la UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES /"^ A BOOK OF ROXBURGHE BALLADS, EDITED BY JOHN PAYNE COLLIER, Esq, LONDON: LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, AND LONGxVIANS, PATERNOSTER ROW. 1847. ' > J • i » t * 1^4/ TO THOMAS AMYOT, Esq. F.R.S. TREAS. S.A. /;; Tejlimoriy of long FriendJIoip a?id Jin cere RJ}ee7n^ this work is dedicated by The Editor. ^ Introduftion. HE main purpofe of the enfuing colledtion is to Ihew, in their moft genuine ftate, the character and quality of producftions, written expreilly for the amufement of the lower orders, in the reigns of Elizabeth, James, and Charles. Our volume conlifts of fuch ordinary materials as formed the ftock of the Englilh ballad- finger during a period not far lliort of a century. Many traces will be found in them of the modes in which they were rendered acceptable to the crowd, when fung in our moft frequented thoroughfares. It would, therefore, be manifeftly untair to judge of them by the Ihindard ulually applied to the higher clalfes of poetry, although poetry ot no inferior defcrip- tion will occafionallv be found in them : nor are their I merits to be meafured by the eafier procefs of com- parifon with well known works, in fome refped:s limi- lar. The volumes of Percy and Ritlon are compofcd of mixed fpecimens : fometimes, it is true, thev were Vlll Introduction. addrefTed to general auditors, but they are often the compofitions of writers in the fuperior grades of life, and were intended for the gratification of more refined fociety. Our afTemblage of popular poetry has no precedent : it is different from any other produ(5tion of the kind hitherto published ; and, as in its fubftance it is peculiar, we have made its form and appearance correfpond with its fubflance. We have obtained by far the'greater number of our ballads from what has been long known as the Rox- burghe Collecflion, confiding of three large volumes in folio, and embracing nearly a thoufand broadfides in black letter.* Some of thefe are repetitions of the * It was commenced by Harley, Earl of Oxford, and was aug- mented by Weft and Pearfon, but efpecially by the Duke of Rox- burghe, at whofe fale it was bought for the late Mr. Bright. For many years he kept the volumes out of fight ; but they, as well as a manufcript colleilion of Miracle-plays (the pofleflion of which he alfo for fome reafon concealed) were neceffarily brought to light at his death. The ballads were judicioufly fecured by the authorities of the Britifh Mufeum, but they were unfuccefsful bidders for the Miracle-plays : the latter circumftance is the more to be regretted, becaufe this feries of inedited Scriptural Dramas has devolved into the hands of fome party who has again plunged it into darknefs, and will not allow any ufe to be made of it : 8 nlv](Ttg uKXa xt^vfiQ was the excellent motto of one of the old pofTeflbrs of the collection ufually known as the Coventry Plays (printed for the Shakefpeare Society in 1841), and it was in- fcribed by him in the volume. The prefent owner of the York Plays lntroducl:ion. IX fame prodiid:ion by different printers ; a few, from their nature and fuhjecl, are unht for republication, and others, from their general worthlelfncfs, do not merit it. The whole are now placed in the Britilh Mufeum, where they are accelTible, and where means of collation are afforded : the tranfcripts we have employed were made before the originals were pur- chafed for their laft owner, but there is no inll:ance in which our copies have not fince'been compared. Other fources have been reforted to, although fparingly, and feveral of the moft ancient and interefting ballads have been derived from the editor's portfolio. On the rarity of all it is fuperfluous to enlarge : in many, if not in moil, inftances the broadfides are unique : no duplicates of them are to be met with in public or private libraries ; and it is eafy to account for this circumftance, if we refled: that they were fel- dom printed in a form calculated for prefervation. Thomas Deloney and Richard Johnfon were almoll: the only ballad-writers, of that age, w^ho fubfequently brought together their fcattered broadfides in fmall volumes,* while hundreds of fnnilar pieces by other (for in that city, we believe, they were performed previous to the Re- formation) ought to reverfe the motto, and write in his volume a %p*<5"/; uWu '/.lv,(jig. Time may yet ftand our friend. * Deloney, in his "Strange Hiftories," 1607, and " Garland of X Introdu^lion. popular authors were allowed to perifh. The more generally acceptable a ballad became, the more it was handed about for perufal or performance, and the more it was expofed to the danger of deftrudiion . The confequence has been, that very few ballads, as they came from the hands of thofe who may be called our elder printers, have defcended to our day ; and many of the beft in our volume would have been irretrievably loft, but that the conftant demand for them induced typographers of the reigns of James and Charles, in particular, to republifli them. The year, whether of impreffion or re-impreffion, is very rarely given on the broadfide; but it is ufually known between what dates the printers, whofe names are appended, carried on bufmefs, and from thence we are generally able to form a judgment as to the age of productions of their preftes. The times when reprinted ballads were iirft compofed and iftued muft often be matter of mere conjecture, depending much upon internal evi- Good-will," (publifhed before 1596) and Johnfon, in his " Crown Garland of Golden Rofes," 16 12. Some new particulars regarding Deloney are to be found in " Memoirs of the Principal A6lors in the Plays of Shakefpeare," printed by the Shakefpeare Society, pp. xxviii. no, 193. Richard Johnfon began writing early, for he was not born until 1573, (as appears by the Regifter of St. Giles, Cripplegate, a point in his hiftory not hitherto afcertained,) and he publiflied his firft work in 1592. IntroducSlion. dence, and even this is rendered more uncertain by inter- polations, not unfrequently made, in order that the work fliould be more welcome to auditors of the period of republication. In our brief preface to each feparate piece we have, among other points, endeavoured, as far as pollible, to alTift the reader in fettling the date of its earlielT: appearance ; but in not a few cafes it has been a talk, of extreme doubt and difficulty, and we can hardly flatter ourfelves that in many inftances we have entirely fucceeded. The beft we could now and then accompli ill was to make an approximation ; and our volume contains frequent proofs of the changes ballads underwent, with a view to adapt them to circum- ftances of comparatively recent occurrence. We will afford one inftance in point, and leave the reft to the difcovery of the reader, with fuch help as we may have elfewhere afforded. In the Roxburghe volumes, from which, as already ftated, w^e have fo largely drawn, are two copies of a Angular and amufing ballad with the title of ** Mock- beggar's Hall:" both appear to belong to about the period of the Civil Wars ; but one copy is evidently anterior to the other, and the older of the two (that ot which we have availed ourfelves on p. 49) muft have been publiihed before the rinal doling of the theatres by the puritans in 1648. The author is fpeaking of the \'i XII Iiitrodiict'inn. increafe of expenfc and luxury, and laughing at thole who, aping their richer neighbours, were not content to pafs through the ftreets in anything but a coach, although they could aftord to keep no other fervant than a man to drive it : he lays, " They are not able two men to keep, With a coachman they muft content be, Which at Playhoufe door in's box lies afleep, While Mock-begger Hall (lands empt)'." When thcfe lines were written, and originally pub- lifhed, the play-houfes were open, and many auditors were driven to them in coaches; but when the later copy of the fame ballad was printed, the theatres had been Hiut up by authority, and, as any allufion to thefe places of amulement and inftrudlion might be unpalatable to the rulers of the Hate, and as the cuftom of going to play-houfes in coaches was necelfarily at an end, the palTage was thus altered : " They arc not able two men to keep, With a coachman the>' muft content be, Which at GoUfmith'i Hall door in's box lies aHeep, While Mock-bcgger Hall ftands empt)'." It would be cafy to multiply examples to the fame effeifl, but it is the lefs necelfary here, becaufe we have adverted to fome of them in the preliminary matter, explanatory of circumllances connected with each Introduction. ballad. This information we have rendered as com- plete as our limits would permit.* We have made no attempt to arrange the enfuing fpecimens according to date : in but tew inltances, as already remarked, could we have felt fufficient con- fidence, as to the precife period of compofition or pub- lication, to enable us to fpeak at all deciiively ; and the fubjecls are fo varied, that to have placed them in any order dependent upon character and defign would have been clearlv impolTible. The comic and fatirical, in point of number, much prevail over the ferious anJ, legendar)' ; and it might reafonablv be expected, that productions intended to be popular would generally rather aim at exxitin^ laughter than tears : ibme of them are highly humorous, and, no doubt, a great deal of droller}- was frequently dil'plaved by llreet-per- formers in lin^in^ them. It is not necellar}', on this occalion, to enter into the origin, or ancient hilton**, of ballad-writing and ballad-lin^in^ in England : we have ver\' few ballads. XUl * The reader muft be prepared for irregulandes of metre, not merely becaufe the writers fometimes trulled to the fmger and the tunc, to correct and reconcile faults of {yllabic conftrutftion, but becautc it not unfrequentlv happened that corruptions were introduced in the procel's of reprinting ballads, which marred the meaiure of the ' author. What we have jull quoted is an inltance in point, as :v_ . - a chans^e in the metre, as well as in the meaning. XIV Introduction. in our prefent fenfe of the word, of an earlier date than the reign of Edward VI.* We know, indeed, that they mufl: have been fung about the town and country before the Reformation; and in 1537 a man of the name of John Hogon was arrefted for amufing the people in various places by a political ballad : he had offended againft the proclamation of 1533, which was iffued to fupprefs " fond books, ballads, rhimes, and other lewd treatifes in the Engliih tongue." •^■• Ten years afterwards it was deemed neceffary to pafs an ad: of parliament in order, among other things, to put a ftop to the circulation of "printed ballads, plays, rhimes, fongs and other fantafies;" fo that the mul- tiplication of them by the prefs was then confidered an evil requiring the intervention of the legiflature, al- * Ritfon is probably corre6l in ftating, that " the oldeft printed ballad known to be extant, is that on the downfall of l^homas Lord Cromwell in 1540, reprinted by Dr. Percy." — Ancient Songs^ I. xcviii. t Collier's Shakefpeare, I. cclxxxviii. The only words of Hogon's fong preferved are thefe, and we quote them as a literary curiofity. " The hunt is up, the hunt is up, &c. The Mafters of Arte and DocStours of dyvynyte Have brought this realme out of good unyte. Thre nobyll men have take this to ftay, My Lord of Norffolk, Lorde of Surrey, And my Lorde of Shrewfbyrry : The Duke of Suffolk myght have made Inglond mery." IntroducSlion. XV though only a fingle broadfide of about that date has been handed down to us. Ballads feem to have multiplied after Edward \'I. came to the throne, and two or three of thele have been preferved, and are in clofe cuftody in the cabinets of the curious:* no new proclamation was iffued, nor llatute palTed, on the fubjed: while Edward continued to reign ; but in lei's than a month after Mary became Queen, file publiflied an edidl againll '' books, balladb, rhymes, and treatifes," which flie complained had been " fet out by printers and ftationers, of an evil zeal for lucre, and covetous of vile gain." There is little doubt, from * A manufcript drama of great peculiarity of conftruflion, and bear- ing date in the laft year of the reign of Edward VI. contains the firfl: lines of feveral fongs afllgned to the characters : the words were not in- ferted at length, becaufe (as was often the cafe afterwards) they were fo popular, and well known to the finger, that it was only deemed nccef- fary to fignify them. They are highly curious relics : one of them begins, "Bring ye to me, and I to thee;" another, "Hey noney, noney, houghe for money;" a third, "The mercy of God;" and a fourth, " Haye, haye, haic, haie ! I wilbe merie while I maie." None of thefe have come down to us in a printed ftate, although doubtlefs in print at the time they were fung. The original manufcript play is entitled " Refpublica," and is in the library' of Hudfon Gurncy, Efq. to whom the editor was feveral years ago obliged for the o|>- portunity of copying it. XVI Introduftion. the few pieces remaining, that it was in a conliderable degree effe(5lual for the end in view. No fuch reflraint was deemed neceffary when EUza- beth fucceeded her lifter, and the confequence was an increafe of ballads and ballad-fingers : then it was that fome productions of the kind, which had been pre- ferved in manufcript, were printed, and new additions were made to the popular ftock. Robert Langham, who wrote his " Letter from Kenilworth" in the autumn of 1575, has left behind him in it a goodly lift of works of romance and drollery then in circula- tion, including a bundle of ballads, "fair wrapped up in parchment and bound with a whipcord : " thefe he tells us were " all ancient," meaning perhaps to refer to a date when fuch publications had been forbidden. He fupplies fome of the titles ; * and others are enu- merated by one of the charadiers in the old interlude by W. Wager, ** The longer thou liveft the more Fool thou art," printed without date, but after Lang- * We give them in Langham's peculiar and conceited fpelling : — " What fhoold I rehearz heer what a bunch of Ballets and fongs, all auncient ? Az Broom broom on hill — So wo iz me begon — Troly lo — Ouer a whinny Meg — Hey ding a ding — Bony lafs vpon a green — My bony on gaue me a bek — By a bank az I lay ; and a hundred more he hath, fair wrapt vp in Parchment, and bound with a whip- cord." — Collier's Bridgewater Catalogue^ privately printed for the Earl of Ellefmere, 4to, 1837, p. 164. Introdu(?l:ion. XVU ham's traft.-f- Few of thcfe have furvived, and until not far from the clofc of the reign of EHzaheth, broad- t It will be Iceu that two of the ballads mentioned by Wager arc the fameasthofe given by Langham, which aftords evidence of their popu- larity at the time they wrote. The following is afligned to Mores, the Vice of the play, who enters Tinging. " Brome, Brome, on hill. The gentle Brome on hill, hill ; Brome, Brome, on Hiue hill. The gentle Brome on Hiue hill, The Brome ftandes on Hiue hill a. Robin, lend me thy bowe, thy bowe ; Robin the bow, Robin lende to me thy bow a. There was a Mayde come out of Kent, Deintie loue, deintie loue ! There was a mayde cam out of Kent Daungerous be [fhe] : There was a mayde cam out of Kent, Fayre, propre, fmall and gent, And euer vpon the ground went, For fo fhould it be. By a banke as I lay, I lay, Mufinge on things paft, hey how ! Tom a lin and his wife, and his wiues mother, They went ouer a bridge, all three together : The bridge was broken and they fell in ; The Deuill go with all, quoth Tom a lin. Martin Swart and his man, fodledum, fodledum j Martin Swart and his man, fodledum bell. Come ouer the boorne, Befle, XVlll Introduction. fides cannot be faid to have been at all numerous. Philip Stubbes, writing his "Anatomy of Abufes" in 1583, objects to the " minftrels and mulicians" who infefted town and country, and inveighs violently againft the " fongs, filthy ballads and fcurvy rhymes," which they vended to the populace. Coming down to a later date, we have the authority of Chettle's " Kind Heart's Dream," 1 592, for the fad: that " many a tradefman, of a worfliipful trade," brought up ap- prentices to " finging brokery," and foon trufted them "with a dozen groatfworth of ballads." About this period, and fomewhat earlier, it was that Elderton, Munday, Deloney, Johnfon and feveral others flou- riflied, and kept the metropolis, as well as the provinces, fully fupplied with ballad literature.* My little pretie BefTe, Come ouer the boorne, BefTe, to me." Hiji. Engl. Drain. Poetry and the Stage^ ii. 333. * Chettle's evidence is decifive as to the number of ballad-fingers in his day : " I am given to underftand that there be a company of idle youths, loathing honefl: labour, and defpifing lav/full trades, betake them to a vagrant and vicious life, in every corner of cities and market- townes of the realme, finging and felling ballads," &c. He feverely cen- fures the character and tendency of thefe produ6tions, and efpecially points out " Watkin's Ale," " The Carman's Whiftle," " Chopping Knives," " Friar Foxtail," and "The Friar and the Nun." — Kind Heart's Dream., 1 592- Thomas Nafh in his humorous tra£ts men- tions " Watkin's Ale," and feveral other ballads extremely popular be- / Introduction XIX Matters continued without much alteration duriii"- the reign of James L, excepting that particular printers were then licenfed to publilli broadlides and other pieces, occupying only one fide of paper, of courfe including ballads : they granted alTignments to others for flipulated fums, and the " worrtiipful trades" of ballad-making, ballad-felling, and ballad-fmging, had certainly never been more flourilliing.'" About the middle of the reign of Charles I. fome new writers of this clafs made their appearance, the fore the end of Elizabeth's reign. Henry Bold, more than half a centurv afterwards, fpealcs of ancient tunes ftill " fung to Barber's Citterns," \iz. " The Lady's Fall," " John come kifs me now," " Green Sleeves and Pudding Pies," "The Punk's Delight," " The Winning of Bul- logne," and " Ellex's laft Good-night." — Latin Songs and their Eng- lijh Words. * To about this period we may refer the enumeration of ballads in Fletcher's " Monfieur Thomas," A6t. iii. Sc. 3. A Fiddler is there introduce, who informs the hero that he can fmz the followino; : " The Duke of Norfolk — the merry ballad of Dives and Lazarus — the Rofe of England — In Crete when Dedimus firft began — Jonas his Crv'ing- out againft Coventry — Maudlin the Merchant's Daughter — the Devil — Ye dainty Dames — the Landing of the Spaniards at Bow, with the bloody Battle of Mile-end." — Dyce^s Beaumont and Fletcher^ vii. p. 364. To thefe we may fubjoin the titles of fome ballads mentioned by Samuel Rowlands, in his " Crew of kind Goflips," ^^cc. 1613. They are, " Miftrefs, will vou do," " My man Thomas did me promife," " The Pinnace rio-a'd with fdken faile," " Pretty Birds," " The Gar- den Nightingale," " I'll tie my Mare in thy ground," and " Befs for Abufes." See alfo his " 'Tis merry when GofTips meet," 1 602. XX Introduction. principal of whom was Martin Parker, who induftri- oully availed himfelf of every opportunity for putting his pen to paper : he was fubfequently affifted by another prolific poet of the fame defcription, named Lawrence Price, while Wade, Climfell, Guy, &c. were not by any means flow in their contributions. Thus, we have many more broadfides belonging to the forty years immediately preceding the Reflora- tion, than have come down to us during the whole pre- vious period from the Reformation. Among them are to be included not a few reprints of older ballads, of which only the re-impreffions are now extant : they were, no doubt, fcarce when their republication was undertaken by the printers, bookfellers, and fta- tioners, who carried on a profitable bufinefs from about 1620 to 1660. An imperfed: attempt to put a fudden termination to dramatic performances was made in 1642, and carried into execution in 1 648 : theatres remained ihut (with a few inflances of difobedience) until the return of Charles II. During this interval the writers and printers of ballads (which were Hill iffued as black- letter broadfides) feem to have reaped an unufually abundant harveft ; for in proportion as the people were deprived of one fpecies of amufement they evi- dently required another. We know that many of Introdu£lion. thefe produdiions were of a political complexion; and although none fuch have reached our day, it is not unlikely that Ibme ballads were fatirically directed againfh the parties who had been prominent, or inftru- mental, in putting an end to theatrical reprelenta- tions. The adl for fuppreffing the ftage was ilTued in the Spring, and in the Autumn of 1648 the Provoft Marflial was direded and empowered " to feize upon all ballad-fmgers, fellers of malignant pamphlets, and to fend them to the feveral militias, and to fupprefs llage-plays."* This exhibition of arbitrary power does not feem to have been by any means effedual as re- gards ballad-fingers, and judging from the numerous broadfides of the time, whether reprints of older pro- ductions, or entirely new compofitions, the prefs, after the theatres were put down, may be faid to have teemed with ballads, and the ftreets to have been filled with itinerant muficians, who, in a remarkable tradl of the time, are humoroully called " the running ftationers of London." -f- XXI * Whitelocke's Memorials, p. 337. t " Knaves are no honeft iVIen, or More Knaves yet, &:c. compofed by I. L.," w^ithout name of printer, or date. The author's words are, " Marry, they fay that the running ftationers of London, I mean fuch as ufe to fmg ballads, and thofe that cry malignant pamphlets in the ftreets have all laid their heads together," kc. XXll IntroducStion. Had not the public eagerly encouraged this fpecies of performance, of courfe, fo many ballads would not have been publiflied ; but, recolled:ing the comparative value of money, the price of a broadlide could hardly have been within the reach of the pooreftclalTes. We may perhaps calculate, that during the Protedorate money was worth at leaft twice as much as at prefent, yet we find that then (and earlier, when money was far more fcarce) the coft of a ballad was a penny. Of this fa6t feveral diftind; proofs are contained in our volume, for on p. 41 the finger tells his auditors, " Nor would I have a fcold one penny here beftow, But honeft men and wives buy thefe before you goe : " and on p. 151 we read as follows : *' And thus you now have heard the praife of Nothing, worth a penny^ Which, as I fland to fing here now, I hope will yeeld me many." Such it appears had been the charge, as it were by prefcription, for many years : Nicholas Breton, in his " Pafquil's Madcap," 1600, had advifed " profe writers " to change their occupation, in confequence of the greater fuccefs of the authors of ** penny bal- Introdu(9:ion. XXlll lads."* At that period money was four or five times lefs abundant than with us : a quarto play, Tuch as "Much ado about Nothing," (printed in 1600) was then fold for fixpence ; a fmall tradt or poem for four- pence ; a chap-book, in 8vo. for two-pence, and a broadfide ballad for one penny. It was not long after the Reftoration that ballads fo degenerated, in quality and eftimation, that they were faleable at only half the fum they had produced from the reign of Elizabeth downwards. The theatres, as every body knows, were then once more in acftive operation. We have already faid fomething of the general fide- lity with which we have adhered to the old copies : * His lines are thefe : " Goe, tell the poets that their pedling rimes Begin apace to grow out of requeft, While wanton humours in ihefe idle times Can make of love but as a laughing jeft : And tell profe-writers, ftories are fo ftale That penny ballads make a better fale." No man put the town to the teft, as regards both verfe and profe, more frequently and perfeveringly than Breton ; but we are not aware of any ballad, properly fo called, of his compofition, unlefs we may afTign to him one on p. 254 of our volume. He was a very popular pamphleteer, and, as the parifh regifters {hew, lived very near Trun- dle, the ballad-bookfeller, where feveral of his children were born and buried : this is not the place for inferting extracts from them, but they form entirely new points in his biography. XXIV Introduction. we have carried this fo far, that we have not only obferved the orthography of our originals, but even their mifprints, if they were not mere literal errors, if the miftakes in a manner corred:ed themfelves, or did not materially interfere with the fenfe.* Our objecft has been to prefent the compolitions, as nearly as our typography would allow, in their earlieft Ihape, even to the difufe of many capital letters at the com- mencement of lines. This pracflice, with our old printers, arofe out of the fad: that lines, often divided into two, were in truth only one, the feparation having been made for the convenience of the page : we feled: a lingle illuftration from p. 250, where we read. * We take a fpecimen, almoft at random, from one of the very few broadfides we have inferted, which are not in the ftri Who promif'd had to meet with mee. And under this our plighted bough He fought performance of our vow. He found not mee, but found my coat All bloodied by the lyons throat; Which when he faw with bloud belayd. My ab fence made him fore afraid. What fhould he thinke, but that fome beaft Upon my carcaffe made his feafl ? ' He thought that the grim lyon's whelpe Devoured mee, being voyd of helpe. While hee thefe events thus did brooke, The inftrument of death he tooke. A naked fword, which by his lide Ready for combats he had tyed. — I have, quoth hee, wrought my loves death. The end of her fhall end my breath ; And thereupon thruft to the hilt His fword, and thus his blood he fpilt. The Conftancy of True Love. That the firft piilTenger might know, The difmall events of this woe, He wrote and pinn'd a note thereof Upon his hatt, to (liew the proofe ; Which I, being voyd of feare, at laft. And thinking all the danger paft. Returning from that hideous bed. Whereto I from the lyon fled, I found the cople of his death. And his dead carcafle voyd of breath. No fobs, no flghes, no griefes, no groanes. No trickling teares, no mournfull moanes. No ejaculations, no cries. No dolefuU dittle or elegies. Shall ferve for to bewalle his end. Which for my love his life did fpend. In life his love did mee purfue. But by his death he prov'd It true. If hee, then, for my fake did die, As much for him why fhould not I ? Since death hath us denied our right. Then friendly death fliall us unite; And I will follow him In hafte. Who thought he follow'd me being pall. Thefe words aflbone as fliee had fpoke. She gave her felfe a deadly ftroke : 95 96 The Conftancy of True Love. Shee drew the fword out of his breaft And in her owne the fame fhee thruft ; And as in Hfe their hearts were one. So are their lives together gone. In fpight of parents, time, and place. Fond love will runne his wifhed race. Thus have you heard a tragedy, Acfled by lovers conftancy : God fend fuch lovers better fpeed. Where fervency true love doth breed. #/^._c$^ 97 Few Words are beft. To the Tune of " He tell you but fo." [A ballad, in its ori2;inal fhape, probably of the latter part of the reign of Elizabeth, from what is faid about enclofures, recufants, puritans, &c. Two of the ftanzas, the fixth and feventh, feem to have a pecu- liar application to the life of Shakcfpeare, and to the religious opinions of his father (fee the Shakefpcare Society's Papers, ii. 115). The droll fatire of the writer applies to nearly all callings and clafles, and he fpares no body. It was printed, like many other broadfides, " by the Affignes of Thomas Symcocke," and, to the title, "Few Words are beft," the following; diftich is added : — (C Come buy this new ballad before you doe goe : If you raile at the Author, I know what I know."] T is an old laying that few words are beft. And he that fays little ftiall live moft at reft; And I by experience doe finde it right fo, Therefore He fpare fpeech, but I know what I know. Yet you ftiall perceive well though little I fay. That many enormities I will difplay : 98 Few Words are beft. You may guefTe my meaning by that which I fhow ; I will not tell all. but I know what I know. There be fome great climbers compof'd of ambition. To whom better-borne men doe bend with fubmiffion. Proud Lucifer climbing. was caft very low; He not ftay thefe men. but I know what I know. There be many foxes that goe on two legges. They fteale greater matters then cocks, hennes and egges : To catch many gulls in fheepes cloathing they goe ; They might be deftroy'd, but I know what I know. There be many men that devotion pretend. And make us beleeve that true faith they'le defend ; Three times in one day to church they will goe : Few Words are beft. 99 They cozen the world, but I know what I know. There be many rich men both yeomen and gentry, That for their owne private gaine hurt a whole countrey. By doling free commons, yet they'le make as though Twere for common good ; but I know what I know. There be divers Papifts that, to fave their fine. Come to church once a moneth to hear fervice divine. The Pope gives them power as they fay, to doe fo. They fave money by't too, but I know what I know. There be many upftarts that fpring from the cart. Who gotten to the Court play the gentleman's part : Their fathers were plaine men, they fcorne to be fo ; They thinke themfelves brave, but I know what I know. lOO Few Words are beft. There be many officers, men of great place, To whom if one fue for their favour and grace, He muft bribe their fervants, while they make as though They know no fuch thing ; but I know what I know. There be many women that feeme very pure, A kilTe from a ftranger they'le hardly endure ; They are like Lucretia, modefl in fhow : I will accufe none, but I know what I know. Likewife there be many diflembling men. That feeme to hate drinking and wenching, yet when They meet with a wench to the taverne they'le goe : They are civill all day, but I know what I know. There be many batchelors that, to beguile Few Words are beft. lOI Beleeving kind laires, ufe many a wile : They all fweare that they love, when they meane nothing fo, And boaft of thofe trickes ; but I know what I know. There's many an ufurer that like a drone Doth idly live upon his money's lone : From tens unto hundreds his money doth grow ; He fayes he doth good, but I know what I know. There be many gallants that goe in gay rayment. For which the taylor did never receive payment : They ruffle it out with a gorgeous fhow. Some take them for knights, but I know what I know. There be many rovers that fwagger and rore. As though they in the warres had been feven yeares and more ; I02 Few Words are beft. And yet they never lookt in the face of a foe : They feeme gallant fparkes, but I know what I know. There's many, both women and men, that appeare With beautifull outiides. the world's eyes to bleare ; But all is not gold that doth glifter in fhow : They are fine with a fox. but I know what I know. There's many rich tradefmen who live by deceit. And in weight and meafure the poore they doe cheat : They'le not fweare an oath, but, indeed, I, and no. They truely protefl ; but I know what I know. • There be many people fo given to ftrife, 'I'hat they'le goe to law for a twopenny knife : The lawyers nere afke them 1 why they doe fo ; Few Words are beft. 103 They get by their hate, but I know what I know. I know where be many will carpe at this ballet, Becaufe it is like fowre fawce to their pallet ; But he, fliee, or they, let me tell ere I goe. If they fpeake againft this fong, I know what I know. The wlieltstoiK j: Ml t v^ te^ -^^ m 1 s 91 /i-^ ,fgi^-- 104 The Merchant's Daughter of Briftow. To the Tune of " The Maiden's Joy." [This narrative ballad, which is full of graceful but unadorned fim- plicity, is mentioned in Fletcher's "Monfieur Thomas," (A6t iii. Sc. 3.) by the name of "Maudlin the Merchant's Daughter." Two early edi- tions of it are known : one without printer's name, (clearly much older than the other) is that which we have ufed : we may conclude that it was written confiderably before James I. came to the throne. It was laft re-printed in 1738, but in that impreflion it was much modern- ized and corrupted.] EHOLD the touchftone of true love. Maudlin the Merchant's Daughter of Brif- tow towne, Whofe firme affediion nothing could move; This favour beares the lovely browne. A gallant youth was dwelling by. Which many yeares had borne this lady great good will; Shee loved him fo faithfullv. But all her friends withftood it ftill. The young man now, perceiving well He could not get nor win the favour of her friends. The force of forrow to expell To view ftrange countreys hee intends. The Merchant's Daucrhtcr. And now, to take his lafl farewell Of his true love, his faire and conftant Maudlcn, With muficke fweete that did excell Hee plaies under her window then. Farewell (quoth he) mine owne true love. Farewell, my deare, and chiefeft treafure of my heart ! Through fortune's fpight, that falfe did prove, I am inforc'd from thee to part. Into the land of Italy: There wil I waile, and weary out my dayes in wo ; Seeing my true love is kept from mee, I hold my life a mortal fo. Faire Briftow towne, therefore, adieu. For Padua fhall bee my habitation now ; Although my love doth lodge in thee. To whom alone my heart I vow. With trickling teares this hee did ling, With Ughs and fobs defcending from his heart full fore: Hee faid, when he his hands did wring. Farewell, fweet love, for evermore ! Fair Maudlin, from a window high Beholding her true love with muficke where hee flood. But not a word Ihe durft reply. Fearing her parents angry mood. 105 io6 The Merchant's Daughter. In teares (he fpent this doleful! night, Wifhing (though naked) with her faithful! friend : She blames her friends, and fortune's fpight. That wrought their loves fuch luclclelTe end. And in her heart fhee made a vow Cleane to forfake her country and her kinsfolkes all. And for to follow her true love. To bide all chance that might befall. The night is gone, and the day is come. And in the morning very early fhee did rife : She gets her downe in a lower roome. Where fundrie feamen fhe efpies. A gallant mafter amongft them all, (The mafter of a faire and goodlie fhip was he) Who there ftood waiting in the hall. To fpeake with her father, if it might be. She kindly takes him by the hand. Good fir (faid fhee) would you fpeake with any heere? Quoth he, faire maid, therefore I ftand : Then, gentle Sir, I pray you draw neere. Into a pleafant parlour by. With hand in hand fhe brings the feaman all alone ; Sighing to him moft piteoufly. She thus to him did make her moane. The Merchant's Daughter. 107 Shee falls upon her tender knee : Good Hr (file faid) now pittie you a woman's woe. And prove a faithfull friend to me. That I my griefe to you may fhew. Sith you repofe your truft, he faid. To me that am unknowne, and eke a ftranger heere, Be you alTur'd, moft proper maid, Moft faithfull flill I will appeare. I have a brother, then, quoth fliee. Whom as my life I love and favour tenderlie : In Padua, alas ! is he. Full ficke, God wot, and like to die. And faine I would my brother fee. But that my father will not yeeld to let me goe ; Wherefore, good fir, be good to mee. And unto me this favour fliew. Some fhip-boye's garment bring to mee. That I difguif'd may goe away from hence unknowne. And unto fea He goe with thee, If thus much favour may be fhowne. Faire maid (quoth he) take heere my hand : I will fulfill each thing that you defire. And fet you fafe in that fame land. And in that place that you require. io8 The Merchant's Daughter. She gave him then a tender kilTe, And faith, your fervant, gallant mafter, will I be. And prove your faithfull friend for this. Sweet mafter, then, forget not me. This done, as they had both decreed, Soone after (early) before the breake of day. He brings her garments then with fpeed. Wherein (he doth her felfe array: And ere her father did arife, Shee meets her mafter as he walkes in the hall : Shee did attend on him likewife. Even till her father did him call. But ere the Merchant made an end Of all the matters to the mafter he could fay. His wife came weeping in with fpeed. Saying, our daughter is gone away! The Merchant, thus amaz'd in mind. Yonder vile wretch intic'd away my child, quoth he ; But, well I wot, I fhall him find At Padua, in Italy. With that befpake the mafter brave : Worfhipfull mafter, thither goes this pretty youth. And any thing that you would have, He will performe it, and write the truth. The Merchant's Daucrhter. Sweet youth (quoth hee) if it be lb, Beare me a letter to the EngUfli marchants there, And gold on thee I will beftow : My daughter's welfare I do feare. Her mother takes her by the hand ; Faire youth (qd {he) if there thou doft my daughterfee. Let me thereof foone underftand, And there is twenty crownes for thee. Thus, through the daughter's ftrange difguife, The mother knew not when iliee fpake unto her child; And after her mafter ftraightway fliee hies. Taking her leave with countenance milde. Thus to the fea faire Maudlin is gone With her gentle mailer : God fend them a merry wind ; Where wee a while muft let them alone. Till you the fecond part doe find. 109 Finis Part I. no The Merchant's Daughter. THE SECOND PART. To the fame Tune. WELCOME, fweete Maudlin, from the fea. Where bitter ftormes and tempefts doe arife : The plefant bankes of Italy Wee may behold with mortal eyes. Thankes, gentle mafter, then quoth fhee : A faithfull friend in forrow haft thou beene ; If fortune once doth fmile on mee. My thankfuU heart fhall well bee feene. Bleft be the land that feedes my love ! Bleft be the place where as his perfon doth abide ! No triall will I fticke to prove. Whereby my true love may be tride. Nowe will I walke with joyful heart. To vie we the to wne where as my darlinge doth remaine. And feeke him out in every part, Untill I doe his fight attaine. And I, quoth he, will not forfake Sweete Maudlin in her forrow up and downe : In wealth and woe thy part He take. And bring thee fafe to Padua towne. The Merchant's Dauo^hter. III And after many wearie fteps In Padua they fafely doe arrive at laft : For very joy her heart it leapes ; She thinkes not of her forrowes paft. Condemned to dye hee was, alas ! Except he would from his religion turne ; But rather then hee would to malfe, In iiery flames he vow'd to burne. Now doth Maudlin weepe and waile : Her joy is chang'd to weeping, forrow, griefe and care; But nothing could her plaints prevaile. For death alone muft be his fhare. Shee walkes under the prifon walls. Where her true love doth lye and languifh in diftrefle; Moft wofully for foode he calls. When hunger did his heart opprefle. He iighs and fobs and makes great moane : Farewell, hee faid, fweete England, now for evermore. And all my friends that have me knowne In Briftow towne with wealth and ftore. But moil: of all farewell, quoth hee. My owne true love,fweet Maudlin,'whom I left behind; For never more fhall I fee thee. Woe to thy fither moft unkind ! 112 The Merchant's Daughter. How well were I, if thou wert here, With thy faire hands to clofe thefe wretched eyes : My torments eaiie would appeare ; My foule with joy (hall fcale the fkies. When Maudlin heard her lover's moane. Her eyes with teares, her heart with forrow filled was: To fpeake with him no meanes is knowne. Such grievous doome on him did palTe. Then fhee caft oiFher lad's attire ; A maiden's weede upon her back fhe feemely fet : To the judge's houfe fhee did enquire. And there fhee did a fervice get. Shee did her duty there fo well. And eke fo prudently fhe did her felfe behave. With her in love her mafter fell ; His fervant's favour hee doth crave. Maudlin, quoth hee, my heart's delight. To whom my heart is in affed:ion tied. Breed not my death through thy defpight ; A faithfull friend I will be tryed. Grant me thy love, faire maid, quoth hee. And at my hands require what thou canft devife. And I will grant it unto thee. Whereby thy credit may arife. The Merchant's Daughter, I have a brother, Hr, fhe faid, For his rehgion is now condemned to dye : In loathfome prifon hee is layd, Opprefl with griefe and mifery. Grant me my brother's Hfe, fhee faid. And to you my love and Uking I will give. That may not be, quoth hee, faire maid ; Except he turne, he cannot live. An Englifh Frier there is, fhee faid. Of learning great and pafling pure of life. Let him to my brother be fent. And he will finifh foone the ftrife. Her mafter hearing this requefl:. The marriner in frier's weed fhe did array, And to her love, that lay diftrell, Shee did a letter ftraight convey. When hee had read thefe gentle lines. His heart was ravilhed with fudden joy ; Where now fhee was full, well hee knew : The frier likewife was not coy ; 113 But did declare to him at large The enterprife for him his love had taken in hand. The young man did the frier charge. His love fliould ftraight depart the land. Q^ 114 The Merchant's Daughter. Here is no place for her, hee faid, But woeful! death and danger of her harmlelTe life : ProfefTing truth I was betraid, And fearfull flames muft end my ftrife. For, ere I will my faith deny. And fweare my felfe to follow damned Antichrift, He yeeld my body for to die. To live in heaven with the higheft. O fir ! the gentle frier faid. For your fweet love recant, and fave your wifhed life. A wofull match, quoth hee, is made Where Chrift is loft to win a wife. When file had wrought all meanes that might To fave her friend, and that fhe faw it would not bee. Then of the judge fhee claimed her right. To die the death as well as hee. When no perfwafion could prevaile. Nor change her mind in any thing that fhee had faid, She was with him condemned to die. And for them both one fire was made. And arme in arme mofl joyfully Thefe lovers twaine unto the fire they did goe : The marriner mofl faithfully Was like wife partner of their woe. The Merchant's Dauo;htcr. But when the judges underwood The faithfull friendlhip did in them remaine. They faved their Hves ; and afterward To England fent them home againe. Now was their Ibrrow turned to joy, And faithfull lovers had now their heart's defirc : Their paines fo well they did imploy, God granted that they did require. And when they were to England come. And in merry Briftow arrived at the laft, Great joy there was to all and fome That heard the dangers they had paft. Her gentle mafter fhee defircd To be her father, and at the church to give her then It was fulfilled as fliee required. Unto the joy of all good men. I I My pretty little one. To a pleafant new Tune, [We may perhaps carry this ballad back to the reign of Henry VIII. the fcore of a fong of that date, called " My little pretty one," being known (Chappell's Nat. Engl. Airs, ii. 167). It is indifputably very old, although in the only impreflion that has come down to us — " Lon- don, Printed for W. Thackaray, T. Paflenger, and W. Whitwood " — it has been modernized and obvioufly mifprinted. The full title con- fifts of the burden " Come turn to me, thou pretty little one, and I will turn to thee."] WEET, if thou wilt be As I am to thee. Then, by Cupid's mother I have vow'd to have none other fhe. Then turn to me, thou pretty little one, and I will turn to thee. Thofe bright eyes of thine. Which do dazzle mine. Like the ftars of heaven. Which do keep their even courfe and fhine : Then let us in conjund:ion meet, and both our loves combine. If that lovely face Will to mine give place. My pretty little one. 117 That with love's devotion, We may ufe the motion of imbrace, Then fit thee down, my pretty little one, and let us love a fpace. What hurt is this For to take a kifie ? If it may be granted, I that long have wanted fuch a blifie. Then be not fparing of a few, whereas fuch plenty is. If thy breafts do pant For the milk they want. Every hill and mountain To fupply each fountain be not fcant : Then give to me thy lilly white hand, and I thee mine will grant. If fo be that I May but thee come nigh. The vine and elm fliall never Joyn more clofe together, then will I : Then fhew thy fruits, my amorous joy, and He with love fupply. ii8 My pretty little one. If that thou doft crave Silks and garments brave. Or what rich attyre Could thy heart defire to receive, Declare to me, thou pretty little one ; thou canft but afk and have. Sweet-heart, for thy fake I will never make Choice of any other ; Then, by Cupid's mother. freely fpeak. Its at thy choice, my deareft love. either to leave or take. I thy mary gold. Wrapt in many fold. Like the golden clyent To the fun fupplient. fhew its gold : * Difplay thy beams, my glorious fun. and He to thee unfold. Thofe bright locks of hair. Spreading o'er each ear. Every crifp and curie Far more rich then pearl doth appear : My pretty little one. Then, be thou conftant in thy love, and I will be thy dear. Till I have pofTefl Thee, whom I love beft, I have vow'd for ever. In thy abfence never to take reft. Deny me not, thou pretty little one, in whom my hopes are bleft. If a kiiTe or two Can thee a favour do. Were it more then twenty. Love's indu'd with plenty lovers know : For thy fweet fake a thoufand take, for that's the way to wooe. It doth grieve my heart From thee for to part ; It is to me more pleafant Ever to be prefent where thou art : Yet in the abfence of a friend my love fliall never ftart. As to me thou art kind, Duty fliall mee bind I20 My pretty little one. Ever to obey thee ; Reafon fo doth fway me to thy mind : Thou hafl my heart where e're thou art, although I flay behind. In thy bed or bark I will be thy mark: Couples yet more loving Never had their moving from the Ark. Welcome to mee, my only joy, all times, be it light or dark ! I 2 I The Devil driven away by Women. To the Tune of " Death's Dance." [The tune to which the enfuing comic ballad was fung, is ftated on the broadfide to be " Death's Dance," but it mull have been a differ- ent Dance of Death to that which ftands firft in our volume, as both would not run to the fame air. We may conclude, therefore, that it was " Death's Dance " which alfo went by the name of " The Shak- ing of the Sheet," and was popular in 1560, if not earlier. (Hift. Engl. Dram, Poetry and the Stage, ii. 474.) The fomewhat peculiar tide of the old copy is this : — " An excellent new Ditty, or Which proveth that women the befl: warriers be, For they made the Devill from earth for to flee." It was " Printed at London, for H. G.*' /. e. Henry GofTon, who pub- liflied fo many produ6lions for the amufement of the multitude.] LD Beelzebub merry dilpofed to be. To earth he did hurry, Ibme paftime to fee : A landlord he proved, and leafes would let To all them that loved a long life to get. R 122 The Devil driven Come hither, all mortalls, quoth the Devill of hell. Come longtailes and curtailes now unto my cell : To you I here proffer a bargaine to buy ; If you'l take my offer, you never fhall dye. This bargaine them pleafed, they long'd it to gaine; The ficke and difeafed came thither amaine ; And though they were crafie, they thither could fiye. The fluggard and lazy this bargaine would buy. The gallants and gentry, his love to embrace. From city and country fiockt hither apace : Long life they defired with much jollity ; Their hearts they were fired this bargaine to buy. The dames of the city came hither with fpeed ; Your merchant wives pretty away by Women. 123 would feale to this deed. To live with a lover and never to dye : Here curtelans hover this bargaine to buy. No females there wanted, but hither they came ; They came till they panted, to purchafe the fame : Wives, widdowes, and maidens to the Devill did hye ; Brave lalTes and ladies this bargaine would buy. The lecher, which viewed fuch pretty ones there. His love was renewed, and hee'd have a fhare ; And here he fojourned, 'caufe never hee'd dye : His heart it was burned this bargaine to buy. Now wicked fonnes came in, that had their meanes fpent In dicing and gaming, to this office went : Apace they here gather, becaufe they'd not dye. 124 The Devil driven But to outlive their father this bargaine they'd buy. Next comes the fhoomaker to crave a long life. Here to be partaker he brought his fine wife. The taylor attends here ; for money they cry. And follow the fpender this bargaine to buy. The ufurers follow that pawnes have in hand ; With whoop and with hollow they call for the land. Which fpend-thrifts pawne to them. while for cafh they hye : To live to undoe them this bargaine they'll buy. Next came thefe rich farmers that coozin the poore. And hoord up in corners provifion and ftore ; To live till a deare yeere. and never to dye. Thefe greedy corn-mizers this bargaine would buy. away by Women. 125 Now brokers came hither. that in tlieir hands had Pawnes heaped together. both good ones and bad : To Hve till they view them all forfeited lye. To the Devill they fue them this bargaine to buy This purchafe contented the Devill of hell. To fee fuch fiockes enter all into his cell ; Yet flill he proclaimed they never fhould dye. Who ere it was aimed this bargaine to buy. Next came the poore women that cry iifh and oyfters ; They flocke here in common. and many great clufters : They ran hither fcolding and to the Devill cry. , Sir, wee'd be beholding this bargaine to buy. But when thefe came hither they kept fuch a noife. Each brabled with other 126 The Devil driven away. which firft fhould have choife. As that their noyfe frighted the Devill of hell : No more he delighted fuch bargaines to fell. Quoth he, I muft from them, for fhould 1 Hay here. In pieces among them my body they'l teare : Quoth he, I am willing to deale among men. But nere will have dealing 'mongfl: women agen. I 27 The Lamentation of Englande. To the Tune of " Weepe, weepe." [It is impoffible now to afcertain whom the initials W. M. at the end of this hiftorical ballad rcprefent : he wrote it in 1584, and two years afterwards Thomas Deloney penned an effufion of precifely the fame character, and to the fame tune, upon the execution of Ballard Babbington, &c. (See "Old Ballads" printed for the Percy Society in 1840, p. lOi.) This "Lamentation" on the execution of Throg- morton contains fome particulars conne6ted with his death that are not given by our Chroniclers, and the mention of the execution of Arden, a relation of Shakefpeare by his mother's fide, is interefting. The title of the ballad in the old black-letter copy runs thus : " The Lamen- tation of Englande for the late Treafons confpir^d againft the Queene's Majeftie, and the whole Realme, by Francis Throgmorton, who was executed for the fame at Tyborne on Friday, being the tenth day of July laft paft, 1584." After the notice of the tune to which it was to be fung come the following lines, as the burden at the end of every ftanza, " Pray, pray, and praife the Lord, whofe wondrous works are feene. That brought to light the fecret fnare laid lately for our Queene." It was " Imprinted at London by Richard Jhones."] 'ITH brinifhe teares and fobbing fighes, I, Englande, pine in paine. To fee and heare fuch fecret fed:es among my people raine : Now being in my golden prime, where nedlar fweete doth flowe. 128 The Lamentation of Englande. And where the facred worde is taught, eche ChrilHan's joye to fhowe. And where the Lord of Lords hath fet his handmaide pure and cleene, Annoynting her my rightfull Prince, to reigne a royall Queene ; Indued with wifedome from above, and ftorde with knowledge great. That flying fame throughout the world her praifes doth repeate. Who to the facred worde doth ftande with zeale and godly minde. Maintaining truth, embracing faith, and to eche fubjed: kinde. Alas ! why then, my people deare, what is the caufe you fwerve Againft the Lord's annoynted fo, your owne felfe willes to ferve ? Have you not peace and plentie both, which other realmes do want? Have you not worldly pleafures ftore, whereof there is no fkant ? Have I not not foftered you with foode, which Nature bringeth foorth ? Have I not fed you dayntily, with milke and hony both ? The Lamentation of Encjlandc I 29 And have not I a carefull Prince, the prop of all your llay, Which loveth me, which cares for you, and prayes for us eche day ? What is the caufe fuch'mifchiefes, then, among you doe remaine ? Truely, the fulnes of the flefli, which you fo much obtaine. It makes me weepe with trickling teares, and wring my hands full colde. To heare, to fee, and thinke upon, the dangers manyfolde. My loving Prince and Queene is in by means of Satan's crew. Which often doth confpire the death Of her, my lover true. How many mifcheefes are devifed ? how many wayes are wrought ? How many vilde confpiracies againft her Grace are fought ? Yet God, that rules in heaven above, lookes downe on earth belowe. Who dauntes them in their wickednelTe, and doth his power iliowe. For when his highnes doth perceive that dangers are at hande. 130 The Lamentation of Englande. Then doth he fhewe by fecret meanes thofe perils to withflande ; And will not let his chofen flocke to perifhe on the earth. But doth her fecret foes confounde by meanes of fhamefull death. As late was feene by Arden he, and Sommervile alfo, intend Who did pretende to kill my Queene, and worke her fubjedls woe : But God who doth her ftill defende, her Grace he did preferve, And wrought a fhame unto them felves, as they did befl deferve. Throgmorton lately did confpire to overthrowe the State, That Grangers might invade the realme upon an evening late. And lande in places where he knewe the realme was fomething weake, The fecret of which thing he did to forraigne Princes breake. His dealing with the Queen of Scottes, by letters to and fro, liiforming her and other States of all that he did knowe ; The Lamentation of Englande. 131 What freends In England they Ihould find. What power they Ihould bring. Our Queene thereby for to difplace ; this was a wofull thing. He fought to difpofTeffe my Queene Of dignitie and crowne, And place a ftranger in her ftate. thereby to tread her downe : Ireland and Scotland, by advife. the enemie fhould invade. Then into England bring a power, as he the plat had made. 'I'hefe were the treafons which he wrought. my good Qu^eene to difplace. To fpoyle the ftate of all this realme. Such was his want of grace : But God, who doth proted: me ftill. ofi^ended at the fame. Even in his yong and tender yeares, did cut him off with ihame. O, thou Throgmorton, wicked wight ! why didfl: thou this devife ? Why did the feare of God and Prince depart fo from thine eyes ? No rebelles power fhall her difplace, God will defende her ftill ; 132 The Lamentation of Englande. Her fubjedes all will loofe their lives, ere traytors have their will. And though he florifht for a fpace, in feeking his intent. When to the pit's brinke that he came, God did his worke prevent ; And did preferve, in I'pight of him, his chofen velTell pure. That fhe might florifh flill in peace, my comfort to procure. When as the fervants of the Lorde, I meane the children three, Were put into the fierie oven, deftroyed for to bee. Then fierie flames did them no harme, they fung and prayed with joye. And thofe which flood to worke their woe, the fparkles did deflroye. And when the children of the Lord King Pharao did purfue. To drowne them in the foming floods, God was a captaine true : The waves like walles flood on eche fide, and they free pafTadge founde. And Pharao with his mightie hofle came after, and was drounde. The Lamentation of Enalande. Even fo the Lord, by his great might, my comfort doth maintaine. In keeping and preferving ftill my Prince from traitors traine : And did preferve her from the harmes Throgmorton did pretende. Who even at Tyborne for the fame did make a (liamefull ende. And though fuch impes do worke her fpite ten thoufande kinde of waies. Yea, though the devill himfelfe do fite, to fpoyle her golden daies. Yet if the Lorde defende my wrong, ' their courage foone fhall quaile : So long as God flands on her fide, no power fhall prevaile. Therefore, my loving people deare, graunt England her requeft. Pray to the Lord, him ferve with feare, and traitors hearts deteft : Embrace the truth, lay holde on faith, walke in the path of peace. Obey your Prince, fight in her caufe, and England's wealth encreafe. And with new warning take new hearts, olde venomed minds deteft ; ^33 134 The Lamentation of Englande, Efchue all finne, encreafe good works, that you in peace may reft. From all olde cuftomes that are evill, put on the new man Chrift, And newly change your former lives, and learne to pleafe the higheft. W. M. Finis. 135 Be merry, Friends. To be fung to a new Tune. [This, In its original (late, is a ballad of the time of Henry the VIII. Edward VI. or Mary, for its author, John Heywood, wrote in thofe reigns, and it exifts in a manufcript of about that time formerly in the library of Mr. Bright. Our copy is evidently in many places a clever modernization, and it was " Printed for Thomas Millington in Cornhill" foon after the year 1600. In Mr. Bright's manufcript fomeof the ftanzas are incomplete, but in the broadfide the deficiencies were fupplied, either from a better copy or by conjecture. It appears from a A4S. in the pofTeffion of Lord Francis Egerton that John Heywood was ftill living in 1576, and that he was a native of Kent.] E merry, friends, and take no thought; For worldly cares now care ye nought, For who fo doth, when all is fought. Shall find that thought availeth not. Be merry, friends ! And fuch as have all wealth at will, Their wills and pleafures to fulfill. Need never grudge at any ill. Nor need I fmg this fong untill. Be merrv, friends ! 136 Be merry, Friends. lofe But unto fuch as wifh and want, Whofe worldly wealth is very fcant, No wealth to fpend, no land to plant. To them it is I chiefly chant Be merry, friends ! To fuch as have had grief annext Unto their lives, extremely vext. In worldly ftorms toft, and perplext. To them I iing this fhort fweet text. Be merry, friends ! To laugh and winne each man agrees. But each man cannot laugh and leefe ; Yet laughing in the laft of thefe Hath been allowd in all degrees. Be merry, friends ! Be merry in forrow, the wife have faide. Which faying, being wifely waide. It feems a leifon truly made For thofe whom forrows ft ill invade. Be merry, friends ! Make not two forrowes out of one. For one is fure enough alone ; To graft new forrow there upon Is grafting crab with crab, ne're done. Be merry, friends ! Be merry, Friends. -^Zl To take our for rows mournfully Augmcnteth but our mahuiy ; But taking forrows merrily Maketh them fmaller, verily. Be merry, friends ! Of griefes to come ftand not in fray. But make defence, the befh you may ; Which done, no more to do or fay. Come what come fliall, but care away. Be merry, friends 1 If forrowes come we can not flee. But needs they mufl indured bee. Make vertue of neceflitie. And bear thy felfe right manfullie. Be merry, friends ! Be ever joyous, lofe or winne. So be no fault of thine therein ; Do not be flrll: for to beginne : The only grief is truly finne. Be merry, friends ! If friends be loft, then get thee more; If wealth be loit, thou llill haft ftore ; The merry man is never poor. He lives upon the world : therefore. Be merry, friends ! 138 Be merry, Friends. The lofs of wealth is lofs of dirt. As fages in all times alTert : The happy man's without a fhirt. And never comes to maim or hurt. Be merry, friends ! All feafons are to him the fpring. In flowers bright and florilhing. With birds upon the tree or wing. Who in their falliion alway fing Be merry, friends ! If that thy doublet has a hole in. Why, it can keep the lefs thy foule in. Which rangeth foorth beyond controulling, Whilft thou haft nought to do, but trolling Be merry, friends ! Be merry in God, St. Paule faith plaine : Be merry in God, I fay again. And let not his advice be vain ; Or if thou wilt, thou cannot complain. Be merry, friends ! Let the world flide, let the world go : A iig for care, and a iig for woe ! If I cant pay, why, I can owe ; And death makes equall the high and low. Be merry, friends ! John Heywood. 39 Epitaph on Bifhop Jewell. [This broadfide is in the form of a ballad, and it was the compofi- tion of one of the moft notorious authors of fuch pieces : it relates, alfo, to an individual of the higheft eminence in the Church, and until now it has never been re-printed from the old copy, nor mentioned in any lift of Elderton's productions. Thefe are the reafons which have led to its infertion here : the full title of the unique broadfide is, "An Epitaphe uppon the Death of the Right Reverend and learned Father in God, I. Juell, Doclor of Divinitie, and Bifhop of Sarif- burie, whom God called to his marcie the 22 of September, 157 1." Anthony Wood (Ath. Oxon. i. 395. edit. Blifs ) gives the day of Jewell's death 23 Sept. The colophon runs thus : " Impn'nted at London in Fleete-ftreate, beneath the Conduit at the figne of S. John Evangelift by Thomas Colwell."] ^^HE Juell of our joye is gone! the happie heavens have wonne The greateft gift that ever was with us beneth the fonne : Which makes fuch weeping eyes in Sallefbury, they faye. As all the ronning ftreames thereof, can never wafhe awaye. Alas ! is Juell dead, the folder of the flocke ? If Death hath caught the diall up, then who fliall keepe the clocke ? 140 Epitaph on Bifhop Jewell. O God ! what greefe is this, thye charie Church fhould want A Biflioppe of fo good a grace, wher good men be fo fl<:ant. Wee feare the plague, they faye, but fuch a plague as this, Sithens I was borne I never knewe, certainly nor never Ihall i'wis : Yet are there fome behinde, I truft, will learne to knowe, Hov\' Juell to his dieng daye his talents did beftowe. So bufie at his booke, to bring the truth to light. As they that lyke the redie way, maye looke and iinde it right. His houfe and houQiolde was fo kept, for his degree. As Paull in his Epiftles wrightes a Bifhoppes houfe fhould be. His diocefle, I beleeve, he kept in fo good awe. As vertue is content to fweare, they lived within her lawe. Epitaph on Bilhop Jewell. His handes and harte were free, the needie could not lacke ; Such peace and concorde planted hee, as nothing went to wracke. And charie wxnt to churche himfelfe by breake of daye, That his example might procure the reft to go that waye : And gave unto his men their dueties when he died, With large and lordlie recompence : this can not be denied. Alas ! with piteous mone all Chriftians now maye weepe. That wee have fuch a ihepard gone : God helpe the felie flieepe ! Methinkes, I fee in heaven triumphant Truth appeare. And Favthfulnes, which fpeake alowde. Let Juell nowe come neare. Th' Apportellcs all do preafe, methinkes, to fee his face ; And all the angells go about to bring him to his place : 141 debts prefs 142 Epitaph on Bifhop Jewell. Even Chrift himfelfe, me thinkes, I fee begins to fmile. And faith, Beholde my chofen frend, I lookte for all this while. And Abraham rendes his clothes, and bowells out his breft. And fayth to Juell, Jumpe in here, and take thye quiet reft. W. Elderton. 143 The Father's Admonition. To the Tune of " Grim King of the Ghofts." [This ballad is not of a very early date, although it is impofTiblc to fettle that date with any degree of accuracy. It was written to the tune of a fong in Percy's Rcliques, ii. 395. (Edit. 18 12.) there printed under the title of "The Lunatic Lover," beginning '' Grim king of ghofts, make hafl:e." The air long continued popular, and Rowe wrote to it his famous fong, " Defpairing befide a clear ftream," &:c. The ballad here given is from a copy " Printed for P. Brookfby, J. Deacon, J. Blare, and J, Back," which muft have been a comparatively modern re-print, ifTued late in the feventeenth century, with the following title : " The Father's wholefome Admonition, or a lumping Pennyworth of good Counfel for bad Hufbands."] ,Y foil, if you reckon to wed, and take your felf to a kind wife, Then, then, let it never be faid, but that you'll reform your old life: There's many good pounds you have fpent, the which you had reafon to prize ; But labour in time to repent : 'tis good to be merry and wife. 144 The Father's Admonition. Be fure keep a penny in ftore, 'twill help you when friends they may fail. For ihould you fpend all, and grcfw poor, your cafe you'll have caufe to bewail : In troubles you'll flrangely be hurl'd, the which will your fenfes furprife ; But he that will thrive in this world mufl learn to be merry and wife. Perchance you may meet with a friend, which doth to your dealings belong. If with him a tefter you fpend, this can do you no great wrong ; And then to your labour again, it being enough to fuffice. This care will your houfehold maintain : 'tis good to be merry and wife. There's many a woman well bred has marry'd a prodigal knave, So that, the fame day flie was wed, 'twere better ihe had gone to her grave : Her lands and her livings all fold, which cauf'd tears to flow from her eyes ; And likewife true friendfliip grew cold : then, 'tis good to be merry and wife. Son, if a rich wife be thy lot, be careful and thrifty, I pray, The Father's Admonition. For means is not eafily got, as it may be fqiiander'd away. Be carefull, and always contrive thofe temporall blellings to prize. For he that is wilHng to thrive muft learn to be merry and wife. There's fome that are abfolute poor, as well I can make it appear, Who will in ftrong liquor fpend more than fome that have hundreds a year ; And bring their poor families low, and can't get wherewith to fuffice : But that man would never do fo, who learns to be merry and wife. The workman that is a boon lad, you'll find his condition is thus ; If trading lliould chance to grow bad, he fcarce has a groat in his purfe : While he that doth get, fpend, and fave, has always enouQ-h to fuffice. Then, fon, if this bleffing you'd have, pray learn to be merry and wife. This counfel which to you I give, oh ! prize it more dearer than gold. And then you in credit may live, and fave fomething while you grow old: u 14-5 146 The Father's Admonition. There's many have dearly bought wit, when fathers' good words they defpife. My fon, ne'er fpend all that you get, but learn to be merry and wife. Great getters, that fpend all, are like the cow that gives much at a meal, Who, having done, ftraightway doth ftrike, and kick it all down with her heel. A(ft like the induftrious bee, and then you to riches may rife ; And flourifhing days you will fee, if you'll but be merry and wife. 147 The Praife of Nothing. To the Tune of " Though I have but a marke a yeare, &c." [In 1585, Sir Edward Dyer printed a brief profe tradl called "The Prayfe of Nothing." The following clever ballad feems a verfified imi- tation of it, and being intended for the amufement of the crowd, treats fome of the topics popularly, which Sir Edward Dyer had dealt with learnedly. It will call to mind in feveral places the poem long afterwards attributed to the Earl of Rochefter, who, however, feems to have borrowed more clofely from the Capitolo of Erancefco Copetta, nel quale fi lodano le Noncovelle^ publifhed as early as 1548. To the general title of the ballad, " The praife of Nothing," are added the fol- lowing lines : " Though fome do wonder why I write the praife Of Nothing in thcfe lamentable dales. When they have read, and will my counfell take, I hope of Nothing they will Something make ! " From the exprefTion " in thefe lamentable days," we are perhaps to in- fer that the plague, as it was called, was prevailing in London when the ballad was compofed. Our text has the imprint of " H. Gofi'on, dwelling upon London-Bridge, nere the (jate." Had not the ballad been written before the date of Shakefpeare's comedy, it would, per- haps, have been called " Much ado about Nothing."] HE praife of wifdom fome doe write, and fome the praife of money, And every one, like bees to th' hive, from fomething gather hony : 148 The Praife of Nothing. But if my genius doe not faile To prompt me, ere I end my tale You'll find that Nothing will prevaile; for all muft turne to Nothing. Nothing was firft and fhall be lafl:, for Nothing holds for ever ; And Nothing ever yet fcap't death, fo can't the longeft liver : Nothing's immortall ; Nothing can From croiTes ever keepe a man : Nothing can live when the world is gone, for all Ihall come to Nothing. Nothing in all the world be finde with forrow more perplexed, Than he that with a fcolding wife eternally is vexed, Whofe tongue by Nothing can be quel'd. Although with red hot pincers held. For fhe will to no reafon yeeld, but fcold and brawle for Nothing. Nothing is fwifter then the winde, or lighter than a feather. Yet I another thing have found, which quite excelleth either : A harlot's love that every day Is chang'd and fwiftly blowne away; The Pralfc of Nothincr. But what's more light then her, I pray ? the wifeman anlweres. Nothing. Nothing Ihall therefore pleafe me more than women to abandon; For if that I Ihould fall in love or joyne with fuch a wanton, Shee'd breake my very heart-firings fure. Or I mujfl: Vulcan's lot endure. And patiently abide the cure, or elfe be help'd by Nothing. Take you heed, then, unmarried lads, before you grow a lover. And ere too foone you chufe a wife with honeft patience prove her ; For Nothing can againe unwed. Nor cure a cuckold's aking head ; Befides, once loft, a maiden-head can be recal'd by Nothing. In heat of war Nothing is fafe ; in peace Nothing refpefted. But ill got wealth, which to procure no vice at all's neglecfted. The fonne doth wifh his father's end. That he may have his wealth to fpend ; But let fuch lads their manners mend, or all will come to Nothing. 149 I50 The Praife of Nothing. Nothing is fafe by fea or land, nor alwaies free from danger. Which is committed to the truft of either friend or ftranger; For Nothing in the world remaines. But for their private ends or gaines They'l hav't, although they break their brains, or bring themfelves to Nothing. Nothing's regarded more then gold, but vertue's quite decay'd ; For gold the ufurer fets his foule, which muft at laft be paid. When Nothing from the grave can call Such mizers, who their foules inthrall To gripe and hoord the devill and all ; but better they had Nothing. Nothing can from the fight of God conceale the faults of any. For his cleare eye can fearch into the fmallefl chinke or cranny: He can within thy heart efpy The fecret'ft fmnes which there doe lye. But if you to repentance hie, they fhall appeare as Nothing. Nothing therefore hereafter feeke, but vertue, vice detefting, The Praife of Nothino;. 151 With purcft robes of laiKftity your humble foule inverting ; And feeke you after no fuch thing Which may your foule to forrow bring. Or while thou liv'ft thy confcience fting, or elfe defire Nothing. For though but little thou art worth, yet Nothing dofl: defire. Nor coveteft thy neighbour's goods, nor 'hove thy felfe afpire, But refteft honeftly content With that poore little God hath fent, Thou mayft difperfe in merriment, and fay thou wants for Nothing. When earth-wormes fpend their dayes in care, and nere can reft in quiet. Nor with the feare to lofe their gold have time to fleepe or dyet ; But with a fad and penfive minde Still fludying how the poore to grinde, Untill at laft with forrow finde themfelves are turn'd to Nothing. And thus you now have heard the praife of Nothing, worth a penny. Which as I ftand to fmg here now I hope will yeeld me many : The Praife of Nothing. But if that price be held too deare. Or any miflike this counfell here. He may depart with a flea in's eare, for I will give him Nothing. Finis. Mantfiorn^ ^s.ucCawfioCe' CaruCeU Cwfit, fiance outjyour Cig/its fteart^ The Norfolk Farmer's Journey to London. To the Tune o/" The Spanifh Pavin." [The name of Edward Ford is new in our ballad-poetry, though not in our literature, as he was known as a writer in the reign of James I: poflibly he was related to John Ford the dramatift. He has left us an amufmg picture of manners in the enfuing fatirical effufion, in which he fuppofes an old Norfolk farmer and his wife to come to town to vifit relations, who receive them very inhofpitably: the points, in which various places in London are defcribed, are curious ; but the dialotjue is irregularly conducted, and mixed up with narrative matter. The full title is as follows : " A merry Difcourfe betwcenc Norfolke Thomas and Sifly Standtoo't, his wife ; together with their thanklelfe journey from Norfolk to London, onely to fee their friends, and how they doe refpedl and entertaine 'um for their love and labour : Which fhewes that this fame age, moft certaine true, Is onely for to afke yee how ye doe." It was " Printed by M. P. for F. C." confiderably later, we appre- hend, than the firfl: appearance of the broadfide, which clearlv came out during the prevalence of the plague, perhaps in 1603.] ;^^^0 London is mad Thomas come, /_Aj« With Silly, here, his wife alone. To fee fome friends, I hear, are gone to heaven a while ago : But I do hope it is a lye. J54 The Norfolk Farmer's As I fhall find it by and by. Or elfe poore Tom and SifTe fhould cry, till Doomes-day. Thomas. For though they be none of the beft, I fhould be loath, I do proteft. To hear that they are gone to reft, and never take their leave : For I do love 'um all fo well, A little thing v^^ould make me dwell Within the founding of Bow-bell, at London. Sijly. Nay, hufband, do not you fay fo : Our cottage poore wee'l not forgo For the beft houfe that ftands aroe 'twixt Cheap and Charing CrofTe ; For though our houfe be thatch't with flraw. We do not live, as fome, in awe. For 'tis our own by common law, in Norfolke. Befides, we live at heart's content : We take no care to pay our rent. For that is done incontinent, in twinkling of an eye ; When here at London, as they fay. Journey to London. They brawie and brabble every day. And few or none but finds a way to Hogdldon, Tho77ias. Mum, Sifly ; keep your clapper ftill ; There's them can hear at Highgate Hill : There's rats has been in Peggie's mill, or elfe ilie lies her felfe. What if the world be vilde and bad. Shall I be fuch a foolilh lad To blaze and noyfe it all abroad ? I fcorn it. Although, indeed, I mull: confefTe Thou fpeak'ft but truth, my honefl SilTe, Yet ever while you live marke this, and take it for a rule. That every chimney mull: not fmoake. Nor every begger weare a cloake. Nor every truth mull not be fpoke, in fadnelfe. But hang that cobler and his ends. That lives too well, and never mends : Would they were whipt that nere offends ! peace, chuck; I meane not thee. But thou wilt fcoid lometime, I know. vile 156 The Norfolk Farmer's The more is Thomas Standtoot's wo ; But, hang it, come let's trip and go to Fleetftreet. And thus they trudg'd along the ftreet. With many a juftle they did meet. Which put poore Thomas in a fweat. and fomething angry too ; Which made him think they told a lye That faid there did fo many dye. When as he could not go hardly for people. Sijly. At length quoth flie, good hufband, ftay. And tell me what this place is, pray. Where things are carried as they may ? I never faw the like. For yonder's one doth ride in ftate. And here's a begger at a gate. And there's a woman that will prate for nothing. See, here is one that foundly beats. And thumps his hemp untill he fweats ; And there's another greedy eats : I fear hee'l choke himfelfe. And yonder goes a gallant bilk. Journey to London. And there's a woman winding lilk, And here's another fetches milk at Hackney. And here's the prettieft light of all, A woman that is mighty tall. And yet her fpoufe a little fquall : I wonder how they met. And here's a man in armour ftands. And has. It feemes, loft both his hands : 'Tis pitty that he has no lands to keep him. Now, you mujl by this time ftippofe them about the ExchafjQ;e. And here's a world of people fine. That do in filks and fatins fliine : I would that fuite and cloak were mine. I hope I wifli no harme. And here hangs pid:ures two or three. The beft that ever I did fee : I thinke one looks full butt at me, and laughs too. And here's a man hath many a rat. Both in his hand and on his hat : Me thinks he keeps 'um very fat. O ftrange ! what tailes they have. 158 The Norfolk Farmer's And here's a gentlewoman, too. That hides her face from me and you : I wonder what fhe meanes to do in fummer. And here's an empty church, I fee : Great pitty 'tis, moil certainly. It fhould indeed no fuller be, and all thefe people here. And there's an old man carries wood. And here's a young man doth no good ; And here's a woman wears a hood ; hey dazie ! Thomas. Come, Sifly, let us go along, And not ftand gaping here among A fort of people that do throng : I never faw the like. But let us to our brother go. That will us welcome well, I know. For he himfelfe did tell me fo, at Norfolk. Soft ! let us knock, for here's the doore ; But if becaufe our cloathes are poore. They fhould not let us in therefore, 'two'd make a dog to laugh : For I have heard my mother fay, Journey to London. That if a man fall to decay. There's few or none will bid him ftay, y'are welcome. But filence ! not a word but mum ; For fee, our brother now doth come. Me thinks he looks as he were dum : what makes him not to fpeake ? Good brother, we our loves unfold, For though my SilTe and I are old. Yet we have made a little bold, to fee you. Brother. And truly I do thank you for't ; Ye'r welcome both with all my heart : Wee'l drink a cup before we part, an't pleafe you but to flay. For I have friends within, truly. That if they fliould a ftranger fee. They llrait would very fearfull be of danger. Thomas. Why, brother, we no iickneffe have. Nor are we flarted from our grave ; Your love is all that we do crave : what need you then to feare ? We do not come to eat your roaft. The Norfolk Farmer's ruefts Nor yet to put you unto cofl. But now, I fee, our labour's loft, poore Sifly ! Brother. Pray, do not think the fault is mine. For if you'l drink a pint of wine. He give it you, and nere repine. hang mony ! what care I ? And had I not fo many ghelTe, Indeed I ferioufly profefTe, Your welcome fhould be more, or lelTe, good brother. Thomas. No, thank you, brother ; eene farewell. A blind man now with eafe may fmell That all things are not carried well : what love, pray, call you this ? Come now, unto thy fifter we Will go with all celerity : No doubt that fhe fhall kinder be unto us. They condefcend and were content. And to their lifter ftraight they went ; But all in vain their time was fpent, for when they thither came. Their lifter did her maid compell. Journey to London. r6i And bid her thus much to them tell. Indeed, Hie was not very well at that time. From thence they to their couzen go. Being much defirous for to know Whether that fhe would ferve 'um fo, or ufe 'um in that kind : But, being there, this newes was brought. That fhe a fmock had newly bought. And fhe was gone to have it wrought with woofled. Well now, fays Thomas to his dear. What fayft thou, Silly, to this gear ? We have gone far, yet nere the near : we thank our kindred for't. But if that brothers be fo kind. What favour fhall a ftranger find ? Proteft, it troubles much my mind to think on't. matter Sljly. Nay, hufband, let us not do fo : The befl is we can homewards go, And yet not trouble friend nor io^ : what need we then to care ? For now each one, I tell you true. The Norfolk Farmer's Journey. Will only afk you, how do you ? I am glad to fee you well. Sir Hugh; good morrow. Thomas, Why then, old Sifly, thou and I Will back again to Norfolke hie. And bid a fig for company : our dog is fport enough. But when we come to London next. Our friends fhall have a better text. I fwear, and vow I am foundly vext: who cares for't ? Ed. Ford. 1^3 Conftance of Cleveland. To the Tune of " Crimfon Velvet." [This romantic ballad, in a ibmewhat plain and unpretending ftylc, relates incidents that may remind the reader of the old ftory of Titus and Gifippus, which was told in Englifh verfe by Edw. Lewicke, as early as 1562 : the ballad is not fo ancient by, perhaps, thirty or forty years ; and the printed copy that has come down to our day is at Icaft fifty years more recent than the date when we believe the ballad to have been firft publifhed. The title the broadfide ( " Printed for F. Coles, J. W., T. Vere, W. Gilbertfon,") bears is, " Conftance of Cleveland : A very excellent Sonnet of the moft fair Lady Conftance of Cleve- land, and her difloyal Knight." We conclude that the incidents are mere invention, but " Conftance of Rome " is the name of a play, by Drayton, Munday and Hathway, mentioned in Henflowe's Diarj' under the year i6oo,(p. 171.) The tune of " Crimfon Velvet" was highly popular in the reigns of Elizabeth and her fucceffor,] ?T was a youthfull knight lov'd a gallant lady ; Fair i]ie was and bright, and of vertues rare : Herfelf flie did behave, fo courteoufly as may be. Wedded they were brave ; joy without compare. Here began the grief. Pain without relief: her hufband foon her love forfook. Conftance of Cleveland. To women lewd of mind. Being bad inclin'd, he only lent a pleafant look. The lady Ihe fate weeping, While that he was keeping company with others moe : Her words. My love, beleeve not. Come to me, and grieve not ; wantons will thee overthrow. His fair Ladie's words nothing he regarded ; Wantonnefle affords fuch delightfull fport. While they dance and fing, with great mirth prepared. She her hands did wring in moft grievous fort. ! what hap had I Thus to wail and cry, unrefpecfled every day. Living in difdain. While that others gain all the right I fhould enjoy ! 1 am left forfaken Others they are taken : ah my love ! why doft thou fo ? Her flatteries beleeve not, Conftance of Cleveland. Come to me, and grieve not ; wantons will thee overthrow. The Knight with his fair peece at length the Lady fpied, Who did him daily fleece of his wealth and {lore : Secretly fhe ftood, while ihe her fafhions tryed. With a patient mind, while deep the ftrumpet fwore. O, Sir Knight ! quoth flie. So dearly I love thee, my life doth reft at thy difpofe : By day, and eke by night. For thy fweet delight, thou fhalt me in thy arms inclofe. I am thine for ever ; Still I will perfever true to thee, where ere I go. Her flatteries believe not. Come to me, and grieve not ; wantons will thee overthrow. i6s The vertuous Lady mild enters then among them. Being big with child as ever fhe might be : i66 Conftance of Cleveland. With diftilling tears fhe looked then upon them. Filled full of fears. thus replyed ihe : Ah, my love and dear ! Wherefore flay you here refufing me, your loving wife. For an harlot's fake, Which each one w^ill take ; whofe vile deeds provoke much flrife ? Many can accufe her : O, my love ! refufe her; with thy lady home return. Her flatteries beleeve not. Come to me, and grieve not ; wantons will thee overthrow. All in a fury then, the angry Knight up ftarted. Very furious when he heard his Ladle's fpeech. With many bitter terms his wife he ever thwarted. Ufing hard extreams, while fhe did him befeech. From her neck fo white He took away in fpite her curious chain of pureft gold. Conftancc of Cleveland. 167 Her jewels and her rings. And all fuch coftly things as he about her did behold : The harlot in her prefence He did gently reverence, and to her he gave them all. He fent away his Lady, Full of wo as may be, who in a fwound with grief did fall. At the Ladie's wrong the harlot fleer'd and laughed ; Enticements are fo ftrong, they overcome the wife. The Knight nothing regarded to fee the Lady fcoffed : Thus was fhe rewarded for her enterprife. The harlot, all this fpace. Did him oft embrace ; fhe flatters him, and thus doth fay : For thee He dye and live, For thee my faith He give, no wo fliall work my love's decay. Thou Ihalt be my treafure. Thou flialt be my pleafure, thou llialt be my heart's delight : I will be thy darling. i68 Conftance of Cleveland. I will be thy worldling. in defpight of fortune's fpight. Thus he did remain in waftfull great expences, Till it bred his pain. and confumed him quite. When his lands were fpent. • troubled in his fences. Then he did repent of his late lewd life. For relief he hies. For relief he flyes to them on whom he fpent his gold : They do him deny. 'I'hey do him defie; they will not once his face behold. Being thus diftreffed. Being thus oppreiTed, in the fields that night he lay ; Which the harlot knowing. Through her malice growing. fought to take his life away. A young and proper lad they had flain in fecret For the gold he had. whom they did convey Conftance of Cleveland. 169 By a ruffian lewd wicked to that place direcftly, Where the youthful Kniglu faft a fleeping lay. 'l"he bloody dagger than, Wherewith they kill'd the man, hard by the Knight he likewife laid. Sprinkling him with blood. As he thought it good. • and then no longer there he ftayd. The Knight, being lb abufed. Was forthwith accufed for this murder which was done ; And he was condemned That had not offended : fhamefull death he might not (hun. When the Lady bright underltood the matter. That her wedded Knight was condemn'd to dye. To the King fhe went with all the fpeed that might be, Where £he did lament her hard deftiny. Noble King ! quoth ihe. Pitty take on me. and pardon my poor hu{l~)ands life ; 170 Conftance of Cleveland. Elfe I am undone With my little fon : let mercy mitigate this grief. Lady fair, content thee. Soon thou wouldft repent thee. if he fhould be faved fo : Sore he hath abus'd thee. Sore he hath mifus'd thee ; therefore. Lady, let him go. my liege ! quoth Ihe, grant your gracious favour : Dear he is to me. though he did me wrong. The King reply'd again. with a ftern behaviour. A fubjedl he hath flain : dye he fhall ere long. Except thou canft find Any one fo kind. that will dye and fet him free. Noble King! fhe faid. fatlsfied Glad am I apaid ; that fame perfon will I be. I will fufFer duly. I will fuffer truly. for my love and hufbands fake. The King thereat amazed. Conftance of Cleveland. 171 Though he her beauty praifcd, he bad from thence they fliould her take. It was the King's command, on the morrow after, She fhould out of hand to the fcaffold go : Her hufband was to bear the fword before her ; He muft eke, alas ! give the deadly blow. He refus'd the deed ; She bid him to proceed with a thoufand kilTes fweet. In this wofull cafe They did both imbrace, which mov'd the ruffians, in that place. Straight for to dilcover This concealed murder ; whereby the lady faved was. The harlot then was hanged. As flie well deferved : this did vertue bring to palTe. Finis. The Song of the Caps. To the Tune of " The Shaking of the Sheets." [This fpirited and humorous fong feems to have been founded, in fome of its points, upon the " Pleafant Dialogue or Difputation be- tweene the Cap and the Head," which profe fatire went through two editions, in 1564 and 1565 : (See the Bridgewater Catalogue, p. 46.) It is, however, more modern, and certainly cannot be placed earlier than the end of the reign of Elizabeth. It may be fufpe6led, that it underwent fome changes, to adapt it to the times, when it was after- wards reprinted ; and we finally meet with it, but in a rather corrupted ftate, in a work publiflied in 1656, called " Sportive Wit : the Mufes Merriment, a new Spring of lufty Drollery," &c. The broadfide we have ufed was one of the many " printed for John Trundle," but it has no date.] HE wit hath long beholding been Unto the Cap to keep it in : Let now the wit flie out amaine. With praife to quit the Cap againe. The Cap, that owns the higheft part, Obtain'd that place by due defert ; For any Cap, whatere it bee. Is ftill the iigne of fome degree. The Cap doth ftand, each man can fhow. Above a crown, but kings below : The Cap is neerer heaven than we, A greater iign of majeftie. The Song of the Caps. 173 When off the Cap we chance to take. Both head and feet obeyfance make ; For any Cap, whatere it bee. Is ftill the ligne of fome degree. The Monmouth Cap, the faylors thrum. And that wherein the faylors come ; The phyfick, lawe, the Cap divine. The fame that crowns the Mufes nine : The Cap the fools doe countenance. The goodly Cap of Maintenance, And any Cap, whatere it bee. Is ftill the figne of fome degree. The fickly Cap, both plaine & wrought. The fuddling Cap, however bought ; The quilted, furr'd, the velvet, fatin. For which fo many pates learn Latin : The crewell Cap, the fuftian pate. The perriwig, the Cap of late ; And any Cap, whatere it bee. Is flill the figne of fome degree. The fouldiers, that the Monmouth wear. On caftle tops their enfignes rear : The faylors with their thrums doe ftand On higher place than all the land. The tradefman's Cap aloft is born By vantage of (fome fay) a horn. 174 The Song of the Caps. Thus any Cap, whatere it bee. Is ftill the figne of fome degree. The phyiick Cap to dufl may bring Without controull the greatefl king : The lawyers Cap hath heavenly might To make a crooked caufe aright. Which, being round and endlefs, knows To make as endlefs any caufe. So any Cap, whatere it bee, Is ftill the figne of fome degree. Both eaft and weft, and north and fouth. Where ere the Gofpell finds a mouth. The Cap divine doth thither looke. The fquare, like fchollars and their booke ; The reft are round, but this is fquare. To fhew that they more ftable are : For any Cap, whatere it be. Is ftill the figne of fome degree. The motley man a Cap doth weare That makes him fellow to a peere ; And 'tis no flender part of wit To adl the fool where great men fit. For folly is in fuch requefi: That each man fi:rives to do his befl. Thus any Cap, whatere it bee. Is fiiill the figne of fome degree. The SoiK^ of the Caps. The lick man's Cap, not wrought with lilk, Is, Hke repentant, white as milk. When hats in church drop off in hafle, This Cap ne'er leaves the head uncaftc : The Tick man's Cap, if wrought, can tell Though he be ill, his ftate is well. So any Cap, whatere it bee. Is ftill the ligne of Ibme degree. The fuddling Cap, by Bacchus might. Turns night to day, and day to night ; Yet fpenders it prefers to more. Seeming to double all their ffore. The furr'd and quilted Cap of age Can make a mufty proverb fage ; And any Cap, whatere it bee. It is the ligne of fome degree. Though fuftian Caps be (lender ware. The head is of no better gear. The crewell Cap is knit like hofe For them whofe zeale takes cold 'i' th' nofe ; Whofe purity doth judge it meete To clothe alike both head and feete. This Cap would faine, but cannot bee. The onely Cap of no degree. The Satin and the velvet hive Unto a biflioprick doe drive ; 176 The Song of the Caps. Nay, when a file of Caps you're feen in, A fquare Cap this, and then a linen, This treble Cap may raife fome hope, . If fortune fmile, to be a Pope. Thus any Cap, whatere it bee. May raife a man to high degree. The perriwig. Oh ! that declares The rife of flefh, though fall of hairs ; And none but graduates can proceede In finne fo far till this they neede. Before the Prince none covered are But thofe that to themfelves go bare : This Cap, of all the Caps that bee. Is now the figne of high degree. Sack for my Money. The Tune is "Wet and Weary." 'A capital old drinking fong, probably of the time of James I, though " Printed for W. (iilhertfon in Giltfpur ftreet," fomc forty years afterwards. It gives not only the names of the principal wines then in ufe with various clafles, but the prices at which they were ordinarily fold. The old title is, " Sack for my Money ; or a defcription of the operation of Sack that is (lill'd in the Spanifh nation. Then buy it, deny it, like it or leave it, Not one among-ft ten but is willino; to have it." The printer, no doubt, made a blunder in not giving the words, " a defcription of the operation of Sack that is ftill'd in the Spanifh nation" as verfe, as well as the laft couplet.] OOD fellows all, both great and fmall, rejoyce at this my ditty ; Whilft I do fing, good newes I bring to the countrcy and the city : Let every lad and lafs be glad (for who will true love fmother?) And being here, my joy and dear, we'l kindly kifs each other. The pureft wine, fo briilv and fine, the Alligant and Sherry, I hold it good to purge the blood, and make the fenfes merry. A A 178 Sack for my Money. 'Tis fparkling Sack that binds the back. and cherifhes the heart, boys. For recompence jufl eighteen pence you muft give for a quart, boys : Away with beer and fuch hke geer. that makes our fpirits muddy. For wine compleat will do the feat that we all notes can ftudy. I'he purefl wine, &c. Rich Malligo is pure, I know. to purge out melancholly. And he that's fick it cureth quick. and makes their fenfes jolly : \ It rariiies the dullefl eyes of thofe that are moft paler. And bravely can compofe a man of a very prick-lows taylor. The richeft wine, &c. The meereft fool fhall teach a fchool by Clarets operation. And make fome fight, like men of might. • or champions of a nation : It is more fine then Brandewine, the Butterboxes potion. Who drinking dares in Neptunes wars reign mafter of the ocean. Sack for my Money. Canary Sack makes firm the back ; both Alhgant and Sherry Are proved good to clear the blood, and make the fenfes merry. A longing lafs, whofe cuftard face her inward grief difclofes, With drinking wine, fo Iweet and fine, will gain a pair of rofes : It doth revive dead folks alive, and helps their former weaknefs ; It is fo pure that it doth cure a maiden of her ficknefs. This Rhenidi wine, Sec. The drawer ftill the fame ihall fill to elevate the heart, boys ; For Rhenifli gay you now muft pay juft twelve pence for a quart, boys. Who would be ty'de to brewers fide, whofe meafures do fo var}% When we may fit, to raife our wit, with drinking of Canary ? The purefi: wine, &c. The French wine pure, for 7 pence, fure, you ihall have choice and plenty. At this fame rate to drink in plate, which is both good and dainty : 17.9 i8o Sack for my Money. A maunding cove that doth it love, 'twill make him dance and caper. And Captain PufF v^ill have enuff to make him brag and vapor. The pureft wine, fo brilk and fine, the Alligant and Sherry, I hold it good to purge the blood, and make the fenfes merry. And alfo we that do agree as one for boon good fellows, We'l fing and laugh, and ftoutly quaff, and quite renounce the alehoufe ; For ale and beer are both now dear, the price is rais'd in either ; Then let us all, both great and fmall, to th' tavern walk together. The pureft wine, &c. The tradefinen may at any day, for their own recreation. Be welcome ftill to Ralph or Will, and have accommodation ; For why, their coyn will buy the wine and caufe a running barrel. But if you're drunk, your wits are funk, and gorrill'd guts will quarrel. The pureft wine, &c. Sack for my Money. i8i The coblcr faft will fl:ay the lall, for he's a lufty drinker ; He'l pawn his loul to have a bowl to drink to Tom the tinker : The broom-man he will be as free, to drink courageous flafhes : If cole grow fcant, before he'l want, he'l burn his brooms to allies. The pureft wine, fo brifk and fine, the AUigant and Sherry, I hold is beft to give us refl, or make the fenfes merry. The fidling crowd that grow fo proud will pawn their pipes and fiddles, They'l ftrike and crack with bowls of Sack, and cut the queerefl whiddles : They'l rant and tear like men of war, they voyces roar like thunder. And growing curft their fiddles burfl, and break 'um all afunder. The pureft wine, &c. The country blades with their own maids, at every merry meetings. For ale and cakes at their town wakes, which they did give their fweetings. l82 Sack for my Money. upon their friend a crown will fpend in Sack that is fo trufly : 'Twill pleafe a maid that is decay'd, and make a booby lufty. Be rul'd by me, and we'l agree to drink both Sack and Sherry, For that is good to cleanfe the blood, and make our fenfes merry. Finis. iH3 The brave Englifh Gipfey. To the Tune of " The Spanifh Gipfey." [Attention had been called to Spanifh Gipfies by Middleton's play, (Works by Dyce, iv. loi.) which, though not printed until 1653, had perhaps been performed forty, or even fift)', years before : the fubfe- quent ballad, the earlieft of the kind, was written " to the tune of The Spanifh (jipfey," poiTibly exifting anterior to Middleton's work, or founded upon it. The imprint of the broadfide we have ufed is, " Lon- don, printed for John Trundle, at his Shop, neere the Hofpitall Gate in Smithheld," and from a paiTage in Ben Jonfon's " Every Man in his Humour," we find that he was a celebrated publifher of ballads as earlv as 1598 : the Elder Knowell (the chara6ler fuppofed to have been fuf- tained by Shakefpeare) fays, " Well, if I read this with patience I'll # # * * troll ballads for mafter John Trundle, yonder, the reft of my mortality." Trundle was alfo a general publilher of popular works and tracls, and lived in Cripplegate.] OME follow, follow all ! 'Tis Englifli gipfies call. All you that love your lives. Here's thofe that profit drives : We fare well when thoufands lacke ; None of us can credits cracke. If we to gallants come. The country people run. 184 The brave Rnglifti Gipfey. To fee what we can doe ; Such paines they undergoe : Serioufly, a number ftrives 'I'o lead the EngUfh Gipfies Hves. We humor none that Hves, Nor hate no man that gives : Ambition doth not reft I'th' Enghfh Gipfie's breft. If they give, weele wilHng take ; Nought that's good will we forfake. , We ufe all things are quaint ; • With painters we can paint ; Our dye is not in vaine. For we doe dye in graine : The walnut tree fupplies our lacke ; What was made faire, we can make black. We take a formall courfe. Some fixe upon a horfe : We lingle fcorne to ride. Our horfe doth want no guide. We by turnes will take our eafe. And live all humors for to pleafe. We fcorne for to entice With beauty gallants' eyes ; { The brave Englifh Gipfey. 185 We beare no beautious face Our fubtilc lllghtes to grace : We can paint when we command. And looke like Indians that arc tand. We pra6lire not to dance. Nor learne no tunes from France : Our knockers make no noife. We are no roaring boyes. EngHlh Giplies live all free, And love and live moft jovially. Our fare is of the beft ; Three times a weeke we feaft. Nay, fometimes every day. And yet for nothing pay, For beefe or bacon, geefe or hens ; What we eate is other mens. Sometimes where great men dwell. We doe their fortunes tell : Our paines for to requite. We diet there all night. In this life we fpend our dayes : • Englifh Giplie lawes obayes. We feare to wrong the law. We live in fervile awe. B B 1 86 The brave Englifti Gipfey. Yet wherefoere wee goe. We feldome find a foe : Wherefoere we come, we find. For one that hates, an hundred kind. Pleafure we have ftore, Who can defire more ? All doth our paines requite ; Then frolike we all night : Mongft our felves we dance and fing ; Night content to us doth bring. What ere we get all day. That night doth fly away ; We hoord not up our fhore. For next day we have more : Feaft our felves with gallant cheere. Spare no coft for wine or beere. To drinke, be drunke, and tipfie. Delights the Englifh Gipfie : We live to love all thofe Who are no Gipfies foes. Some decay'd mongft gallants ftrives To leade the Englilh Gipfies lives. We beare this honeft mind To love all friends are kind : The brave Englilh Gipfcy. Our foes we can requite With hatred and defpight ; For we can plague our mortall foe, Yet he the ad:ors never know. Great flore of coyne we gaine. Yet for it take no paine : Our diet's feldom fought. For it is to us brought : Pigs, or geefcj or brawne, or fowce. Or any meat that's in the houfe. Ther's many ftand in feare. When we approach but neere : Sometimes our very fight The children doth affright. Our names are fpred both far and neere ; Our friends we love, but dread no feare. 187 We hate all furly flaves. Nor love no cunning knaves : Our felves can cunning ufe. Yet none we will abufe. He that freely gives fliall find The Englifli Gipfies alwaies kind. Who ere hath bin in Spaine, And feene there Giplie's vaine, i88 The brave Engliili Gipfey. Shall foone the difference find, Elfe judgement makes him blind. So, Spanifh Gipfies, all adoe ! For Englifli equall are to you. Finis. 189 The Subilance of all the late entended Treafons. [We here introduce another new name to the ftudent of our early ballad poetr)' — Thomas Nelfon ; but what he wrote beyond this produc- tion is not known. We have already mentioned (p. 127), a perform- ance of the fame kind by Thomas Deloney on the fame event, the execution of Ballard, Babbington, &c. The following contains fome new hiffcorical points, and in the outfet prefents a fmgular picture of Lon- don rejoicing at the difcovery and capture of the traitors. The burden to be fung at the end of every verfe, though no tune is mentioned, is given immediately after the title : it was ^' Imprinted at London by George Robinfon for Edward White, and arc to be folde at his (hop at the figne of the Gun."] LORD, preferve our nohlc Queene, her Counfaile long maintaine : Confound her foes, and graunt her grace in health to rule and raigne. When firft the gracious God of heaven by meanes did bring to light The treafons lately pradifed by many a wicked wight, Againft their Prince whofe life thei fought, and many a noble Peere, The fubfiiaunce of whofe treafons ftraunge, you fhall moft truely heare ; 190 The Subftance of all the Their treafons once difcovered, then were the Tray- tors fought. Some of them fled into a wood, where after they were caught, And, being brought unto the Tower, for joye the belles did ring. And throughout London bonfires made, where people pfalmes did fing. And fet their tables in the ftreates with meates of every kinde ; There was preparde all fignes of joye that could be had in minde. And praifde the Lord mofl: hartely, that with his mightie hand. He had preferved our gracious Queene, and people of this land. Which thing was taken in good parte by our renowmed Queene, Who by her letters gave them thankes, as plainly may be feene ; Afiuring them that all her care was for their fafetie ftill, And that thereby flie would deferve their love and great good will. The Traytors well examined (whom God himfelf bewrayed) late entended Treafons. Their treafons knowne, then were they flraight to Weftminfter convayed, Whereas they all indited were of many a vilde pretence, Seaven pleaded guiltie at the barre before they went from thence. The maner how they did begin herein will plaine appeare ; Their purpofes in each refped: you fhall moil truely heare : Herein unto you will be feene, if they had not bene foylde. Our Queene, our realme, yea, rich and poore together had bene fpoylde. One Savidge lurking long in Fraunce, at Rheames did there remaine, Whom Do(flor Gifford did perfwade great honor he fliould gaine, If that he would goe take in hand (thefe matters very ftraunge) Firll: to deprive our gracious Queene, religion for to chaunge ; And then for to envade the realme by trowpes of forraine power. To overthrowe the government, and kill her in her bower ; 191 intention 192 The Subftance of all the Orforceably to difpofTeffe the Queene of Englands grace. And to proclaime the Scottifh Queene, and fet her in her place. Which matter Savidge promifed his full performance to. So that he might fee warrant with fafe confcience fo to do : The Dod:or vowed by his fowle, and bad hirn under- ftand. It was an honorable thing to take the fame in hand. When Savidge heard that merits were to him thereby fo rife. He vowed for to doe the fame, or els to lofe his life, And fhortly into England hyed, and did imparte the fame To Babingtonof Darbyfhire, a manfure voyde of fhame: And tolde him how that he had vowed to doe it, or to dye, Defiring him of helpe and ayde, and that immediatly. A Jefuit prieft, whom Ballard hight, came over to that end. He came alfo to Babington, and daylie did attend, Still to perfwade him that he would attempt and take in hand. This vilde and wicked enterprife and ftoutly to it ftand ; late entended Treafons. 193 And tolde him that he Ihould have ayde of fixtic thoufand men, [when. That fecretly iliould landed be, and tolde him how and And in refped: of all his paines he truely might depende. That it was lawfull foto doe, renownefliouldbe the ende ; But let all Traytors now perceive what honor he hath wonne, Whofe trayterous head and wicked heart hath many one undonne. This proude and haughtie Babington, in hope to gaine renowne, [towne. Did ftirre up many wilfull men in many a fhire and To ayde him in this devilifli ad:, and for to take in hand The fpoyle of our renowmed Prince, and people of this land. Who did conclude with bloudie blade a flaughter to commit, [fit : Upon her Counfell as they fliould within Star Chamber Which is a place whereas the Lords, and thofe of that degree, Yeeldejuftice unto every man that crave it on their knee. Yea, famous London they did meane for to have fackt befide, Both Maior and Magillrates therein have murdered at that tide. c c 194 The Subftance of all the Each rich mans goods had bene their owne, no favour then had fervde. Nought but our wealth was their defire, though we and ours had ftarvde. Befides thefe wicked pradifes they had concluded more, The burning of the navie, and the cheefeft fhippes in ftore : With fier and fworde they vowed to kill and to difplace Each Lord, Knight, and Magiftrate, true fubjecfts to her Grace. fpiked They had determinde to have cloyde, and poyfoned out of hand. The cheefe and greatefl Ordinaunce that is within this land. 1 And did entend by violence on rich men for to fall. To have their money and their plate, and to have fpoyld them all. The Common wealth of England foone fhould thereby have bene fpoylde. Our goodes for which our Parents and our felves long tyme had toylde. Had all bene taken from us, befides what had enfued. The fubftance proveth plainly, to foone we had all had re wed. Thofe were the treafons they confpirde, our good Queene to difplace. late entended Treafons. 195 To fpoyle the ftates of all this land, fuch was their want of grace. But God that doth protect her ftill, offended at the fame. Even in their young and tender yeres did cut them of with fhame. Thefe Traytors executed were on ftage full ftrongly wrought. Even on the place where wickedly they had their treafons fought : There they were hangde and quartered, there they acknowledgd why, [to dye. Who, like as Tray tors they hadlivde, evenfo they feemde O wicked impes, O Traytors vilde, that could thefe deedes devife! Why did the feare of God and Prince departe fo from your eyes ? No rebelles power can her difplace, God will defend her ftill ; True fubjecfls all will lofe their lives ere Traytors have their will. How many mifchiefes are devifde, how many waies are wrought. How many vilde confpiracies againft her Grace is fought : Yet God that doth proted: her ftill her Grace doth well preferve, [ferve. And workes a ftiame unto her foes, as they doe heft de- 196 The late entended Treafons. O heavenly God! preferve ourQueene in plentie, health, and peace ; Confound her foes, maintalne her right, her joyes, O Lord ! encreafe : Lord, bleffe her Counfaile evermore and nobles of this land ; Preferve her fubied:s and this realme w^ith thy mofl mightie hand. Thomas Nelson. 197 The Bulls Feather. To a very pleafant New Tune^ or The Bull's Feather. [This is a comparatively modern reprint of a much older comic bal- lad : the only copy icnown was ^' Printed for F. Coles, J. Wright, and J. Clarke ; " but it probably firft came out long before their time. The title at length is this : " The Bull's Feather ; being the Good-fellows Song, ufually fung at their Merry-meeting in Bulls Feather Hall, who fent this fong to their Brethren (of what degree or quality) in praife of the Bulls Feather, And to all Cuckolds, who think it no fcorn. To wear the Bulls Feather, though made of a horn."] ?T chanced, not long ago, as I was walking. An eccho did bring me where two were a talking : 'Twas a man faid to his wife, dye had I rather. Than to be cornuted, and wear the Bulls Feather. Then prefently fhe reply'd ; fweet, art thou jealous t Thou can'ft not play Vulcan, before I play Venus : 198 The Bulls Feather. Thy fancies are foolifh, fuch follies to gather. For there's many an honefl man wears the Bulls Feather. Though it be invifible, let no man it fcorn, Being it is a new feather made of an old horn : He that difdains it in mind, or in heart either. May be the more fubjed: to wear the Bulls Feather. He that lives difcontented, or in difpair. And feareth falfe meafure, becaufe his wife's fair. His thoughts are inconftant, much like winter weather : Though one or two want it, he ihall have a Feather. Bulls Feathers are common as ergo i'th' fchools. And only contemned by thofe that are fools : Why fhould a Bulls Feather caufe any unreft. The Bulls F'eather. Since neighbours fare always is counted the befl ? Thofe women who are faireft are likefl to give it, And hufbands that have them are apt to beheve it. Some men, though their wives they feem for to tether. They would play the kind neighbors, and give the Bulls Feather. Why fhould we repine that our wives are fo kind. Since we that are hufbands, are of the fame mind ? Shall we give them feathers, and think to go free ? Believe it, believe it, that hardly will be. For he that difdains my Bulls Feather to day. May light of a lafs that will play him foul play. There's ne'r a proud gallant, that tread's on cows leather. But may be cornuted, and wear the Bulls Feather. 200 The Bulls Feather. The Ihorteft, the talleft. the fouleft, the faireft. The fatteft, the leaneft. \ the commoneft, the rareft. When they and their Dicks are all merry together. Will be uling tricks to advance the Bulls Feather. A King and a cobler. a lord and a loon. A prince and a pedler, a courtier and a clown. Put all their degrees and conditions together. Are liable always to wear the Bulls Feather. Though beer of that brewing I never did drink. • Yet be not difpleafed, if I fpeak what I think : Scarce ten in an hundred. believe it, believe it. But either they will have it. or elfe they will give it. Then, let me advife all thofe that do pine The Bulls Feather. 20I For fear that falfe jealoufie ihorten their line. 'I'hat difeafe will torment them worfe than any feavor ; Then let all be contented, and wear the Bulls Feather. Finis. % \ y^W^^Rv A^^S ^r^Sf^bl ^^P mW ^iIlM^ ^^^J"~7^^^^ ' D D 202 The Weft Country Damofels Complaint. To the Tune of " Johnny Armftrong." [From its form and character this ballad may be confidered one of the earlieft in the volume, and it was written to a very old tune. The long title and the lines forming part of it were probably meant for attractive additions when the broadfide was " Printed by P. Brookfby, at the Golden Bull in Weftfmith-field, neer the Hofpitall Gate:" it runs as follows : — " The Weft-Country Damofel's Complaint, or The Faithful Lover's laft Farewel : Being the relation of a young Maid, who pined herfelf to death for the love of a Young-man, who, after he had notice of it, dyed likewife for grief. Carelefs Young-men, by this warning take. How you kind Virgins (when they love) forfake ; Leaft the fame fate o're-take you, and you dye For breach of vows, and infidelity. Be kind, but fweare no more than what you mean, Leaft comick jefts become a tragick fcean."] HEN will you marry me, William, and make me your wedded wife ? Or take you your keen bright fword, and rid me out of my life. Will. Say no more fo then, lady, fay you no more then fo. For you fhall unto the wild forreft, and amongfl the buck and doe. The Damofcrs Complaint. Where thou ilialt cat of the hips and haws, and the roots that are lb fweet, And thou flialt drink of the cold water that runs underneath your feet. 203 Now had (he not been in the wild forreft palling three months and a day, But with hunger and cold (lie had her fill, till Ihe was quite worn away. At lafl file faw a fair tyl'd houfe, and there flie fwore by the rood. That flie would to that fair tyl'd houfe, there for to get her fome food. But when fhe came unto the gates, aloud, aloud flie cry'd. An alms, an alms, my own lifter ! I afk you for no pride. Her lifter call'd up her merry men all, by one, by two and by three. And bid them hunt away that wild doe, as far as e're they could fee. They hunted her o're hill and dale, and they hunted her fo fore. That they hunted her into the forrefl:, where her forrows grew more and more. 204 The Weft-Country She laid a ftone all at her head, and another all at her feet. And down ihe lay between thefe two, till death had lull'd her afleep. When fweet Will came and "ftood at her head, and likewife flood at her feet, A thoufand times he kifs'd her cold lips, her body being faft alleep. Yea, feaven times he ftood at her feet, and feaven times at her head ; A thoufand times he ihook her hand, although her body was dead. Ah, wretched me ! he loudly cry'd,, what is it that I have done ? O, wou'd to the powers above Fde dy'd, when thus I left her alone ! Come, come you gentle red-breafl: now, and prepare for us a tomb, Whilft unto cruel Death I bow, and fing like a fwan my doom. Why could I ever cruel be unto fo fair a creature ; Alas ! fhe dy'd for love of me, the lovelieft fhe in nature ! For me fhe left her home fo fair to wander in this wild grove, Damofers Complaint. 205 And there with fighs and penlive care, fhe ended her Hfe for love. O conftancy ! in her thou'rt loft ; now let women boaft no more. She's fled unto the Elizian coaft, and with her carry 'd the ftore. O, break, my heart with forrow fill'd, come, fwell you ftrong tides of grief! You that my dear love have kill'd, come, yield in death to me relief. Cruel her fifter, was't for me that to her Ihe was unkind ? Her hufband I will never be, but with this my love be joyn'd. Grim Death ihall tye the marriage bands, which jealoufie Ihan't divide ; Together fliall tye our cold hands, whilft here we lye lide by ftde. Witnefs, ye groves, and chr\'ftal ftreams, how fiithlefs I late have been ; But do repent with dving leaves of that my ungrateful lin ; And wIHi a thoufuid times that I had been but to her more kind. And not have let a virgin dye, whofe equal there's none can find. 2o6 The Damofers Complaint. Now heaps of forrow prefs my foul ; now, now 'tis fhe takes her way. I come, my love, without controule, nor from thee will longer flay. With that he fetch'd a heavy groan, which rent his tender breaft. And then by her he laid him down, when as Death did give him reft. Whilfl mournful birds, with leavy bows, to them a kind burial gave. And warbled out their love-fick vows, whilft they both flept in their grave. Th( Common Cries of London. To the Tune of " Watton Towns End." [It is impofTible to aflign a precife date to the following ballad, re- lating to the popular purfuits and cuftoms of London in the early part of the feventeenth centur)'. The firft ftanza of the fecond part fhcws, that the Curtain, Globe, Swan, and Red-Bull theatres were then open, but the dates when any of them were permanently clofed cannot be ftated with certainty : John Shancke, who is mentioned by name, was a popular aclor from 1603 to 1635, when he died. (See the life of Shancke, in the " Memoirs of Shakefpeare's A ^ 234 The Royal Recreation A iifherman fubdued a place, in ipight of locks and ftaples : The warlike Maffianello was a iifherman of Naples ; Commanded forty thoufand men, and prov'd a royal wrangler : You ne're fhall fee the like again of fuch a famous Angler. Upon the Exchange, twixt twelve and one, meets many a neat intangler : Moft merchant-men, not one in ten, but is a cunning Angler ; And (like the fifhes in the brooke) brother doth fifh for brother. A golden bait hangs at the hooke, and they fifh for one another. A fhopkeeper I next preferr, a formal man in black, fir. That throws his angle every where, and cryes "What is't you lack, fir ? Fine filks and fluffs, or hoods and muffs ?" but if a courtier prove the intangler. My citizen muft look too't then, or the fifh will catch the Angler. A lover is an Angler, too, and baits his hooke with kiffes ; of jovial Anglers. 235 He playes, and toyes, and fain would do, but often times he miifes : He gives her rings, and fuch fine things as fan, or muff, or night-hood ; But if you'l cheat a city peat, you mull: bait her with a knight-hood. There is no Angler like a wench juft riling in the water ; She'l make you leave both trout and tench, and throw yourfelf in after. Your hook and line llie will confine, the intangled is the intangler ; And this, I fear, hath fpoyl'd the ware of many a jovial Angler. If you will trowl for a fcriveners foul, caft in a rich young gallant : To take a courtier by the powl throw out a golden tallent ; And yet, I doubt, the draught will not compound for half the charge on't ; But if you'l catch the Devil at a fnatch, go bait him with a fergeant. Thus have I made the Anglers trade to ftand above defiance. For like the mathematick art, it runs through every fcience. 236 Recreation of jovial Anglers. If with my angling fong I can with mirth and pleafure feaze yee. He bait my hook with wit again. And angle ilill to pleafe ye. Finis. 237 Keep a good tongue in your head. To the Tune of " The Milkmaids, &c." [In Walton's " Angler," firft printed in 1653, '^^ ^'^ earlieft lines of this ballad are printed with fome flight variations ; and they are coupled with eight other lines from the ballad which follows next in our col- leiSlion, as if they were one and the fame fong : they are both given to Maudlin in Walton's work, and the fail we have ftated forms a new illuflration of it. Both ballads were written by Martin Parker, a well known name in our ephemeral literature in the reign of Charles I, and during the Proteitorate : his initials are at the end of each, and he feldom put his name at full length. He was author of the cele- brated " True Tale of Robin Hood," and of the more notorious fong of "When the King enjoys his own again." Of the periods of his birth or burial we have no knowledge. The broadfide we have ufed is entitled, " Keep a good tongue in your head, for Here's a very good woman in every refpe6l. But only her tongue breeds all her defedl." It was " Printed at London for Thomas Lambert at the Horfhoo in Smithfield" about 1640,] MARRY'D a wife of late, the more's my unhappy fate ; I tooke her for love, As fancy did me move, and not for her worldly ftate. For qualities rare Few with her compare ; 238 Keep a good tongue let me doe her no wrong : I mufl confefTe, Her cheefe amifTe Is onely this. As fome wives is, fhe cannot rule her tongue. She hath as fweet a face as any in feaven miles fpace ; Her eyes chriftalline Like diamonds doe fhine, fhe looks with a modeft grace : Her haire is like flax. Her lips are red wax, that feal'd the bond Co ftrong Twixt her and I, That till I die He juftiiie Her conftancy ; but fhe cannot rule her tongue. Her cheeks are red as the rofe which June for her glory fhows : Her teeth on a row Stand like a wall of fnow between her round chin and her nofe. Her flioulders are decent. Her armes white and pleafant, her fingers are fmall and long : in your head. 239 No fault I find, But, in my minde, Moft womenkind Mull: come behind : O, that fhe could rule her tongue ! Her breafts like Pyreene hills, which nature yearly fils. With liquor that by ods Doth palTe the drink o' th' gods ; all ned:ar it far excels : With this fhe doth feed The twigs that proceed from our affections ftrong. Shee's fruitful as The fpringing graffe, No time lets pafTe, And yet, alas ! fhe cannot rule her tongue. Her body, which I have oft embraced, fo fmooth and foft. Is flender and white Proportioned aright ; tis flraight as any fhaft. Her leg is compleat. Her foot's fine and neat, tis neither too fhort nor too long : Keep a good tongue In every part Dame Nature's art Gives her the ftart : With all my heart I wifh fhe could rule her tongue. As fhe in feature excels wel nye mofl; women elfe. Even fo doth her wit. If fhee'l make ufe of it, as daily experience tels : I cannot deny it. If (he be at quiet her fpeeches will do no wrong : Shee'l laugh and fmile. New termes fhee'l file. Yet in a while Shee'l change her ftile, and cannot rule her tongue. With eloquence fhe will difpute ; few women can her confute : She fings and fhe playes, And fhe knowes all her keyes on the vial de gambo, or lute. Shee'l dance with a grace. Her meafures fhee'l trace as doth unto art belong : in your head. 241 She is a girle Fit for an Earle, Not for a churle : She were worth a pearle, if file could but rule her tongue. Her needle {he can ufe well ; in that fhe doth moft excell : She can fpin and knit. And every thing fit, as all her neighbours can tell. Her fingers apace, At weaving bone-lace. She ufeth all day long : All arts that be To women free. Of each degree, Performeth Hie. O, that fhe could rule her tongue ! For hufwifery fhe doth exceed ; flie looks to her bufinelTe with heed Shee's early and late Emploid, I dare fay't, to fee all things well fucceedc. She is very wary To looke to her dary, as doth to her charge belong : I I 242 Keep a good tongue in your head. Her fervants all x^re at her call. But fliee'l fo brawle. That ftil I fhall wifh that fhe could rule her tongue. With all that hath bin faid - no woman neede be difmaid, Sith I have not beene Incenfed through fpleene in this fpacious river to wade : I none doe difparage. To hinder their marriage, but wifli both old and yong Great heed to take. When choice they make For vertues fake : No venemous fnake ftings like a womans tongue. M. P. Finis. 243 The Milke- maids Life. To a curious new Tune^ called " The Milke-maids Dumps." [This is the ballad referred to in our introduftion to the preceding, as having had eight lines quoted from it by Walton in his "Angler," (p. 152, edit. 1808). They form the conclufion of our fixth ftanza, but Walton either printed from a difterent copy to that we have ufcd, or he altered one of the lines. He does not ftate who was the author, but the initials at the end of the Roxburghe broadfide fhew that it was by Martin Parker. Both this and the laft ballad were written to the fame tune, which in one cafe is called " the Milkmaids &:c." and in the other " the Milkmaids Dumps :" a " dump" was a fpecies of dance, as well as a poem. (Collier's Shakefpeare, vi. 478.) The enfuing, like the foregoing, ballad was " Printed at London for T. Lambert;" and to the title of" The Milke-Maids Life" is added the following couplet, " A pretty new ditty, compofed and pend. The praife of the Milking paile to defend." The laft ftanza but one proves that the ballad was written before " the downfal of May-games" under the puritans.] OU rural goddelles, that woods and fields polIefTe, Affifl me with your fkill, That may dired: my quill more jocundly to exprelfe The mirth and delight, Both morning and night, on mountaine or in dale. 244 The Milke-maids Life. Of them who chufe This trade to ufe, And through cold dewes Doe never refufe to carry the milking payle. • The braveft lafTes gay live not fo merry as they : In honeft civill fort They make each other fport, as they trudge on their way. Come faire or foul weather. They're fearefull of neither ; their courages never quaile : In wet and dry, Though winds be hye. And darke's the fky. They nere deny to carry the milking paile. Their hearts are free from care. they never will defpaire. What ever them befall ; They bravely beare out all, and fortunes frowns out-dare. They pleafantly iing To welcome the fpring, 'gainft heaven they never rayle : The Milke-maids Life. 245 If graile wel grow Their thankes they fhow. And froft or fnow. They merrily goe along with the milking paile. Bale idlenefTe they doe fcorne : they rife very early i' th' morn. And walk into the field, Where pretty birds doe yeeld brave mufick on every thorn : The linet and thrufh Doe fing on each bufh ; and the dulcid nightingale Her note doth ftraine In a jocund vaine, To entertaine That worthy traine, which carry the milking paile. Their labor doth health preferve ; no docflors rules they obferve, While others, too nice In taking their advice, look alwaies as though they wold ftarve. Their meat is digefted, They ncre are molefted, no ficknefie doth them allaile : J 246 'l*he Milke-maids Tiife. f Their time is fpent In merryment ; While limbs are lent. They are content to carry the milking paile. Thofe lafles nice and flrange, i that keep (hops in the Exchange, ! Sit pricking of clouts, And giving of flouts ; they feldome abroad doe range : Then comes the green ficknefle. And changeth their likenefle, all this for want of good fale ; But tis not fo, As proofe doth fliow. By them that goG In frofi: and fnow. to carry the milking paile. If they any fweet-hearts have. that do affed:ion crave. Their priviledge is this. Which many others mifle. they can give them welcome brave. With them they may walke. And pleafantly talke. with a bottle of wine or ale : i The Milke-maids Life. The gentle cow- Doth them allow, . As they know how. God fpeed the plow, and blefle the milking paile ! Upon the firft of May, with garlands frefh and gay. With mirth and mulick fweet, For fuch a feafon meet, they palTe their time away : They dance away forrow. And all the day thorow their legs doe never fayle ; They nimblely Their feet doe ply. And bravely try The victory, in honour o' th' milking paile. If any thinke that I doe pracflife flattery. In feeking thus to raife The merry milkmaids praife, He to them thus reply. It is their defert Inviteth my art to ftudy this pleafant tale ; 247 248 1 The Milke-maids Life. In their defence Whofe innocence, And providence. Gets honeft pence out of the milking paile. M. P. Finis. 249 The Batchelor's feaft. To a pleafant New Tune^ called " With a hie dil do dill." [The initials at the end of this fong are thofe of Lawrence Price, who not unfrequently put his name at length, and was a highly po- pular ballad-writer during the Civil Wars, although no notice has been taken of him in modern coUeftions. He was alfo author of feveral chap-books, fome of them of a political tendency, fuch as "A new Dis- putation betweene the two Lordly Bifhops, Yorke and Canterbury," 1642. 8vo. &c. The entire title of the following ballad runs thus : — " The Batchelor's Feaft, or The difference betwixt a fmgle life and a double. Being the Batchelors pleafure, and the married man's trouble." It was " Printed at London for J. W. the younger, dwelling at the upper end of the Old Bayly."] S I walkt forth of late, where gralTe and flowers fpring, I heard a Batchelor within an harbour fing : The tenor of his fong contain'd much melodie ; It is a gallant thing to live at liberty. With hie dill do dill, hie ho dildiirliey K K 250 The Batchelors feaft. // is a delighful thing to live at liberty. Wee Batchelors can flaunt in country and in towne. And in good company- may merily fpend a crowne : Wee may doe as wee lift, our lives from cares are free ; O ! 'tis a gallant thing to live at liberty. With hie dill &c. No cradle have wee to rocke, nor children that doe cry. No land-lords rent to pay, no nurfes to fupply ; No wife to fcold and brawle, we fhill keepe good company With them that take delight to live at liberty. With hie dill &c. While married men doe lie with worldly cares opprefl. Wee Batchelors can fleepe, and fweetly take our reft. O ! married men mufl: feeke for goffips and a nurfe. The Batchelors feaft, 251 Which heavie makes the heart, but Hght it makes the purfe. With hie dill &c\ A man, that doth intend to lead a quiet Hfe, MufI: pra6life day and night to pleafe his longing wife : New faihions muft be had as oft as fhee them fee. O ! tis a pleafant thing to live at liberty. IVith hie dill &c. The taylor muft be payd for making of her gowne ; The Ihoemakers for fine fhoes, or elfe thy wife will frowne : For bands, fine ruffes and cuffes thou muft difpence as free. O ! tis a gallant thing to live at liberty. With hie dill &c. A wife muft alfo have a beaver of the beft. That ftiee may flaunt it out, and goflip with the reft : 252 The Batchelors feaft. Wrought quaifFes and cobweb lawne her daily weare muft bee. O ! tis a Hghtfome thing to live at liberty. JVith hie dill &c. Yet all this pleafeth not, except that thou doft burfe Both gold and filver coyne, to carry in her purfe. To taverne when flie hies, where iliee (hall merry bee. O ! tis a gallant thing to live at liberty. ^itli hie dill &c. Some think a fmgle life to bee a dayly trouble. But many men doe wed and make their forrowes double : Therefore, I wifli young men in time be rul'd by mee. And learne to ling this fong, to live at liberty. With hie dill &c. Except a vertuous wife a young man chance to find. That will induftrious be, and beare a modeft mind. The Batchelors feaft. ^SZ Hee better were to live ftill fingle, as we fee ; For 'tis a gallant thing to live at liberty. With hie dill &c. Now, will I heere conclude ; I will no one offend, WilTiing that every flirew her qualities would amend ; And that all Batchelors may now be rul'd by mee, To chufe a loving wife, or live at liberty. m'tlj hie 'dill &c. L. P. 254 The Mifer and the Prodigal. To the Tune of " To drive the cold winter away." [This produdlion, in two parts, has the initials N. P. at the end, which may have been an error for M. P. /. e. Martin Parker ; but it feems likely that it is older than his time, having been, as we are in- formed at the end of the firft part only, " Printed for Henry Goflbn : " perhaps his edition was a reprint, and the expreflion, in the fecond part, '' Let the welkin roar" carries us back to the times of Ancient Piftol and " Henry IV." The title of the firft part is the following couplet, " Come, worldling, fee what paines I here do take To gather gold, while here on earth I rake ;" and to this is added, in reference to the fecond part, "What the Father gathered by the rake, the Sonne doth fcatter with the forke." The fecond part is introduced by thefe two lines : — " Come, Prodigals, yourfelves that love to flatter. Behold my fall, that with the forke doth fcatter." It has no printer's nor publifher's name. — If N. P. were a mifprint for N. B., we might attribute thefe two moral and fatirical effufions to Nicholas Breton, who often wrote under his initials, and who flouriftied in the reigns of Elizabeth and James I. They are not unlike his ftyle, but have rather more humour.] OME, come, my brave gold. Which I love to behold, come to me, and He give you reft. Where as you may fleepe. The Mifer and the Prodiaal. And I fafcly will keepe you lockt in my yron bound cheft. No thieves you fliall feare. You in pieces to teare, fuch care of you I will take : Come to me, and flye. Gold angels ! I cry. And He gather you all with my rake. 255 Come, lilver and all, When as I doe call, your beauties to me are fo bright ; I love you fo deare, I pray you come neere, and be you not wavering or light : Your weight fo you have. Come gliftering and brave, then, you I will never forfake, But heape you together, Againft rainy weather, And gather you all with my rake. Rich jewels and plate By no meanes I hate, with diamonds, faphirs, or rings ; The carbuncle red Stands me in like ftead, or any other rich things. 256 * The Mifer and the Prodigal. The emerald greene. Like the fpring that is feene, gold chains, or the like, I will take : I have a kind heart, With my coyne I will part, fo I may get all with my rake. But yet heare me, friend ; No money He lend, without a good pawn you do bring. But He tell to thee How a knave cheated me one time with a bafe copper ring : With me it bred ftrife. It neere coft me my life, halfe a crowne on the fame he did take ; But He have more care Of fuch knaves to beware, how fuch copper together I rake. On leafes or lands. On very good bands, good fecurity likewife provide : If wee can agree. Then my coyne it flyes free, if not, your cold fuit is deny'd. To foe or to friend No money He lend ; The Mifer and the Prodicral o as they brew, io let them bake : This rule I oblerve, Let them hang or ftarve, if I cannot get with my rake. And thofe that doe lacke To the highth I doe racke, I know that they money muft have : Some morgage their lands. Which fall in my hands, to domineere and to goe brave. If they faile of their day. And have not to pay, a feizure on them I doe make. Although I goc bare. Yet I have a care my gold and my filver to rake. Let the poore widdowes cry. Let their children dye, let their father in prifon goe rot. What is that to me ? Their wealth is my fee, .for I have their livings now got. Whole lordfhips and lands Are falne to my hands, and ufe of them all I will make ; My bags full of coyne. 257 L L 258 The Mifer and the Prodigal. And my purfe I doe lyne with that which together I rake. Thus rich ufury, Ne're thinking to dye, nor on his poore foule have a care. With one foot in tlie grave. Yet more wealth he doth crave, and his backe and his belly doth fpare At whofe coft he dine, With good cheere and wine, he cares not at whofe hands he take ; Not a penny hee'l fpend. Nor without a pawne lend. The Divell and all he will rake. But now comes grim Death, And ceafeth his breath, his tree of life is withered ; This wretch fo unkind. His wealth leaves behind, and is a poore worme being dead. But now, pray, give eare To that you fhall heare, his heire what a courfe he will take. That day he did dye In his grave he did lye, And the fexton the earth on him rake. The Mifer and the Prodioral. 259 THE SECOND PART. ROOME ! roome for a friend, That his money will fpend ; old Flatcap is laid in his grave : Hee kept me full poore. But now I will roare ; his lands and his livings I have. The tide of gold flowes. And wealth on me growes ; hee's dead, and for that tis no matter : Great ufe he did take. And for me did rake, which now with the forke I will fcatter. I now muft turn gallant. That have fuch a talent ; what need I to take any care ? I tell thee, good friend, 'Tis mine owne which I fpend, for I was my father's owne heire. No blade here fliall lacke : Give us claret and facke ! hang pinching, it is againfl nature. Lets have all good cheere, Coft it never fo deare, for I with my forke will fcatter. 26o The Mifer and the Prodigal. Let me have a lalTe, That faire Venus doth pafle ; give me all delights that I may : He make my gold fly Aloft in the fkie ; I thinke it will never be day. Let the v^elkin roare ! He never give o're : Tobacco, and with it flrong water, I meane for to drinke Untill I doe finke, for I with my forke will fcatter. And let muficke play To me night and day, I fcorne both my lilver and gold. Brave gentlemen all. He pay what you call ; with me, I befeech you, be bold : Dice run low or high. My gold it fhall fly, I mean for to keep a brave quarter ; Let the cards goe and come, I have a great fum That I with my forke will fcatter. Let caroufes goe round. Till fome fall to the ground. The Mifer and the Prodieal. and here's to my millrcire her health ; Then, let's take no care. For no coft wee'l fpare : hang money, I have ftore of wealth. My father it got. And now, falne to my lot, I fcorne it as I doe morter ; For coyne was made round To fland on no ground. And I with my forke will it fcatter. My lordfliips to fell I thinke would doe well ; ill gotten goods never doe thrive : Let's fpend while we may. Each dog hath his day. He want not while I am alive. Come, drawers, more facke ! And fee what we lacke ; for money He fend a porter. Brave gallants, ne're feare. For wee'l domineere. For I with my forke will fcatter. 261 Come, drink to my friend. And let the health end ; my coffers and pockets are empty : I now have no more. 262 The Mifer and the Prodigal. That had wont to have ilore ; there's fcarcity where there was plenty. My friends are all gone. And left me alone ; I think I muft now drink cold water : There's nought but fad woe Upon me doth grow, Becaufe with my forke I did fcatter. Now, this is the ftory Of prodigal glory, who thought that he never fhold lack : No drinke, nor no meat. Now he hath to eate, nor cloathes for to put on his back. His friends they forfake him. And woe doth o're take him, becaufe he was'too free of nature. That never did mind How Time comes behind, who mows, though with fork he did fcatter. His leaves they grew greene. But they were not feene, for autumn them quickly did kill : Then, let youth beware. And have a great care, and truft not too much to their will ; The Mifer and the Prodicral. 263 Leaft prifon them catch, Or a houfe without thatch, and glad of brown bread and cold water. To God thanks let's give. And in a meane live, having a care how we doe fcatter. Finis. Wit's never good till 'tis bought. To the Tune of " Baffe's Carreere." [This excellent didadic ballad was " Printed at London for Tho- mas Lambert," and, like many more, may be pronounced a reprint of an older produdHon : how much older muft be matter of fpeculation, but no earlier copy is known. On the broadfide, after the burden, which is made the title, we are told that it contains " Good counfell for improvident men. Fit to make ufe of now and then." There is an impreflion of it for the fame publifher in the Pepyfian Library. The tune to which it was fung, " Baffe's Carreere," means of courfe the tune mentioned in Walton's Angler " The Hunter in his career," compofed, as he ftates, by William Baffe, who was a writer in the early part of the reign of James L] NCE mufing alone upon things many a one. Well obferv'd, and knowne by my felfe, efpecially how that which late did flow, I have wafted and now I want pelfe : this vexed me fore, and made me deplore That I had not before of it thought : from experience I learn'd. Wit's never orood till 'tis bougrht, what I lince have difcern'd. That true wit's never good till 'tis bought. Full many a time, when I was in my prime. My ambition to climbe honors hill did me forward pricke, but my jade did fo kicke. And dame fortune a trick found to kill my hope in the bloome, and debafed my plume ; I did further prefume than I ought : then I wifht I had ftayd at my own proper trade ; But true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 265 To fight and to brawle, and to quarrell with all. And my betters mifcall I have uf 'd ; but with woe I did find all are not of one minde. Though I oft in fome kind was excuf'd : yet fometimes I got a knocke with a pot, When to fpeake, and when not, thus I'me taught ; now, where ever I come. He keepe peace in the roome : Thus true wit's never good till 'tis bought. M M 266 Wit's never o;ood I ufed to roare, and to drinke on the fcore, And never thought more on the fliot : come, Tapfter, faid I, one tooth flill is dry, Then fill's. (by and by) tother pot. I cal'd flill apace, but within a iliort fpace Into a ftrong place I was brought ; Then for eight houre's wafte foure days I muft faft : Thus true wit's never good till 'tis bought. I once had command Of houfes and land. Thus my cafe well did ftand among men ; but moved with pride, and contention befide, I would wrangle and chide now and then. If a horfe I but found to leape into my ground. Straightway to the pound he was brought : now I wifh I had ftill kept my neighbours good will. But true wit's never good till 'tis bought. This rancor and fpleene my ruine hath beene. till 'tis bouo-ht. As may plainly be feene by my ftatc ; contention in law did my purfe empty draw. Which I never foreiliw til too late : upon every flight thing I my ad:ion would bring. But my hands now I wring with the thought now I wifh I had that which hath made others fat ; But true wit's never good till 'tis bought. In company bafe, that are voyd of all grace, I came often in place, by meere chance ; but with being with them, whom alone I'de condemne, I'de in prefence efteeme and advance ; but being apart, catechiling my heart. It much forrow and fmart hath me brought : then, with fad melancholly I weepe for my folly. Thus wit's never good till 'tis bought. Befides, now and then, I have hapned with men That too cunning have been at the catch, and then, in my drinke. 267 268 Wit's never good I with paper and inke Have made, I did thinke, a good match ; but after, when I more dehberately The bufineiTe to try-all had brought. I have found my felfe cheated. And bafely defeated : Thus wit's never good till 'tis bought. Moreover, I have told my mind to a knave. 9 Thinking him truly grave, truly jufi: ; I my heart have expos'd, And my fecrets difclos'd. As a friend I repos'd on his trufk : but the rafcall ignoble. his heart being double. Me much woe and trouble hath wrought ; But I've learnd, ere fmce that. to take heed of my chat. Thus true wit's never good till 'tis bought. When I was a lad a good fervice I had. Then my minde was to gad-ding full bent; though I nothing did lacke. nor for belly nor backe. Yet I was not with that well content : till 'tis bouo-ht, but upon fniall diftafte my felf I difphill:, Thus my downfall in hafle then I fought ; Since I willit to obtaine what I oft did difdaine : Thus true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 269 Too willing I was my owne credite to paiTe, Now I find it, alas ! to my paine, that with fetting my hand To another man's band. For to fell houfe and land I was faine. I have paifed my word for what others have fcor'd. And I oft, like a bird, have bin caught, in the prifon to ftay where I fung Lachrhna : Thus true wit's never good till 'tis bought. If any of thofe that are (caufelelTe) my foes Should lb rartily fuppofe in their hearts, that all in this long to my felfe doth belong, Their conjed:ure is wrong for their part, whoever they be, where they fome thing may fee 270 Wit's never good till 'tis bought. By which every degree may be taught : what ere's thy profeffion, thou maift learne this lelTon, That wit's never good till 'tis bought. Finis. 271 A Caveat for Cut-purfes. To the Tune of " Packingtons Pound." [This fingular ballad preceded the Reftoration, and indeed the Civil Wars, and the mention in it of Dun, the public hangman, is one proof of its date. A perfon of the name of Derrick filled that office towards the clofe of the reign of Elizabeth (Malone's Suppl. 2. 602) and until 1616 : Dun feems to have fucceeded him, and he continued to difcharge the duties for thirty or forty years, until the appointment of " Mr. John Ketch," w^hofe name (which gave an appellation to all his fucceflbrs) firft occurs in the epilogue to Dryden's " Duke of Guife." The notice in what follows of the performances of players at Bartholomew Fair fhews how early theatres were erected there; and the other local and temporary allufions are extremely curious. It is to be obferved that the Ballad-finger fpeaks in his own perfon ; and, were it not for the conclu- fion, we might fuppofe that the production was a "jig," which had been performed by a comic a6lor at the Curtain, the Red Bull or fome other popular place of amufement : as early as 1592 cut-purfes com- plained that they had been expofed, and " their trade fpoiled " by " fing- ing jigs" at theatres. (Hift. Engl. Dram. Poetry and the Stage, III. 380.) Swift mentions "the tune of the Cut-purfe," which may have been derived from this ballad, and another name for " Packington's Pound," fo long popular. The full title of our ballad (which was " Printed for W. Gilbertfon ") is " A Caveat for Cutpurfes. With a warning to all purfe-carriers, fhewing the confidence of the firft, and the carelefnefTe of the laft, with necefiary admonitions for them both, left the Hangman get the one, and the Begger the other."] >Y mailers, and friends, and good people draw near. And look to your purfes for that I do fay ; And though little money in them you do bear. 272 A Caveat for Cut-purfes. It coft you more to get, then to lofe in a day. You oft have been told. Both the young and the old. And bidden beware of the Cut-purfe fo bold : Then, if you take heed not, free me from the curfe. Who both give you warning for, and the Cut-purfe. Youth, youth, thou hadft better been ftarv'd by thy nurfe. Then live to be hanged for cutting a purfe. It hath been upbraided to men of my trade. That oftentimes we are the caufe of this crime : Alack, and for pity ! why fhould it be faid. As if they regarded or places or time ? Examples have been Of fome that were feen In Weftminfter-hall, yea, the pleaders between : Then, why fhould the Judges be free from this curfe. More then my poor felf is for cutting the purfe ? Youth, youth &c. At Worfter, tis known well, and even in the jaile, A knight of good worihip did there fhew his face Againft the foul linners in zeale for to raile. And fo loft, ipfo faSlo, his purfe in the place. Nay, once from his feat Of judgement fo great, A Judge there did lofe a fair purfe of velvete. Oh, Lord ! for thy mercy, how wicked, or worfe. A Caveat for Cut-purfes. Are thole that fo venture their necks for a purfe ! Youth, youth &c. 273 At playes, and at fermons, and at the SefTions ^Tis daily their prad:ife fuch booty to make ; Yea, under the gallows, at executions, they ftick not the ftare-abouts purfes to take : Nay, one without grace. At a better place. At Court and in Chriftmas, before the King's face; Alack then for pitty ! muft I bear the curfe That only belongs to the cunning Cut-purfe ? Youth, youth &c. But oh ! you vile nation of Cutpurfes all Relent and repent, and amend and be found. And know that you ought not by honefl mens fall Advance your own fortunes to dye above ground ; And though you go gay In filks, as you may. It is not the highway to Heaven, as they fay. Repent then, repent you, for better for worfe. And kifs not the gallows for cutting a purfe. Youth, youth &c. The Players do tell you, in Bartholmew Faire, What fecret confumptions and rafcals you are ; For one of their A6tors, it feems, had the fate N N 2 74 A Caveat for Cut-purfes. By fome of your trade to be fleeced of late : Then, fall to your prayers. You that are way-layers. They're fit to choufe all the world, that can cheat Players ; For he hath the art, and no man the worfe, Whofe cunning can pilfer the pilferer's purfe. Youth, youth &c. The plain Country man, that comes flaring to London, If once you come near him he quickly is undone. For when he amazedly gazeth about. One treads on his toes, and the other puls't out : Then, in a flrange place. Where he knows no face. His mony is gone, tis a pittifull cafe. The Divel of hell in his trade is not worfe. Then Gilter and Diver, and Cutter of purfe. Youth, youth &c. The poor fervant maid wears her purfe in her placket, A place of quick feeling, and yet you can take it ; Nor is fhe aware that you have done the feat, Untill file is going to pay for her meat : Then fhe cryes and rages Amongft the baggages. And fwears at one thruft fhe hath loft all her wages; For fhe is ingaged her own to difburfe. A Caveat for Cut-purfcs. To make good the breach of the cruel Cut-purfe. Youth, youth &c. Your eyes and your fingers are nimble of growth, But Dun many times hath been nimbler then both; Yet you are deceived by many a Hut, But the Hangman is only the Cut-purfes cut. It makes you to vex When he bridles your necks, And then, at the laft, what becomes of your tricks? But when you fhould pray, you begin for to curfe The hand that firfl lliew'd you to flafh at a purfe. Youth, youth &c. But now to my hearers this counfel I give. And pray, friends, remember it as long as you live; Bring out no more cafli in purfe, pocket or wallet. Then one fingle penny to pay for this ballet ; For Cut-purfe doth fhrowd Himfelf in a cloud. There's many a purfe hath been loft in a crowd ; For he's the moil rogue that doth crowd up, and curfes. Who firft cryes, ** my Mafters, beware of your purfes." Oh youth ! thou hadft better been ftarv'd by thy nurfe. Then live to be hanged for cutting a purfe. Finis. 275 276 The Houfeholders New- year's Gift. To the Tune of " Where is my true love." [This excellent mufical dialogue between a Hufband and a Wife, the firft complaining of poverty, and the laft cheering him in his mif- fortunes, w^as unqueftionably written in a dear year, fuch as Stow des- cribes 1596, when wheat was fold as high as fix, (tvtVL and eight fhillings abufhel, or 1597 when the price rofeto thirteen fhillings (Annals 16 15 p. 1279). Although the only known edition of what follows was " Printed for F. Coules dwelling in the Old Bayly," we may feel aflured that it originally came out nearly half a century earlier. The title at length is in thefe terms : — " The Houfholders New-yeeres Gift, Con- taining a pleafant Dialogue between the Hufband and his Wife, pleafant to be regarded." Whenever it was firfl printed, it was obvioufly at the commencement of a new year.] RIEVE no more, fweet hufband, to grieve it is in vaine ; Little it availeth to grieve, or elfe complaine : Then, fhew thy need to no man, for it doth breed difdaine. Now comes a good nev^ yeare. H. Alacke, and alas for woe ! how can I chufe ? Houfeholders New-year's Gift. The world is grown fo cruell, that friend fhip few doe ufe : Flattery gets credit, plaine troth it overthrowes. O Lord ! fend a good new yeare. W. The world is deceitfull, then truft it not, my deare ; But take this comfort to thee, thy faddeft thoughts to cheere : The Lord will never leave them, where true love doth appeare ; And God fend a merry new yeare ! H. What comfort can I take, wife, when forrow is fo great ? Mifery on all fides doth us alwayes threat ; When labour is too little to finde us bread and meat. O Lord ! fend a good new yeare. Scarcitie is planted in village and in towne : We fee our neighbours children goe begging up and downe ; Few perfons do relieve them, but all at them doe frowne. O Lord ! fend a good new yeare. 277 278 The Houfeholders W. GreedinefTe is caufer, good hufband, of this ill : Pride, that madding monfter, kind charitie doth kill. Lord Jefus ! foon amend it according to thy will ; And fend us a merry new yeare. H. Corne in every market fo deare we dayly fee. We pay more for a bufhell, then wee were wont for three : This cuts the hearts of poore men, and this undoeth me. O Lord ! fend a good new yeare. W. Why hufband, this hath caufed fo many at this day To pinch their pretty bellies within their garments gay ; And all they thinke too little upon themfelves to lay. Good Lord ! fend a merry new yeere. H. Sweet wife, a thoufand forrowes doe yet torment my minde. To thinke for all my labour how I am ftill behinde ; And for the fame no remedy. New-year's Gift. 279 alackc ! that I can findc. Good Lord ! lend a merry new yeerc. JV. Take courage, gentle hufband, and hearken what I fay : After freezing January commeth plealant May ; There is no ftorme fo cruell, but comes as faire a day. Good Lord! fend a merry new yeere. H. Gentle wife, I tell thee, my very heart is done ; The world's great calamitic no way can I ihunne, For ftill in debt and danger more and more I runne. Good Lord ! fend a merry new yeere. W. Be content, fweet hufband, and hearken unto me : The Lord is ftill as mercifuU as he was wont to bee. Goe thou, and ply thy labour, and I vv'ill worke with thee. Good Lord ! fend a merry new yeere. I will not be idle, but I will card and fpin ; 2 8o Houfeholders New-year's Gift. I will fave together that thou bringeft in : No man for a debt is hanged ; then, paffe thou not a pin. And God fend a merry new yeere ! H. Deare wife, thy gentle fpeeches revive me at the heart. To fee thee take my poverty in fuch a gentle part : If God doe ever raife me, thou {halt have thy defert ; And God fend a merry new yeere ! TF. Poverty, fweet hulband, oft time hath been blamed. But poverty with honefliy never yet was fhamed. The rich man difcontented may be a poor man named ; But God fend a merry new yeere ! What thou want'fl: in riches I will fupply in love ; Thou fhalt be my honey, and I thy turtle dove : Thou art my beloved, no forrow fhall remove ; And God fend a merry new yeere ! 28l The Times Abufes. To the Tune of " Over and under." [A remarkable perfonal ballad relating to a well known chara6ler of the reigns of James I. and Charles I, who went about the ftreets in rags and was univerfally called by the name of Mull'd-fack, in refer- ence, doubtlefs, to his once favourite beverage. It was " Printed for J. Wright, dwelling in Gilt-fpur-ftreet," and no other copy but that we have ufed is known to exift. After the title, "The Times Abufes," come the following explanatory but not very grammatical lines : " Muld-Sacke his grievances briefly expreft, Shewing the caufes doth his mind moleft ; But yet he merry makes, and dedicates This fon2 in love to all which bafcnefTe hates." The allufions to, and defcriptions of the various occupations in London are amufmg and curious.] TTEND, my mafters, and give eare, whilft here I doe relate The bafe injurious ilanders are throwne on me in hate : My wrongs and great abufes fo commonly are knowne. As in a fong, to right my wrong, fhall inftantly be fhowne. They call me fudling Muld-facke, when drinke I have got none : Cannot they looke to their bulineffe, and let Muld-Sack alone ? o o 282 The Times Abufes. If I fometimes a pot or fo doe drinke for recreation. My reckning paid, away I goe, and follow my vocation ; Not any good man grieving, ofFenlive for to be. By rooking or deceiving; from that my thoughts are free. They call me fudling Muld-Sacke, when drinke I have got none : Cannot they thinke on the blacke jacke, and let Muld-Sacke alone ? As I along the ftreets doe fmg the people flocke about me. No harme to any one I meane, yet jeeringly they flout me : The bar-boyes and the tapfters leave drawing of their beere. And running forth in hafte they cry, " See, where Muld-Sacke comes here !" Thus am I jeered by them, though harme I doe them none : Cannot they looke to their fmall cans, and let Muld-Sacke alone ? The jeering cunning curtezan, and rooking roaring boy. The Times Abufes. 283 Which day and night doe take dehght in drunkennelTe to joy, They with their pimps and panders, Decoyes, and cheating knaves. Which run to wenches, drinks and roars, and limple men deceives. They have no grace to guide well, and confcience they have none ; Cannot they take heed of Bridewell, and let Muld-facke alone ? The glutton rich that feedeth of beefe and mutton ftore, And hates the poore that needeth, which goes from doore to doore, And will not fpend his money but for the love of drinke. And grieves to give a penny, fo well he loves his chinke. Too many fuch alive is, of whom I am fure he's one : Cannot he remember Dives, and let Muld-Sacke alone ? Tearme-trotting petty-foggers, which are fo fine and nice. Will drinke, if they meet rightly, a cup of ale and fpice ; 284 The 1 lines Abufes. .« Yet muil: they take their chamber before they doe begin, And if they can but hide it. they thinke it is no finne ; When I in the ftreets walke open to the view of every one. Cannot they looke to their clyents. and let Muld-Sacke alone ? '1 'he jeering fleering coxcombe. y. with hands behind his backe. All day, which ftands from morn til night. to cry " what doe you lacke ?" With fcoffing, and with taunting. will by the fleeve me pull. " What is't you'l buy ?" he'l to me cry. yet, like a brainlelTe gull. He'l caft on me a fcornfull looke. though harme I doe him none : Cannot he looke to his fliop-booke. and let Muld-Sacke alone ? The taylors fawcie prentices. as I do pafTe along. They at my head will caft their fhreds. though I doe them no wrong. The faying old hath oft been told, it plaine doth verifie. The Times Abufes. 285 " Poore and proud, ftill taylor like;" for they mofh jeeringly Doe call me fudling Muld-Sacke, though drinke I have got none : Cannot they keepe their fingers true, and let Muld-Sacke alone ? Alfo the jeering tripe-wives, which puddings fell and fowce, Crye, " There goes fudling Muld-Sacke, doth wine and beere carowfe ;" And with difdainfuU fpeeches, having no caufe at all. Will taunt and feoff, and jeer and laugh, and bafely me milcall, And call me fudling Muld-Sacke, thouo;h I am no fuch one : Cannot fhe fcrape her greafie tripes, and let Muld-Sacke alone ? The clownilh country carter will likewife, with a jeere. Point at me as I goe along, his head being fill'd with beere ; Yet for his jeeres I care not, but laughing let him palfc, To follow his cart with " gee, gee ho," moft like a witlelfe alfe : 286 The Times Abufes. For like a home-bred Clownico, good manners he knowes none : Cannot he looke to his waggon, and let Muld-Sacke alone ? The bakers in the fuburbs, with hearts devoid of pitty. Bread light and fmall they make for all, both country and the city. And fometimes their two penny loafe, of weight wants ounces three. As merrily I pafle them by, thev cannot let me be. They call me fudling Muld-Sacke when drinke I haue got none ; Cannot they looke to their confcience, and let Muld-Sacke alone ? 287 The Lover's Complaint. To a pleafant New Tune. [This ballad was " Printed by the Aflignes of Thomas Symcocke" in the reign of James I : there is fome reafon to believe that the old tunes, fo well known by the names of " I wail in woe" and " Light o' love," (mentioned in 1578 in "The Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant In- ventions" and in 1584 in " The Handfull of pleafant Delights") might be named from it. " Light o' love" is employed as an extremely po- pular air in two of Shakefpeare's plays, " The Two Gentlemen of Verona" and " Much ado about Nothing." Compare alfo Sonnet XL of " The Paflionate Pilgrim," with the later ftanzas of the ballad. The full title is only this, " The Lovers Complaint for the lofTe of his Love."] WANDER up and downe and no body cares for me : Though I am but poore and browne, yet conftant will I be. My deareft love, farewell, a thoufand times adew. Seeing thou haft forfaken me, and changed for a new. I never gave thee caufe why thou Ihouldft me forfake. Nor never brake the faithfull vow that you and I did make : 288 The Lover's Complaint. Farewell, my dearefl: love ; I tooke thee at thy word. Hard hap had I to beat the bufh, and another catch the bird. I will goe range abroad. He find fome other thing : If I had knowne you would have flowne, I would have dipt your wing. — Would you have dipt my wing ? ihe anfwered me againe : You might have done it in the wood ; you know the time and when. Farewell, my dearefl love, to thee I made my fiate ; Hard hap had I to graft the tree, another reape the fruite. I alwaies waile in woe, I travaile ftill in paine : I fee my true love where fhe goes ; I hope fhee'l come againe. I heard a pretty tune concerning to a fong, A lover mourning for his love, and faid flie did him wrong : He had her in the wood, he might have wrought his will ; The Lover's Complaint. Pittie it was to doe him good that he had no hetter ilLill. In woods, or defert place, had I ere my love fo, I thinke I would have plaid with her, before I had let her goe : Had file been light of love, I fliould have foone efpied ; I trow I would a dipt her wing, and caus'd her to abide. Should I let fcape the bird that I had fail on fid ? Then, let her laugh and fcoffe at me, and ufe me as Ihe lift. He ftill doth beate the bufli, * although the bird be loft. And being llothfull in his fuit, thus fortune hath him coft. If with my love in woods fo happy were I fped, I fliould fuppofe my hap were hard, to miffe her maiden head. Good friend, be rul'd by me that made this morall fong ; If thou wander up and downe, thy felfe hath done thee wrong. p p 289 290 The Lover's Complaint. Thou alwaies wailfl in woe, thou travailefl ftill in paine : Looke, yonder, where my true love goes, fhe will never come againe ! Therefore be rulde by me, and let thy lover palTe : If thou looke well, thy chance may be to find another lafie. Finis. 291 The Coach's Overthrow. To the Tune of " Old King Harry." [As early as 1601 Coaches in London had become fuch a nuifance that the legiflature found it neccffary to interpofc " to reftrain the ex- ceflive ufe" of them : not long afterwards, we are told that, not fewer than 6000 were conftantly crowding the narrow ftreets. About 1630 Sedans alfo came into general requeft, and they are alluded to by R. Brome and other dramatifts of the time. In 1631 the inhabitants of Blackfriars petitioned the Privy Council againft the number of coaches bringing auditors to the theatre there— (Hill:. Engl. Dram. Poetry and the Stage H. 31., HI. 408) ; and John Taylor's " World runs on Wheels," was written to ridicule the increafing fafhion. In 1636 was printed a ludicrous difcuflion between a Coach and a Sedan ; and to about this period the following fong, which contemplates the fuppref- fion of hackney coaches, feems to belong. It is called, in the undated broadfide, " The Coaches Overthrow, or a jovial! Exaltation of divers Tradefmen and others for the fuppreflion of troublefome Hackney Coaches:" for "exaltation" we ought doubtlefs to read exultation^ but we have never met with more than one copy, which was " Printed for Francis Grove." Other obvious mifprints occur, which it is not worth while to point out, and in one place a line has been nearly cut off"; we have fupplied the deficiency by conjecture.] S I pafs'd by the other day, where facke and claret fpring, I heard a mad crew by the way, that lowd did laugh and fing High downe, dery, dery downe, with the hackney coaches downe ! 292 The Coach's Overthrow. lis cry'd aloud. They make fuch a crowd. Men cannot paiTe the towne. The boyes that brew ftrong ale, and care not how the world doth fwing. So bonny, blith, and joviall are. their lives are drinke and ling ; Hey downe, dery, dery downe. with the hackney coaches downe ! ' To make them roome They may freely come. And liquor the thirfty towne. The Collier he's a fack of mirth. and though as black as foote. Yet ftill he tunes and whiftles forth. and this is all the note : Heigh downe, dery, dery downe. with the hackney coaches downe ! They long made fooles Of poore Carry-coales, But now muft leave the towne. 'I'he Carriers of every iliire are, as from cares immune. So joviall in this packe horfe quire. and this is all their tune. Hey downe, dery, dery downe. The Coach's Overthrow with the hackney coaches dovvne ! Farewell, adew To the jumping crew. For they muft leave the towne. Although a Carman had a cold, he ftraind his March-bird voice. And with the beil a part did hold, to fing and to rejoyce. Heigh downe, dery, dery downe, with the hackney coaches downe ! The Carmen's cars. And the merchants wares. May palTe along the towne. The very flugs did pipe for joy that coachmen hence lliould hye. And that the coaches muft away, a mellowing up to lye. Hey downe, dery, dery downe, with the hackney coachmen downe ! PaiTe they their fcope. As round as a rope, Wee'l jogge them forth of the towne, Promoters and the informers, that oft offences hatch. In all our times the money-wormes, and they are for to catch. 293 294 The Coach's Overthrow. Heigh downe, dery, dery downe. with the hackney coaches downe ! For thefe reftraints Will with complaints Fill all [the noify towne]. The world no more fhall run on wheels with coach-men, as't has done. But they muil: take them to their heeles. y and try how they can run. Heigh downe, dery, dery downe. With the hackney coaches downe ! Wee thought they'd burft Their pride, lince firft Swell'd fo within the towne. I'he Sedan does (like Atlas) hope to carry heaven pick-pack. And likewife, lince he has fuch fcope. to beare the towne at's back. Heigh downe, dery, dery downe. With the hackney coachmen downe ! Arife, Sedan, Thou fhalt be the man To beare us about the towne. I love Sedans, caufe they doe plod and amble every where. The Coach's Overthrow. 295 Which prancers are with leather fliod, and neere difturbe the eare. Heigh downe, dery, dery downe. With the hackney coaches downe ! Their jumpings make The pavement fhake. Their noyfe doth mad the towne. The elder brother fliall take place, the youngeft brother rife ; The middle brother's out of grace, and every tradefman cryes. Heigh downe, dery, dery downe, with the hackney coaches downe ! Twould fave much hurt. Spare duft and durt. Were they cleane out of towne. The fick, the weake, the lame alfo, a coach for eafe might beg. When they on foot might lightly goe, that are as right's leg. Heigh downe, dery, dery downe. With the hackney coaches downe ! Lets foot it out. Ere the yeare comes about. Twill fave us manv a crowne. 296 The Coach's Overthrow. What though we trip ore boots and ihoes, twill eafe the price of leather : We fhall get twice what once we loofe, when they doe fall together. Heigh downe, dery, dery downe, with the hackney coaches downe ! Though one trade fall. Yet in generall Tis a good to all the towne. Tis an undoing unto none that a profeffion ufe : Tis good for all, not hurt to one, confidering the abufe. Then heigh downe, dery, dery downe, with the hackney coaches downe ! Tis fo decreed By a royall deed. To make it a happy towne. Coach-makers may ufe many trades and get enough of meanes ; And coach-men may turne off their jades, and helpe to draine the fens. Heigh downe, dery, dery downe. With the hackney coaches downe ! The fythe and flayle. Cart and plow-tayle. Doe want them out of towne. The Coach's Overthrow. But to conclude, tis true, I heare, they'l foone be out of fafliion ; Tis thought they very Hkely are to have a long vacation. Heigh downe, dery, dery downe. With the hackney coaches downe ! Their terme's neere done. And fhall be begun No more in London towne. Q.'^ 298 The Bad Hufband turned Thrifty. To the Tune of^ Hey ho my Honey. [The name at the end of the enfuing ballad has not occurred before, and we can give no account of John Wade, or of his other produ6lions : this may have been printed for the firft time " for W. Thackeray, T. Paflinger and W. Whitv^^ood," tovv^ards the middle of the feventeenth century, but it may alfo have appeared confiderably earlier, and it con- tains no peculiar note of time. The title of the broadfide is, " A Ca- veat for Young Men, or the bad Hufband turn'd Thrifty," followed by eight lines enforcing the moral of the performance. We have in- ferted no other ballad to the fame tune.] LL you young ranting blades that fpend your time in vain. Remember that old age you cannot it refrain ; And whiifl: that you are young this Caveat take of me : Be ruled by no tempting tongue to bring you to poverty. / have been a bad hujbaiid long, and have fpent Jiore offilver and gold ; Tet now lie fave fomet king whilji I aju young to keep me when I am old. The Bad Hufband turn'd Thrith I had good flore of mciins, and liv'd moft gallantly ; But yet upon wenches, and on queans I Ipent it by and by. My hoaftis fhe was full of laughter fo long as I had money good ftore ; And my children muft drink fair water, whilft I in the ale-houfe did roar. / have been &c. My wife would me intreat the ale-houfe to refrain ; Then I with anger great made anfwear ftrai^jht a^jain : — If you begin to fcold then I will bans; thv coat. — What woman her tongue can hold, when a man fwallows all down his throat ? / have beeji &c. My children and I muft fit until we ftarve and pine, Whilft you your guts full get of tobacco, beer and wine. Half that you fpend in vain, and meerly throw away. Our family would maintain, and our houfe-rent it would pay. / have been &c. 300 The Bad Hufband But yet Ide not be rul'd by thefe words fhe did fay : My felf I often fool'd, which brought me to decay. I no fooner had fold a cow but ftrait to the ale-houfe I ran ; My hoaftis unto me would bow. until all my money was gone. / liave been &c. She'd chuck me under the chin, and perhaps would give me a kifs ; As Venus drew Adonis in. my hoaflis would never mifs : She'd tell me it was too early. or elfe it was too late. Until by the oyl of barley they had gotten my whole eftate. / /jave been &c. Thus day and night I ranted. \ and no company did refufe ; Whilft my wife and children wanted. I did my felf abufe. I could not fcarce afford my children clothes to wear. Nor my wife one good word, turn'd Thrifty. 301 luch was her grievous care. / have been &c. The more my wife did fpeak, the worfer I would be ; I'de drinke till my brains did ake, onely to anger flie : So long as I had a penny I'de never give out for game ; But fmce I have found by many, a good fellows a coftly name. / have been &c. At lafl: I did perceive my eflate was almoft gone ; Then it was time to leave, and fome words I thought upon. I went into an ale-houfe, where all my coyn I had drown'd In company with good fellows I had fpent an hundred pound. / have been &c. I then thefe words replied : — Hoaftis, money I have none. A flagon file me denied, and bid me flraight be gone. 302 The Rad Hufband What, will you not truft me a flagon ? thofe words replied I : No, quoth file, not a nogging, if you fhould ilarve and dye. / Jjave been &c. I then went fighing home. and a vow ftraightway did make. They fhould fit whilft day of doom before one penny of me fhould take. A new life I will now begin ; the ale-wives fhall fit like elves. They fhall both card and fpin. or elfe go hang themfelves. / have been &c. Now, I all men advife this Caveat think upon ; Be ruled by your wives. for old age it will come. If they know you have money. the ale-wives with you will crack ; They'l fuck you, as bees fuck honey. then hang you behind your back. / have been &c. Therefore in time be ruled fave fomething while you have it ; turn'd Thrifty. 3^3 By no ale-wives be you fooled, and then repent too late : For when that all is gone, and you have but little ftock. If to the ale-wives you make moan, they will you but jear and mock. I have beetz a bad hiifiand longy and have fpent Jtore ofjiher and go hi, Yet now lie fave fomething njohiljl I am young to keep 7ne when I am old. John Wade. ^^> The Pedlar's Lamentation. To the Tune of " My life and my death, j> [An excellent ballad for Autolycus, though, from various allufions in it, of too modern a date. The contents of a Pedlar's pack, foon after a licenfe became necelTary, are very minutely ftated, and, even to the " choice fongs and merry books," accord well with the articles in which " the rogue" of "The Winter's Tale" dealt. The ballad was " Printed for J. Back, at the Black-boy on London-bridge," under the following title : — " The forrowful Lamentation of the Pedlars and Petty Chap- men, for the hardnefs of the times, and the decay of trade."] HE times are grown hard, more harder then ^-^^ ftone, And therefore the Pedlars may well make their moan. Lament and complain that trading is dead. That all the fweet golden fair days now are fled. 'Then, maidens and men y come fee what you lack. And buy the fine toys that I have in my pack I Come hither and view, here's choice and here's ftore. Here's all things to pleafe ye, what would you have more } Here's points for the men, and pins for the maid. The Pedlar's Lamentation. 05 Then open your purfes and be not afraid. Comet maidens ^c. Let none at a teller repent or repine : Come bring me your money, and Tie make you fine ; Young Billy lliall look as fpruce as the day, And pretty fweet Betty more finer then May. T/ieriy maidens &c. To buy a new licenfe your money I crave ; 'Tis that which I want, and 'tis that which you have : Exchange then a groat for lome pretty toy. Come, buy this line whiftle for your little boy. Comey maidens &c. Here's garters for hofe, and cotten for fliooes, x\nd there's a guilt bodkin, which none would refufe : This bodkin let John give to fweet Miftrifs Jane, And then of unkindnefs he fliall not complain. Come J fnaidens &c. Come buy this fine coife, this drelTing, or hood, And let not your money come like drops of blood : The Pedlar may well of his fortune complain. If he brings all his ware to the market in vaine. T/ien, maidens &c. Here's band firings for men, and there you have lace. Bone-lace to adorne the fair virgins fweet face : R R 3o6 The Pedlar's Lamentation. What ever you like, if you will but pay. As foon as you pleafe you may take it away. Then, maidens &c. The world is fo hard that we find little trade. Although we have all things to pleafe every maid : Come, pretty fair maids, then make no delay. But give me your hanfel, and p^ck me away. Come, maidens &c. Here's all things that's fine, and all things that's rare. All modifh and neat, and all new London ware : Variety here you plainly may fee. Then, give me your money, and we will agree. Come, maidens &c. We travail all day through dirt and through mire. To fetch you fine laces and what you defire ; No pains do we fpare to bring you choice ware. As gloves and perfumes, and fweet powder for hair. Then, maidens &c. We have choice of fongs, and merry books too. All pleafant and witty, delightful and new, Which every young fwain may whiftle at plough. And every fair milk-maid may fing at her cow. Then, maidens &c. Since trading's fo dead we mufi: needs complain. And, therefore, pray let us have fome little gain : The Pedlar's Lamentation. 07 If you will be free, we will you fupply With what you do want ; therefore, pray come and buy. The world is fo hardy that although we take pains y When we look i?i our purfes we find little gains. Finis. melancholy Poor Robin's Dream, commonly called Poor Chanty. To the Tune of " A Game at Cards." [An ancient ballad, but clearly with fome modern interpolations, efpecially near the end. It is a fort of A4orality, or Moral-play, in the form of a fong, and the allufions to the ftage and to imperfonations upon it, fuch as Time, Confcience, Plain-dealing, Diffimulation, Youth, Age, &c. are obvious. Poor Robin figured afterwards very prominently in many popular produ6lions. To the title we have placed at the head, the following diftich is added : — " I know no reafon but this harmlefs riddle May as well be printed, as fung to a fiddle ;" and it was accordingly " Printed by J. Lock for J. Clark at the Harp and Bible in Wefi; Smith-field : " this certainly was not the earlieft im- preflion, though no older copy has yet come to light. The information regarding the tune, in a ftill more modern imprefiion, is unufually minute : — " To a compleate Tune, well known to Mufitians and many others, or a game at Cards."] OW now, good fellow ! what, all amort } I pray thee, tell me what is the news.^ — Trading is dead, and I am forry for't. Which makes me look worfe then I ufe. If a man hath no employment, whereby to get penny. He hath no enjoyment in that he wanteth money ; And charity is not ufed by many. Poor Robin's Dream. 309 I have nothing to Ipend, nor Ive nothing to lend ; Ive nothing to do, I tarry at liome. Sitting in my chair, drawing near to the fire, I fell into a lleep, like an idle drone ; And as I flept I fell into a dream: I faw a play aded without er'c a theam. But I could not tell what the play did mean. But afterwards I did perceive, and fomething more I did underftand : The ftage was the world wherein we live, the acftors they were all mankind ; And when the play is ended the ftage down they fling. There will be no difference in this thing Between a Beggar and a King. The firfl: that adied, I protefl, was Time, with a glafs and a fithe in his hand. With the globe of the world upon his breaft, to iliew that he could the fame command. There's a time for to work, and a time for to play, A time for to borrow, and a time for to pay. And a time that doth call us all away. Confcience in order takes his place, and very gallantly plays his part : He fears not to fly in a rulers face, although it cuts him to the heart. He tells them all, this is the latter age, 3IO Poor Robin's Dream. Which put the ad:ors in fuch a rage. That they kickt poor Confcience off the ftage. Plain-deaHng prefently appears, in habit like a fimple man : The a(ftors at him made mocks and jears, pointing their fingers as they ran. How came this fellow in our company ? Away with him ! many a gallant did cry. For Plain-dealing will a beggar dye. Diffimulation mounted the ftage ; but he was cloathed in gallant attire : He was acquainted with Youth and Age ; many his company did delire. They entertain'd him in their very breaft ; There he could have harbor, and quietly reft. For diffemblers and turn-coats fare the beft. Then cometh in poor Charity : methinks fhe looked wondrous old ; She quiver'd and fhe quak't moft piteoufly, it griev'd me to think fhe was grown fo cold. She had been in the city, and in the country, Amongft the lawyers and nobility ; But there was no room for poor Charity. Then comes in Truth, well cloathed in wool, but like unto Youth in his white lawn fleeves. And fays, the land it is full, full, full. Poor Robin's Dream. jii too full of rebels worfe then theeves. The city's full of poverty, the French are full of pride, Fanaticks full of envy, which order can't abide ; And the ufurers bags are full belide. Hark, how Bellona's drums they do beat ! methinks it goes rattling through the town. Hark, how they thunder through the l1:reet, as though they would fhake the chimneys down ! Then comes in Mars, the great god of war. And bids us face about, and be as we were ; But when I awakt I fat in my chair. 312 / God fpeed the Plough, And blefs the Corn-mow. The Tune is, " I am the Duke of Norfolk." [This is the earlieft known impreffion of a ballad-dialogue, which to this dav has been orally preferred in fome parts of the country : in Mr. J. H. Dixon's " Ancient Poems" &c, (printed for the Percy Societ)') is one of thefe traditional verfions, and another is given in Mr. Davies Gilbert's " Chrillmas Carrols." Our copy is, like our other ballads, in black letter, but without any printer's name, fo that we have more imperfect means than ufual of fixing its date. The title — " God fpeed the Plow, and blefs the Corn-mow, a Dialogue between the Hufband- man and Serying-man," — is followed by fix lines ftating the particular purpofe of the ballad, yiz. to fhow the fuperiority of the life of the former to the latter. The tune mav ferye to proye the antiquity of the ballad, fmce it was, doubtlefs, deriyed from fome lyrical produc- tion on the execution of the Duke of Norfolk in 1572.] Y noble friends, give ear. If mirth you love to hear ; rie tell you, as faft as I can, A ftorv yerv true : Then, mark what doth enfue. Concerning a Hufband-man. A Serving-man did meet A Hufband-man in the ftreet, and thus unto him. he began. God fpeed the Plough. I pray you, tell to me Of what calling you be, or if you be a Serving-man ? — Quoth he, my brother dear. The coall: I mean to clear, and the truth you ihall underftand. I do no one dildain, But this I tell you plain, I am an honell: Hulhand-man. Serving-man. If a Hufband-man vou be. Then, come along with me ; rie help you, as foon as I can. Unto a gallant place. Where in a little fpace you fliall be a Serving-man. Hujband-jnan. Sir, for your diligence I give you many thanks, then anfwered the Plowman again : I pray you, to me iliow Whereby that I mi^ht know, what pleafures hath a Serving-man. Serving-man. A Serving-man hath pleafure. Which palTeth time and mealure, when the hawk on his hit doth lland S 6 314 God Ipeed the Plough. His hood and his verrils brave, And other things we have, which yields joy to a Serving-man. Hujband-man . My pleafure's more than that. To fee my oxen fat, and to profper well under my hand ; And therefore I do mean. With my horfe and team, to keep my felf a Hufband-man. Serving-man. O ! 'tis a gallant thing, In the prime time of the Spring, to hear the huntfman, now and than. His beaugle for to blow. And the hounds run all a row this is pleafure for a Serving-man, To hear the beagle cry. And to fee the faulcon fly, and the hare trip over the plain ; And the huntfman, and the hound Make hill and dale refound : this is pleafure for a Serving-man. HuJband-man, 'Tis pleafure, you do know. To fee the corn to grow, and to grow fo well on the land : God fpecd the Plough. 315 The plowing and the fowing, The reaping and the mowing, yeelds pleafure to the Hulhand-man. Serving-man. At our table you may eat All forts of dainty meat. Pig, cony, goofe, capon and fwan ; And with lords, and ladies fine, You may drink beer, ale, and wine : • this is pleafure for a Serving-man. Hujband-man. While you eat goofe and capon, rie feed on beefe and bacon, and a piece of hard cheefe now and than: We pudding have, and foufe, Always ready in the houfe ; which contents the honeft Hufband-man. Serving-man. At the Court you may have Your garments fine and brave, and cloak with gold lace layd upon ; A fhirt as white as milk. And wrought with finefl: filk : that's pleafure for a Serving-man. Hufhand-man. Such proud and coftly gear ' Is not for us to wear 3i6 God fpeed the Plough. amongft the bryers, and brambles many one A good ftrong ruflet coat. And at your need a groat, will fuffice for the Hufband-man. A proverb here I tell. Which likes my humour well, and remember it well I can : If a Courtier be too bold, He'l want when he is old : then, farewell to the Serving-man. Serving-man. It needs mufl: be confeft. That your calling is the befl: : no longer difcourfe with you I can ; But henceforth I will pray. By night and by day. Heavens blefs the honeft Hufband-man ! 3^7 The Merry Man's Refolution. To a gallant new Tune^ called " The Highlander's new Rant." [The initials L. P., at the end of this produdion, fhew that it was by Lawrence Price, of whom we have before fpolcen : it contains a fingular enumeration of the queft:ionable localities of London, not very long before the Reftoration. It was " Printed for Francis Grove, on Snow Hill," and the full title is this :— " The Merry Man's Refolu- tion, or his laft farewel to his former acquaintance, " Declaring how he rambled up and down Through all the Suburbs of fair London Town, Where pretty wenches he did plenty find. But fome of them agreed not with his mind ; Till, at the laft, by chance he found out one Which pleafcd him beft, fo left the reft alone : To her he then dinged clofe, as I heard tell, Made her his mate, and bid the reft farewell."] OW, farewel to Saint Gilefes that ftandeth in the fields. And farewel to Turnbul ftreet, for that no comfort yields : Farewel unto the Grey-hound, and farewel to the Bell, And farewel to my land-lady, whom I do love fo well. 3i8 The Merry Man's Refolution, With a come Love, Stay Love, go not from me ; For all the world He forfake for thee. Farewel to Long-Acre that ftands near the Mews, And farewel to Drury Lane where pretty wenches ufe ; And farewel unto Sodom, and all her painted drabs. And farewel unto Bloomfbury, and all their vapouring fcabs : And come Love, Stay Love, go not from me ; For all the world He forfake for thee. Farewel to CrolTe-lane, where lives fome babes of graces ; Farewel to Common-garden, and all her wanton places : Farewel unto Weftminfter, and farewel to the Strand, Where I had choice of Moplies ever at my own command. Sing, come Love, Stay Love, The Merry Man's Refolution go along with me ; For all the world He forlake for thee. Farewel to the Bank-fide, farewel to Blackmans-ftreet, Where with my bouncing lafiTes I oftentimes did meet : Farewel to Kent-ftreet garrifon, farewel to Hor fly-down, And all the fmirking wenches that dwell in Redriff town. And come Love, Stay Love, go along with me ; For all the world He forfake for thee. 319 Now farewel unto Wapping, and farewel to Black-wall : Farewel to Ratclife High-way, Rofemary-lane and all : And farewel unto Shore-ditch, and More-fields eke alfo. Where mobs to pick up callies a night walking do go. Then, come Love, Stay Love, go along with me ; For all the world He forfake for thee, 320 The Merry Man's Refolution. In White-crofTe-ftreet, and Golden-lane, do ftraping lafles dwell, And fo there do in every flreet twixt that and Clarken-well : At Cow-crolTe and Smith-field \ I have much pleafure found. Where wrenches, like to Fayeries, did often trace the round. Yet, come Love, Stay Love, go not from me ; For all thofe girls He forfake for thee. Yet fomething more He fpeak off. which feems to many ftrange ; There's ftore of pretty wenches live neere to the Exchange : And many more there are, fure. that dwelleth in Cheap-fide, And other ftreets in London, which are both broad and wide. 1> Yet, come Love, Stay Love, • go not from me ; For all thofe girles He forfake for thee. 'I'o all the country Mopfies, wherever they do dwell, The Merry Man's Refolutioii In this my lail conclulion I likewife bid farewel : Though they were ufed, in former time, to come when I did call, I take thee for the boldeft, and beft among them all. Then, come Love, Stay Love, go not from me ; For all the world He forfake for thee. At Briftol and at Glccefter I had of loves great ftore, But now I find enough of thee ; I will defire no more : And what I have faid to thee thou fhalt find true and right ; He doe thee trufty fervice at morning and at night. Then, come Love, Stay Love, go not from me ; For all the world He forfake for thee. Farewel unto black patches, and farewel powdered locks. And farewel Luthner's ladies, for they are full of mocks. 321 T T 322 The Merry Man's Refolution. Farewel the Cherry-garden, for evermore adue ; And farewel to Spur-Alley, and all that wanton crew. And, come Love, Stay Love, go not from me ; For all thofe girles He forfake for thee. L. P. Finis. 323 Well matched at laft. . To the Tune of " I know what I know." [This comic ballad was certainly pofterior to another in our collec- tion, (p. 97.) becaufe the name of the tune to which it was fung was derived from " Few Words are heft," the burden of which is " I know what I know." What follows was " Printed at London, for J. Wright, junior, dwelling at the upper end of the Old Bailey," as ufual, without date; and it was called, "A pleafant new Ditty, intituled Though rich golden Booties your luck was to catch. Your laft was the beft, caufe you met with your match." Several modern fongs have been written in imitation of it, but we have never feen it reprinted, unlefs the old copy, which we have em- ployed, were itfelf a reprint.] RICH wealthy batchelour, thirty and odde. Had now a new crotchet crept into his pate : A wife he muft have, what-foever betide. And well linde with rubbidi to inrich his ftate. Faire maidens were offer'd him, two, three and four. Sufficient men's daughters, with money to boote. Yet his greedy mind did llill gape after more. For he faid, 'twas too little for him to go to'te. 324 Well Matched at laft. His meanes did afford him three hundred a yeere. And three bonny laffes had thoufands apeece ; Yet for it, and them, hee a pin did not care. Though one of them was to a gentleman neece. Shall I for a paltery poore thoufand pound A young wench goe marry with nothing but breed, Confume me in longings, in faihions and toyes ? No ; yet it is time, and I now v/ill take heed. There is a brifk widdow, that dwelleth hard by. In money hath ten thoufand pounds at the leaft : He fpruce my felfe up, then, incontinently. And to her He goe as a fhutering gueft. This batchelour foone did attaine his defire ; The day was appointed when they fhould be wed. His youthfull faire bride was but threefcore and ten. For fhee had but a tooth and a halfe in her head. Some three or foure yeares did this bonny laffe live. Then grim goodman Death tooke her life cleane away; And griefe for her loffe had the man almoft fped. But that a new widdow his journey did ftay. His wife being buried, next morning he went Another fpruce widdow agen for to fee. Where mounted on crutches he ffraight one efpide : Who in ftate of riches was better than fhee ? His mother's fmocke fure did this widdower weare. For no fooner woo'd, but he prefenly fped : Well Matched at laft. 325 A licence he fetcht, and he marri'd her ftraight ; Then flie threw downe her ftilts, and Ihe hobbl'd to bed. Not full ten yeeres older then was his laft wife Was this fame dryd mummey that lay by his fide : With fnorting and grunting Hie air*d fo the bed, That never had groome fuch a night with a bride. j^ut flill did her money perfume all againe, And in a moneth after (lie bed-rid did lye : Seven winters and fummers flie lay at fmall eafe, And then (he departed, becaufe flie mufl: dye. Five hundred a yeere llie augmented his ftate ; Ten thoufand pound cleare by the other he got : Meane time of another fpruce widdow he heard, Then he praid unto Jove that Ihe might be his lot. This widdow feem'd not above fifty at moft. So fpruce and fo neat was her carkas bedrefl ; She wanted no meanes for to fet her to lale, They lik't, and were marri'd : now, marke well the reft. She feem'd fo compleate and fo comely of fliape. That he doted on her more than on both the rell:. She faid then, fweet huil^and, be not you difmaid. For the truth muft be knowne when you fee me undreil:. Two rowes of white teeth fhe tocke out of her mouth. And put 'em ftraight into a little round boxe ; A glalfe eye likewife flie pull'd out of her head, Which made the man feare that his wife had g-ot knocks. 326 Well Matched at laft. Her pouldred curld locks, that fo faire did appeare, Came off with more eafe than a new fcalded pigge. I wonder her hufband could laughing forbeare. When he faw his wife looke like an oftridge's egge. Then, ilraightway downftooped this comely fweet bride, Unlac't, and ungirded her neat woodden legge : The bridegroome was like to runne out of his wits. For his eyes ne'er before did behold fuch a hagge. Then, for to revive him, unto him fhe flung Her keyes, that did lead him to treafure great ftore : This made him to love her, fo both went to bed. Where he did imbrace her: what would you have more? Such luck had this hufband to tumble them o're. That ere one moneth ended fhe changed her life. A rich wealthy mifer invited him home. And faid, if you pleafe, fir. He fhow you a wife. He fhow'd him his daughter, a girle of fifteene. But fhe would no liking nor favour him fhow : Her friends made the match, and they marri'd with fpeed ; But fhe ne'r endur'd him, I tell you but fo. This young marri'd wife to fuch cunning was grown. That fhe fell a longing his coine for to wafle : French kickfhaws of ten pound a difh fhe would have. With other dear meats for to fit her fine tafte. No phyfick, no dodors, no cofl did fhe fpare ; On pride and new fangles fhe fet her delight : Well Matched at laft. 327 Her hufband began for to favour of feare, And to wifli that flie ne'r had beene feene in his fight. No love, nor no liking, this young wife e're had, Becaufe flie was forc't to be wed to her hate. He fickned and dyde, and was laid in his grave ; So fhe did enjoy his three widdowes eftate. A young man, that firft was this maiden's true love. With all expedition they made their difpatch : For wedding and bedding they both were agreed, And the three widows hufband did meet with his match. Finis. 328 Death's uncontrolable Summons. To the Tune of " My bleeding Heart." [This ballad is, moft likely, one of the oldeft in our collection, and the burden of it is the fame as that to a " Roundelay " in " England's Helicon," 1600, 4to. Sign. D. 2. When it was firft printed we have no means of afcertaining, and the tune to which it was fung was not a common one. The fubje6l is very old, and has been treated in a variety of ways, to one or more of which a fimilar title was given. The reprefentation of Death as an old man, and not, according to the vulgar notion, an unfightly fkeleton, deferves remark. Our original was publifhed after the Reftoration " for P. Brookfby, at the Golden Ball in Pye Corner," under the following title : — " Death's uncontrollable Summons, or the Mortality of Mankind. Being a Dialogue between Death and a Young-man."] 'N flumber and fleep my fenfes fall, hey ho, hey ho ! then flept I : The bright fun rais'd a mifl withal, eclipfed in the darkfome fky. An ancient Father ftood by me, hey ho, hey ho ! hollow eyes ; A foul deformed wight was he : I thought my youth did him defpife. His cloak was green, his head was gray, hey ho, hey ho ! filver hair ; His face was pale as any clay, his countenance made me much to fear. Death's uncontrolable Summons. 329 Amazed at the fudden fight ; hey ho, hey ho ! youthful boy : I flood as one amazed quite ; hey ho, hey ho ! difmal day. Father, quoth I, tell me your name, hey ho, hey ho ! tell me true ; I pray you tell to me the fame : my joynts do tremble at thy view. — Youth, youth, quoth he, I tell to thee, hey ho, hey ho ! thy thred is fpun : My name is Death, I come for thee, hey ho, hey ho ! thy glafs is run. — For me, fweet Death ? I hope not fo ; hey ho, hey ho ! I am young : Let me be old before I go ; alas ! my time hath not been long. I have this worldly wealth at will, hey ho, hey ho ! afk and have ; Let me enjoy thofe pleafures ftill : oh ! my foul abhors the grave. — I fcorn thy treafure and thy pelf; hey ho, hey ho ! hafte away : Thy goods fhall perifh with thy felf ; 'tis not thy wealth my ftroak lliall ftay. Oh Death ! what will my true love fay ? hey ho, hey ho ! Ihee'l complain u u 330 Death's uncontrolable Summons. On thee for taking me away : fweet Death, with her let me remain. — I tell thee yet thou ftriveft in vain ; hey ho, hey ho ! go, 'tis time. Thy vital thread is cut in twain : oh! hark and hear the dulfome chyme .- Then, woe is me ! I mufh be gone, hey ho, hey ho ! heavy heart : My world's delight and all is done ; Was never man fo loath to part. Mark well my fall, you youthful buds, Hey ho, hey ho ! view my fall : My pleafures, plenty, life and goods ; hey ho, hey ho ! Death ends all. NOTES. 333 Notes. Page 3, line 2i. *' I bring to you Saint Giles his bowle." ^^ HIS line refers to the old cuftom of prefenting criminals, j^P on their way to Tyburn, with a cup of water, at or near >^*n "^^^ the Church of St. Giles in the Fields. It is alluded to by '^^■^^^ feveral writers, and among them by Thomas Churchyard, in his " Mirror of Man," 1594, 4to. " Trufting in friendfhip makes fome be trufl up, Or ride in a cart to kis Saint Giles his cup." Page 12, line i. " Chriftmas Lamentation." In the Pepvfian Collection is an anfwer to this ballad, under the title of" Old Chriftmas return'd, or Hofpitality revived," Sec. It was " Printed for P. Brookfby." Page 14, line 24. " Madam, forfooth, in her coach muft wheele." Stephen GofTon, in his " Quippes for upftart new-fangled Gentle- women," 1596, 4to, thus alludes to the then ordinar)' ufe of coaches : *■*■ To Carrie all this pelfe and trafh, becaufe their bodies are unfit. Our wantons now in coaches dafti from houfe to houfe, from ftreet to ftreet. Were thev of ftate, or were thev lame. To ride in coach thev need not fhame." See alfo p. 52 and 291 of this volume. 334 Notes. Page 26, line i. '^ Ragged and Torne and True." This ballad was fo popular, that afterwards others were compofed " to the tune of Ragged and Torne and True :" one, called " Knavery in all Trades," was written by Martin Parker, and printed for F. Grove. Page 27, line I. " He be no knight of the poft." Knights of the poft were thofe who for money confented to take falfe oaths : they are mentioned by moft of the comic writers of the time, but, as far as we recollect:, it nowhere appears why they were called knights of the po/f : perhaps it was becaufe they ftood at a poft, ready to fwear anything when called upon. Page 29, line 20. '' And fays, "^ Gramercy horfe." For the fuppofed origin of the expreflion " Gramercy horfe," and " God 'a mercy horfe," fee " Tarlton's Jefts," printed by the Shake- fpeare Society, p. 23. The faying is however older than the time of Tarlton, though it is there imputed to him. Page 35, line 21. " Nor that mad fpirit Robin, that plagues both wife and maid." The reafon why we ftate, in the introduftion to this ballad, " that 'The Mad Pranks' of Robin Goodfellow had been printed before 1588" is, that they are clearly alluded to in Tarlton's "News out of Purgatory," which, though without date, muft have been publiftied juft after his death in Sept. 1588. Page 49, line 26. '' While Mock-beggar Hall ftands empty." On the word "Mockbeggar" Mr. Halliwell inferts the following, in his " Di6lionary of Archaic and Provincial Words." " Forby has, Mockbeggar-hall, a houfe looking well outfide, but having a poor in- terior. There is a houfe fo called at Claydon." 335 Page 51, line i. *' Their prodigal Tons have fold for gilt." i.e. for gelt A. S. monev. Our old writers punned upon the word, as in Middleton's " Family of Love," where Dryfat favs " Av, marry, there (poke an angel : gilt's current, indeed." Dycc's M'uUlL-- tons JVorks^ ii. 197. Page 80, line 8. A mifprint is here imputed by mi (lake : " made him tremble" is correct, the ballad-writer having refumed the third perfon and the nar- rative form. Page 91, line 20. '^ The lifefome monthes of May and June." For " lifefome" read lifefome. Page 104, line 11. It ought to have been here added, that the broadfide has no printer''s name nor date : perhaps they have been accidentally cut off. We might fuppofe from the title, that Day's play, " The Fair Maid of Briftow," 1605, was founded on this ballad ; but fuch is not the facSt, although it is probable that the ftriking incidents of it were dramatized at the time. Page 135, line 1 1. " In the pofleffion of Lord Francis Egerton." Since this was printed Lord Francis Egerton has been raifed to the peerage by the title of Earl of Ellefmere. Page 135, line 12. It is ufually faid that John Heywood was born at North Mims, but the only authority for this ftatement is Peacham's " Complete Gen- tleman," and all he aflerts is, that Heywood had property there. On the other hand, Bale informs us that he was civis Londinenfis^ hut not that he was born there ; and the f^cX^ as we have mentioned, fcems to be that he was born in Kent, probably at Canterbury. Page 135, line 21. " Nor need I fing this fong untill." The meanino; of this line is " Nor need I fino; this fong unto them : " the Scotch ftill ufe " until " for unto. zz^ Notes. Page 138, line 3. " The happy man's without a fhirt." Alluding to the old Italian novel of the fearch after a perfeilly happy man : the only happy man found in the world had no fhirt to his back. It has been verfified by Cafti, Nov. II. Page 148, line 13. " Nothing in all the world be finde." For " be " read we. Page 157, line 18; " And here hangs pidures two or three." The " pictures " here alluded to v^cYeJlatues of kings and queens. At that time (as various inftances might eftablifh) the words " piilure" and "ftatue" were ufed indifferently: many ftatues were then both ftatues and piilures, being painted to imitate life. Page 163, line i. " Conftance of Cleveland." There is a copy of this ballad in the Pepyfian Colledlion, " Printed at London for J. Wright." Page 173, line 5. " The Monmouth Cap, the faylors thrum." Monmouth caps are mentioned by Shakefpeare and by many other writers of his time. In a note in Collier's Shakefpeare, iv. 552, it is faid that " they were worn both by foldiers and failors," and our ballad affords proof of it : in this line it is called " the faylors thrum," and in the next ftanza but one we have " The fouldiers that the Mon- mouth wear." Page 173, line 18. " The perriwig, the Cap of late." Barnaby Rich, in 158 1, fpeaks of " perriwigs" having then come into fafliion : fee his " Farevi^ell to Military Profeffion," (reprinted for the Shakefpeare Society) in what he calls the " Conclufion." The fame point may be eftabliflied from Philip Stubbes' "Anatomy of Abufes," 1583, and many other authorities. Notes, 337 Page 178, line 24. " The Butterboxes potion." Butterbox was a common nick-name for a Dutchman, in reference to one chief produdl of his country. Page 180, line 25. - " And gorrill'd guts will quarrel." See Collier's Shakefpeare, iv. 255, n. 8. Page 185, line 7. " Our knockers make no noife." We ought perhaps to read knackers for " knockers." See a fong in Middleton's " Spanifh Gipfey," (edit. Dyce, iv. 146.) in the meafure of this ballad, and doubtlefs to the fame tune. Page 207, line 28. "In London all the yeare." A highly curious enumeration in verfe of the principal Cries of Lon- don is given in T. Hey wood's " Rape of Lucrece," 1608, where, as was ufual with our old dramatifts, the manners of the metropolis of England are imputed to Rome. Several of the Cries are identical with thofe in our ballad. Page 208, line 9. *' Anye welflet oyfters." Welflet oyfters " may be a mifprint for Wainfleet oyfters. cc Page 208, line 13. " For why, the are but Kentifh." The letter v has dropped out in this line, which ought to run, " For why, they are but Kentifh." Page 213, line 2. " With nimming of a fee." It is fcarcely neceft'ar^' to fav that to «/;« is to fnatch or take nimbly; from the A. S. nhnan : in modern German it is nehmen. X X 338 Notes. Page 227, line 16. For " fecond ftanza" read third ftanza. Page 259, line 4. , " Old Flatcap is laid in his grave." Flatcap was of old not an unufual derifive defignation for a citizen, as in the well-known paffage from Ben Jonfon's " Every Man in his Humour," Afl ii. Sc. i. " mock me all over. From my flatcap unto my fhining ftioes." On page 211 we have already had a moft appofite illuftration of the laft part of the quotation. Page 264, line 3. This tune (hould feem, from the correfponding meafure of the two ballads, to be the fame as " To drive the cold winter away." Page 269, line 17. "Where I fung Lachrima." LachryriKs^ here called Lachryma for the fake of the rhime, was a very celebrated old tune, mentioned by Maflinger and many other authors : from its chara6ler it is generally termed " the doleful tune of Lachrymae." Page 272, line 4. " And bidden beware of the cut-purfe To bold." Purfes were formerly worn fufpended at the girdle, and could eafily be cut away : hence, perhaps, the origin of the term " cut-purfe," the modern equivalent of which is " pick-pocket." Page 279, line 14. " For ftill in debt and danger." A debtor was formerly faid to be " within the danger " of his cre- ditor, (" Merchant of Venice," Ad iv. Sc. i.) and hence the proverb " Out of debt out of danger. Notes. 339 Page 280, line 4. " Then, pafTe thou not a pin."' The phrafe " pafs thou not a pin," is equivalent to " care thou not a pin." Shakefpeare, 2 Henry VI. Act iv. Sc. 2, has " pais not " for care not ; and in the fame place in the older play of the " Contention," the precife words "pafs not a pin" occur. Collier's Shakefpeare, v. 189. Page 284, line 12. " To cry, ' What doe you lacke.' " Shopkeepers and their 'prentices in former times flood at their doors inquirino; of pafTengers " What do you lack ? " They are often ridi- culed by thefe terms. Page 289, line 18. " Thus fortune hath him coft." For " coft " read croj}. Page 292, line 20. " Of poore Carry-coales." Referring to the proverbial expreffion, made familiar to all ears by the firft fcene of " Romeo and Juliet." Page 295, line 20. cc That are as right's leg." This line no doubt ought to run, " that are as right as his leg." Page 309, line 12. " And when the play is ended, the ftage down they fling." Alluding to the temporary ftages, in early times ere6ted in inn-yards, at fairs, &c. which were removed, or flung down, as foon as the per- formance was at an end. Page 314, line i. " His hood and his verrils brave." Poflibly here we ought to read terrils or terrials, as in T. Heywood's " Woman killed with Kindnefs :" " The terrials of her legs were ftain'd with blood." 340 Notes. (i Page 314, line 16. " And the hounds run all a row." A colon ihould have been placed at the end of this line. Page 315, line 15. " We puddings have and foufe." Soufe " fometimes feems to be ufed for any kind of pickled meat, but ftri61:ly it means the pickled ears of fwine. See Dyce's Beaumont and Fletcher, vii. 125, and viii. 216. Page 315, line 23. " And wrought with fineft filk." Philip Stubbes, in the 2nd. edit, of his " Anatomy of Abufes," 8vo. 1583, ftates that in his time thefe fhirts fometimes coft 5/. or even 10/. each. fo. 23. b. This palTage, like many other curious additions, is not in the firft impreflion printed in the fame year. Page 319, line 23. "Where mobs to pick up callies." For " callies " we ought doubtlefs to read cullies. Page 324, line 12. " And to her He go as a fhutering gueft." The words " fute " and " fuitor " feem of old to have often been pronounced _/?>«/^ znd Jhuter ; and Shakefpeare in " Love's Labours Loft," A61: iv. Sc. i. founds a pun upon the circumftance. Drayton, in his " Idea, the Shepheard's Garland," 1593, has " Though Knvy fute her feven-times poyfned dartes j " and Stubbes calls Shooter's Hill Suters Hill. THE END. C. WHITTINGHAM, CHISWICK. ir UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY KB I 7 1948 i; JUN 29 «tt DEC 5 1956 FEB 2 7 RECO ftp-" i,^ I3b6 RfC'D U).i #> "^ ^?*- IjpN 1 n 1976 p« JAN9 )il|^ ,PH S19T8 Form L-0 APR 171^B' ..^^' UN1\ . .■Oi-tNIA LOS ANGl.i.oS LIBRARY PLEASt DO NOT REMOVE THIS BOOK CARdS MlLlBRARY(9/: "^HOmJ-^^ University Research Library Uj A A 000 305 471 5 i ^ CD 1 4* "i ->l 1 1 1— If i s s 1 > 1 "= 1 -< 1 X o J X J J _J _J _I _J I ll