would I be, In the north country, Where the lads and the lasses are making of hay, There should I see What is pleasant to me, A mischief light on them entic'd me away ! O the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree Do flourish most bravely in om- country. Since that I came forth Of the pleasant North, There's nothing delightful I see doth abound. They never can be Half so merry as we. When we are a dancing of Scllinger's round. the oak, tlie ash, and the bonny ivy tree Do flourish at home in our own countrj'. 1 like not the court. Nor the city resort. Since there is no fancy for such mxaids as mc, Their pomp and their pride I can never abide ; Because with my humour it doth not agree. O the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree. Do flourish at home in my own covmtry. old;^ballads. 117 How oft have I been On the Westmorland green, Where the young men and maidens resort for to play, Where we with delight From morning till night. Could feast it and frolick on each holyday. O the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree, Do flourish most bravely in our country. A milking to go. All the maids on a row. It was a fine sight and pleasant to see. But here in the city. They are void of pity. There is no enjoyment of liberty. O the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree, They flourish most bravely in our country. When I had the heart From my friends to depart, I thought I should be a lady at last : But now do I find. That it troubles my mind, Because that my joys and pleasures are past. O the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree, Tliey flourish at home in my own country. 118 OLD BALLADS. The ewes and the lambs With the kids and their dams, To see in the country how finely they play, The bells they do ring, And the birds they do sing, And the fields and the gardens so pleasant and gay. O the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree. They flourish most bravely in our coimtry. At wakes and at fairs Being void of all cares. We there with our lovers did use for to dance. Then hard hap had I, My ill fortune to try. And so up to London my steps to advance. the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree. They flourish most bravely in our country. Yet still I perceive 1 a husband might have. If I to the city, my mind could but frame. But I'll have a lad That is north country bred. Or else I'll not marry in the mind that I am. O the oak, the ash, and the bonny ivy tree. They flourish most bravely in our country. OLD BALLADS. 119 A maiden I am^ And a maid I'll remain, Untill my own country again I do see, For here in this place I shall n'er see the face Of him, that's allotted my love for to be. O tlie oak, the ash, and tlie bonny ivy tree, They flourish at home in my own country. Then farewell my daddy. And farewell ray mammy, Untill I do see you I nothing but mourn, Remembring my brotliers, ]My sisters and others. In less than a year I hope to return; Then the oak, and tlie ash, and the bonny ivy tree, I shall see them at home in my own country. XXVI. A LOVER'S PRAISE OF HIS LADY. [From the " Handefuli of Pleasant Deliles," 1584.] " To Calcii o Custurc mc: sung at cverie lines end."' V> a K N as I \ lew your comely gracc^ Your golden hair*, yor.r angel face. 120 OLD BALLADS. Your azured veins much like the skies. Your silver teeth, your christal eyes. Your coral lips, your crimson cheek, That Gods and men both love and leek. Your pretty mouth with divers gifts. Which driveth wise men to their shifts. So brave, so fine, so trim, so young. With heavenly wit, and pleasant tongue, That Pallas though she she did excell. Could frame, ne tell a tale so well. Your voice so sweet, your neck so white. Your body fine, and small in sight : Your fingers long so nimble be. To utter forth such harmony. As all the Muses for a space. To sit and hear, do give you place. Your pretty foot vvith all the rest That may be seen, or may be guest ; Doth bear such shape, that beauty may Give place to thee, and go her way ; And Paris now must change his doom. For Venus, lo, must give thee room. Whose gleams doth heat my heart as fier. Although I burn, yet would I nighcr, OLD BALLADS. 121 Within myself tlien can I say, The night is gone, behold the day : Behold the star so clear and bright. As dims the sight of Phoebus light. Whose fame by pen for to discrive. Doth pass eacli wight that is alive : Then how dare I with boldned face Presume to crave, or wish your grace? And thus amazed as I stand. Not feeling sense, nor mooving hand. My soul witli silence-mooving sense. Doth wish of God with reverence. Long life and virtue you possess To match those gifts of worthiness ; And love and pity may be spied To be your chief and only guide. 122 OLD BALLADS. XXVIL A PROPER SONG, INTITULED,. Fain wold I have a pretle thing To give unto my ladie." To the tune of Lusty Gallant. [From Robinson's " HandefuU of Pleasant Delites," 1584.] Tain would I have a pretty thing To give unto my lady, I name no thing, nor I mean no thing. But as pretty a thing as may be. Twenty journeys would I make, And tv/enty ways would hie me. To make adventure for her sake To set some matter by me. Some do long for pretty knacks, And some for strange devices, God send me that my lady lacks, I care not wliat the price is. OLD BALLADS. 123 Some go here, and some go there AVhere gazes be not gcason^* And I go gaping every where. But still come out of season. I walk the town, and tread the street^ In every corner seeking The pretty thing I cannot meet. That's for my lady's liking. The mercers pull me going by, The silk wives say What lack ye ? The thing you have not, then say I, Ye foolish fools go pack ye. It is not all the silk in Cheap, Nor all the golden treasure, Nor twenty bushels on a heap. Can do my lady pleasure. The gravers of the golden shows. With jewels do beset me, The semstress' in the shops that sew, They nothing do but let me. * Where shows or public exhibitions are not uncom- mon. 124 OLD BALLADS. But were it in the wit of man. By any means to make it, I could for money buy it then. And say, Fair lady, take it. lady, what a luck is this. That my good willing misseth To find what pretty thing it is That my good lady wisheth. Thus fain would I have had this pretty thing To give unto my lady : 1 said no harm, nor I meant no hann. But as pretty a thing as may be. OLD BiVLLADS. 125 XXVIII. BALLAD FROM ^HE ROJIANCE CALLED * THE FAMOUS HISTORY OF FR AGOSA AND HIS THREE SONS." 1663. "Then Albinalhlnk no more ofDorosa's beauty or valiancy; yea, if thou canst not quench the coales of desire with forgetfuhiess, yet rake theui up in the ashes of modesty; .bear a painted sheath with a leaden dagger, and a merry countenance with a melancholy mind; and of all thj father's knights esteem Dorosa tiie least, yea, and so much the less as he is the latest. With this she taking her lute that lay at her bed's head warbled forth this ditty :" All this night By his might, Love hath miide my heart his cell ; Venus joy. Wanton boy. From mine eyes did rest expel. Wanton .sj)orts. Wily porlr^. 126 OLD BALLADS. Slippery slights, and foolish love. His intent, To invent. How to catch the simple dove. Blinded boy, Venus joy, ^ All thy god-head is a toy. Power small To enthrall. Or to work my heart's annoy. V I liave right Armour bright, Compound of rare chastity ; This I say Night and day. Shall withstand thy deity. Then pack hence. Hie thee hence, Or with nettles I'll thee whip, For thy sin Thou shalt win Scourges that will make thee skip. OLD BALLADS. 127 XXIX. " A pleasant ditty of a mayden's vow, That faine would marry and yet knew not how." [From a black letter copy by H. G. id est, Henry Gosson.] 1 HERE was a lusty youthfid lad That lov'd a country lass. And many a sweet discourse they had As they alone did pass. This young man he was apt to woo. And well himself could cany, The iiiaid was kind, of yielding mind. But yet she would not marry. This young's man's heart was set on fire, And still he did invent. How he might compass his desire, And frustrate her intent. For still this maid said as before. From all tliy hopes Fll liar thee, Tlierefore begone, let me alone, In sooth i uill )iot inarrv. 128 OLD BALLADS. This answer much dismayed him. And troubled so his mind. That he thereat lookt pale and grim. And no content could find, Tliis maiden she was nothing mov'd. Nor from her words would vary. But constantly she did reply, I'll never yield to marry. My love, quoth he, is so entire. And firm to thee, my dear. Whose love again I much desire' With many a weeping tear. Therefore sweet-heart be not unkind. Nor say that thou wilt tarry, Ikit let me prove thy constant love. And then consent to marry. Didst thou but know the inward grief I suffer for thy love ; Thy flinty heart would yield relief. Or more obdurate prove : My legs are grown so weak, that they My body scarce can carry. Then yield relief to ease my grief. And give consent to marry. OLD BALLADS. 129 No, no, quoth she, thy flatt'ring tongue Shall ne'er obtain his suit, Tliy tempting words have done me wrong, Tlierefore I pray be mute : For I am fully purposed Henceforth to be more wary ; Therefore away, make no delay, For in sooth I will not marry. He asked her the reason why She would reject him so : She would not wed, she did reply. For friend nor yet for foe : Quoth she, my years are yet but green, I am young enough to tarry This twelve-month's day, therefore away, "Tis time enough to marry. Quoth he, it makes me half despair. And troubleth my mind. That one so comely and so fair, Sliould ere prove so unkind : ' Therefore sweet-heart tell me the cause, That thou so much doth vary. From all tlie minds of women-kind. As to refuse to marry. VOL. I. K 130 OLD BALLiVDS, SECOND PART. Didst thou but knO'.v the sweet delights. That marriage doth afford. And how fair ladies, lords, and knights. In marriage bed accord ; Thou would'st not fondly make reply, Th' art young enough to tarry. But be content, and give consent Without delay to marry. He that says love is vanity. Shall ne'er persuade me to it. Nor yet deny a courtesy. If any one will do it : For I have made a vow, quoth she, And sworn by great King Harry, That till I have the thing I crave, I will not yield to marry. If I had known the cause, quoth he. Why thou didst make denial, I quickly would have proffer'd thee A sweet contending trial : Wliich would ha\'e made thee soon consent, Thougli thou wert ne'er so wary. And never more sav as before, I'll never vicld to marrv. OLD BALLADS. 181 Then use your wit, the maid replied. For now you know the cause, A maiden's No proves often Aye To yield to Hymen's laws, If you prove kind, the maiden said. Consent and do not tarry, And then I soon will change this tune. And quickly yield to marry. With that the young man bad her, but Keep secret and prove kind. And he would verify her oath, And satisfy her mind : Quoth she, I will be satisfied If that thou dost not vary. But yet, in troth, I am very loath To give my grant to marry. With that they both concluded were. But wot you how she sped. By consequence it did appear That it her liking bred, For when her oath was verified That she swore by King Harry, She never stay'd, l)ut quickly said. Sweetheart now let us marry. 132 OLD BALLADS. This young's man's love was quickly cold, That here betwixt them past^ Quoth he, I will not be too bold, Least I repent at last : For he that weds too hastily. Had need for to be wary. Least he repent he gave consent Without advice to many. Fair maidens all take good advice Before you give consent. Unto your loves in any wise These follies to prevent; For she that to perform her vow, So long a time did tarry. Was brought to shame, and much defame. Before that she did marry. OLD BALLADS. 133 XXX. THE MAID'S COMPLAINT OF HER MOTHER. [From " the Muses Garden. 1610."] JN'lv father fain would have me take A man that hath a beard, My mother she cries out, a-lack ! And makes me mucli afi'aid. Forsooth I am not old enough. Now surely this is goodly stuff. Faith let my mother marry me, Or else my father bury me. For 1 have liv'd these fourteen years. My mother knows it well. What need she tlicn to cast such fears, Can any body tell ! As though young women do not know That custom will not let them woo ; i would be glad if 1 might chase. But I were mad if 1 refuse. 134 OLD BALLADS. My mother bids me go to school. And learn to do some good, Twere well if she would let the fool. Come home and suck a dug. As if my father knew not yet That maidens are for young men fit ; Give me my mind and let me wed. Or you shall quickly find me dead. How soon my mother hath forgot That ever she was young, Andjiow that she denied not. But sung another song, I must not speali what I do think, Wlien I am dry I may not drink ; Though her desire be now grown old She must have fire when she is cold. You see the mother loves the son, ^ The father loves the maid ; What, would she have me be a nun ? I will not be delay'd, I \^ill not live thus idle still. My mother shall not have her will. My father speaketh like a man, I will be married do what she can. OLD BALLADS. 135 XXXL A rare example of a virtuous maid in Paris, who was by her own mother procured to be put in prison, thinking thereby to compel her to Popery : but she continued to the end, and finished her life in the fire." Tune is man in desperation. It was a lady's daughter, Of Paris properly. Her mother her commanded To mass that she should hie : O pardon me, dear mother. Her daughter dear did say Unto that filthy idol 1 never can obey. With weeping and wailing Her mother then did go. To assemble her kinsfolks, That they the truth may know ; Who being then assembled They did this maiden call. And put her into prison. To fear her therewithal. 136 OLD BALLADS. But where they thought to fear her. She did most strong endure. Although her years were tender. Her faith was firm and sure. She weigh'd not their allurements. She fear'd not fiery flames, She hop'd thro' Christ her Saviour To have immortal fame. Before the judge they brought her. Thinking that she would turn. And there she was condemned In fire for to burn ; Instead of golden bracelets, With cords they boijnd her fast, jNIy God, grant me with patiencQ (Quoth she) to die at last. And on the morrow after. Which was her dying day. They stript this silly damsel. Out of hev nice array. Her chain of gold so costly. Away from her they take. And she again most joyfully Did all tlie world forsake. OLD BALLADS. 137 Unto the place of torment They brought her speedily. With heart and mind most constant, She willing was to die. But seeing many ladies Assembled in that place. These words she then pronounced. Lamenting of their case. You ladies of this city, Mark well my words (quoth she) ; Although I shall be burned Yet do not pity me. Yourselves I rather pity. And weep for your decay ; Amend your time, fair ladies, And do no time delay. Then came her mother weeping Her daughter to behold. And in her hand she brought her A book covered with gold : Throw hence, quoth she, that idol. Convey it from my sight ; And bring me hither my Bible, VVhrrein I take delight. 138 OLD BALLADS. But my distressed mother Why weep you ? be content. You have to death delivered me. Most like an innocent : Tormentor do thy office On me when thou think'st best, But God, my heavenly Father, Will bring my soul to rest. But oh, my aged father. Wherever thou dost lie. Thou know'st not thy poor daughter Is ready for to die ; But yet amongst the angels In heaven I hope to dwell. Wherefore, my loving father, I bid thee now farewell. Farewell likewise my mother. Adieu my friends also, God giant that you by others. May never feel such woe. Forsake your superstition, Tlie cause of mortal strife. Embrace God's true religion. For which I lose my life. OhD BALLADS. 139 When all these words were ended. Then came the man of death. Who kindled soon a fire, Which stopt this virgin's breath, To Christ her only Saviour, She did her soul commend. Farewell, quoth she, good people. And thus she made an end. XXXIL THE M.AD MAN'S MORRICE. JlIeard you not lately of a man. That went besides his wits. And naked through the street he ran. Wrapt in his frantic fits ? My honest neighbours, it is I, Hark, how the people flout me. See where the mad man comes ! they cr}', With all the boys about me. HO , OLD BALLADS. Into a pond stark-naked I ran And cast away my cloaths^ Sir, Without the help of any man Made shift to get away^ Sir, How I got out I have forgot, I do not well remember, Or whether it was cold or hot. In June or in December. Tom Bedlam's but a sage to mc, I speak in sober sadness, For more strange visions do I see Than he in all his madness When first to me this chance befel. About the market walkt I, With capon's feathers in my cap. And to myself thus talkt I : Did you not see my love of late. Like Titan in her glory ? Did you not know she was my mate. And I must write her story. With pen of gold on silver leaf, I will so much befriend her. For why I am of that belief, None can so well commend her. OLD BiVLL.\DS. 141 Saw you not angels in her eyes, ^\ iiilst that she was a speaking ? Smelt you not smells like Paradise Between two nibies breaking ? Is not her hair more pure than gold. Or finest spider's spinning ? Methinks in her I do behold My joys and woes beginning. Is not a dimple in her cheek, Each eye a star that's starting ? Arc not all graces install'd in her. Each step all joys imparting ? Methinks I see her in a cloud. With graces round about her ; To them I call and cry aloud I cannot live without her. Then raging towards the sky I rove. Thinking to catch her hand, then to Jove I call and cry To let her by me stand, f look 1)ehind, and there I see My shadow me l>eguile, 1 wish she were as near to me, Which makes my worship smile. 142 OLD BALLADS. There is no creature can compare With my beloved Nancy : Thus I build castles in the air. This is the fruit of fancy ; My thoughts mount high above the sky. Of none I stand in awe. Although my body here doth lie Upon a pad of straw. I was as good a harmless youth Before base Cupid taught me. Or his own mother, with her charms Into this case had brought me : Stript and whipt now must I be. In Bedlam bound in chains j Good people, now you all may see, What love hath for his pains. When I was young as others are. With gallants did I flourish, O then I was the properest lad That was in all the parish. The bracelet that I us'd to wear, About my arms so tender, Are turned into iron plates About my body slender. OLD BALLADS. 143 My silken suits do now decay, My cups of gold are vanished. And all my friends do wear away. As I from them were banished. My silver cups are turn'd to earth, I'm jeered by every clown ; I was a better man by birth. Till fortune cast me down. I'm out of frame, and temper too. Though I'm somewhat chearful, O this can love and fancy do. If that you be not careful : O set a watch before your eyes, , Iw^ast they betray your heart. And make you slaves to vanities. To act a mad man's part. Declare this to each mother's son. Unto each honest lad; Let them not do as I have done. Lest they like me grow mad : If Cupid strike, be sure of this. Let reason rule afl'ection. So shalt thou never do amiss By reason's good direction. 144 OLD BALLADS. I have no more to say to you. My keepers now do chide me. Now m\ist I bid you all adieu, God knows what will betide me : To picking straws now must I go. My time in Bedlam spending. Good folks you your beginning know. But do not know your ending. XXXIIL URCHIN'S DANCE. [From a very rare Collection of Songs, called Hunting, Hawking, Dancing, &c. ; set to music by Bennet, Piers, and Ravenscroft, 4to,] Ij Y the moon we sport and play, With the night begins our day ; As we frisk the dew doth fall. Trip it, little Urchins all. Lightly as the little bee. Two by two, and three by three. And about go we, go we. OLD BALLADS. 145 XXXIV. THE ELVES DANCE. [From the same Collection.] JLJare you haunt our hallow'd green None but fairies here are seen. Down and sleep. Wake and weep. Pinch him black, and pinch him blue. That seeks to steal a lover true. When you come to hear us sing. Or to tread our fairy ring. Pinch him black, and pinch him blue, O thus our nails shall handle you. VOL. I. \ 1 IG OLD BALL.\DS. XXXV. " OLD CHRISTMAS RETURNED, OR, HOSPITALITY REVIVED; Being a Looking-glass for rich Misers, wherein they, may see (if they be not blind) liow much they are to blame for tlieir penurious house-keeping, and likewise an encouragement to those noble- minded gentry, who lay out a great part of their estates in hospitality, relieving such persons as have need thereof: Who feasts the poor, a true reward shall find, Or helps the old, the feeble, lame and blind.''- To the tune of The Delights of the Bottle, All you that to feasting and mirth are inclin'd. Come here is good news for to pleasure your mind. Old Christmas is come for to keep open house. He scorns to be guilty of starving a mouse : Then come boys, and welcome for diet the chief, Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd pies, and roast-beef. A long time together he hath been forgot. They scarce coidd afford for to hang on the pot j OLD BALLADS. 147 Such miserly sneaking in England hath been. As by our forefathers ne'er us'd to be seen ; But now he's returned you shall have in brief, Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd pies, and roast-beef. The times were ne'er good since Old Christmas was fled. And all hospitality hath been so dead, No mirth at our festivals late did appear. They scarcely would part with a cup of March beer ; But now you shall have for the ease of your grief. Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd pies, and roast-beef. The butler and baker, they now may be glad. The times they are mended, though they have been bad ; The brewer, he likewise may be of good cheer. He shall have good trading for ale and strong beer. All trades shall be jolly, and have for relief. Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd pies, and roast-beef. The holly and ivy about the walls wind. And show that we ought to our neighbours be kind, Inviting each other for pastime and sport. And where we best fare, there we most do resort, We fail not of victuals, and that of tlie chief. Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd pies, and roast-beef. The cooks shall be busied by day and by night, In roasting and boiling, for taste and delight ; 148 OLD BALLADS. Their senses in liquour that's nappy they'll steep Tliough they be afforded to have little sleep ; Tliey still are employed for to dress us in brief Plum-pudding, goose, capon, mine'd pies, and roast-beef. Althougli the cold weather doth hunger provoke, 'Tis a comfort to see how the chimneys do smoke. Provision is making for beer, ale and wine ; For all that are willing or ready to dine, * Then haste to the kitchen, for diet the chief. Plum-pudding, goose, capon, mine'd pies, and roast-beef. All tra\ ellers as they do pass on their way, At gentlemen's halls are invited to stay Themselves to refresh, and their horses to rest. Since that he must be Old Christmas's guest, Nay, the poor shall not want, but have for relief Plum-pudding, goose, capon, mine'd pies, and roast -beef. Now Mock-beggar-hall it no more shall stand empty, But all shall be furnisht with freedom and plenty, The hoarding old misers who us'd to preserve The gold in their coffers, and see the poor stan'e, Must now spread their tables, and give them in brief Plum-pudding, goose, capon, mine'd pies, and roast-beef. | The court and the city, and country are glad, Old Christmas is come to cheer up the sad. OLD BALLADS. 149 Broad pieces and guineas about now shall fly. And hundreds be losers by cogging a die. Whilst others are feasting with diet the chief. Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd pies, and roast-beef. Those that have no coin at the cards for to play. May sit by the fire, and pass time away. And drink off their moisture contented and free, " My honest good fellow, come, here is to thee," And when they are hungry, fall to their relief Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd pies, and roast-beef. Young gallants and ladies shall foot it along. Each room in the house to the musick shall throng, Whilst jolly carouses about they shall pass. And each country swain trip alx>ut with his lass ; Meantime goes the caterer to fetch in the chief Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd pies, and roast-beef. Tlie cooks and the scullion, who toil in their frocks. Their hopes do depend upon their Christmas box : There is very few that do live on the earth. But enjoy at tliis time either profit or mirth ; Yea those that are charged to find all relief. Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd pies, and roast-beef. Then well may we welcome Old Christmas to town. Who brings us good cheery and good liquor so brown. 150 OLD BALL.\DS. To pass the cold winter away with delight, We feast it all day, and we frolick all night, Both hunger and cold Ave keep out with relief. Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd pies, and roast-beef. Then let all curmudgeons who dote on their wealth. And value their treasure much more than their health, Go hang themselves up, if they will be so kind. Old Christmas with them but small welcome shall find. They will not afford to themselves without grief. Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc'd pies, and roast-beef. XXXVI. " THE MERRY HOASTESS ; OR, A pretty new Ditty, compos'd by an Hoastcss thai lives in the city To WTong such an Hoastess it were a great pitty. By reason she caused this pretty new Ditty." vj o M p: all that love good company. And hearken to my ditty, 'Tis of a lovely hoste:;s fine. That lives in London cit\- ; OLD BALLADS, 151 Which sells good ale, nappy and stale, And always thus sings she. My ale was tunn'd Avhen I was young. And a little above my knee. Her ale is lively, strong and stout. If you please but to taste j It is well brew'd you need not fear. But I pray you make no waste ; It is lovely brown, the best in town. And always thus sings she. My ale was tunn'd when I was young. And a little above my knee. The gayest lady with her fan. Doth love such nappy ale. Both city maids and country girls Tliat carry the milking pail : Will take a touch and not think mucli To sing so merrily. My ale was tunn'd when I was young, And a little above my knee. Both lord and esquire hath a desire Unto it night and day, For a quart or two be it old or new, And for it then ^^ ill pay : 152 OLD BALLADS. With pipe in hand they may her command To sing most merrily, My ale was tunn'd when I was young, And a little above my knee. You'r welcome all brave gentlemen. If you please to come in. To take a cup I do intend, And a health for to begin : To all the merry jovial blades. That will sing for company. My ale was tunn'd when I was young, And a little above my knee. Here's a health to all brave Englishmen, That love this cup of ale ; Let every man fill up his can, And see that none do fail : "Tis very good to nourish the blood, And make you sing with me. My ale was tunn'd when I was young. And a little above my knee. OLD BALLADS. 153 SECOND PART. The bonny Scot will lay a plot To get a handsome touch Of this my ale, so good and stale. So will the cunning Dutch : They will take a part with all their heart, To sing this tune with me. My ale was tunn'd when I was young. And a little above my knee. It will make the Irish ciy A hone ! If they but take their fill. And put them all quite out of tune. Let them use their chiefest skill. So strong and stout it will hold out In any company. For my ale was tunn'd when I was young. And a little above my knee. The Welchman on St. David's day Will ciy, cots plutter a nail, Hur will hur ferry quite away. From off that nappy ale : It makes hm* foes with hur red nose, Hur seldom can agree. But my ale was tunn'd when I was young. And a little above my knee. 154 OLD BALLADS. The Spaniard stout will have about. 'Cause he hath store of gold. Till at the last, he is laid fast. My ale doth him so hold : His poignard strong is laid along. Yet he is good company. For my ale was tunn'd when I was young. And a little above my knee. There's never a tradesman in England, That can my ale deny, The weaver, tailor and glover Delight it for to buy. Small money they do take away. If that they drink with me, For my ale was tunn'd when I was young. And a little above my knee. There is smug the honest blacksmith. He seldom can pass by. Because a spark lies in his throat Which makes him very dry : But my old ale tells him his tale. So finely we agree. For my ale was tunn'd when I was young. And a little above my knee. OLD BALLADS. 155 Tlie Ijrewer, baker and butcher. As well as all the rest, , Both night and day will watch where they May find ale of the best : And the gentle craft will come full oft. To drink a cup with me. For my ale was tunn'd when I was youngj And a little above my knee. So to conclude good fellows all, I bid you all adieu, If that you love a cup of ale. Take rather old than new, For if you come where I do dwell. And chance to drink with mc, My ale was tunn'd when I was young, And a little above my knee. 156 OLD BALLADS. XXXVIL THE LITTLE BARLEY-CORN Whose properties and vertues here Shall plainly to the world appeare j To make you merry all the yeere." To the tune of Sting^o. CiOMB, and do not musing stand, If thou the truth discern ; But take a full cup in thy hand And thus begin to learn. Not of the earth nor of the air, At evening or at morn. But jovial boys your Christmas keep With the little barley-corn. It is the cunningcst alchymist That e'er was in the land, 'Twill change your mettle when it list, In turning of a hand. Your blushing gold to silver wan. Your silver into brass j ^Twill turn a taylor to a man, And a man into an ass. OLD BALL-\DS. 15? t. 'Twill make a poor man rich to hang A sign before his door. And those that do the pitcher bang, Tliough rich, 'twill make them poor, 'Twill make the silliest poorest snake The King's great porter scorn ; 'Twill make the stoutest lubber weak. This little barley-corn. It hath more shifts than Lamb e'er had. Or Hocus-pocus too ; It will good fellows shew more sport Than Bankes his horse could do ; 'Twill play you fair above the board. Unless you take good heed. And fell you, though you were a lord, And justify the deed. It lends more years unto old age, Than e'er was lent by nature ; It makes the poet's fancy rage, More than Castalian water. 'Twill make a huntsman chase a fox. And never wind his horn ; 'Twill cheer a tinker in the stocks, This little barley-corn. 158 OLD BALLADS. It is the only Will o' the Wisp Which leads men from the way ; ^Twill make the tongue-tied lawyer lisp. And nought but hic-up say. ^Twill make the steward droop and stoop. His bill he then will scorn. And at each post cast his reckoning up. This little barley-corn. Twill make a man grow jealous soon. Whose pretty wife goes trim. And rail at the deceiving moon For making horns at him : 'Twill make the maiden's trimly dance. And take it in no scorn, And help them to a friend by chance. This little barley-corn. It is the neatest serving-man, To entertain a friend ; It will do more than money can. All jarring suits to end. There's life in it, and it is here, 'Tis here within this cup ; Then take your liquor, do not spare. But clear carouse it up. OLD B-\LLADS. 159 " The Second Part of the little Barley-Corn, Tiiat cheareth the heart both evening and morne." If sickness come this pliysick take. It from your heart will set it. If fear encroach, take more of it^ Your heart will soon forget it. Apollo and the Muses nine Do take it in no scorn, There's no such stuff to pass the time As the little barley-corn. 'Twill make a weeping willow laugh, And soon incline to pleasure ; 'Twill make an old man leave his staff, And dance a youthful measure ; And though your clothes be ne'er so bad. All ragged, rent, and torn. Against tlie cold you may be clad Witli little barley-corn. ^Twill make a coward not to shrink, But be as stout as may be, 'Twill make a man that he shall tiiink That Joan's as good as my lady. 160 OLD BALLADS. It will enrich the palest face. And with rubies it adorn. Yet you shall think it no disgrace. This little barley-corn. ^Twill make your gossips merry. When they their liquor see, Hey, we shall ne'er be weary. Sweet gossip here's to thee ; 'Twill make the country yeoman The courtier for to scorn ; And talk of law-suits o'er a can With this little barley-corn. It makes a man that write cannot To make you large indentures. When as he reeleth home at night. Upon the watch he ventures ; He cares not for the candle-light. That shineth in the horn. Yet he will stumble the way aright This little barley-corn. 'Twill make a miser prodigall. And shew himself kind hearted, 'Twill make him never grieve at all That from his coin hath parted, OLD BALLADS. 161 Twill make the shepherd to mistake His sheep before a storm, 'Twill make the poet to excell. This little barley-corn. It will make young lads to call Most freely for their liquor, 'Twill make a young lass tal^e a fall And rise again the quicker : 'Twill make a man that he Shall sleep all night profoundly. And make a man, what'er he be. Go about his business roundly. Thus the barley-corn hath po\ver. Even for to change our nature. And makes a shrew, within an hour. Prove a kind-hearted creature : And therefore here, I say again. Let no man take 't in scorn. That I the virtues do proclaim Of the little barley-corn. VOL. I. II 162 OLD BALLADS. XXXVIII. " THE GOOD FELLOW'S FROLICK, OR, Kent Street Clubb." JlIerb is a crew of jovial blades That lov'd the nut-brown ale : They in an alehouse chanc'd to meet. And told a merry tale : A bonny Seaman was the first. But newly come to town ; And swore that he his guts could burst. With ale that was so brown. See how the jolly Carman he Doth the strong liquor prize. He so long in the alehouse sat. That he drank out his eyes : And groping to get out of door, (Sot like) he tumbled down. And there he like a madman swore. He lov'd the ale so brown. OLD BALLADS. 163 The nimble Weaver he came in. And swore he'd have a little ; To drink good ale it was no sin. Though 't made him pawn his shuttle : Quoth he, I am a gentleman. No lusty country clown. But yet I love, with all my heart, The ale that is so brown. Then next the Blacksmith he came in, And said 'twas mighty hot ; He sitting down did thus begin. Fair maid, bring me a pot : Let it be of the very best. That none exceeds in town, I tell you true, and do not jest, I love the ale so brown. The prick-louse Taylor he came in. Whose tongue did run so nimble. And said he would engage for drink His bodkin and his thimble : For though with long thin jaws I look, I value not a crown. So I can have my belly full Of ale that is so brown. 164 OLD BALLADS. The lusty Porter passing by With basket on his back, He said that he was grievous dry, And needs would pawn his sack His angry wife he did not fear, He valued not her frown ; So he had that he lov'd so dear, I mean the ale so brown, Tlie next that came was one of tliem Was of the gentle craft, And when that he was wet within. Most heartily he laugh'd, Crispin was ne'er so boon as he, Tiio' some kin to a crown. And there he sat most merrily Witli ale that was so brown. But at the laht a Barber he A mind liud for to taste ; He called for a pint of drink And said he was in haste : The drink so pleas'd he tarried there. Till he bud spent a crown ; 'Twas all the money he could spare For ale that is so brown. OLD BALLADS. 165 A Broom-man, as he passed by, His morning draughts did lack, Because that he no money had. He pawn'd his shirt from his back : And said that he without a shirt. Would cry brooms up and down. But yet, quoth he, I'll merry be With ale that is so brown. But when all these together met. Oh what discourse was there, ^Twould make one's hair to stand an end. To hear how they did swear ! One was a fool and puppy dog, The other was a clown. And there they sat, and swill'd their guts With ale that was so brown. The landlady they did abuse. And call'd her nasty whore. Quoth slie, do you your reckoning pay And get you out of door : Of them she could no money get, Whicli caused her to frown, ^ But loath they were to leave behind The ale tliat was so brown. 166 OLD BALLADS. XXXIX. LONDON'S ORDINARY, OR, Every Man in his Humour. To a pleasant new Tune. [From a black letter copy printed by Coles, Vere, Wright, and Clarke.] 1 H ROUGH the Royal Exchange as I walked. Where gallants in satin did shine : At midst of the day they parted away At several places to dine. The gentry went to the King'^s-head, The nobles unto the Crown, The knights unto the Golden Fleece, And the ploughman to the Clown. T!ie clergy will dine at the Mitre, Tlie vintners at the Three Tuns, The usurers to the Devil will go. And the friars unto the Nuns. OLD BALLADS. 167 Tlie ladies wi^l dine at the Feathers, The Globe no captain will scorn. The huntsman will go to the Greyhound below, And some townsmen to the Horn. ITie plumber will dine at the Fountain, The cooks at the Holy Lamb, The drunkards, at noon, to the Man in the Moon, And the cuckolds to the Ram. The roarers will dine at the Lion, The watermen at the Old Swan, The bawds will to the Negro go. And the wliores to the Naked Man. The keepers will to the White Hart, The mariners unto the Ship, The beggars they must take their way To the Eggshell and the Whip. The farriers will to the Horse, The blacksmith unto the Lock, The butchers to the Bull will go. And the carmen to Bridewell Dock. Tiie fishmongers unto the Dolphin, The bakers to the Cheat Loaf, Tlie turners unto the Ladle will go, Where they may merrily quaff". 168 OLD BALLADS. The taylor will dine at the Sheers, The shoemakers will to the Boot, The Welshmen they will take their way. And dine at the sign of the Goat. The hosiers will dine at the Leg, The drapers at the sign of the Brush, The fletchers to Robin Hood will go, And the bargemen to the Scoop. Tlie carpenters will dine at the Axe, The colliers will dine at the Sack, Your fruiterer he ta the Cherry-Tree, Good fellows no liquor will lack. The goldsmiths to the Three Cups, Their money they count as dross, Your Puritan to the Pewter Can, And your Papists to the Cross. The weavers will dine at the shuttle, The glovers will unto the Glove, Tiie maidens all to the Maidenhead, And true lovers unto the Dove. The saddlers will dine at the Saddle, The painters to the Green Dragon, The Dutclmian will go to the sign of the Vrow Where each man may drink his ha.g^on. OLD BALL.\DS. 169 The chandlers will dine at the Scales, The salters at the sign of the Bag, The porters take pain at the Labour-in-vain, And the horse-courser to the Wliite Nag. Thus every man in his humour. From north unto the south. But he that hath no money in his purse. May dine at the sign of the Mouth. Tlie swaggerers will dine at the Fencers, But those that have lost their wits. With Bedlam Tom let there be there home. And the Drum the drummer best fits. The cheater will dine at the Chequer, Tlie pick-pocket at a blind alehouse. Till taken and tried, up Holborn they ride. And make their end at the gallows. 170 OLD BALLADS. XL. " THE CRUELL SHROW ; OR, The Patient Man's Woe. Declaring the misery and the great paine. By his unquiet wife he doth dayly sustaine." To the tune of Cuckolds all arowe. [From a black letter copy, printed for Henry Gosson.] v-'OME bachelors and married men, And listen to my song, And I will shew you plainly then The injury and wrong. That constantly I do sustain By the unliappy life. The which does put me to great pain By my unquiet wife. She never linnes her bawling, Her tongue it is so loud, But always she'll be railing And will not be controulcd : OLD BALLADS. 171 For she the breeches still will wear, Although it breeds my strife^ If I were now a bachejor, I'd never have a wife. Sometimes I go in the morning About my daily work, My wife she will be snorting, And in her bed she'll lurk, Untill the chimes do go at eight. Then she^Il begin to wake, Her morning's draught well spiced straight. To clear her eyes she'll take. As soon as i^he is out of bed, Her looking-glass she takes. So vainly is she daily led. Her morning's work she makes, In putting on her brave attire, That fine and costly be. While I work hard in dirt and mire Alack what remedy ? Tlien slie goes forth a gossiping, Amongst her own comrades. And then she falls a boosing With her merrv blades : 172 OLD BALLADS. When I come from my labour hard. Then she'll begin to scold, And call me rogue without regard, Which makes my heart full cold. When I come home into my house. Thinking to take my rest ; Then she'll begin me to abuse, Before she did but jest : With out, you rascal, you have been Abroad to meet your whore, Then she takes up a cudgel's end. And breaks my head full sore. When I for quietness sake desire. My wife for to be still. She will not grant what I require But swears she'll have her will : Then if I chance to heave my hand, Straightway she'll murder cry, Then judge all men that here do stand. In what a case am L SECOND PART. And if a friend by chance me call. To drink a pot of beer, Then she'll begin to curse and brawl. And fight, and scratch, and tear : OLD BALL.\DS. 173 And swears unto my work she'll send Me straight without delay. Or else with the same cudgel's end. She will me soundly pay. And if I chance to sit at meat Upon some holiday, ^ She is so sullen she'll not eat. But vex me ever and ay ; She'll pout and lower, and curse and bann, This is the weary life. That I do lead, poor harmless man. With my most dogged wife. Then is not this a piteous cause. Let all men now it try. And give tlieir verdicts by the laws Between my wife and I, And judge the cause who is to blame, I'll to their judgment stand. And be contented with the same. And put thereto my hand. If I abroad, go any where, My business for to do. Then will my wife anon be there, For to encrease my woe : r74 OLD BALL.\DS. Straightway she sucli a noise will make. With her most wicked tongue. That all her mates her part to take About me soon will throng. Thus am I now tormented still. With my most cruel wife. All through her wicked tongue so ill, I am weary of my life : I know not truly what to do, Nor how myself to mend ; This lingering life doth breed my woe, I would 't were at an end. O that some harmless honest man. Whom death did so befriend. To take his wife from off his hand. His sorrows for to end : Would change with me to rid my care. And take my wife alive. For his dead wife unto his share. Then I would hope to thrive. But so it likely will not be. That is the worst of all. For to encrease my daily woe. And for to breed my fall : OLD BALLADS. 175 My wife is still most frovvard bent, Such is my luckless fate. There is no man will be content With my unhappy state. Thus to conclude, and make an end Of these my verses rude, I pray all wives for to amend. And with peace to be endued : Take warning all men by the life. That I sustained long. Be careful how you choose a wife. And so I'll end my song. 176 OLD BALLADS. XLI. "THE MERRY CARELESSE LOVER: OR, A pleasant new Ditty, called, I love a lasse since yesterday, And yet I cannot get her." To the tune of The Mother beguiled the Daughter. [From a black letter copy, printed for Coules.] vJft have I heard of many men. Whom love hath sore tormented. With grief of heart and bitter smart, And minds much discontented. Such love to me shall never be distasteful, grievous, bitter. I have loved a lass since yesterday. And yet I cannot get her. But let her choose, if she refuse. And go to take another, I will not grieve, but still will be The merry careless lover. OLD BALL.\DS. 177 I will no foolish lover be To waste my means upon her. But if she do prove firm to me. In heart I vvill her honour. And if she scorn my part to take I know a way to lit her ; My lieart with grief shall never ache. What man soever get lier. Then let her choose if she refuse. And go to take another. I will not grieve but still will be The merry careless lover. And yet I know not what to think. She makes a show she loves me, What need I fear from me she'll shrink. Some foolish passion moves me. Sometimes to hope, sometimes to fear It hangs upon a twitter ; Whether she hates or loves me dear, To lose her or to get her. But let her choose, if she refuse, &c. Some women they are firm in love, And some they arc uncertain, Scarce one in twenty h^yal prove. Yet if it were vny fortune, VOL. I. >< 178 OLD BALLADS. To get this lass unto my wife, I know not one more fitter. In lawful love to lead our lives. If 't were my hap to get her. But let her choose, &c. I am a man indifferent, , Whether she will pr will not, My sweet-heart be, for love to me. If she does not, it skills not. If she fancy me, I'll constant be, I'his lass she is a knitter, And I have loved her since yesterday. But yet I cannot get her. But let her choose, if she refuse. And go to take another, I'll never grieve but still will be. The merry careless lover. SECOND PART. This lass she doth in Yorkshire live. There in a town called Forset, Her mind to labour she doth give, She can knit silk or worsted, OLD BALLADS. 179 I know not well what I should say. In speech she's sometimes bitter. And I have her lov'd since yesterday. And yet I cannot get her. But let her choose if she refuse. And go to take another, I'll never grieve, but still will be The merry careless lover. Sometimes she will upon me smile. And sometimes she is sullen, As she doth sit, and stockings knit Of jarsy and of woollen, She gets the praise above the rest To be a curious knitter, She loves me as she doth profess. And yet I cannot get her. But let her choose, &c. Her portion is not very much. But for the same what care So she with me will but keep touch, And not in mind will vary j For pelf I do not pass a straw. Her beauty likes me better. For 1 have lov'd her since yesterday, And yet I cannot get her. But let her choose, ike. 180 OLD BALLADS. I will bethink me what is best, A way for to be taken, Her love to gain, and her obtain, I would not be forsaken ; Nor would I have her say me nay, Nor give me speeches bitter, For I have lov'd her since yesterday, And yet I cannot get her. But let her choose, &c. I have her father's free consent, That she with me sliould marry. Her mother likewise is content. And grieves that she should carry So proud a mind, or be unkind To me in speeches l>itter ; For I bear to her a loving mind, And yet I cannot get her. But let her choose, &c. With her I at a wedding was, Wliere we did dance together. She is a curious handsome lass. And yet like wind and weather Her mind doth change, she's kind, she's strange IMild, gentle, cruel, bitter. Yet howsoere I love her dear. And yet I cannot get her. But let her choose, &c. OLD BALLADS. 181 Yet will I hope upon the best. All foolish fears excluding. And at her faithful service rest. Thus here in brief concluding, With some dear friend to her I'll send A kind and loving letter. And hope in time her love to gain, And for my wife to get her. And then I'll sing with merry cheer This ditty and no other, Whilst breath does last, and life be past, I'll be a faithful lover. Finis. By Robert Guy. 182 OLD BALLADS. XLL THE MARRYED MAN'S LESSON : ORj A Disswasion from Jealousie." To the tune of All you that will woo a Wench. You men who are married come hearken to me, I'll teach you a lesson if wise you will be. Then take my advice that's intended for good. And so 'tis if it be but well understood : 'Twill cause you to shun all contention and spleen. That daily betwixt man and woman are seen, I speak against jealousy, that monster fierce. And wisli I could conquer the fiend with my verse, O be not thou jealous, I prithee, dear lad. For jealousy makes many good women bad. If thou have a good wife tlien I thee advise. To cherish her well, for she is a rare prize, If she be indifferent between good and bad. Good means to reform her may easily be had : If she be so evil that there are few worse. Imagine thy sins have deserved that curse, OLD BALLADS. 183 Then bear with true patience thy cross as 't is fit, And thou to a blessing thereby may'st turn it, But be not thou jealous, I prithee, dear lad. For jealousy makes niany good women bad. Between these tliree wives, the good, bad, and the mean, I ground the whole argument of this my theme. For in them a man's human bliss or his woe Doth chiefly consist as experience doth show, Thus is it not counsel that's worthy regard, Wliich teaches to soften a thing that is hard. And what I intend is in every man's will To turn to a virtue what seemeth most ill. Then be not thou jealous, I prithee, dear lad, For jealousy makes many good women bad. A wife that is good, being beautiful, may Perhaps raise suspicion, that she'll go astray, O note the fond humours that most men possess. They're neither content with the more nor the less, For if she be homely, then her will he flight. Such man neither fair nor foul can delight. If once he be jealous the other he scorns. There's no greater plague than imagin'd horns. Then be not thou jealous, I prithee, dear lad. For jealousy makes many good women bad. A wife that's indifferent between good and ill, - Is she that in houswifery shews her good will. 184 OLD BALLADS. Yet sometimes her voice she too much elevates. Is that the occasion for which he her hates ? A sovereign remedy for this disease Is to hold thy tongue, let her say what she please Judge, is not this better than to fight and scratchy For silence will soonest a shrew overmatch. However I pray thee shun jealousy, lad. For jealousy makes many good women bad. A wife that's all bad, if thy luck be to have. Seek not to reclaim her by making her slave. If she be as bad as ever trod on ground. Not fighting or jealousy will heal thy wound : For mark when a river is stopt in its course. It o'erflows the banks, then the danger is worse- Thy ovvn example and patience withall. May her from her vices much rather recalL Then be not thou jealous, I prithee, dear lad. For jealousy makes many good women bad. SFXOND PART. A wife that is virtuous in every respect. Who dotli her vow'd duty at no time neglect. She's not free from censure, for fools their bolts shoot As oft at the head as they do at the foot : A kiss or a smile, or a jest or a dance. Familiar discourse, or an amorous glance^ OLD BALLADS. 185 All these, as her witness, Envy doth bring', The credit of innocent women to sting. But be not thou jealous, I pray thee, dear lad. For jealousy makes many good women bad. A wife's that's indifferent if curb'd overmuch, Will grow worse and worse, for their nature is such. The more thou with rigor doth seek her to mend. The more they'll persist, and grow desperate in th' end. And thus from indifferency wanting good means. Some vvell meaning women turn impudent queans. If goodness, by beating them, thou seek'st to infuse. For breaking her flesh thou all goodness dost bruise. A wife at the worst (as I told you before) iV drunkard, a swearer, a scold, tliief, or whore. By gentle persuasions reclaimed may be. Myself by experience but lately did see ; A man that with jealousy plagued hath been. When he tlie last labour and trouble had seen, He cast olf his care and refer'd all to 's wife. Who soon lelt her vices and led a iv^w life. I also have known a wife, liandsouic and neat. Of whom her foivd husband did take a conceit, That other men lov'd her because ^-!ic was f it. Though on the contrary to hiiii h:'..; di-l s\\-:nr, llv watcht her, he eyed her, he noted her wi.vs. And once he in '^ drinic a scaiidui wouli raise. 186 OLD BALLADS. This usage irregular set her on fire. And so from thenceforward she prov'd him no liar. Consider each circumstance with good regard. How oft causeless jealousy wins due reward. And likewise I wish thee to bear in thy breast. That patience and quietness still is the best, For if she be naught she'll grow worse with restrain t^, But patience may make of a harlot a saint. If fair means prevail not thou'll ne'er do it by foul. For meekness (if any thing) must win a soul. Now, lastly, to both men and women I speak. From this foolish fancy their humours to break ; Be loving and tractable each unto other. And what is amiss let aifection still smother. So shall man and wife in syjnpathy sweet. At board and at bed (as they ought to do) meet. All fighting, and scratching, and scolding shall cease. Where jealousy's harbour'd there can be no peace. Then be not thou jealous, I pray thee, dear lad. For jealousy makes many good women bad. OLD BALLADS. 187 XLIL ' A merry jest of John Tomson, nnd Jackaman his wife. Whose jealousie was justly the cause of all their strife." To the tune of Pegge of Ramsaj. W H E N I was a bachelor, I liv'd a merry life, But now I am a married man. And troubled witli a wife, I cannot do as I have done. Because I live in fear 3 If I go but to Islington My wife is watching there. Give me my yellov;^ hose again, Give me my yellow hose. For now my wife she watcheth me, See yonder where she goes. But when I was apprentice bound, And my indentures made. In many faults I have been found, Yet never thus afraid ; 188 OLD BALLADS. For if I chance now by the way A woman for to kiss. The rest are ready for to say. Thy wife shall know of this. Give me my yellow hose, &c. Thus when I come in company, I pass my mirth in fear. For one or other merrily Will say my wife is there ; And then my look doth make them laugh. To see my woeful case. How I stand like John hold-my-staff. And dare not shew my face. Give me ray yellow hose, &c. Then comes a handsome woman in, And shakes me by the hand, But how my wife she did begin. Now you shall understand ; Fair dame (quoth she) why dost thou He gave his hand to me, And thou shalt kno\A', before tliou go, He is no man for tlice. Give me, &c. OLD BALLADS. 1S9 Good wife (quoth she) now do not scold, I will do -SO no more, I thougl.t I might have been so bold, I knowing him before. Witii that my wife v.as almost mad. Yet many did intreat her, And I, God knows, was very sad For fear she would have bcit her. Give me my yellow hose, &e. Tlius marriage is an enterprise, Experience doth shew. But scolding is an exercise. That married men do know ; For all this while there were no blows, Yet still their tongues M-ere talking, And very fain would yellow hose Have had her fists a walking. Give me, &c. In comes a neighbour of our town, An honest man, God wot, And he must needs go sit him down, And call in for his pot. And said to me, I am the man Which gave to you your wife, And I will do the best 1 can To mend this wicked life. 190 OLD BALLADS. Give me my yellow hose again. Give me my yellow hose^ For now my wife she watcheth me. See yonder where she goes. SECOND PART. I gave him thanks and bad him go. And so he did indeed. And told my wife she was a shrew. But that was more than need. Saith he, thou hast an honest man. And one that loves thee well, Saith she, you are a fool, good Sir, It's more than you can tell. Give me my yellow hose, &c. And yet in truth he loveth me. But many more beside. And I may say, good Sir, to thee. That cannot I abide. For though he loves me as his life. Yet now, Sir, wot you what. They say he loves his neighbour's wife, 1 pray you how like you that ? Give me, Sec, OLD BALLADS. 191 Saith he, I hope I ne\'er shall Seek fancy fond to follow. For love is lawful unto all. Except it be too yellow. Which lieth like the jaundice so. In these our women's faces. That watch their husbands where they go. And haunt tbem out In places. Give me my yellow hose, &c. Now comes my neighbour's wife apace, To talk a \>ord or two. My wife then meets her face to face. And saith. Dame is it you. That makes so much of my good man, As if he were your own, Then clamp as closely as you can ? I know it will be known. Give me, &c. Now when I saw the woman gone, I call'd my wife aside. And said, why art thou such a one, That thou canst not abide A woman for to talk with me. This is a woeful case. That I must keep no company, Except you be in place. Give me, &c. 192 OLD BALLADS. Tliis maketh bachelors to halt So long before they wed, Because they liear that women now Will be their hus])and's head. And seven long year I tarried For Jakaman my wife, But now that I am married, I'm weary of my life. Give me, &c. For yellow love is too too bad. Without all wit or policy, And too much love hath made her mad, And lill'd her full of jealousy. She thinks I am in love with those I speak to passing by : That makes her v/ear the yellow hose I gave her for to dye. Give me, &c. But now I see slie is so hot. And lives so much at ease, I will go get a soldier's coat. And sail beyond the seas : To serve my captain where and when. Though it be to my pain. Thus farewell, gentle Jakaman, Till we two meet again. Give me, &c. OLD BALLADS. 193 Quoth she, good husband, do not deal Tlius hardly now with me. And of a truth I will reveal My cause of jealousy : You know I always paid the score. You put me still in trust : I saved twenty pound and more, Confess it needs I must. Give me, &c. But now my saving of the same. For aught that I do know. Made Jealousy to fire her frame To weave this web of woe ; And thus this foolish love of mine Was very fondly bent. But now my gold and goods are this, Good husband be content. Give me, &c. And thus to lead my life anew I fully now purpose, Tliat thou may'st change thy coat of blue. And I my yellow hose. This being done, our country wives May warning take by me. How they do live such jealous lives, As I have done with thee. VOL. I. O 194 OLD BALL.\DS. Give me my yellow hose again^ Give me my yellow hose ; For now my wife she watcheth me. See yonder where she goes. XLIII. Countryman's Bill of Charges for his coming up to London^ declared by a Whistle. Tune King Henry, &c. JDioGEXES that laugh'd to see A mare once eat a thistle. Would surely smile and laugh the whilcj. To hear me sing my whistle. For now 'tis meant Ave must invent A silent way of ringing, And so for fear least some should hear, Must whistle 'stead of singing. With a hey down, with a how down With a haw down, down, down derry, Since that we may Nor sing, nor say We'll whistle and l)e merry. OLD BALLADS. 195 A countryman to London came To view the famous city, And here his charge did grow so large, It made me write this ditty. For in a bill he set down still His charge from the beginning, Wliich I did find, and now do mind. To whistle stead of singing. With a hey down, &c. Imprimis, coming unto town, And at my inn alighting, I almost spent a noble crown In potting and in piping : Item, that the tapster there. My jugs half full did bring in, I dare not say he was a K. But I'll whistle instead of singing. With a hey down, &c. Item, that I went abroad. And had my purse soon picked, Wliile I did stare on London ware. By a pick-purse I was fitted : Item, that I met a wench. That put me down in drinking, I dare not say wliat she made ine pay. But I'll wliistle instead of singing. With a hey down, ike. 196 OLD BALLADS. Item, that I met withall A very loving cousin. Who needs would be of my country, And gave me half a dozen. And at the last a pair of cards They cunningly did bring in, I will not say what they made me pay. But I'll whistle instead of singing. With a hey down, &c. Item, that I daily went Unto my lawyer's chamber. And he did say, I should win the day Without all fear or danger. But then at last, for charge and cast He such a bill did bring in, I will not say what he made me pay, But I'll whistle instead of singing. With a hey down, &c. Item, that I paid for there A bagpipe in a bottle, - Which did begin to hiss and sing When we did stir the stople. Item, that one night I did lie In the Counter for my drinking, I will not say what I paid next day. But I'll whistle Instead of singing. With a hey down, &c. OLD BALLADS. 197 Item, that at last I came To take ray horse again, But my horse look't never worse. His belly did complain. For he alas ! for want of hay. Stood o'er the manger grinning. Yet they made me pay for night and day, . But I'll whistle instead of singing. SECOND PART, OR, Countryman's going down into the Country, declared by a Whistle, to the same tune. 1 H u s having got from London once. He rid full heavy hearted. For like an honest man, he had F'rom all his money parted ; His cloak-bag full of papers was. Instead of money gingling, I dare not boast what those papers cost. But I'll whistle 'stead of singing. With a hey down, &c. 198 OLD BALLADS. Imprimis, coming home, lie found His good wife Joan a brewing, And did not defer, but unto her His papers fell to shewing, But when she saw, nothing but law. She fell to scold and flinging. But all that day he kept away And whistled 'stead of singing. With a hey down, &c. Item, that he went to plough. Which whiles that he was driving, Alas ! says he, what fools are we. In law to fall a striving. For now I mean to keep my teams. Which shall good profit bring in, I must drive on, my money's gone. And whistle 'stead of singing. With a hey down, &c. Item, that his neighbours came To ask what news at London, Alas, says he, more wiser be. For fear that you be undone. Spend not at term wliat you do earn, Whilst that your wi\es are spinning, Wl)ich makes me now to drive the plough, And whistle 'stead of singing. With a hey doM'n, &c. OLD BALLADS. 199 For he it known unto you all. That I my money spendcd. Such fools as I will beggars die, Before their lives are ended ; Therefore beware, and have more care. When that your money is gingling, Least when 'tis spent you do repent, And whistle 'stead of singing. With a hey down, &c. Yet one more item I will add. Since that my song is ended. My item's this, that I would wisli No man to be offended ; With all my items but to save His money when 'tis gingling. Least when 'tis spent he do repent. And whistle 'stead of singing. With a hey down, &c. 200 OLD BALLADS. XLIV. '^ How Robin Good-Fellow went in the shape of a Fidler to a Wedding, and of the sport that he had there." [From the second part of Robin Good-Fellow, commonly called Hob Goblin. 4to. 1628.] To the tune of Watton Townes end. 1 T was a country lad. That fashions strange would see, And he came to a vaulting schoole, Where tumblers use to be : He lik't his sport so well. That from it he'd not part His doxey to him still did cry, Come busse thine owne sweet heart. They lik't his gold so well. That they were both content. That he that night with his sweet heart. Should passe in merry-ment : To bed they then did goe. Full well he knew his part, Where he with words, and eke with deedes, Did busse his owne sweet heart. OLD BALLADS, 201 Long were they not in bed. But one knockt at the dore, And said, Up ! rise, and let me in This vext both knave and whore ; He being sore perplext, From bed did lightly start. No longer then could he indure To busse his owne sweet heart. With tender steps he trod. To see if he could spye The man, that did him so molest. Which he with heavy eye Had soone beheld, and said, Alas ! my owne sweet heart I now doe doubt if ere we busse. It must be at a cart. At last the bawd arose And opened the dore, And saw Discretion cloth'd in rug, Whose office hates a whore ; He mounted up the stayres. Being cunning in his arte. With little search, at last he found My youth and his sweet heart. 202 OLD BALLADS. He having wit at will. Unto them both did say : I will not heare them speak one word. Watch-men with them away ; And cause they lov'd so well, ' Tis pitty they should part : Away with them to new bride-well, There busse your owne sweet heart. His will it was fulfil'd. And there they had the law ; And whilst that they did nimbly spin. The hempe he needs must taw : He ground, he thump't, he grew So cunning in his arte. He learnt the trade of beating hempe. By bussing his sweet heart. But yet he still would say, If I could get release, To see strange fashions Fie give o're. And henceforth live in peace. The towne where I was bred. And thinke by my desert To come no more into this place. For bussing my s'.veet heart. OLD BALLADS. 203 XLV. " True Relation of one Susan Higges, dwelling in Risborow, a towne in Buckinghamshire, and how she lived 20 yeeres, by robbing on the high wayes, yet unsuspected of all that knew her ; till at last coming to Messeldon, and there robbing and murdering a woman ; which woman knew her, and stand- ing by her while she gave three groaues, she spat three drops of blood in her face, which never could be washt out, by which shee was knowne, and executed for the aforesaid murder, at the assises in Lent at Brickhill." To the tune of The Worthy London Prentice. 1 o mourn for my offences. And former passed sins. This sad and doleful story. My heavy heart begins : Most wickedly I spent my time. Devoid of godly grace, A lewder woman never liv'd, I think in any place. Near Buckingham I dwelled. And Susan Higges hy name. Well thoiigljt of by good gentlemen, And farnii-r.s of good fauie ; 204 OLD BALLADS. Where thus for twenty years at least, I liv'd in gallant sort : Which made the country marvel much To hear of my report. My state was not maintained, (As you shall understand) By good and honest dealings. Nor labours of my hand, But by deceit and cozening shifts The end whereof we see. Hath ever been repaid with shame. And ever like to be. My servants were young country girls. Brought up unto my mind, By nature fair and beautifull. And of a gentle kind : Who with their sweet enticing eyes Did many youngsters move. To come by night unto my house. In hope of further love. But still at their close meetings (As I the plot had laid) I stept in still at unawares. While they the wantons play'd, OLD BALLADS. 205 And would in question bring their names. Except they did agree, To give me money for this WTong, Done to my house and me. This was but petty cozenage To things that I have done. My weapon by the highway side, Hath me much money won : In men's attire I oft have rode Upon a gelding stout. And done great robberies valiantly. The countries roimd about. I had my scartes and vizors My face for to disguise. Sometimes a lieard upon my chin. To blind the people's eyes : My Turkey ])lade and pistols good. My courage to maintain. Thus took I many a farmer's purse Well cram'd with golden gain. Great store of London merchants, I boldly have bid stand, And shewed myself most bravely, A woman of my hand : 206 OLD BALLADS. You ruffling roysters every one. In my defence say then We women still for gallant minds May well compare with men. SECOND PART. But if so be it chanced The countries were heset^ With hue, and cries, and warrants. Into my house I get. And I so being with my maids. Would cloak the matter so. That no man could, by any means. The right offender know. Yet God that still most justly Doth punish every vice. Did bring unto confusion. My fortunes in a trice ; For by a murder all my sins Were strangely brought to light. And such desert I had by law As justice claim 'd by right. OLD BALLADS. 207 Upon the lieath of Missel don, I met a woman tliere. And robb'd her as from market Homewards she did repair. Which woman call'd me by my name. And said tliat she me knew, For whicli even with her life's dear blood My hands I did embiiie. But after I had wounded This woman unto death. And that her bleeding body Was almost reft of breath : She gave a groan, and therevvlthall Did spit upon my face Three drops of blood, that never could Be wiped from that place. For after I returned Unto my house again. The more that 1 it wash'd It more appeared plain: Eacli hour 1 tliought that beasts and birds This murder would reveal, Or tiiat the air so vile a deed No longer would conceal. 208 OLD BALLADS. So heavy at my conscience This woeful murder lay. That I was soon enforced. The same for to bewray. And to my servants made it known. As God appointed me, For blood can mever secret rest. Nor long unpunisht be. My servants to tlie justices Declar'd what I had said. For which I was attached. And to the jail convey'd. And at the 'sizes was condemn'd. And had my just desert. E'en such a deatli let all them have. That bear so false a heart. So farewell, earthly pleasure. My 'quaintance all adieu. With whom I spent the treasure. Which causeth me to rue. Leave off your wanton pastimes. Lascivious and ill. Which without God's great mercy Both soul and body kill. OLD BALLADS. 209 Be warned by this story You ruffling roysters all : The higher that you climb in siri^ The greater is your fall : And since the world so wicked is, Let all desire grace, Grant, Lord, that I the last may be That runneth such a race ! XLVL THE MAIDEN'S TRAGEDY, OR, A brief Account of a young Damsell near Wolver- hampton, who cut her throat in despair, because she could not have the man she loved. To the tune of Russell's Farewell. i\ E A R Wolverhampton liv'd a maid. Who fell into despair. Her yielding heart was soon bctray'd, Lito Love's fatal snai'e : VOL, I. P 210 OLD BALLADS. A young man courted her we find. And seeming love did shew. Yet after all he prov'd unkind, Which wrought her overthrow. Here do I languish in distress. The youthful damsel cried. To see his most unfaithfulness. All round on every side : I nothing see but clouds of grief, And storms of bitter woe, It's death alone must yield relief. Love proves my overthrow. False-hearted Thomas call to mind. The solemn vows you made, That you would never prove unkind, And can you now degrade Your loyal lover now at last. And fill my heart with woe, Wliich will my life and glory blast, And prove my overthrow. I courted was both day and night. At length I gave consent. This done my love he straight did slight. And leaves me to lament ; OLD BALLADS. 2\l As if he took delight to see Mine eyes like fountains flow. Oh, most ungrateful man, said she> Love proves my overthrow. Not long ago he did adore, My very charms, he cried. Was ever inan so false before. In all the world beside ? A harmless lover to deceive. And drown in tears of woe. This vvorld I am resolv'd to leave. Love proves my overthrow. The killing torment that I feel. Doth such a passion raise. That I no longer can conceal The sorrows of my days ; I'll hasten death this very day. To ease my heart of woe, I find there is no other way. Love proves my overthrow. Thus being fill'd with discontent. She took a bloody knife. In desperate sort resolv'd and bent To cut the thread of life : 212 OLD BALLADS. Down from her throat the reeking gore In purple streams did flow, And though she lay a week and more, It prov'd her overthrow. With grief and sorrow compass'd round. She languish' d night and day. At length her fatal bleeding wound. Did take her quite away ; And all along before she died. Her eyes with tears did flow. Likewise she wrung her hands and cried. Love proves my overthrow. Farewell to him who is the cause Of all my grief and care. Had he been true to Cupid's law8, I solemnly declare. We might have liv'd in happiness. In love and peace I know 3 But sorrows do my sovil oppress. And prove my overthrow. Though now at present he may have Content, and pleasure And, When I am sleeping in my grave. He then will call to mind. OLD BALLulDS. 213 Who caus'd this present wretched state, And fill his heart with woe. And then he may repent too late My dismal overthrow. XLVII. THE YOUNG SEAMAN'S MISFORTUNE, OR, The False-hearted Lass of Limehouse. [From the Pepys Collection.] To the tune of the Spinning --wheel. Licensed according to order. You loyal lovers far and near. That live and reign in Cupid's court, , I'd have you freely lend an ear, Wiiile I my sorrows do report : She that I lov'd has left me o'er ; I'll never trust a woman more. 214 OLD BALLADS. Jn her I plac'd my chief delight. And was her captive night and day ; For why ? her charming beauty bright Had clearly stole my heart away : But she will not my joys restore ; I'll never trust a woman more. On board of ship I chane'd to go. To serve our good and gracious king : Now when she found it must be so. She did her hands in sorrow wring. Yet wedded when I left the shore j I'll never trust a woman more. My dearest love, she often cry'd. Forbear to sail the ocean sea ; If fortune shall us now divide, Alas ! what will become of me ? This she repeated ten times o'er ! I'll never trust a woman more. A thousand solemn vows I made. And she return'd the like again, -That no one sViould our hearts Invade, But both in loyal love remain ; Yet she another had in store ! I'll never trust a woman more. OLD BALLADS. 215 I was obliged to leave the land^ And ready to go hoist up smI, At which tears in her eyes did stand. And bitterly she did bewail ; i Yet she another had in store ! I'll never trust a woman more, I gave her then a ring of gold. To keep in token of true love. And said, My dearest dear behold ! I evermore avIII loyal prove. She married when I left the shore ! I'll never trust a woman more. Five months I ploughed the ocean main. With courage void of dread and fear ; At length with joy return'd again To the embraces of my dear. But slie another had in store ! I'll never trust a woman more. Constancy doth torture me. And make my sorrows jnost severe; Like a keen dart it pierc'd my lieart. For why ? I did the tydings hear. As soon as e'er 1 came on shore ! ril never trust a woman more. 216 OLD BALLADS. Now must I wander in despair, I find it is the Fates' decree ; My gri^f is more than I can bear, I can love none alive but she : Farewell, farewell, ray native shore I'll never trust a woman more. XLVIIL THE PLEASANT HISTORY OF DORASTUS AND FAUNIA. Into Bohemia dwelt a king, Pandosto high, to name : He had a queen, Bellaria call'd. Fair, beauteous, and of fame. He had a friend Egestus call'd, A king of great renown. And for love of Pandosto he Did leave his land and crown. OLD BALLADS. 217 And to Bohemia he did sail, Pandosto for to see : Who with Bellaria, his queen, Receiv'd him royally. Royall Bellaria lov'd her lord Wliich her constrain'd and mov'd, To welcome his most noble friend, Whom he most dearly lov'd. This King and Queen familiar growes, Pandosto he beholds Bellaria with Egestus walk, (Array'd in robes of gold.) Into the garden, hand in hand. He sees them sporting go, Pandosto groweth jealous straight. And turn'd Egestus foe. One Franion, his cup bearer. He doth unto him call : And cliargeth him with poyson strong To make Egestus fall, Franion refus'd, but yet the king With threats did him ov'rset : And with fair words, when he had done. Promised to make him great. 218 OLD BALLADS. But Franion the cup bearer This matter did reveal ; And with Egestus secretly Away by night did steal j Thinking it better were for him Never to see his king. Than traitorously, without a cause. To do so vile a thing. Pandosto's jealousie jnore bums. When he saw they were gone ; And for Bellaria he sent. Who quickly to him came, And with wllde speeches in his ire. His noble queen blasphem'd : And with the wilde name of a whore. In his fierce wrath her nam*d. With speed he calls a parliament. And her in prison cast. Intending till he took her life. Therefore to keep her fast, It is her hap to be with child. Which when the king doth see. Then more and more his wrath doth buyn In that mad jealousie, OLD BALLADS 219 Still swearing his queen's life to have ; But here begins the strife. For all the parliament did seek To save Bellaria's life. He swears she and her child shall die, His nobles all before, Go fetch, he says, to parliament. That filthy odious whore. In vain thus with the King they strive, Yet one brave lord at last Gives forth his vote to save the Queen, And forth his verdict past. Send quickly post to Delphus Isle To Apollo and see. And at that Oracle enquire To know the veritie. And to this lord they all agreed, And quickly sent away Men, who till they to Delphus came. Posted both night and day. And having their devotions done, Apollo cry'd at last, Boliemlans that which ye find Behind the altar cast. 220 OLD BALLADS. Take up : but do not look thereon. Nor let no man it see, ' n' Till that ye both before the King And parliament shall be. The scrol they took and posted home. The King doth them require. To see the scrol, which he did think Would satiate his desire. But they him told what charge they got. When they did it receive : And also what instructions Apollo to them gave ; The parliament conveens, the King From prison brought the Queen : Which was but newly brought to bed, iVnd was a woman green ; Whose child the King caus'd 'take her from. And said to death put straight That bastard brat, and let it not Appear into my sight. The executioners abhor'd So vile a cruel deed : And in a boat unto the sea. They do it send with speed. OLD BxVLLADS. 221 Wlilch neither sail nor ruther had, Nor company therein, And to seas fury they commit It for to sink or swim. With trees branches an arbor made, Therein a purse of gold, And with rich jewels from the Queen, This babe they there uproll'd, A storm arose, this little boat Drives to Egestus land, A shepherd, that was keeping sheep. Doth find it on the sand. He looks upon the childs beauticj Covered with cloath of gold The like his eyes did never see, So glorious to behold. He surely thought it was a god. And down he kneels to pray : But when the child began to cry. He bore it thence away. The jewels and the gold he takes, And calls the child his own : And Faunia he doth her name. Who grew a beauteous one. 222 OLD BALLADS. So that her fame came unto coUrt^ The prince came her to see ; Who having lookt this nymph upon. Was ravisht presently. Dorastus was the prince's name. Wlio with a full intent. Most earnestly did sue for love. With thousand complements^ With modest meekness she refus'd. Saying she'd love him dear. If that she equall were with him. Or he a shepherd were. At last the prince his father told. But he right furiously. Says who's this eiitysde my son, I vow that he shall die. This to prevent, the prince provides A ship to save their life ; And with one servant and his love. The shepherd and his wife : To sea they go, and they arrive In her own father's land : But let us of her mother speak, Wliich doth in judgment stand. OLD BALLADS. 22S Apollo's answer to the King, And all his parliament ; . Which to this purpose spake, was read, Wliieh made the King lament. Suspicion is no proof at all, Jealousie judgeth wrong: Egestus and the Queen are chaste. True Franion did no wrong. Treacherously Pandosto's guiltless babe. Is sent unto the sea. And if she be not found again, He without child shall die. With tears the King seeks to comfort His royal loving wife . But before all the parliament, In his armes ends her life. For brevitie I do omit. To show how all did mourn : To Dorastus and Faunia,- I purpose to return. That beauteous couple privately. Did pass their time away ; The King took of her beauty heed. For they near court did stay. 224 OLD BALLADS. The King with fair words, and with threats. Did seek her love to gain : But constantly she him refus'd. His sute was all in vain. In prison all the King them cast^ The shepherd and his wife, Dorastus, and fair Faunia, Swearing to take her life. . The shepherd's first examined. Whom of that knight was come : Who presently did plain confess. He's King Egestus son. From prison then the King him brought. And doth him honour much : The shepherd hath to prison sent. And Faunia forth do fetch. Fair Faunia is now brought forth. And doth in judgment stand ; How dost thou whore entyse this prince. Or in his presence stand ? This spake the King 'twixt ire and lust. And brought the shepherd syne. Which, fraught with fear of death, did say. She is no child of mine. OLD BALLADS. 225 I found her in a little boat, Her cloaths I'le let you see ; And chain that was about her neck, I have all here by me. Her chains and bracelets he did show, To the King presently : Also the mantle with his armes. Which on his bed did ly. Which when the King did all behold. Remembering what was past, He presently gave them his crown. And he to cloister past. Egestus to their wedding came. And reconciled was Unto Pandosto, who to him Did cry full oft, alace ! For my sweet Queen Bellaria fair. And for this sinful lust. Which to my daughter I conceiv'd. And for my thoughts unjust. To thee, my friend and neighbour true, And for my sinful life, To monastrie I now will go, Till death shall end my strife. VOL. I. Q 226 OLD BALLADS. Royall DorastuSj and his Queen, Without all kind of strife, Of both the lands receiv'd the crown, After Egestus life. Judge all now of Bohemia's joy. How every one did sing : A joyful noise in every place. Through all the land did ring. OLD BALLADS. 227 XLIX. DEATH OF IFFIDA. From " The Romance of the History of Palraendos, sou to th most renowned Pahnerin dOliva." 1653. *' The mother and her daughter ran furiously on Palmendos, labouring to do him what injury they could: but he (un- willing to hurt them), suffered their violence, till Ozalioe's squire seeing their impatience, and fearing with their knives they would in the end murder him, took up one of the guards hatchets, and therewith deprived the mother of her life. *' Iflida extremely raging at this grievous spectacle, rent her hair frt)m her head, and with her nails, most cruelly mar- tyred her face ; then being suddenly surprised with a raging apoplexy, she presently died without using any more speeches. The Page grieving to behold this woeful acci- dent, determined not to live any longer after her; but first upon the wall he wrote certain dolorous verses, which afterward were converted to a funeral ditty, in this manner:" XJe AD is the bud of beauty's chief delight, Tlie fairest flower on whom the sun di ! shine. The choice belov'd of many a famous knight. The pride of honour, precious and di\iae : Tiie lovely maid of whom the nym-.hs did sing, That nature never fram'd so rare a thing. 228 OLD BALLADS. Had Paris seen this wondrous piece of art. Proud Venus had not carried beauty's prize, Pallas and Juno would have stood apart. To see their gifts one virgin royalize : In every point surpassing curious, Had fate and fortune been as gracious. Ungentle star, that domineer'd the day. When first my lady mistress breath'd this air, What angry object stood then in the way. To cross the course that was begun so fair ! You lowrliig heavens, why did ye oppress - The saint whom you so many ways did bless ! But, wretch ! why stand'st thou charging these with guilt. And art thyself the author of this ill ? Thou hapless boy thy lady's blood hast spilt, Thy master and his sen-ants thou didst kill. When first thou travell'dst for this trothless man, Even in that hour these miseries began. But, sovereign Love, immortal and divine. Whose gracious name did shadow this abuse, Canst thou permit before thy holy eyn, This heinous deed exempt from all excuse? O mighty Love, what will thy suljjects say, If foul offence go unrevenged away ? OLD BALLADS. 22ill, and fctchl a boxo of precious balnie, the which tl.e 230 OLD BALLADS. Gyant was wont to poure into his wounds after his encoun- ter with any Knight: with which balme this courteous lady chafed every part of the breathlesse champion's bodie, one while washing his stiffe lims with her salt teares the which like pearles fell from her eyes, another while drying them with the tresses of her golden hayre, which hung dangling in the winde, then chafing his lirelesse body againe with a balme of a contrary nature, but yet no signe of life could shee espie in the dead Knight: which caused her to grow desperate of all hope of his recoverie. Therefore like a loving, meeke, and kinde ladie, considering he had lost his life for her sake, shee intended to beare him company in death, and with her owne hands to finish up her dayes, and to dj e upon his breast as Thisbe died upon the brest of her true Pyramus; therefore as the swanne sings a while before her death, so this sorrowful lady warbled forth ihit swan-like song over the bodie of the noble champion." JVl USES come mourn tvith doleful melody. Kind Sylvan Nymphs tliat sit in rosy bovvers. With bracking tears commix your harmony To wail with me both minutes, days, and hours. A heavy, sad, and swan-like song, sing I, To ease my heart a while before I die. Dead is the Knight for whom I live and die. Dead is the Knight which for my sake is slain. Dead is the Knight for whom my careful cry, With wounded soul for ever shall complain, A heavy, sad, and swan-like song, sing I, To ease my heart a while before I die. OLD BALLADS. 231 I'll lay my breast upon a silver stream. And swim unto Elysium's lilly fields ; There in ambrosian trees I'll write a theme Of all the woeful sighs my sorrow yields. A heavy, sad, and swan-like song, sing I, To ease my heart a while before I die. Farewell, fair woods, where sing the nightingales. Farewell, fair fields, where feed the light- foot does, Farewell, you groves, you hills and flowery dales, But fare thou ill, the cause of all my woes : A heavy, sad, and swan- like song, sing I, To ease my heart a while before I die. Ring out my ruth, you hollow ca^cs of stone. Both birds and beasts with all things on the ground : You senseless trees, be assistant to my moan. That up to heaven my sorrows may resound. A heavy, sad, and swan-like song, sing I, To ease my heart a while before I die. Let all the towns of Thrace ring out my knell. And write in leaves of brass what J have said, That after ages may remember well, How Rossalind both liv'd, and died a maid : A heavy, sad, and swan-like song, sing I, To eai^e my heart a while before I die. 232 OLD BALLADS. LL PITHIAS'S LAMENT FOR THE LOSS OF DAMON. [From the very rare old Drama of Damon and Pithias.] AwAKK ye woeful wights That long have wept in woe. Resign to me your plaints and tears, My hapless hap to show : My woe no tongue can tell, Ne pen can well descry : O what a death is this to hear, Damon my friend must die. The loss of worldly wealth Man's wisdom may restore. And physick hath provided too A salve for every sore : But my true friend once lost. No art can well suj)ply : Then what a death is this to hear ! Damon my friend must die. OLD BALLADS. 233 My mouth refuse the food, That should iny limbs sustain. Let sorrow sink into my breast. And ransack every vein : You furies all at once. On me your torments try : Why should I live since that I hear, Damon my friend shall die. Gripe me, you greedy griefs. And present pangs of deaths, You sisters three with cruel hands. With speed now stop my breath : Shrine me in clay alive. Some good man stop mine eye : Oh death come now, seeing I hear Damon my friend must die. 234 OLD BALLADS. LIL OLD TITHON. [From the ojd Comedy of Wily Beguiled.] CJld Tithon must forsake his dear, The lark doth chant her ch earful lay ; Aurora smiles with merry cheer, To welcome in a happy day. The beasts do skip. The sweet birds sing j The wood nymphs dance, I ~ The echoes ring. The hollow caves with joy resound, And pleasures ev'ry where abound : The graces linking hand in hand. In love have knit a glorious band. OLD BALLADS. 285 LIU. THREE-MAN'S SONG. [From " The Shoraaker's Holyday." 1600.] O THE month of May, the merry month of May, So frolick, so gay, and so green, so green, so green, O and tlien did I unto my true love say, Sweet Peg, thou shalt be my summer's queen. Now the niglitlngale, the pretty nightingale, The sweetest singer in all the forest's quire, Intreats thee, sweet Peggy, to hear thy true love's tale, Lo yonder she sitteth, her breast against a brier. But O, I spy the cuckow, the cuckow, the cuckow. See where she sitteth, come away my joy : Come away, I prithee, I do not like the cuckow Should sing where my Peggy and I kiss and toy. O the month of May, the merry month of May, So frolick, so gay, and so green, so green, O and then did I unto my true love say, Sweet Peg, thou shalt be my summer's queen. 236 OLD BALLADS. LIV. THREE-MAN'S SONG. [From " The Shomaker's Holyday." 1600.] Oold's the wind, and v/et's the rain, Saint Hugh be our good speed : 111 is the MTather that bringeth no gain, Nor helps good hearts in need. Trowl the bowl, the jolly-nut-brown boMi, And here kind mate to thee : Let's sing a dirge for Saint Hugh's soul. And down it merrily. Down a down, hey down a down, Hey deny derry down a down, Ho, well done, to me let come. Ring compass gentle joy. Trowl the bowl, the nut-brown bowl, And here kind mate to thee. Let's sing a dirge for Saint Hugh's soul. And down it merrily. OLD BALL.\DS. 237 Cold's the wind, and wet's the rain. Saint Hugh be our good speed, 111 is the weather that bringeth no gain. Nor helps good hearts in need. LV. SONG From Heywood's " Fayre Maide of the Exchange." 1615. X E little birds that sit and sing Amidst the shady valllcs. And see how Phlllis sweetly walks Within her garden alleys ; Go, pretty birds, about her bower. Sing, pretty birds, she may not lower, Ah me, methinks I see her frown. Ye pretty wantons warble. Go tell her through your ehirping bills-, As you by me are bidden, To her is only known my love, Which from the world is hidderi. 238 OLD Ballads. Go, pretty birds, and tell her so, See that your notes strain not too low. For still methinks I see her frown. Ye pretty wantons warble. Go tune your voices harmony And sing I am her lover ; Strain loud and sweet, that every note With sweet content may move her. And she that hath the sweetest voice. Tell her I will not change my choice. Yet still methinks I see her frown. Ye pretty wantons warble. O fly, make haste, see, see she falls Into a pretty slumber ; , Sing round about her rosy bed, That waking she may wonder. Say to her 'tis her lover true That sendeth love by you and you ; And when you hear her kind reply Return with pleasant warblings. OLD BALLADS. 239 LVL HEDONE, From the rare Drama called " Apollo Shroying/ JltkdonEj Queen Hedone, sweet Hedone, Dame Nature's care and noblest birth. The joy and crown of heaven and earth, Tlie aim and centre of desire. The fuel of most sacred fire. By me, and this, and this. She sends you all her bliss. Among the gods she hath her place. They all stand gazing on her face. The clouds do from her presence fly, 'Tis sunshine where she casts her eye. Wlier'er she treads on earth below, A rose, or lilly, up do grow. Her breath a gale of spices brings ; Mute arc the Muses when she sings ; What'er she touches turns to nectar. What man but can and must affect her ? 240 OLD BALLADS. No heart so hard but needs mnst melt When once her kindly heat is felt. She, she vouchsafes to call you to her. And wooing prays you now to woo her. By study soon fresh youth doth break. The fair grow foul, the strong grow weak : Leave, leave this musing bookish trade : Enjoy yourselves before youth fade. Time must be gone. Old age creeps on. LVIL LULLABY SONG, [From the Slaughter of the Innocents, acted at CoTentry in the reign of Henry the Eighth, and reprinted in Mr. Douce's excellent Illustrations of Shakspeare.] JLuLLA, lulla, thou littell tine childej By by lully lullay, Ltilly lullay thou littell tine childcj By by lully lullay. OLD BALLADS. 241 O sisters too, how may we do. For to preserve this day. This pore youngling, for whom we do singe By by lully lullay. Herod the king, in his raging, Chargid he hatli this day ; His men of might, in liis owne sight. All yonge children to slay. That wo is me pore childe for thee. And ever morne and say For thi parting, nether say nor sing By by lully hdlay. Lvin. LULLABY SONG. [From a rare collection of songs printed in 1530, ajxd reprinted by Mr. Douce,] Xjy by lullaby Rockyd 1 iny child, In a dre~late as I lay Me thoujfht I hard a maydyn say VOL. I. il 242 OLD BALLADS. I And spak thes wordys mylde My lytil sone with thee I play. And ever she song by lullay. Thus rockyd she hyr child. By by lullabi, Rockid I my child by by. Then merveld I ryght sore of this A mayde to have a chyld I wys. By by lullay Thus rockyd she her child By by lullaby, rockyd I my child. LIX. LULLABY SONG. [From " The Pleasant Comodie of Patient Grissill." 1603.] C>oLDEN slumbers kisse your eyes. Smiles awake you when you rise : Sleepe, pretty wantons, doe not cry. And I will sing a luUabie. OLD BALLADS. 243 Care is heavy, therefore sleepe you. You are care, and care must keep you : Sleepe, pretty wantons, doe not cry, And I will sing a lullabie, Rocke them, rocke them, lullabie. LX. THE MAY POLE, [From ActaeoD and Diana.] IjoME, ye young men, come along. With your musick, dance, and song, Bring your lasses in your hands. For 'tis that which love commands ; Then to the May-pole come away, For it is now a holyday. It is the choice time of the year. For the violets now appear ; Now the rose receives its birth. And pretty primrose decks the earth. Then to the May-pole come away. For it is now a holyday. 244 OLD BALLADS. Here each bachelor may choose One that will not faith abuse. Nor repay with coy disdain. Love that should be loved again. Then to the May-pole come away. For it is now a holyday. And when you well reckoned have, What kisses you your sweethearts gave. Take them all again and more. It will never make them poor. Then to the May-pole come away, For it is now a holyday. When you thus have spent the time. Till the day be past its prime, To your beds repair at night, And dream there of your days delight. Then to the May-pole come away. For it is now a holyday. OLD BALLADS. 24S LXK MAY-DAY SONG. [From Mr. Todd's MSS. mentioned at p. 107 of this volume.] J ONE, to the May-pole axvay let us on, Tyme is swift and will be gone ; See how the wenches hye to the greene, Wliere they know they shall be seene : Besse, Moll, Kate, Doll, These wante no loves to attend them ; Hodge, Dick, Tom, Nick, Brave dauncers, whoe can amend them ? Jone, shall we have now a hay or a rounde. Or some daunce that is new-founde : Lately I was at a masque in the courte. Where I saw of every sorte Many a dance, made in France, Many a braule, and many a measure, Gay coates, sweet notes. Brave wenches, O 'twas a treasure ! But now, me thinkes these courtlye toyes Us deprive of better joyes r 246 OLD BALLADS. Goune made of gray, and skin softe as silke, Breath as sweet as morning milke ; O, these more please ! Tliese hath my Jone to delight me : False wiles, courte-smiles. None of these hath Jone to despight me. LXIL SYMPTOMS OF LOVE. [From " The Muses Gardin." 1610.] Once did my thoughts both ebb and flow, As passion did them move ; Once did I hope, straight fear again. And then I was in love. Once did I waking spend the night. And told how many minutes move. Once did I wishing waste the day. And then I was in love. Once by my carving true loves knot. The weeping trees did prove. That wounds and tears were both our lots. And then I was in love. OLD BALLADS. 24f Once did I breatli another's breath. And in my mistress move. Once was 1 not mine own at all. And then I was in love. Once wore I bracelets made of hair. And collars did approve ; Once were my cloaths made out of wax, And then I was in love. Once did I sonnet to my saint. My soul in numbers mov'd j Once did I tell a thousand lies. And then I was in love. Once in my ear did dangling hang A little turtle dove. Once, in a word, I was a fool. And then I was in love. 248 OLD BALLADS. LXin. THE SHEPHERD'S LOVE FOR PHILLIDAY. [From the Muses Garden.} 1 H E R was a shepherd that did live, ^ And held his thoughts as high, As were the mounts whereon his flocks Did hourly feed him by. He from his youth, his tender youth. Which was unapt to keep Or hopes, or fears, or loves, or cares. Or thoughts but of his sheep ; Did with his dog as shepherds do. For shepherds wanting wit Devise some sports, though foolish sports. Yet sports for shepherds fit. The boy that yet was but a boy. And so desires were hid. Did grow a man, and men must love. And love this shepherd did. He loved much, none can too much Love one so high divine As but herself, none but herself So fair, so fresh, so fine, OLD BALLADS. 249 He vowed by his shepherd's weed. An oath which shepherds keep, That he woidd follow Phillyday Before a flock of sheep. LXIV. ** The Maidens Complaint of her Loves inconstancle. Shewing it forth in every degree : Shee being left as one forlorne. With sorrowes shee her selfc to adorne And seeraes for to lament and monrne." To a delicate new time. You maids and wives, and women kind, Give ear and you shall hear my mind, Wherein I'll shew most perfectly A false young man's inconstancy : For which I sigh, and sob, and weep. To see false men no faith can keep. I love where I have cause to hate. Such is my foolish fickle state. My time I spend in grief and woe, Which sure will be my overthrow^ 250 OLD BALLADS. I sigh and sob, and then do weep. For that false men no faith can keep. My love to me doth prove untrue. And seems to bid me now adieu, hatefull wretch and most unkind To bear so false and wicked mind \ It makes me sigh, and sob, and weep. To see false men no faith can keep. He's fled and gone for which I grieve, 1 wish no maiden him believe. For he with tempting speeches will Seek others now for to beguile. That they with me may sigh and weep, And say that men no faith can keep. Shall I be bound that may be free. Shall I love them that love not me. Why should I thus seem to complain, I see I cannot him obtain, Which makes me sigh, and sob, and weep To see that men no faith can keep. shall I weep or shall I sing, 1 know not which will fit mourning, If that I weep 't will bring me pain. If that I sing 't will ease my brain OLD BALLADS. 251 Therefore I'll sigh, and sob, and weep To see false men no faith can keep. The jewel's lost, the thief is fled, And I lie wounded in my bed ; If to repent I should begin, They 'II say 'twas I that let him in, Therefore I'll sigh, and sob, and weep To see false men no faith can keep. My mind to him was always true For which I have now cause to rue. Would I had never seen his face. Nor trod the paths of Cupid's race. For now I sigh, and sob, and weep. To see false men no faith can keep. SECOND PART. What hap hath any he or she. That can but live at liberty, And not .be troubled as I am. As by my song you understand, It makes me sigh, and sob, and weep To see false men no faith can keep. 252 OLD BALLADS. I cannot take my quiet rest To think on him that I lov'd best. Sometimes when I do think to sleep Then thought of him makes me to weep. I cannot choose but sigh and sob, [To think of him that doth me rob. 'Tis true indeed he robbeth me Of my content and liberty, My heart can now no comfort find To think on him that proves unkind, I cannot choose but sigh and weep. To see false men no faith can keep. My head doth ache, mine eyes are sore. And I can find no help therefore. My body's faint, and I am weak. My tongue is tied I cannot speak, Yet still I sigh, and sob and weep. To see that men no faith can keep. My days are short, my life's not long, I cannot well declare my wrong. Yet in some part I here do shew. That you the cause hereof may know. Wherefore I sigh, and sob, and weep. To sec that men no faith can keep. OLD BALLADS. 253 His tempting eyes and smiling looks, Now seem to me like baited hooks, Which are but laid for to betray Tlie fish, that's greedy of his prey, Therefore I sob, and sigh, and weep. To see that men no faith can keep. When first with me he came in place. He did me with his arms embrace^ He kist me oft, and swore that he Would never have no one but me. Yet now he makes me sob and weep To see that men no faith can keep. With words most fair he did entreat, Untiil my favour he did get. But him uncertain I do find. And changing like the wavering wind. Which makes me sigh, and sob, and weep, To see that men no faith can keep. He vow'd to bear a faithful mind. But he is otherwise inclin'd, He now doth seem as strange to me, I cannot have his company, Wliich makes me sigh, and sob, and weep. To see that men no faith can keep. 254 OLD BALLADS. Thus seems my love to do me wrong. Wherefore I'll here conclude my song, I'll never trust false men no more. Nor do as I have done before, For which I sigh, and sob, and weep. To see that men no faith can keep. LXV. NO CONSTANCY IN MAN. [This Ballad is inserted in H. Lawes's " First Book ofAyres," and Mr. Todd esteems it the production of Lawes himself. See preliminary Notes on Comus.] J3 E gone, be gone, thou perjur'd man. And never more return. For know that thy inconstancy Hath chang'd my love to scorn : Thou hast awak'd me, and I can See clearly there's no truth in man. My love to thee was chaste and pure. As is the morning dew. And 'twas alone like to endure, Hadst thou not prov'd untrue ; But I'm awak'd, and now I can See clearly there's no truth in man. OLD BALLADS. 255 Thou mayst perhaps prevail upon Some other to believe thee. And since thou canst love more than one. Ne'er think that it shall grieve me j For th' hast awak'd me, and I can See clearly there's no truth in man. By thy apostasy I find That love is plac'd amiss. And can't continue in the mind Where virtue wanting is : I'm now resolv'd, and know there can No constant thought remain in man. LXVL " A Ladie being wronged by false suspect, and also wounded by the durance of her Husband, dooth thus bewray her griefe." [From Gaiscoigne's Poems, 4to. 1587.] VJive me my lute in bed now as I lie. And lock the doors of mine unlucky bower : So shall my voice in mournful verse descry The secret smart which causeth me to lower : 256 OLD BALL.\DS. Resound, you walls, an echo to my moan ; And thou, cold bed wherein I lie alone, Bear witness yet what rest thy lady takes, When others sleep which may enjoy their makes. In prime of youth when Cupid kindled fire. And warm'd my will with flames of fervent love ; To further forth the fruit of my desire. My friends devis'd this mean for my behove. They made a match according to my mind. And cast a snare my fancy for to blind : Short tale to make, the deed was almost done ''Before I knew which way the work begun. And with this lot I did myself content, I lent a liking to my parents choice ; With hand and heart I gave my free consent. And hung in hope for ever to rejoice. I liv'd and lov'd long time in greater joy Than she wliich held King Priam's son of Troy : But three lewd lots have chang'd my heaven to hell. And those be these, give ear and mark them well. First, Slander, he which always beareth hate To happy hearts in heavenly state that bide : 'Gan play his part to stir up some debate, Whereby Suspect into my choice might glide. OLD BALLADS. 257 And by his means the slime of false suspect. Did (as I fear) my dearest friend infect. Thus by these twain long was I plung'd in pain. Yet in good hope my heart did still remain. But now (ah me !) the greatest grief of all, Sound loud my Lute, and tell it out my tongue. The liardest hap that ever might befall j The only cause wherefore this song is sung. Is this, alas ! my love, my lord, my roi My chosen pheare, my gem, and all my joy Is kept perforce out of my daily sight. Whereby I lack the stay of my delight. In lofty walls, in strong and stately towers. With troubled mind in solitary sort, My lovely lord doth spend his days and hours, A weary life devoid of all disport. And I, poor soul, must lie here all alone, To try my truth, and wound my will with moan ; Such is my hap to shake my blooming time With winter's blasts before it pass the prime. Now have you heard the sum of all my grief. Whereof to tell my heart (oh) rents in twain. Good ladies yet lend you me some relief. And bear a part to ease me of my pain. VOL. I. s 258 OLD BALLADS. My sores are such that weighing well my truth They might provoke the craggy rocks to ruth ; And move these walls with tears for to lament The loathsome life wherein my youth was spent. But thou, my Lute, be still, now take thy rest, Repose thy bones upon this bed of down, Thou hast discharg'd some burthen from my breast. Wherefore take thou my place, here lie thee down. And let me walk to tire my restless mind, Untill I may entreat some courteous wind To blow these words unto my noble make. That he may see I sorrow for his sake. OLD BALLADS. 259 LXVII. "THENEWBALOW; OR, A Wenches Lamentation for the loss of her Sweet- heart : he having left her a babe to play with, being the fruits of her folly." The tune is Balow. JL>ALOW, my babe, weep not for me. Whose greatest grief's for AVTonging thee, But pity her deserved smart. Who can but blame her own kind heart. For trusting to a flattering friend. The fairest tongue, the falsest mind. Balow, my babe, &c. Balow, my babe, ly still and sleep. It grieves me sore to hear thee weep : If tliou l)e still I will be glad. Thy weeping makes thy mother sad : Balow, my boy, thy mother's joy. Thy father wrought me great annoy. 260 OLD BALLADS. First when he came to court my love. With sugar'd words he did me move ; His flattering and fained cheer To me that time did not appear. But now I see that cruel he. Cares neither for my babe nor me. I cannot choose but love him still. Although that he hath done me ill, For he hath stolen away my heart. And from him it cannot depart ', In well or wo, where ere he go, I'll love him though he be my foe. But peace, my comfort, curse not him. Who now in seas of grief doth swim, perhaps of death : for who can tell Whether the judge of heaven or hell. By some predestinated death Revenging me hath stopt his breath. If I were near those fatal bounds. Where he lies groaning in his wounds : Repeating, as he pants for breath, Her name that wounds more deep than death, O then what woman's heart so strong Would not forget the greatest wrong ? OLD BALLADS. 261 If linen lack for my loves sake Whom once I loved, then would I take My smock even from my body meet. And WTap him in that winding sheet. Ay me, how happy had I been. If he had ne'er been wrapt therein. Balow, my babe, spare thou thy tears, Untill thou come to wit and years. Thy griefs are gathering to a sura, Heaven grant thee patience till they come, A mother's fault, a father's shame, A hapless state, a bastard's name. Be still, my babe, and sleep a while. And when thou wake then sweetly smile. But smile not as thy father did. To cozen maids : O heaven forbid. And yet into thy face I see Thy father dear which tempted me. Balow, my babe, O follow not His faithless steps who thee begot. Nor glory in a maid's disgrace. For thou art his too much, alas ! And in thy looking eyes I read Who overthrew my maidenhead. 262 OLD BALLADS. if I were a maid again. All young men's flatteries I'd refrain : Because unto my grief I find That they are faithless and unkind. Their tempting terms have bred my harm. Bear witness babe lies in my arm. Balow, my babe, spare yet thy tears, Untill thou come to wit and years ; Perhaps yet thou may come to be A courtier by disdaining me : Poor me, poor me, alas poor me. My own two eyes have blinded me ! On Idve and fortune I complain. On them and on myself also : But most of all mine own two eyes. The chiefest workers of my woe. For tliey have caused so my smart, That I must die without a heart.. Balow, my babe, thy father dead To me the prodigal hath play'd. Of heaven and earth regardless he Preferr'd the wars to me and thee. 1 doubt that now his cursing mind Makes him eat acorns with the swine. OLD BALLADS. 263 Farewell, farewell, most faithless youth. That ever kist a woman's mouth. Let never a woman after me. Submit unto the courtesy ; For if she do, O cruel thou Would wrong them : O ! who can tell how ? LXVIIL THE WANDRING PRINCE AND PRINCESS ; OR, Musidorus and Amadine. W HEN Musidorus fell in love With Amadine most fair, Her father cross to him did prove Which caus'd him to despair. And for to ease his troubled mind He wander'd in disguise. Hoping he might soon comfort find. Yet tears dro])t from his eyes. 264 OLD BALLADS. Alas ! (quoth he) what shall I do, I am unfortunate, And though my love is firm and true I meet with rigid fate ; For she who is my heart's delight Her father is my foe, Which causes me to take my flight, Now to the woods I go. In woods and deserts I'll reside. Since my poor Amadine, Whom once I thought to make my bride. She must not now be mine : My father's court I quite forsake Never again to see. For love my heart will surely break. My dear I'll die for thee. Thus went this wand'ring prince to seek Throughout the deserts wide, Some secret place where he might keep. And secretly abide. At last he did a shepherd turn. Still minding of his flocks. Which caus'd his Amadine to mourn And tear her golden locks. OLD BALL.\Dg. 265 Alas, alas ! this princess cried, Has he forsaken me. Who I did think could ne'er abide Where I should absent be? Some sudden change possest his breast Tliat makes him prove unkind. Whilst Amadine can take no rest To ease her love-sick mind. Thus Amadine, whose troubled mind Was sorely fill'd with grief. For want of Musidorus pin'd, And could find no relief; Tlien she a resolution took. What ere did her betide. Her prince so dear she would go look Throughout the world so wide. And privately away she went. To all her friends unknown, To give her troubled mind content She wandered all alone, Untill she came into a place Where savage beasts alone Were known in numbers to encreas. And thus she made her moau. 266 OLD BALLADS. Ah ! hapless wretch, quoth she, I am Of lovers, yea, the worst, While some delight to feel love's flam& I think myself accurst ; Yet will I never rest till I Find out this prince of mine. Who strangely, and so privately, Forsook his Amadine. A showier of tears then trickled down From her bright shining eyes. Whose beauty did the deserts crown. Whose sighs then fill'd the skies ; And Musidorus being near Did chance to hear her voice. Though first he was possest with fear. At last he did rejoice. Certain it is, quoth he, the tongue Of my poor Amadine, To whom I have done too much wrong, Whicli grieves this soul of mine. To her sad heart I will give ease Since she is in distress. For love is such a strange disease No tongue can well express. OLD BALLADS. 267 To Amadine he then appear'd, \Vlio startled was to see, She was by any over-heard. And in a swoon fell she ; But her dear prince, with kisses sweet. Brought her again to life. Tliat meeting was to them most sweet, He made her soon his wife. 2C8 OLD BALLADS. LXIX. The Countryman's Lamentation for the Death of his Cow. " A country swain of little wit one day. Did kill his cow because she went astray, What's that to you or I ? she was his own. But now the ass for his cow doth moan. Most pineously raethinks he cries in vain, For now his cow's free from hunger and pain, What ails the fool to make so great a stir ? She cannot come to him, he may to her. To a jileasant country tunc called Colly ray Cow, JLiTTLE Tom Dogget What dost thou mean^ To kill thy poor Colly Now she's so lean ? Sing oh poor Colly, Colly my cow. For Colly will give mc No more milk now. OLD BALLADS. 269 I had better have kept her 'Till fatter she had been, For now I confess She's a little too lean^ Sing oh poor Colly, &c. First in comes the tanner With his sword by his side. And he bids me five shillings For my poor cow's hide. Sing oh poor Colly, &c. Then in comes the tallow-chandler, Whose brains were but shallow. And he bids me two and sixpence For my cow's tallow. Sing oh poor Colly, Colly my cow. For Colly will give me No more milk now. Then in comes the huntsman So early in the mom, He bid me a penny For my cow's horn. Sing oh poor Colly, &c. 270 OLD ballads: Then m comes the tripe-woman. So fine and so neat. She bid me three half-pence. For my cow's feet. - - Sing oh poor Colly, &c,' - >:- -'^ '-"^ -; -^^ Then in comes the butcher. That nimble-tongu'd youth. Who said she was carrion. But he spoke not the truth. Sing oh poor Colly, &c. < This cow had a skin a ? Was as soft as the silk. And three times a day My poor cow would give milk. Sing oh poor Colly, &c. : . She every year A fine calf did me bring. Which fetcht me a pound, For it came in the spring. ' j ^di Sing oh poor Colly, &c. ,-: But now I have kill'd her, I can't her recall, I will sell my poor Colly, Hide, horns and all. Sing oh poor Colly, &c. OLD BALLADS. 271 Tlie butcher shall have her, Though he gives but a pound, And he knows in his heart. That my Colly was sound. Sing oh poor Colly, &c. And when he has bought her^ Let him sell all together, The flesh for to eat. And the hide for leather. Sing oh poor Colly, &c. Some say I'm a cuckold. But I'll swear I am none. For how can it be Now my horns are gone. Sing oh poor Colly, Colly my cow. For Colly will give me No more milk now. 272 OLD BALLADS. LXX. TAKE TIME WHILE TIS OFFERED For Tom has broke his word with his sweeting. And lost a good wife for an houres meeting. Another good fellow has gotten the lasse, And Tom may go shake his long eares like an assc' To the tune of Within the North Country. W HEN Titan's fiery steeds Were lodged in the west. And every beast and feathered fowl Betook themselves to rest. Abroad I walked then To take the evening's air. Hard by a gentle gliding stream I saw a damsel fair. Sweet Tom, quoth she, make haste. Why dost thou stay so long ? If thou dost not thy promise keep, Alas ! thou dost me wrong ! OLD BALLADS. 27S Thou know'st I ventured have To meet thee here to night. Why then wilt thou for my true love. Me churlishly requite ? If that my mother knew That I this time was missing. To meet with thee she'd swear that I Should never have her blessing. Yet is my love so fixt, , Though I were sure to die, I would be sure to meet with thee^ Love lends me wings to fly. But now I well perceive. When maids love young men best. They use them like their servile slaves. And thus I am opprest. At first they woo and pray. And many oaths they swear, Untill like birds they have them caught. Into their crafty snare. Then will they be reject. And scorn us to our face. Thus for our kindness oft we ^re Rewarded with disgrace. VOL. I. T 274 OLD BAIXADS. This I myself have proved. That here I do report. For he to whom I gave my heart Makes me his laughing sport. SECOND PART. This night he promised me To meet at five a clock. Which hour's long past, therefore I doubt With me he does but mock. While I sit sighing here. He's bragging to his mates, That his sweet-heart within the fields. Now for his coming waits. Thus like a lion fierce He insulteth o'er his prey, Alas, there is no remedy. Being bound I must obey. Hard hearted creature here. To seiTe me in this kind, His flattring tongue hath wrought my bancy As now with grief I find. OLD BALLADS. 2/6 Alas, what shall I do, I am possest with fear. For rather than I'll homeward go, My life I'll finish here. For if that I go home. My father he will brawl. My mother she will second him, And that's the worst of all. She'll tell me I have been A gadding after Tom, She'll swear I'll never leave these tricks, Till I come loaden home. If he would meet me here. Those words I well could bear. For when that I am armed with love Their taunts I do not fear. Sweet Tom, make haste away, Or else I shall despair. For home, untill I see thy face, I mean not to repair. What should the reason be, That thou wilt me neglect ? For I have cast thy betters off. Thy person to affect. 276 OLD BALLADS. If me thou dost forsake. Look ne'er to find the like, Methinks experience might thee teach While the iron's hot to strike. My portion is not small. My parentage not base, My looking-glass informs me that I have a comely face. Yet have I made a choice Against my parents will. With one so mean, who cruelly My tender heart doth kill. I hearing her say so Did boldly to her come. The night \vas dark, and she believed That I was her own Tom. She blam'd my tarrying long, Wliich I did well excuse, I pray'd her wend along with me. Which she did not refuse. Supposing all this while Tliat I had been her Tom ; She swore she had rather go vvitii me, Than to go ever home. OLD BALLADS. 27;r Thus Tom has lost his lass. Because he broke his vow. And I have rais'd my fortunes well. The case is alter'd now. LXXL THE WANTON WIFE OF BATH. In Bath a wanton wife did dwell, As Chaucer he doth UTite ; Who did in pleasure spend her days In many a fond delight. Upon a time sore sick she was And at the length did die ; Her soul at last at Heaven's gate. Did knock most mightily. Then Adam came unto the gate, Who knockcth there ? quoth he : I am the Wife of Bath, she said, And fain would come to thee. 278 OLD BALLADS, Thou art a sinner^ Adam said, And here no place shall have. And so art thou, I trow, quoth she. And gip* a doting knave. I vi'ill come in in spite, she said. Of all such churls as thee j Tliou wert the causer of our woe. Our pain and misery. And first broke God's commandments In pleasure of thy wife : When Adam heard her tell this tale. He run away for life. Then down came Jacob at the gate. And bids her pack to hell ; Thou false deceiver why ? said she. Thou may'st be there as well. For thou deceiv'dst thy father dear. And thine own brotlier too. Away slunk Jacob presently. And made no more ado. She knocks again with might and main. And Lot he chides her straight j Wliy then, quoth she, thou drunken ass^ Who bid thee here to prate ? * Gip is an expression of contempt. OLD BALLADS. 279 With thy two daughters thou didst lie. On them two bastards got ; And thus most tauntingly she chaft Against poor silly Lot. Who calleth there, quoth Judith then. With such shrill sounding notes ? This fine minks surely came not here. Quoth she, for cutting throats. -Good Lord, how Judith blush'd for shame When she heard her say so j King David hearing of the same, He to the gate did go. Quoth David, who knocks there so loud. And niaketh all this strife ? You were more kind, good Sir, she said. Unto Uriah's wife. And when thy servant thou didst cause In battle to be slain. Thou caused'st then more strife than I, Wlio would come here so fain. The woman's mad, said Solomon, That thus doth taunt a king ; Not half so mad as you, she said, I trow in many a thing. 280 OLD BALLADS. Thou hadst seven hundred wives at once. For whom thou didst provide, And yet three hundred whores, God wot, Thou didst maintain beside. And those made thee forsake thy God, And worship stocks and stones. Besides the charge tliey put thee to In breeding of young bones. Hadst thou not been besides thy wits. Thou wouldst not thus have ventured. And therefore I do marvel much. How thou this place hast entered. I never heard, quoth Jonas, then. So vile a scold as this ; Thou whore-son run away, quoth she. Thou diddest more amiss. They say, quoth Thomas, women's tongues Of aspen leaves are made j Thou unbelieving wretch, quoth she. All is not true that's said. When Mary Magd'len heard her then. She came unto the gate ', Quoth she, good woman, you must think Upon your former state. OLD BALLADS. 281 No sinner enters in this place. Quoth Mary Magdalen then, Twere ill for you, fiiir mistress, mild She answered her again. You for your honesty, quoth she. Had once been ston'd to death. Had not our Saviour Christ come by, And written on the earth. It was not by your occupation You are become divine, I hope my soul by Christ's passion Shall be as safe as thine. Then rose the good apostle Paul, Unto this A\ife he cried. Except thou shake thy sins aw-ay. Thou here shalt be denied. Remember, Paul, what thou hast done. All thro' a lewd desire. How thou didst persecute God's church With wrath as hot as fire. Then up starts Peter at the last. And to the gate he hies, Fond fool, quoth he, knock not so fast. Thou weajiest Clirist with cries. 282 OLD BALLADS. Peter, said she, content thyself, For mercy may be won, I never did deny my Christ As thou thyself hast done. When as our Saviour Christ heard this. With heavenly angels bright. He comes unto this sinful soul. Who tiembled at his sight. Of him for mercy she did crave. Quoth he, thou hast refused My proffer'd grace and mercy both, And much my name abused. Sore have I sinn'd, O Lord, she said. And spent my time in vain, But bring me, like a wand'ring sheep. Into thy fold again. O Lord, my God, I will amend My former wicked vice : The thief for one poor silly word Past into Paradise. My laws and my commandments, Saith Christ, were known to thee. But of the same in any wise. Not yet one word did ye. OLD BALLADS. 283 I grant the same, O Lord, quoth she, Most lewdly did I live. But yet the loving father did His prodigal son forgive. So I forgive thy soul, he said. Through thy repenting cry. Come you therefore into my joy, I will not thee deny. LXXU. " A most excellent and famous Ditty of Sampson, judge of Israel, how hee Wedded a Philistine's Daughter, who at length forsooke him : also how hee slew a Lyon, and propounded a Riddle, and after how hee was falsely betrayed by Dalila, and of his death." [Black Letter, for the assigns of T. Symcocke.] W HEN Samson was a tall young man. His power and strength encreased then, And in the host and tribe of Dan, The Lc^rd did bless him still. It chanced so upon a day, As he was walking on his way. He saw a maiden fresh and gay In Timnath. 284 OLD BALLADS. With whom he fell so sore in love. That he his fancy conld not move. His parents therefore he did prove. And craved their good wills : I have found out a wife, quoth he, I pray you, father, give her me. Though she a stranger's daughter be I pass not. Then did bespeak his parents dear. Have we not many maidens here, Of country and acquaintance near. For thee to love and like : O no, quoth Samson, presently. Not one so pleasant in my eye. Whom I could find so faithfully To fancy. At length they granted their consent. And so with Samson forth they went To see the maid was their intent. Which was so feir and bright : But as they were agoing there, A lion put them in great fear. Whom Samson presently did tear In pieces. OLD BALLADS. 285 When they were come unto the place, They were agreed in the case. The wedding day appointed was. And when the time was come : As Samson went for beauty's fees. The lion's carcase there he sees. Wherein a sort of honey bees Had swarmed. Then closely Samson went his way, And not a word thereof did say, Untill the merry feasting day Unto the company. A riddle I will shew, quoth he. The meaning if you tell to me. Within seven days I will give ye Great riches. But if the meaning you do miss. And cannot shew me what it is. Then shall you give to me (I wiss) So much as I have said : Put forth the riddle then, quoth they, And we will tell it by our day. Or we will lose as thou dost say The wager. 286 OLD BALLADS. Then make (quoth he) the total sum^ " Out of the eater meat did come. And from the strong did sweetness run,*' Declare it if you can : And when they heard the riddle told. Their hearts within them waxed cold, For none of them could then unfold The meaning. Then unto Samson's wife went they. And threatened her, without delay. If she would not the thing bewray. To burn her father's house. Then Samson's wife with grief and woe. Desired him the same to shew, And when slie knew she straight did go To tell them. Then were they all full glad of this. To tell the thing they did not miss. What stronger beast than a lion is. What sweeter meat than honey ! Then Samson answered them full round. If my heifer had not ploughed the ground. So easily you had not found My riddle. OLD BALLADS. 287 Then Samson did his losses pay. And to his father went his way. But wisht with them he there did stay, His wife forsook him quite. And took another to her love. Which Samson's anger much did move, To plague them therefore he did prove His cunning. A subtle thought he then had found. To burn their corn upon the ground, Tlieir vineyards he destroyed round. Which made them fret and fume. But when they knew that Samson he Had done tliem all this injury, Because his wife did him deny Tlicy killed her. And aftenvard they had decreed To murder Samson for that deed, Three thousand men they sent with speed To bring him bound to them ; But he did break his cords apace. And with the jaw-bone of an ass A thousand men ere he did pass He killed. 2BS OLD BALLADS. When all his foes were laid in dust. Then Samson was full sore athirst. In God therefore was all his trust. To help his fainting heart : For liquor thereabout was none. The Lord therefore from the jaw-bone Did make fresh water spring alone To help hipi. Then Samson had a joyfidl spright. And in a city lay that night. Whereas his foes with deadly spite Did seek his life to spill i But he at midnight then awakes. And tearing down the city gates. With him away the same he takes Most stoutly. Tlien on Delilah fair and bright!, Did Samson set his whole delight. Whom he did love both day and night. Which wrought his overthrow ; For she with: sweet words did intreat, Tliat for her sake he would repeat. Wherein his strength, that was so great, Consisted. OLD BALLADS. 289 At length unto his bitter fall, And through her suit, which was not small. He did not let to shew her all The secrets of his heart : If that my hair be cut, quoth he, Wliich now so fair and long you see, Like other men then shall I be In weakness. Then through deceit which was so deep, She lulled Samson fast asleep, A man she call'd, which she did keep. To cut off all his hair j Then did she call his hateful foes, Ere Samson from her lap arose, \\Tio could not then withstand their blows For weakness. To bind him fast they did devise, Tlien did they put out both his eyes, In prison woefully he lies. And there he grinds the mill ; But God remembered all his pain. And did restore his strength again. Although that bound he did remain In prison. VOL. I. I' 290 OLD BALLADS, The Philistines now were glad of this. For joy they made a feast (I wiss) And all thpir princes did not miss. To come unto the same : And being merry bent that day, For Samson they did send straightway, That they might laugh to see him play Among them. Then to the house was Samson led, And when he had their fancies fed. He pluck'd the house upon their head And down they tumbled all ; So that with grief and deadly pain. Three thousand persons there were slain^ Thus Samson then with all his train Was brained. OLD BALLADS. 291 LXXIII. DAVID AND BATH-SHEBA. [From a black letter copy printed for J. Wright.] When David in Jerusalem As royal king did rule and reign, Behold what happened unto him. That afterward procured his pain. On the top of all his princely place, A gallant prospect there had he. From whence he might, when 't pleas'd his graccj Many a gallant garden see. It chanced so upon a day The king went forth to take the air. All in the pleasant month of May, From whence he spied a lady fair. Her beauty was more excellent And brighter than the morning sun. By which the king incontinent, Was to her favour quickly won. 292 OLD BALLADS. She stood within a pleasant bower, All naked for to wash her there, Her body, like a lilly flower, Was covered with her golden hair. The king was wounded with her love. And what she was he did inquire, He could not his affection move. He had to her such great desire. She is Uriah's wife, quoth they, A captain of your princely train. That in your wars is now away. And she doth all alone remain. Then, said the king, bring her to me. For with her love my heart is slain, The prince of beauty sure is she. For whom 1 do great grief sustain. The servants they did soon prepare. To do the message of the king. And Bath-sheba the lady fair Unto the court did quickly bring. The king rejoiced at her sight, And won her love, and lay her by. Till they in sport had spent the night, And that the sun was risen high. OLD BALLADS. 2f)3 Tlie king liis leave most kindly took Of the fair lady at the last . And homeward then she cast her look Till that three months were gone and past. And then in Bath-sheba so fair. She found her former health exil'd. By certain tokens that she saw, The king had gotten her with child. Then to the king she made her moan, And told him how the case did stand. The king sent for her husband home, To cloak the matter out of hand. When from tiie camp Uriah came. The king received him courteously. Demanding how all things did frame Concerning of the enemy. Uriah shewed his highness all The accident of warlike strife. Then, said the king, this night you shall Keep company with your own wife. The Ark of God, Uriah said. With Judah's host and Israel, Sleep in the field, and not a man Within the house where they do dwell. 294 OLD BALLADS. Then should I take my ease, quoth he. In beds of down with my fair wife ? O king, he said, that must not be, So long as I enjoy my life. Then did the king a letter frame To Joab, general of the host, And by Uriah sent the same. But certainly his life it cost. SECOND PART. And when the king for certain knew, Uriah thus had murdered been. Fair Bath-sheba to court he drew. And made of her his royal queen. Then God, that saw his wicked deed. Was angry at King David's sin. The prophet Nathan then with speed Came thus complaining unto him. O David, ponder what I say, A great abuse I shall thee tell, For thou that rul'st in equity Should see the people ruled %vel}. OLD BALLADS. 295 Two men within the city dwell The one is rich, the other poor. The rich in cattle doth excell. The other nothing had in store. Saving one little silly sheep, Which young he did with money buy. With Ills own bread he did it feed Amongst his children tenderly. The rich man had a stranger come. Unto his house, that lov'd him dear. The poor man's sheep therefore he took. And thereof made his friend good chear. Because that he his own would save. He us'd the man thus cruelly. Then by the Lord, the king did swear, The rich man for that fault should die. Iliou art the man, the prophet said. Thy princely crown God gave to thee. Thy lord's wives thou thy own hast made. And many more of fair beauty. Why hast thou so defilod thy life. And slain Uriuh with thy sword^ And taken home his wedded wife. Regarding not God's lioly word. 296 OLD BALLADS. Therefore behold, thus saith the Lord, Great wars upon thy house shall be. Because thou hast my laws abhorr'd, Much ill, be sure, I'll raise on thee. I'll take thy wives before thy face. And give them to thy neighbour's use. And thou thereby shall have disgrace. For men shall laugh at thine abuse. Then David cried out piteously. Sore have I sinned against the Lord, Have mercy, God, therefore on me. Let not my prayers be abhorr'd. But as the prophet told to him. So did it after chance indeed. For God did greatly plague his sin. As in the Bible you may read. The scourge of sin thus you may see. For murder and adultery. Lord grant that we may warned be. Such crying sins to shun and fly ! OLD BALLADS. 297 LXXIV. THE DEAD MAN'S SONG, Whose dwelling was neere unto Bassings Hall in London." To the tune of Flying Fame. Ogre sick, dear friends, long time I was. And weakly laid in bed, And for five hours, in all men's sight. At length I lay as dead. The bell rung out, my friends came in. And I key cold was found. Then was my carcase brought from bed And cast upon the ground. My loving wife did weep full sore. And children loud did cry. My friends did mourn, yet thus they said. All flesh is born to die. 298 OLD BALLADS. My winding sheet prepared was. My grave was also made, And five long hours, by just report In this same case I laid. During which time my soul did see Such strange and fearful sights, That for to hear the same disclos'd* Would banish all delights. Yet sith the Lord restor'd my life. Which from my body fled, I will declare what sights I saw. That time that I was dead. Methought along a gallant green, - Where pleasant flowers sprung, I took my way, whereas I thought The Muses sweetly sung. The grass was sweet, the trees full fair. And lovely to behold, And full of fruit was every twig. Which shin'd like glistering gold. My cheerful heart desired much To taste the fruit so fair : But as I reached, a fair young man To me did fast repair. OLD BALLADS. 299 Touch not (quoth he) that's none of thine. But wend and walk with me. And see thou mark eacli several thing, Which I shall show to thee. I wonder'd greatly at his words. Yet went with him away, Till on a goodly pleasant bank. With him he bade me stay. With branches then of lillies white Mine eyes there wiped he. When this was done lie bad me look, WTiat I far off could see. I looked up, and lo at last I did a city see, So fair a thing did never man Behold with mortal eye 1 Pf diamonds, pearls, and precious stones, It seem'd the walls were made ; The houses all with beaten gold W ere tiled, and overlaid. More brighter tb^n the morning sun. The light thereof did show. And every creature in the same, Like crowned kings did go. 300 OLD BALLADS. The fields about this city fair, Were all with roses set, Gilly-flowers, and carnations fair. Which canker could not fret. And from these fields there did proceed The sweet'st and pleasant'st smell That ever living creature felt, Tlie scent did so excell. Besides such sweet triumphant mirth. Did from the city sound. That I therewith was ravished, My joy did so abound. With musick, mirth, and melody. Princes did there embrace. And in my heart I long'd to be Within that joyful place. The more I gaz'd, the more I might. The sight pleas'd me so well ; For what I saw in every thing. My tongue can no way tell. Then of the man I did demand. What place the same might be, Wliereas so many kings do dwell In joy and melody ? OLD BALLADS. 301 Quoth he, that blessed place is heaven, Where yet thou must not rest, And those that do like Princes walk. Are men whom God hath blest. Tlien did he turn me round about. And on the other side. He bad me view, and mark as much. What things are to be spied. With tliat I saw a coal-black den, All tann'd with soot and smoke. Where stinking brimestone burning was. Which made n:ie like to choke. An ugly creature there I saw. Whose face witli knives was slasht, And in a caldron of poison'd filth. His ugly corpse was wash'd. About his neck were fiery ruffs. That flamed on every side ; I ask'd, and lo ! the young man said. That he was damn'd for pride. Another sort then did I sec. Whose bowels vipers tore, And grievously with gaping mouth They did both yell and roar. 802 OLD BALLADS. A spotted person by each one Stood gnawing on their hearts, And this was Conscience, I was told. That plagued their envious parts. These were no sooner out of sights But straiglit came in their place, A sort still throwing burning fire, Which fell against their face. And ladles full of melted gold Were poured down their throats ', And these were set (it seem'd to me) In midst of burning boats. Tlie foremost of this company Was Judas, I was told. Who had for filthy lucre's sake. His lord and master sold. For covetousness these were condemn'd. So it was told to me : And then methought another rout Of hell-hounds I did see. Their faces they seem'd fat in sight, Yet all their bones were bare. And dishes full of crawling toads Was made their finest fare. OLD BALLADS. 305 From arms, from hands, from thighs and feet. With red hot pincers then. The flesh was pluck'd even from the bone Of these vile gluttonous men. On coal-black beds another sort In grievous sort did lie. And underneath them burning brands. Their flesh did burn and fry, With brimstone fierce their pillows eke. Whereon their heads were laid. And fiends with whips of glowing fire. Their lecherous skin off" flaid. Then did I see another come, Stab'd in with daggers thick. And filthy fiends, with fiery darts, Tlieir hearts did wound and prick. And mighty bowls of corrupt blood. Was brought for them to drink. And these men for murder plagued, From which they could not shrink. I saw, when these were gone away. The Swearer, and the Liar, And these were hung up by their tong^ues. Right o'er a flaming fire. 304 OLD BALLADS. From eyes, from ears, from navel and nose. And from tlie lower parts. The blood, methought, did gushing run. And clodded like men's hearts. I asked why that punishment Was upon Swearers laid j Befcause, quoth one, wounds, blood, and heart. Whs still the oath they made. And therewithal from ugly hell. Such shrieks and cries I lieard. As though some greater grief and plague Had vexed them afterwards. So that my soul was sore afraid, Such terror on me fell : Away then went the young man quite. And bad me not farewell. Wherefore unto my body straight. My spirit returned again. And lively blood did afterwards Stretch forth in every vein. My closed eyes I opened And raised from my s wound, I wonder'd much to see myself Jwaid so upon the ground. OLD BALLADS. 305 Which when my neighbours did behold. Great fear" upon them fell. To whom soon after I did tell. The news from heaven and hell. LXXV. THE TURTLE DOVE, OR, The Wooing in the Wood, being a pleasant new Song of two Corfstant Lovers." To the tune of The North Country Las*. [Black letter, for the Assigns of T. Syracocke.] VV H E N Flora she had deckt The fields with flowers fair. My love and I did walk abroad. To take the pleasant air. Fair Phoebus brightly shin'd. And gently warm'd each thing, Where every creature then did seem To welcome in the Spring. VOL. I. X 306 OLD BALLADS. Into a pleasant grove. By nature trimly made : My love and I together walkt, To cool us in the shade. The bubbling brooks did glide. The silver fishes leap, The gentle lambs, and nimble fawns. Did seem to leap and skip. The birds with sugar'd notes. Their pretty throats did strain, And shepherds on their oaten pipes. Made music on the plains. Then I began to talk Of lovers in their bliss, I wood her, and courted her. For to exchange a kiss. With that she straightway said. Hark how the nightingale, Although that she doth sweetly sing, Doth tell a heavy tale. That in her maiden years, By man she had much wrong. Which makes her now v.ith thorn in breast To sing a mournful song. OLD BALLADS. 307 With that I lent an ear. To hear sweet Philomel, Amongst the other birds in woods. And she this tale did tell. Fair maids be warn'd by me, I was a maiden pure. Until by man I was o'er-reach'd. Which makes me this endure. To live in woods and groves Sequestred from all sight. For heavily I do complain. Both morning, noon, and night. The throstle-cock did say, Fy ! Phil, you are to blame. Although that one did do amiss. Will all men do the same ? No quoth, the ousel then. Though I be black of hue. Unto my mate, and dearest love I always will prove true. The blackbird having spoke, The lark began to sing. If I participate of aught. My love to it I bring. 308 OLD BALLADS. The mag-pie up did start, And straight began to chatter. Believe not men, they all are false, For they will lie and flatter. Then, up upon a leaf The wren leapt by and by, And said bold parrot your pied-coat, Sliews you can cog and lie. SECOND PART. Then robin redbreast said, 'Tis I in love am true. My colour shews that I am he. If you give me my due. No, said the linet then. Your breast it is too yellow. For let your love be ne'er so true. You'll think you have a fellow. Another bird starts up. Being call'd the popinjay. And said, fair mistress, view me well. My coat is fine and gay. . OLD BALLADS. 309 Away with painted stuff. The feldefkre did say. My colour it the auburne is. And bears the bell away. . The goldfinch then bespake. My colours they are pure, For yellow, red, for black and white. All weathers will endure. Each bird within the wood, A several sentence gave. And all did strive with several notes, ' Pre-eminence to have. Then from an ivy bush The owl put forth her head. And said, not such another bird As I, the wood hath bred. With that each l)ird of note Did bear the owl away. That never more he durst be seen, To stay abroad by day. And then they all agreed To choose the turtle dove. And that he should decide the cause Betwixt me and my love. 310 OLD BALLADS. Who thus began to speak. Behold, sweet maiden fair. How my beloved and myself Do always live a pair. We never use to change. But always live in love. We kiss and bill, and therefore caU'cl The faithful turtle dove. And when that each doth die. We spend our time in moan. Bewailing our deceased friend. We live and die alone. We never match again. As other birds do use. Therefore, sweet maiden, I tell you, Do not your love refuse. Thus ending of his speech. They all did silent stand. And then I turn'd me to my love. And took her by the hand. And said, my dearest sweet. Behold the love of these. How every one in his degree Does seek his mate to please. OLD BALLADS. 311 Then, fairest, grant to me Your constant heart and love, And I will prove as true to theCj As doth the turtle dove. She said, here is my hand, My heart, and all I have, I kist her, and upon the same A token to her gave. And tlien upon the same, The birds did sweetly sing, That echoes through the woods and groves Most loudly then did ring. Then up I took my love, And arm in arm did walk With her unto her lather's house, Where we with him did talk j Who soon did condescend. When we were both agreed. And shortly to the church we went, And married were with speed. Tlie bells aloud did ring, And minstrels they did play, And every youth and maid did strive To grace our wedding day 312 OLD BALLADS. God grant my love and I May have the like success. And live in love until we die In joy and righteousness. LXXVI. A MAD KINDE OF WOOING, OR, A Dialogue betweene the Will the Simple, and Nan the Subtill, with their Loving Agreement." To the tune of The New Dance at the Red Bull Play-house. [Black letter, for the Assigns of T. Symcoclie.] OwEET Nancy I do love thee dear, Believe me if thou can, And shall, I do protest and swear, While thy name is Nan. I cannot court with eloquence As many courtiers do, But I do love entirely, wench, . And must enjoy thee too. OLD BALLADS. 313 Spite of friends that conteftd To separate our love. If thou love me as I love thee. My mind shall ne'er remove. Nan. Peace, goodman clown, you are too brief. In proffering love to me, And if thou use such rustic speech, We two shall ne'er agree. Do'st think my fortunes I'll forsake To marry with a clown. When I have choice enough to take Of gallants in the town ? The eagle's eye doth scorn the fly, She'll fnid a better prey. Therefore leave olf thy doatish suit. Away, fond fool, away. Will. Wliy prithee, Nan, ne'er scorn my love. Although I be but plain, Where Will doth once l)ut set his love. He must not love in vain ; For all you speak so scholar like. And talk of eagle's eyes, Know I am come a wooing, wep-ich, And not a catcliing flies. 314 OLD BALLADS. Then ne'er reply, nor yet deny, I will not be denied, I would not have the world report I twice did woo a maid. Nan. * But twice and thrice, and twenty times. You'll woo before you win. To match with ignorance 'mongst maids Is held a sottish sin. Therefore, I'll match, if ere I match, One equal to my spirit. And such a one, or else no one. Shall my best love inherit. A man of wit best doth fit A maiden for to take. Then such a man, if that I can. My husband I will make, Will. Wliy, Nan, I hope thou do'st not take Thy Will to be a fool. Thou know'st my father, for thy sake. Three years kept me at school. And if that thou hast spirit enough. To yield to be my joy, _I wairant I have spirit enough To get a chopping boy. OLD BALLADS. 315 Then ne'er deny, yield and try. Or try before you trust. Let who will seek for to enjoy, For Will both will and must. SECOND PART. Why I have those that seek my love. That are too stout to yield. And rather than they'd lose my love. They'd win me in the field. Their skill in martial exercise So much doth thine surpass, That should they hear thee sue for love. They'd count thee but an ass. Then be mute, thy foolish suit Is all but spent in vain, *Tis an impossibility Thou should'st my love obtain, Will. Dost hear me, Nan, what ere he be, Doth challenge love of thee, I'll make him like to Cupid blind. He shall have no eyes to see. 31G OLD BALLADS. I think I have a little skill. My arms be strong and tough. And I will warrant they shall serve To baste him well enough. If he but starts to touch thy skirts. Or in the least offends, By all the hopes I have of love, I'll cut off his fingers ends. Nan. How should I grant to fancy thee, Whom others do disdain. If thou shouldst chance to marry me, How would'st thou me maintain : Thou know'st not how to use a wife. Thou art so homely bred : And soon I doubt to jealousy, Thy fancy might be led. Many fears urge my ears, 71; at I should careful be, I fear I matcli a crabbed piece. If I should marry thee. Will. Nan, I am plain, and cannot cog, Nor promise wondrous fair : When all my promises shall prove, Like castles built with air. OLD BALLADS. 317 My true performance shall be all. My word shall be my deed. And, honest Nan, if I have thee. You shall have all you need. Clap hands, be bold, say and hold. Let us make quick dispatch. If thou love me as I love thee. We'll straight make up the match. Nan. Then, Will, here is both hand and lieart, I'll love thee till I die. The world may judge I match for love, And not all for the eye, I had rather match a lusty youth, Whose strength is not at full. Then match a small weak timber'd man, Whose strength had had a pull, Maidens all, both great and small. That hope to marry at lengtli, Do not marry for bravery, But unto strength add strengtl). 318 OLD BALLADS. LXXVIL "THERE'S NOTHING TO BE HAD WITHOUT MONEY." [From a black letter copy by H. Gosson.] You gallants and you swaggering blades. Give ear unto my ditty, I am a boon companion known In country, town, or city, I always lov'd to wear good clothes, And ever scorned to take blows, I am belov'd of all me know. But God a mercy penny. My father was a man well known. That us'd to hoard up money. His bags of gold, he said, to hira More sweeter were than honey. But I, his son, will let it fly In tavern or in ordinary, I am beloved in company. But God a mercy penny. OLD BALLADS. 319 All sorts of men, both far and near. Wherever I resorted. My fellowship esteemed dear. Because I was reported To be a man of noted fame. Some said I well deserved the same, Thus have 1 got a gallant name. But God a mercy penny. All parts of London I have tried. Where merchant's wares are plenty, The Royal Exchange, and fair Cheapside, With speeches fine and dainty. They bring me in for to behold Their shops of silver and of gold. There might I choose what wares I would., But God a mercy penny. For my contentment once a day I walk for recreation, Through Paul's, Ludgate, and Fleet-street gay, To raise an elevation ; Sometimes my humour is to range To Temple, Strand, and New Exchange^ To see their fashions rare and strange. But God a mercy penny. 320 OLD BALLADS. I have been in Westminster Hall, Where learned lawyers plead. And shown my bill among them all. Which when they see and read. My action quickly hath been tried. No party there my suit denied. Each one spake bravely on my side. But God a mercy penny. SECOND PART. Tiie famous abbey I have seen. And have the pictures viewed Of many a noble king and queen. Which are by death subdued. And having seen the sights most rare. The watermen full ready were. Me o'er the river Thames to bear. But God a mercy penny. Bear Garden, when I do frequent. Or the Globe on the Bank-side, They afford to me most rare content. As I full oft have tried : The best pastime that they can make, They instantly will undertake. For my delight and pleasure sake. But God a mercy penny. OLD BALLADS. 321 In every place whereas I came. Both I and my sweet penny Got entertainment in the same. And got the love of many. Both tapsters, cooks, and vintners fine. With other jovial friends of mine. Will pledge my health in beer or wine. But God a mercy penny. Good fellows company I used. As also honest women. The painted drabs I still refused. And wenches that are common ; Their luring looks I do despise. They seem so loathsome in my eyes. Yet one a project did devise To gull me of my penny. One evening as I past along, A lass with borrow 'd hair Was singing of a tempting song. Kind Sir, quoth she, draw near. But he that bites this rotten crab. May after chance to catch the scab, No pandar, bawd, nor painted drab Shall gull me of a penny, VOL. I. Y J22 OLD BALLADS. But curled hair and painted face I c\er have refrained. All those that get their living base. In heart I have disdained, My conscience is not stain'd tvith pitch. No tempting tongue shall me bewitch, I'll make^no punck nor pandar rich, I'll rather keep my penny. Yet will I never niggard be, While I remain in earth. But spend my money frolickly In friendship, love, and mirth ; I'll drink my beer, I'll pay my score. And eke dispense some of my store. And to the needy and the poor, I'll freely give my penny. Thus to conclude as I began I wholly am inclin'd. Wishing that each true hearted man, A faithful friend may find : You that my verses stay to hear. Draw money for to buy me beer. The price of it is not too dear, 'T will cost you but a penny. OLD BALLADS. 323 LXXVIL "A NEW BALLAD, INTITULED, A Warning to Youth, shewing the lewd life of a Marchant's Sonne of London, and the miserie that at the last he sustained by his notorious- nesse." To the tune of Lord Darley, [From a black letter copy printed for the Assigns of Symcocke.} In London dwelt a merchant man, That left unto his son A thousand pounds in land a year. To spend when he was gone : With coffers cramm'd with golden crowns, Most like a father kind, To have him follow his own steps, And bear the self same mind. 324 OLD BALLADS. Thus every man doth know, doth know, And his beginning see. But none so wise can shew, can shew,^ What will his ending be. No sooner was his father dead. And closed in his grave, - But tliis his wild and wanton son, His mind to lewdness gave. And being but of tender years Found out such company, Wiiich prov'd his fatal overthrow. And final misery. In gluttony and drunkenness He daily took delight. And stUl in strumpet's company He spent the silent night. Forgetting quite that drunkenness. And filthy lechery, Of all the sins will soonest bring A man to misery. Within the seas of wanton love, His heart was drowned so deep, A night he could not quietly Without strange women sleep.. OLD BALLADS. 325 And therefore kept them secretly To feed his foul desire, Apparrell'd all like gallant youths In pages' trim attire. Their garments were of crimson silk, Bedeckt with cloth of gold. Their curled hair was white as milk, Most comely to behold. He gave them for their cognizance A purple bleeding heart, In which two silver arrows seem'd The same in twain to part. Thus secret were his wanton sports. Thus private was his pleasure. Thus harlots in the shape of men. Did waste away his treasure. Oh, woe to lust and treachery ! Oh, woe to such a vice ! That buys repentance all too late ; And at too dear a price. Yet he repented not at all, So wilful Vas his mind. He could not see his infamy, For sin had made him blind. S26 OLD BALLADS. But in his heart desired a change Of wanton pleasures so. That day by day he wishes still, Strange women for to know. And so discharging of his train. And selling of his land. To travel into country's strange, He quickly took in hand. And into Antwerp speedily, Tlius all aflaunt he goes. To see the dainty Flemish girls. And gallant Dutchland froes. For still, quoth he, the Dutchland froes Are kind to Englishmen, I'll have my pleasure of those girls. Or never come again : And being arriv'd in Antwerp streets. He met a lovely dame. That was a widow's daughter dear. Of good report and fame. Her beauty, like the purple rose, So glistered in his eye. That ravish'd with the same, he crav'd Her secret company. OLD B.ILLADS. 32/ But she like to an honest maid, By no means would consent, To satisfy his lustful eye. As was his false intent. An hundred days he wholly spent. As many niglits in vain, As many angels he consum'd^ Her maidenhead to gain. But nothing he prevail'd at all, Untill that Satan's aid. And cursed counsel helping him. For to deflower this maid. For like a lustful lecher he Found such convenient time, That he enforced her to drink. Till she was drunk with wine. And being overcharged with wine, As maiden-heads be weak. He ravish'd her there, when that she Could no resistance make. For being senseless there, she lost Her sweet virginity. Which she had kept full twenty years, \\ ith great severity. 328 OLD BALLADS. Therefore, good virgins, take good heed. Lest you be thus beguiled. When wine is settled in your brain. You may be got with child. And mark, I pray, what then befell Unto this modest dame. When she recovers her lost sense And knew of her defame. In pining grief she languish'd long Like Philomel by night. And would not come, for very shame. In honest maidens sight. Her womb at last began to swell. Her babe received life ; And being neither widow nor maid. Nor yet a married wife. Did wish that she had ne'er been born. Or in her cradle died. Then angels at the gate of heaven Had crown'd her virgin bright. This babe that breedeth in my womb. Quoth she, shall ne'er be born. Nor called a bastard by such wives That hold such love in scorn. OLD BALLADS. 329, For I, a strumpet in disgrace. Though one against my will. Before I will so shame my friends, My dear life's blc-od I'll spill. Tor as with wine I was deceiv'd. And made a vitious dame. So will I wash away with wine. My scarlet spots of shame. Then drinking up her burning wine. She yielded up her breath. By which likewise the unborn babe. Was scalded unto death. Her mother falling on her knees To heaven did cry and call ; If ever widow's curse, quoth she. On mortal man did fall. Then say, Amen, to mine, O Lord, That he may never thrive, That was the cause of this mischance, But rot away alive ! His nails from off his fingers dropt, His eyes from out his liead. His toes they rotted from his kct, Before that he was dead. 330 OLD BALLADS. His tongue that had false-sworn so oft To compass his desire, Within his mouth doth glow and burn Like coals of sparkling fire. And thus in torment in his sin This wicked caitiff died. Whose hateful carcase after death In earth could not abide. ' But in the maws of carrion crows, And ravens made a tomb, A vengeance just on those that use On such vile sins presume. For widows' curses have full oft Been felt by mortal wights. And for oppressed widows wrongs Still heavenly angels fight. For when King Henry the Sixth by force Was murdered in the tower, And his fair queen a widow made By crook-back'd Richard's power, She so exclaimed to tlie heavens. For to revenge that deed, Tliat they might die in such like sort, W^hich caused him to bleed. OLD BALL.\r)S. 331 Her curses so prevail'd^ God wot, Tliat every one was slain. Or murder'd by like cruell hand. Not one there did remain. Both crook-back'd Richard and his mates, Lord Lovel and Buckingham, With many more, did feel her curse. Which needless are to name. For widows' wrongs still pierce the gate Of God's celestial throne. And heaven itself will still revenge Oppressed widows moans. Take heed, take heed, you wanton youths, Take heed by this mishap. Lest for your lust and lechery, . You be caught in a trap. Leave off your foul abuses, You shew to maids and wives. And by this wanton merchant's fall, Learn how to mend your lives. 332 OLD BALLADS LXXVIIL THE SHEPHERD'S SLUMBER. \ J N Pescod-tlme, when hound to horn Gives ear till buck be kill'd, And little lads with pipes of corn Sat keeping beasts a-field, I went to gather strawberries tho' By woods and groves full fair ; And parch'd my face wdth Phoebus so In walking in the air ; That doAvn I laid me by a stream With boughs all over-clad. And there I met the strangest dream. That ever shepherd had. Methought I saw each Christmas game. Each revel, all and some, And every thing that I can name. Or may in fancy come. OLD BALLADS. 33iJ The substance of the sights I saw. In silence pass they shall ; Because I lack the skill to "draw, , The order of them alL But Venus shall not pass my pen. Whose niaidens in disdain Did feed upon the hearts of men. That Cupid's bow had slain. And that blind boy was all in blood, Be-bath'd up to the ears ; And like a conqueror he stood. And scorned lovers tears. I have, quoth he, more hearts at call. Than Csesar could command : And, like the deer, I make them fall. That runneth o'er tlie lawn. One drops down here, another there. In bushes as they groan ; I bend a scornful, careless ear To hear them make their moan. Ah Sir, quoth Honest-meaning then, Thy boy-like brags I hear, When thou hast wounded many a man. As hunts-n.aa dotli the deer. 334 OLD BALLADS. Becomes it thee to triumph so ?~ Thy mother wills it not : For she Jiad rather break thy bow. Than thou should'st play the sot. What saucy merchant speaketh now, Said Venus in lier rage. Art thou so blind thou knowest not how I govern every age ? My son dotli shoot no shaft in waste. To me the boy is bound. He never found a heart so chaste. But he had power to wound. Not so, fair Goddess, quoth Free-will, In me there is a choice ; And cause I am of mine own ill. If I in thee rejoice. And when I yield myself a slave To thee, or to thy son. Such recompence I ought not have. If things be rightly done. Why, fool, stept forth Delight, and said. When thou art conquer'd thus, Then lo dame Lust, that wanton maid. Thy mistress is 1 vvojs : OLD BALLADS. 335 And Lust is Cupid's darling dear, Behold her where she goes ! She creeps the milk-warm flesh so near, She hides her under close. Where many privy thoughts do dwell, A heaven here on earth. For they have never mind of hell. They think so much on mirth. Be still. Good-meaning, quoth Good-sport, Let Cupid triumph make. For sure his kingdom shall be short. If we no pleasure take. Fair Beauty, and her Play-feres gay, The Virgins-vestal too Shall sit, and Avith their fingers play. As idle people do. If Honest-meaning fall to frown. And I, Good-sport, decay Then Venus' glory will come down, And they will pine away. Indeed, quoth Wit, this your device With strangeness must be wrought. And, wlicre you see these women nice. And looking to be sought. 836 OLD BALLADS. With scowling brows their follies check. And so give them the trig : Let Fancy be no more at beck. When Beauty looks so big. When Venus heard how they conspired. To murder women so, Methought indeed the house was fired With storms and lightnings tho'. The thunderbolt through windows burst. And in there steps a wight. Which seem'd some foul, or sprite accurst. So ugly was the sight 1 , I charge you ladies all, quoth he. Look to yourselves in haste. For if that men so wilfull be. And have their thoughts so chaste. That they can tread on Cupid's breast. And march on Venus' face. Then they shall sleep in quiet rest When you shall wail your case. With that had Venus all in spite Stirr'd up the dames to ire. And Lust fell cold, and Beauty white Sat babbling with desire -, OLD BALLADS. 337 Whose muttering words I might not mark. Much whispering there arose. The day did lower, the sun wax'd dark. Away each lady goes. But whither went this angry flock. Our Lord himself doth know. For then full loudly crew the cock. And I awaked so. A dream, quoth I, a dog it is, I take thereon no keep, I gage my head such toys as this Do spring from lack of sleep. LXXIX. THE BARGINET OF ANTIMACHUS. [By Thomas Lodge.] 1 N pride of youth, in midst of May, When birds with many a merry lay. Salute the sun's up- rising ; I sat me down fast by a spring. And while these merry chaunters sing 1 fell upon surmising. VOL. 1. z 338 OLD BALLADS. Amidst my doubt, and mind's debate / Of change of time, of world's estate, I spied a boy attired ' In silver plumes, yet naked quite. Save pretty feathers fit for flight. Wherewith he still aspired. A bow he bare to work men's wrack, A little quiver at his back. With many arrows filled. And in his soft and pretty hand He held a lively burning brand. Wherewith he lovers killed. Fast by his side in rich array There sat a lovely lady gay. His mother, as I guessed t Who set the lad upon her knee, And trimm'd his bow, and taught him flee. And mickle love professed. Oft from her lap at sundry stowres He leapt, and gathered summer's flowers, Both violets and roses ; But, see the chance that followed fast As lie the pomp of prime dotli waste. Before that he supposes. OLD BALLADS. 339 A bee that harboured hard thereby. Did sting his hand, and made him cry Oh mother, I am wounded ! Fair Venus, that beheld her son. Cried out, alas ! I am undone ! And thereupon she s wounded. My little lad, the goddess said. Who hath my Cupid so dismay'd ? He answer'd, gentle mother, The honey-worker in the hive, Afy grief and mischief did contrive ; Alas ! it is none other. She kissed the lad, now mark the chance. And straight she fell into a trance. And crying, thus concluded : Ah, wanton boy like to the bee, Thovi with a kiss hast wounded me. And hapless love included. A little bee doth thee affright. But ah, my wounds are full of spite. And cannot be recured : The boy, that guessed his mother's pain, 'Gan smile, and kissed her whole again, And made her hope assured. 340 OLD BALLADS. She sucked the wound, and swaged the sting. And little Love y-cured did sing, Then let no lover sorrow. To day, tho' grief attaint his heart. Let him with courage bide the smart. Amends will come to morrow* LXXX. " THE LOVER COMPARETH HIMSELF TO THE PAINFUL FALCONER." To the tune * I Loved her Over Wei." [From the " HandefuU of Pleasant Delites," 1584,] 1 H E soaring hawk from fist that flies. Her falconer doth constrain Sometimes to range the ground unknown, To find her out again : And if by sight, or sound of bell His falcon he may see. Wo ho ! he cries, with cheerful voice. The gladdest man is he. OLD BALLADS. 841 By lure then in finest sort. He seeks to bring her in ; But if that she full gorged be, He cannot so her win. Although with becks, and bending eyes She many proffers makes. Wo ho ! he cries, away she flies. And so her leave she takes. This woful man with weary limbs Runs wandring round about ; At length by noise of chattering pies His hawk again found out ; His heart was glad his eyes had seen His falcon swift of flight. Wo ho ! he cries, she empty gorged Upon his lure doth light. How glad was then the falconer there, No pen nor tongue can tell. He swam in bliss, that lately felt Like pains of cruel hell. His hand sometimes upon her train. Sometimes upon her breast, Wo ho ! he cries, with cheerful voice, His heart was now at rest. 342 OLD BALLADS. My dear, likewise behold thy love. What pains he doth endure. And now at length let pity move To stoop unto his lure, A hood of silk and silver bells. New gifts I promise thee. Wo ho ! I cry, I come, then say. Make me as glad as he. LXXXL *' A MERY BALLET OF THE HATHORNE TRE." X T was- a maid of my country As she came by a hawthorn tree. As full of flowers as might be seen. She marvell'd to see the tree so green. At last she asked of this tree. How came this freshness unto thee. And every branch so fair and clean, I marvel that you grow so green. OLD BALLADS. 84S The tree made answer by and by, I have good cause to grow triumphantly. The sweetest dew that ever be seen. Doth fall on me to keep me green. Yea, quoth the maid, but where you grow, Xou stand at hand for every blow. Of every man for to be seen, I marvel that you grow so green. Though many one take flowers from me. And many a branch out of my tree, I have such store they will not be seen. For more and more my twedges grow green. But how, and they chance to cut thee down, And carry thy branches into the town ? 'llien will they never no more be seen. To grow again so fresh and green. Tliough that you do, it is no boot. Although they cut me to the root. Next year again I will be seen. To l)ud my branches fresh and green. And you, fair maid, cannot do so. For if you let your maidhood go. Then will it never no more be seen, As I with my branches can grow green. 344 OLD BALLADS. The maid with that began to blush, And turned her from the hawthorn bush, She thought herself so fair and clean. Her beauty still would ever grow green. When that she heard this marvellous doubt. She wandered still then all about. Suspecting still what she would ween, Her maidhead lost would never be seen. With many a sigh she went her way. To see how she made herself so gay. To walk, to see, and to be seen, And so outfaced the hawthorn green. Besides all that, it put her in fear. To talk with company any where. For fear to lose the thing that should be seen. To grow as were the hawthorn green. But after this, never I could hear Of this fair maiden any where, That ever she was in forest seen, To talk again of the hawthorn green. OLD BALLADS. S45 LXXXIL THE WOODMAN'S WALK. IHROUGH a fair forest as I went Upon a summer's day, I met a woodman quaint and gent, Yet in a strange array. I marvell'd much at his disguise. Whom I did know so well. But thus in terms both grave and wise, His mind he 'gan to tell. Friend, muse not at this fond array, But list a while to me. For it hath holped me to survey. What I shall show to thee. Long llv'd I in this forest fair, Till weary of my weal. Abroad in walks I would repair, As now I will reveal. 346 OLD BALLADS. My first day's walk was to the court. Where beauty fed mine eyes, Yet found I that the courtly sport. Did mask in sly disguise. For falsehood sat in fairest looks. And friend to friend was coy. Court-favour fill'd but empty rooks. And there I found no joy. Desert went naked In the cold. When crouching craft was fed. Sweet words were cheaply bought and sold. But none that stood in stead. Wit was employed for each man's own. Plain-meaning came too short. All these devices seen and known. Made me forsake the court. Unto the city next I went. In hope of better hap, Where liberally I launch'd and spent, As set on fortune's lap. The little stock I had in store Methought would ne'er be done. Friends flocked about me more and more, As quickly lost as won. OLD BALLADS. 347 For when I spent, then they were kind. But when my purse did fail. The foremost man came last behind. Thus love with wealth doth quail. Once more for footing yet I strove, Although the world did frown, But they before that held me up. Together trod me down. And lest once more I should arise. They sought my quite decay. Then got I into this disguise,^ And thence I stole away. And in my mind (methought) I said. Lord bless me from the city. Where simpleness is thus betray'd, Without remorse or pity. Yet would I not give over so. But once more try my fate. And to the country then I go. To live in quiet state. There did appear no subtile shows, But yea and nay went smoothly, But, Lord, how country folks can gloze, When they speak most untruly ! 349 OLD BALLADS. More craft was in a buttonn'd cap. And in an old wife's rail. Than in my life it was my hap To see on down or dale. Tliere was no open forgery. But under-handed gleaning. Which they call country policy. But hath a.worser meaning. Some good bold face bears out the wrong, Because he gains thereby. The poor man's back is cracked ere long, Yet there he lets him lie. And no degree among them all. But had such close intending, Tliat I upon my knees did fall. And prayed for their amending. Back to the woods I got again. In mind perplexed sore. Where I found ease of all my pain. And mean to stray no more. There, city, court, nor country too. Can any way annoy me. But as a woodman ought to do, I freely may employ me. OLD BALLADS. 349 There live I quietly alone. And none to trip my talk. Wherefore when I am dead and gone. Think on the woodman's walk. LXXXIII. "' Jacke Dove's Resolution, by which he doth shew, Tliat he cares not a rush how ere the world goe." To the tune of To drive the cold Winter away. 1 o all my good friends, these presents I send. Yet neither to beg nor to crave. For though some have store, and I am but poor, I'm content with that little I have And I'll ne'er for my want turn sycophant, (Though many there be that do so,) But I'll honest be, love them that love me. And care not how ere the world go. 350 ^ OLD BALLADS. And tliough fortune frown, I'll not cast myself down. But mildly bear what doth fall. Care will make me but worse, and ne'er fill my purse. But the day will come may mend all. Then 'tis but a folly, for that to be sorry. Which must whether I will or no, But impatience in rest, then I'll hope for the best. And care not how ere the world go. For why should a man care, or drown in despair. Though his fortunes be ne'er so unkind. Why should I be sad, for what I ne'er had. Or foolishly trouble my mind. And I do hate to pine at my fate. There's none but fools will do so, I'll laugh and be fat, for care kills a cat. And I care not how ere the world go. To sigh and to wail, what will it prevail. Or any whit better my fare, \ When a little good mirth, 'mongst friends is more worth, And better than a great deal of care ; Then I'll cheer up myself, for content is great wealth. Let sighing and sorrowing go, I'll laugh and be merry, with a cup of old slieny, And care not how ere the world go. ' OLD BALLADS. 351 Though many a chuff hath more than enough, Why should I repine at their bliss. If I am content with what God hath sent, I think I do not amiss : Let others have wealth, so I have my health, And money to pay what I owe, I'll laugh and be merry, sing down a down derry, And care not how ere tlie world go, I'll make much of one, for when I am gone. Then what's all the world unto me, I'll not be a slave to that which I have. But 'mongst my friends let it flee j And least there rise debate, about my estate. When my head's laid full low. Or some knaves circumvent it, to whom I ne'er meant it, I'll spend it how ere the world go. SECOND PART. Some men do suppose, to go in brave deaths. Doth purchase a great deal of respect. Though I am but poor, I run not on score, I think myself honestly deckt ; Let others go brave, 'tis my own that I have. And I think they cannot say so. And I like that I wear, though it cost not so dear^ And I care not how ere the world go. 352 OLD BALLADS. I'd rather go mean, than be like to them. Which living in pomp and state. Maintain all their bravery, with private knavery. Getting gold at any rate ; Such conscience profess, but use nothing less. Deceiving the w^orld with a shew. But the time it may come, will pay such knaves home, But I care not how ere the world go. Your delicate cates your hypocrites eat, And wine of the best do drink. Much money they spend, but to little end. And ne'er on their end they think : Low shrubs be secure, when cedars endure All storms and tempests that blow. Let others rise high, but so will not I, For I care not how ere the world go. For ambition's best scene, is but a fine dream. Which for a time tickles the mind. And the hap of an hour, w^th such envy may low'r, As may turn all one's hopes into wind. Then worse than before, they may sigh and deplore. To see themselves cast off so low. When I all the while do sit and smile. And care not how ere the world go. OLD BALLADS. 353 The flattering curs, that frown upon furs. And hang on the nobleman's beck. That crouch at their heel whilst their bounty they feel. Professing all love and respect, Yet when they do fall, they run away all. But I hate to dissemble so. What I do for my part shall come from my heart. And I care not how ere the world go. I'll wrong none, not I, but if some through envy. Do wrong me without a cause. Or if me they disdain, I'll slight them again. And reckon not of it two straws : Dissembling I scorn, for I am free born. My happiness lies not below j Though my words they want art, I speak from my heart. And I care not how ere the world goes. VOL. r. 354 OLD BALLADS. LXXXin. ALPHONSO AND GANSELO; OR; Faithful Friendship. In stately Rome sometime did dwell A man of noble fame, Who had a son of seemly shape, Alphonso was his name ; When he was grown and come to age, His father thought it best. To send his son to Athens fair Where Wisdom's school did rest. And when he was to Athens come. Good lectures for to learn, A place to board him with delight, His friends did well discern, A noble knight of Athens' town Of him did take the charge. Who had a son Ganselo called, Just of his pitch and age. OLD BALLADS. 355 In stature and in person both, In favour, speech, and face, In quality and conditions They 'greed in every place. So like they were in all respects. The one unto the other. They were not known but by their names. Of father or of mother. And as in favour they were found. Alike in all respects, Ev'n so they did most dearly love. As prov'd by good effects, Ganselo lov'd a lady fair, Wliich did in Athens dwell. Who was in beauty peerless found. So far she did exceL Upon a time it chanced so. As fancy did him move. That he would visit for delight His lady and his love. And to his true and faithful friend He did declare the same. Asking of him if he would see That fair and comely dame. 356 OLD BALLADS. Alphonso did thereto agree. And with Ganselo went To see the lady which he lov'd. Which bred his discontent : But when he cast his crystal eyes Upon her angel hue. The beauty of that lady bright Did straight his heart subdue. His gentle heart so wounded was With that fair lady's face. That afterwards he daily liv'd In sad and woful case. And of his grief he knew not how Therefore to make an end. For that he knew the lady's love Was yielded to his friend. Thus being sore perplexed in mind, Upon his bed he lay. Like one whom death and deep despair Had almost worn away. His friend Ganselo, that did see His grief and great distress. At length requested for to know, His cause of heaviness. , OLD BALLADS. S57 With much ado at length he told The truth unto his friend, Who did relieve his inward woe With comfort to the end ; Take courage then, dear friend, quoth he. Though she through love be mine, My right I will resign to thee. The lady shall be thine. You know our favours are alike. Our speech also likewise. This day in mine apparell You shall yourself disguise. And unto church then shall you go Directly in my stead ; Lo, though my friends suppose 'tis I, You shall the lady wed. Alphonso was so well appaid, And as they had decreed. He went that day, and wedded plain The lady there indeed : But when the nuptial feast was done, And Phoebus quite was fled, The lady for Ganselo took Alphonso to her bed. 358 OLD BALLADS. That night they spent in pleasant sporty And when the day was come, A post for fair Alphonso came To fetch him home to Rome. Then was the matter plainly prov'd Alphonso wedded was. And not Ganselo to that dame, Which brought great woe, alas ! Alphonso being gone to Rome With this his lady gay, Ganselo's friends and kindred all In such a rage did stay. That they deprived him of his wealth. His land, and rich attire, And banished him their country quite. In rage and wrathful ire. With sad and pensive thoughts, alas ! Ganselo wandered then. Who was constrained through want to beg Relief of many men : In this distress oft would he say To Rome I mean to go To seek Alphonso, my dear friend, Who will relieve my woe. OLD BALLADS. 359 To Rome when poor Ganselo came, And found Alphonso's place. Which was so famous, huge, and fair, Himself in such poor case. He was ashamed lo shew himself In that his poor array. Saying Alphonso knows me well If he would come this way. Therefore he staid within the street, Alphonso then came by. But heeded not Ganselo poor. His friend that stood so nigh. Which grieved Ganselo to the heart. Quoth he, and is it so ? Doth proud Alphonso now disdain His friend indeed to know. In desperate sort away he went Into a barn hard by, And presently he drew his knife. Thinking thereby to die. And bitterly in sorrow there He did lament and weep. And being over-weighed with grief. He there fell fast asleep. 360 ' OLD BALLADS. While soundly there he sweetly slept. Came in a murdering thief. And saw a naked knife lie by This man so full of grief j f The knife so bright he took up straight. And went away amain. And thrust it in a murder'd man Whidi he before had slain. And afterwards he went with speed And put this bloody knife Into his hand that sleeping lay, To save himself from strife : Which done, away in haste he ran. And when that search was made, Ganselo with his bloody knife. Was for the murder staid. And bro\ight before the magistrate, Who did confess most plain. That he indeed with that same knife The murder'd man had slain. Alphonso sitting with the judge. And knowing Ganselo's face. To save his friend did say himself Was guilty in that case. OLD BALLADS. 361 None, quoth Alphonso, Mll'd the man. My lord, but only I, And therefore set this poor man free. And let me justly die. Thus while for death these faithful friends In striving did proceed. The man before the senate came. That did the fact indeed. Who being moved with remorse. Their friendly hearts to see. Did say before the judges plain None did the fact but he. Thus when the truth was plainly told. Of all sides joy was seen, Alphonso did embrace his friend Which had so woful been. In rich array he clothed him As fitted his degree. And helped him to his lands again And former dignity. The murderer for telling truth Had pardon at that time. Who afterwards lamented much His foul and giievous crime. tS2 OLD BALLADS. LXXXV. A PLEASANT BALLAD OF TWO LOVERS.' [From a black letter copy, in the Pepys Collection.] VJOMPX.AIN, my lute, complain on him. That stays so long away, He promis'd to be here ere this. But still unkind doth stay : But now the proverb true I find. Once out of sight, then out .of mind. Hey ho, my heart is full of woe ! Peace, lyre, peace, it is not so. He'll by and by be here, But every one that is in love Thinks every hour a year. Hark, hark ! methinks I hear one knock. Run quickly tlien, and turn the lock. Then farewell all my care and woe. Come, gallant, now, come loiterer. For I must chide with thee. But yet I will forgive thee once. Come, sii thee down by me. OLD BALLADS. S63 Fair lady, rest yourself content, I will endure your punishment. And then we shall be friends again. For every hour that I have staid So long from thee away, A thousand kLsses will I give. Receive them ready pay. And if we chance to count amiss. Again we'll reckon them every kiss. For he is blest that's punisht so. And if those thousand kisses then. We chance to count aright, We shall not need to count again. Till we in bed do light, And then be sure that thou shalt have, Thy reckoning just as thou hhalt crave. So shall we still agree as one. And thus they spent the silent night. In sweet delightful sport, Till Phoebus with his beams so bright. From out the fiery port Did blush to see the sweet content. In sal)le night so vainly spent. Betwixt these lovers two. 364 OLD BALLADS. And then this gallant did persuade. That he might now be gone. Sweet-heart, quoth he, I am afraid. That I have stay'd too long. And wilt thou then be gone, quoth she. And will no longer stay with me ? Then welcome all my care and woe. And then she took her lute in hand. And thus began to play, Her heart was faint, she could not stand ; But on her bed she lay, And art thou gone, my love ? quoth she ; Complain, my lute, complain with me, Untill that he doth come again. OLD BALLADS. S65 LXXXVL '' COURAGE CROWNED WITH CONQUEST, OR, A brief Relation how that valiant Knight and heroick champion. Sir Eglamore, bravely fought with, and manfully slew a terrible huge great monstrous Dragon.'' To a pleasant new tune. [In the black letter copies, the words " with his fa, la, lanctre downdilie," occur at the end of each of the two first verses, and of the last verse of each stanza. It may be sufficient to intimate this to the reader, without repeating them here.] OiR Eglamore, that valiant knight. He fetcht his sword, and he went to fight ; As he went over hill and dale. All clothed in his coat of mail. A huge great dragon leapt out of his den. Which had killed the lord knows how many men. But when he saw Sir Eglamore, Good lack, had you seen how this dragon did roar ! 366 OLD BALLADS. This dragon, he had a plaguy hide, Wliich could both sword and spear abide. He could not enter with hacks and cuts, [and guts. Which vexed the knight to the very heart's blood All the trees in the wood did shake. Stars did tremble, and men did quake. But had you seen how the birds lay peeping, 'Twould have made a man's heart to fall a weeping. But it was now too late to fear. For it was come to fight dog, fight bear, And as a yawning he did fall. He thrust his sword in, hilt and all. But now as the knight in choler did burn, He owed the dragon a shrewd good turn, Tn at his mouth his sword he bent. The hilt appeared at his fundament. Then the dragon, like a coward, began for to fly, Unto his den that was hard by, And there lie laid him down, and roar'd. The knight was vexed for his sword. The svvord that was a right good blade As ever Turk or Spaniard made, I for my part do forsake it, And he that will fetch it, let him take it. OLD BALLADS. 367 When all this was done, to the ale-house he went. And by and by his twopence he spent. For he was so hot with tugging with the dragon. That nothing would quench him but a whole flaggon. Now God preserve our King and Queen^ And eke in London may be seen. As many knights, and as many more, And all so good as Sir Eglamore. LXXXVIL " SIR HUGH THE GRLME." A s it befell upon one time. About Midsummer of the year. Every man was taxed of liis crime, For stealing the good lord bishop's mare. The good Lord Screw he saddled a horse. And rid after this same scrime. Before he did get over the moss.. There was he aware of Sir Hugh the Grime. 368 ^ OLD BALLADS. Turn, O turn, thou false traitor. Turn and yield thyself unto me. Thou hast stolen the lord bishop's mare. And now thou thinkest away to flee. No, soft. Lord Screw, that may not be. Here is a broad sword by my side. And if that thou can'at conquer me. The victory will soon be tried. I ne'er was afraid of a traitor bold. Although thy name be Hugh in the Grime, I'll make thee repent thy speeches foul, If day and life but give me time. Then do thy Avorst, thou good Lord Screw, And deal your blows as fast as you can. It will be tried between me and you. Which of us two shall be the best man. SECOND PART. Thus as they dealt in blows so free. And both so bloody at that time. Over the moss ten yeomen they see. Come for to take Sir Hugh in the Grime. OLD BALLADS. 869 Sir Hugh set his back against a tree. And then the men encompast him round. His mickle sword from his hand did flee. And then they brought Sir Hugh to the ground. Sir Hugli of the Grime now taken is. And brought back to Garland town. The good wives all in Garland town. Sir Hugh in the Grime thou'st ne'er gang down. The good lord bishop is come to the town. And on the bench is set so high. And every man was taxed to his crime, At length he called Sir Hugh in the Grime. Here am I thou false bishop, Tliy humours all to fulfill, I do not think my fact so great. But thou mayst put it into thy own will. The quest of jury men was called. The best that was in Garland town. Eleven of them spoke all in a breast, Sir Hugh in the Grime thou'st ne'er gang doM'n. Tl)en other qucsty men were called, The iKst that were in llumary. Twelve of them spoke all in a breast. Sir Hugh in tlie Grime, thou'st now guilty. vor,. I. B 1) S70 OLD BALLADS. Then came down my good Lord Bowles, Falling down upon his knee, Five hundred pieces of gold would I give To grant Sir Hugh of the Grime to me. Peace, peace, ray good Lord Bowles, And of your speeches set them by. If there be eleven Grimes all of a name. Then by my honour they all should die* Tlien came down my good Lady Ward, Falling down upon her knee, Five hundred measures of gold I'll give To grant Sir Hugh of the Grime to me. Peace, peace, my good Lady Ward, None of your proffers shall him buy. For if there be twelve Grimes all of a name. By my own honour they all shall die. Sir Hugh of the Grime's condemn'd to die. And of his friends he had no lack. Fourteen foot he leapt in his ward. His hands bound fast upon his back. Then he lookt over his left shoulder. To see whom he could see or spy. There was he aware of his father dear. Came tearing his hair most pittifully. OLD BALL.\DS 371 Peace^ peace^ my father dear. And of your speeches set them by ; Though they have bereaved me of my life. They cannot bereave me of heaven so high. He lookt over his right shoulder. To see whom he could see or spy. There was he aware of his mother dear, Came tearing her hair most pitifully. Pray have me remember'd to Peggy my wife. As she and I walkt over the moor. She was the causer of my life, And with the old bishop she play'd the whore. Here, Johnny Armstrong, take thou my sword. That is made of mettle so fine. And when thou com'st to the border side. Remember the death of Sir Hugh of the Grime. 372 OLD BALLADS. LXXXVIU. THE SEVEN CHAMPIONS OF CHRISTENDOM. A celebrated orator and distinguished genius has pronounced the days of chivalry to be gone for ever ; it may therefore not be uninteresting to prefix to this Ballad, a description of the habit of a Knight, written in days of yore, while tilts and tournaments were yet in \ogue, and " a thousand swords ready to leap from their scabbards to revenge even a look displeasing" to a lady. The extract is given from a book of unusually rare occurrence. " The Knight ought to be all armed upon a horse, in such wise that he have a helm on his head, and a spear in his right hand, and covered with his shield, a sword and a mace on his left side, clad with a hawberk, and plates before his breast, leg harness OB his legs, spurs on his heels; on his hands his gauntlet; his horse well broken and taught, and apt to battle, and covered with arms." [See a Treatise of the Game of Chess, printed by Caxton.] In " the Book of Good Maners," also printed by Caxton, in 148T, is a chapter " how Knights ought to govern them- selves," from which I extract two passages: " A Knight ought to be a man among a thousand; good and honour- able; courageous of heart ; true in his deeds; mighty and wise ; hardy and prudent ; and ready to defend the right of his country, and of them to whom he is bound to serve, and also of them of whom he halh the sovernance. OLD BALLADS. 273 '* The Knights ought to exercise and accustom them [selves] in feats of arms ; and ought not to be idle in seeking and following their pleasure and ease. I suppose if a search should be made how many knights know their horses well, and their horses them, and have their harness and habili- ments of war ready, I trow there should not many be founden." I am indebted to the Rev. T. F. Dibden, for tlie reference to " the Book of Good Mauers." IN o w of the seven champions here My purpose is to write. To show how they with sword and spear Put many foes to flight : Distressed ladies to release. And captives bound in chains ; That Christian glory to encrease, Which evermore remains. First I give you to understand That great St. George by name. Was the true champion of our land, And of his birth and fame ; And of his noble mother's dream, Before that he was born. The which to her did clearly seem Her days would be forlorn. 374 OLD BALLADS. This was her dream ; that she did bear A dragon in her womb, Which griev'd this noble lady fair, 'Cause death must be her doom. This sorrow she could not conceal, So dismal was her fear, So that she did the same reveal Unto her husband dear ; Who went for to inquire straight Of an enchantress, When knocking at her iron gate. Her answer it was this : " The lady shall bring forth a son. By whom, in tract of time, Great noble actions shall be done. He will to honour climb : For he shall be in banners wore. This truth I will maintain : Your lady she shall die before You see her face again." His leave he took, and home he went. His wife departed lay ; But that which did his grief augment The child was stole avvav. OLD BALLADS. 375 Then did he travel in despair. Where soon with grief lie died, While the young child, his son and heir. Did constantly abide With the wise lady of the grove, Li her enchanted cell ; Amongst the woods he oft did rove. His beauty pleased her well. Blinded with love, she did impart. Upon a certain day, To him her cunning magic art. And where six champions lay Within a brazen castle strong. By an enchanted sleep. And where they had continued long. She did the castle Iceep. She taught and show'd him every thing Thro' being free and fond ; Which did her fatal ruin bring j For with a silver wand He clos'd her up into a rock. By giving one small stroke ; So took possession of her stock, And the enchantment broke. 376 OLD BALL.\DS. ThosQ Christian champions being freed From their enchanted state, Each mounted on his jDrancing steed. And took to travel straight ; Where we will leave them to pursue Kind fortune's favours still, To treat of our own champion, who Did courts with wonders fill. For as he came to understand At an old hermit's cell. How in the vast Egyptian land A dragon fierce and fell Threatened the ruin of them all. By liis devouring jaws. His sword releas'd them from that thrall. And soon remov'd the cause. This dreadful dragon must destroy A virgin every day, Or else with stinks he'll them annoy. And many tliousands slay. At length the king's own daughter dear. For whom the court did mourn. Was brought to be devoured here, For she must take her turn. OLD. BALLADS. S77 The king by proclamation, said. If any hardy knight Could free this fair young royal maid. And slay the dragon quite, Then should he have her for his bride, And after death likewise His crown and kingdom too beside ; St. George he won the prize. When many hardy strokes he'd dealt. And could not pierce his hide. He run his sword up to the hilt In at the dragon's side ; By which he did his life destroy. Which cheer' d the drooping king, Tliis caused an imiversal joy. Sweet peals of bells did ring. The daughter of a king for pride. Transformed into a tree Of mulberries, which Denis spied. And being hungry Of that fair fruit he ate a part. And was transformed likewise Into the fashion of a hart. For seven years precise. 57S OLD BALLADS. > At which he long beM^ail'd the loss Of manly shape, tlien goes To him his true and trusty horse. And Ijrings a blushing rose, By which the magic spell was broke. And both were fairly freed From the enchanted heavy yoke. They then in love agreed. Now we come to St. James of Spain, Who slew a mighty boar. In hopes that he might honour gain. But he must die therefore. Who was allow'd his death to choose. Which w'as by virgins darts. But they the same did all refuse. So tender were their hearts. The king's daughter at length by lot. Was doomed to work his woe. From her fair hands a fatal shot. Out of a golden bou. Must pvit a period to the strife. At which grief did her seize. She of her fatlier begg'd his life Upon her bended knees. OLD BALLADS. 373 Saying, my gracious sovereign Lord, And honoured father dear. He well deserves a large reward. Then be not so severe ; Give me his life. He grants the boon. And then without delay, This Spanish champion, ere 'twas noon, Rid with lier quite away. Kow come wc to St, Anthony, A man with valour fraught. The champion of fair Italy, Who many wonders wrought. First, he a mighty giant slew. The terror of mankind. Young ladies fair, pure virgins too, This giant kept confined. Within his castle walls of stone. And gates of solid brass. Where seven ladies made their moan. But out they could not pass. Many brave lords and knights likewise To free them did engage, Who fell a bleeding sacrifice To this fierce giant's rage. 380 OLD BALL.IDS. Fair daughters to a royal king. Yet fortune, after all, -< Did our renowned champion bring To free them from their thrall. Assisted by the hand of heaven. He ventured life and limb. Behold the fairest of the seven. She fell in love with him. That champion good, bold St. Andrew, The famous Scottish knight. Dark gloomy desarts travell'd through. Where Phoebus gave no light j Haunted with spirits for a while. His weary course he steers. Till fortune blessed him with a smile. And shook off all his fears This Cbiistian champion travell'd long Till at the length he came Unto the giant's castle strong. Great Blanderon by name ; Where the king's daughters were transform'd Into the shape of swans, Tho' them he freed, their father storm'd. But he his malice shuns. OLD BALLABS. 38 L For though five hundred armed knights Did straight heset hlin round. Our Christian champion with them fights. Till on the heathen ground Most of those Pagans bleeding lay. Which much perplex'd the king ; The Scottish champion clears the 'vvay, Which was a glorious thing, St. Patrick too of Ireland, That noble knight of fame, lie travelled, as we understand, Till at tiic length he came . Into a grove where satyrs dwelt, Wlicrc ladies he beheld, Who l\ad their raging fury felt And were with sorrow fill'd. lie dTcw his sword, and did maintain A sharp and bloody fray. Till tlie ringleader he had slain, Tbe rest soon fled away. This done, he asked the ladies fair. Who were in silks array'd, J'rom \\hence tliey came, and who they M'ere '- Tliev answered liiin and said: 382 OLD BALLADS. We are all daughters to a king. Whom a brave Scottish knight Did out of tribulatiou bring. He having took his flight. Now after him we are in quest : St. Patrick then replies. He is my friend, I cannot rest Till I find him likewise. So, ladies, if you do intend To take your lot with me. This sword of mine shall you defend From savage cruelty. The ladies freely gave consent To travel many miles. Through shady groves and woods they went In search of fortune's smiles. The Christian champion, David, went To the l^artarian court, Where at their tilt and tournament. And such like royal sport. He overthrew the only son Of the Count Palatine ; This noble action being done His fame began to shine. OLD BALLADS. 383 The young Count's sad and sudden death Turn'd all their joys to grief. He bleeding lay, bereaved of breath. The father's son in chief: But lords and ladies blazed the fame Of our brave champion bold ; Saying, they ought to write his name In characters of gold. Here have I writ a fair account Of each heroic deed. Done by these knights, whicli will surmount All those that shall succeed. The ancient chronicles of kings. Ere since the world began. Can't boast of such renowned things As these brave knights have done. St. George lie was for England, St. Dennis was for France, St. James for Spain, wliose valiant hand Did Christian fame. advance : St. Antliony for Italy, Andrew fur Scots ne'er fails ; Patrick too stands for Ireland ; St. David was for Wales. 384 OLD BALLADS. Thus have you those stout champions names In this renowned song. Young captive ladies bound in chains. Confined in castles strong. They did by knightly prowess free Tnie honour to maintain. Then let their lasting memory From age to age remain. END OF VOL. I. London : Printed by W. Bulmer and Co. Cleveland-Row, St. James's. University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 305 De Neve Drive - Parking Lot 17 Box 951388 LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90095-1388 Return this material to tlie library from which it was borrowed. 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