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HANDBOUND 
AT  THE 


UNIVERSITY  OF 
TORONTO  PRESS 


A  BOOK  OF 


ROXBURGHE  BALLADS, 


EDITED  BY 


JOHN  PAYNE  COLLIER,  ESQ. 


rt     - 


LONDON: 

LONGMAN,  BROWN,  GREEN,  AND  LONGMANS, 

PATERNOSTER  ROW. 
l847. 


PR 


TO 

THOMAS  AMYOT,  ESQ.  F.R.S 

TREAS.  S.A. 

In  Teftimony  of  long  Friendjhip  and  fencer e 

Efteem, 

this  work  is  dedicated  by 
THE  EDITOR. 


Introduction. 


HE  main  purpofe  of  the  enfuing  collection 
is  to  (hew,  in  their  moft  genuine  ftate, 
the  character  and  quality  of  productions, 
written  expreffly  for  the  amufement  of 
the  lower  orders,  in  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth,  James, 
and  Charles.  Our  volume  confifts  of  fuch  ordinary 
materials  as  formed  the  flock  of  the  Englifh  ballad- 
finger  during  a  period  not  far  fhort  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  unfair  to  judge  of 
them  by  the  ftandard  ufually  applied  to  the  higher 
clafles  of  poetry,  although  poetry  of  no  inferior  defcrip- 
tion  will  occafionally  be  found  in  them  :  nor  are  their 
merits  to  be  meafured  by  the  eafier  procefs  of  com- 
parifon  with  well  known  works,  in  fome  refpeCts  fimi- 
lar.  The  volumes  of  Percy  and  Ritfon  are  compofed 
of  mixed  fpecimens :  fometimes,  it  is  true,  they  were 


via 


Introduction. 


addreffed  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  aflemblage  of  popular  poetry  has  no 
precedent :  it  is  different  from  any  other  production 
of  the  kind  hitherto  publifhed ;  and,  as  in  its  fubftance 
it  is  peculiar,  we  have  made  its  form  and  appearance 
correfpond  with  its  fubftance. 

We  have  obtained  by  far  the  greater  number  of  our 
ballads  from  what  has  been  long  known  as  the  Rox- 
burghe  Collection,  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  collection  of  Miracle-plays  (the  pofleffion  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  x1vj(T/£  aXKu.  %pvj<r/£  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 


Introduction.  ix 


fame  production  by  different  printers ;  a  few,  from 
their  nature  and  fubjeft,  are  unfit  for  republication, 
and  others,  from  their  general  worthleflhefs,  do  not 
merit  it.  The  whole  are  now  placed  in  the  Britifh 
Mufeum,  where  they  are  acceffible,  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  inftance  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  moft,  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  reflect  that  they  were  fel- 
dom  printed  in  a  form  calculated  for  prefervation. 
Thomas  Deloney  and  Richard  Johnfon  were  almoft 
the  only  ballad- writers,  of  that  age,  who  fubfequently 
brought  together  their  fcattered  broadfides  in  fmall 
volumes,*  while  hundreds  of  fimilar  pieces  by  other 


(for  in  that  city,  we  believe,  they  were  performed  previous  to 
formation)  ought  to  reverfe  the  motto,  and  write  in  his  volume  g  ^pv 
«AA«  x7v5<r/£*    Time  may  yet  ftand  our  friend. 

*  Deloney,  in  his  "  Strange  Hiftories,"   1607,  and  "  Garland- 


the  Re- 

<r/£ 

of 


X 


Introduction. 


popular  authors  were  allowed  to  perifli.  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  deftrudtion . 

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  republifh  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  bufinefs,  and  from  thence  we  are  generally 
able  to  form  a  judgment  as  to  the  age  of  productions, 
of  their  prefles.  The  times  when  reprinted  ballads 
were  firft  compofed  and  iiTued  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,"  1612.  Some  new  particulars  regarding 
Deloney  are  to  be  found  in  "  Memoirs  of  the  Principal  Actors  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  publifhed  his  firft 
work  in  1592. 


Introduction. 


dence,  and  even  this  is  rendered  more  uncertain  by  inter 
polations,  not  unfrequently  made,  in  order  that  the 
work  fhould  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  poffible,  to  affift  the  reader  in  fettling  the  date 
of  its  earlieft  appearance  ;  but  in  not  a  few  cafes  it  has 
been  a  tafk  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 
accomplish  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,  we  have  fo  largely  drawn,  are  two  copies  of  a 
fingular  and  amufmg  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  of 
which  we  have  availed  ourfelves  on  p.  49)  muft  have 
been  publiflied  before  the  final  clofing  of  the  theatres  by 
the  puritans  in  1648.  The  author  is  fpeaking  of  the 


XI 


Xll 


Introduction. 


increafe  of  expenfe  and  luxury,  and  laughing  at  thofe 
who,  aping  their  richer  neighbours,  were  not  content 
to  pafs  through  the  ftreets  in  anything  but  a  coach, 
although  they  could  afford  to  keep  no  other  fervant 
than  a  man  to  drive  it :  he  fays, 

"  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  ftands  empty." 

When  thefe  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 
fhut  up  by  authority,  and,  as  any  allufion  to  thefe  places 
of  amufement  and  inftrudtion  might  be  unpalatable 
to  the  rulers  of  the  ftate,  and  as  the  cuftom  of  going 
to  play-houfes  in  coaches  was  neceflarily  at  an  end, 
the  paffage  was  thus  altered : 

"  They  are  not  able  two  men  to  keep, 
With  a  coachman  they  muft  content  be, 
Which  at  Goldfmith's  Hall  door  in's  box  lies  afleep, 
While  Mock-begger  Hall  ftands  empty." 

It  would  be  eafy  to  multiply  examples  to  the  fame 
effedt,  but  it  is  the  lefs  neceffary  here,  becaufe  we  have 
adverted  to  fome  of  them  in  the  preliminary  matter, 
explanatory  of  circumftances  connected  with  each 


Introduction. 


Xlll 


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  few  inftances, 
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  decifively  ;  and 
the  fubje&s  are  fo  varied,  that  to  have  placed  them  in 
any  order  dependent  upon  character  and  defign  would 
have  been  clearly  impoffible.  The  comic  and  fatirical, 
in  point  of  number,  much  prevail  over  the  ferious  and 
legendary ;  and  it  might  reafonably  be  expected,  that 
productions  intended  to  be  popular  would  generally 
rather  aim  at  exciting  laughter  than  tears :  fome  of 
them  are  highly  humorous,  and,  no  doubt,  a  great 
deal  of  drollery  was  frequently  difplayed  by  ftreet-per- 
formers  in  finging  them. 

It  is  not  neceffary,  on  this  occafion,  to  enter  into 
the  origin,  or  ancient  hiftory,  of  ballad-writing  and 
ballad-finging  in  England  :  we  have  very  few  ballads, 

*  The  reader  muft  be  prepared  for  irregularities  of  metre,  not 
merely  becaufe  the  writers  fometimes  trufted  to  the  finger  and  the  tune, 
to  correct  and  reconcile  faults  of  fyllabic  conftru&ion,  but  becaufe 
it  not  unfrequently  happened  that  corruptions  were  introduced  in  the 
procefs  of  reprinting  ballads,  which  marred  the  meafure  of  the  original 
author.  What  we  have  juft  quoted  is  an  inftance  in  point,  as  regards 
a  change  in  the  metre,  as  well  as  in  the  meaning. 


XIV 


Introdu&ion. 


in  our  prefent  fenfe  of  the  word,  of  an  earlier  date 
than  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.*  We  know,  indeed, 
that  they  muft  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." f 
Ten  years  afterwards  it  was  deemed  neceffary  to  pafs 
an  aft  of  parliament  in  order,  among  other  things,  to 
put  a  flop  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  correft  in  ftating,  that  "  the  oldeft  printed 
ballad  known  to  be  extant,  is  that  on  the  downfall  of  Thomas  Lord 
Cromwell  in  1540,  reprinted  by  Dr.  Percy." — Ancient  Songs ,  I.  xcviii. 

f  Collier's  Shakefpeare,  I.  cclxxxviii.  The  only  words  of  Hogon's 
fong  preferved  are  thefe,  and  we  quote  them  as  a  literary  curiofity. 

u  The  hunt  is  up,  the  hunt  is  up,  &c. 

The  Mailers  of  Arte  and  Do£tours  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." 


Introduction. 


XV 


though  only  a  fingle  broadfide  of  about  that  date  has 
been  handed  down  to  us. 

Ballads  feem  to  have  multiplied  after  Edward  VI. 
came  to  the  throne,  and  two  or  three  of  thefe  have  been 
preferved,  and  are  in  clofe  cuftody  in  the  cabinets  of  the 
curious:*  no  new  proclamation  was  iflued,  nor  ftatute 
paHed,  on  the  fubjedt  while  Edward  continued  to  reign  ; 
but  in  lefs  than  a  month  after  Mary  became  Queen, 
me  publifhed  an  edict  againft  "  books,  ballads,  rhymes, 
and  treatifes,"  which  me  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  conftru6Hon,  and  bear 
ing  date  in  the  laft  year  of  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.  contains  the  firft 
lines  of  feveral  fongs  afligned  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  nece^ 
fary  to  iignify  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  j "  and 
a  fourth, 

"  Haye,  haye,  haie,  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  Gurney, 
Efq.  to  whom  the  editor  was  feveral  years  ago  obliged  for  the  op 
portunity  of  copying  it. 


XVI 


Introduction. 


the  few  pieces  remaining,  that  it  was  in  a  confiderable 
degree  effectual  for  the  end  in  view. 

No  fuch  reftraint  was  deemed  neceflary  when  Eliza 
beth  fucceeded  her  fifter,  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  flock.  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  characters  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  :— 
u  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  Eridgewater  Catalogue^  privately  printed  for  the  Earl 
of  Ellefmere,  4to,  1837,  p.  164. 


Introduction. 


XVll 


ham's  trad:.-)-     Few  of  thefe  have  furvived,  and  until 
not  far  from  the  clofe  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  broad- 


f  It  will  be  feen  that  two  of  the  ballads  mentioned  by  Wager  are  the 
fame  as  thofe  given  by  Langham,  which  affords  evidence  of  their  popu 
larity  at  the  time  they  wrote.  The  following  is  affigned  to  Moros,  the 
Vice  of  the  play,  who  enters  finging. 

"  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  bo  we,  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, 
Mufmge  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, 


XV111 


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  muficians"  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  fa<3  that  "  many 
a  tradefman,  of  a  worfhipful  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- 
rifhed,  and  kept  the  metropolis,  as  well  as  the  provinces, 
fully  fupplied  with  ballad  literature.* 

My  little  pretie  Befle, 

Come  ouer  the  boorne,  Befle,  to  me." 

Rift.  Engl.  Dram.  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  honeft  labour,  and  defpifmg  lawfull  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  productions,  and  efpecially 
points  out  "  Watkin's  Ale,"  «  The  Carman's  Whittle,"  "  Chopping 
Knives,"  "  Friar  Foxtail,"  and  "The  Friar  and  the  Nun."—  Kind 
Heart's  Dream^  1592.  Thomas  Nafh  in  his  humorous  tracts  men 
tions  "  Watkin's  Ale,"  and  feveral  other  ballads  extremely  popular  be- 


Introduction. 


XIX 


Matters  continued  without  much  alteration  during 
the  reign  of  James  I.,  excepting  that  particular  printers 
were  then  licenfed  to  publifh  broadfides  and  other 
pieces,  occupying  only  one  fide  of  paper,  of  courfe 
including  ballads :  they  granted  alignments  to  others 
for  flipulated  fums,  and  the  "  worfliipful  trades"  of 
ballad-making,  ballad-felling,  and  ballad-fmging,  had 
certainly  never  been  more  flourifhing.* 

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  century 
afterwards,  fpeaks  of  ancient  tunes  ftill "  fung  to  Barber's  Citterns,"  viz. 
"  The  Lady's  Fall,"  "  John  come  kifs  me  now,"  "  Green  Sleeves 
and  Pudding  Pies,"  "The  Punk's  Delight,"  "  The  Winning  of  Bul- 
logne,"  and  "  Effex's  laft  Good-night."— Latin  Songs  and  their  Eng- 
lljh  Words. 

*  To  about  this  period  we  may  refer  the  enumeration  of  ballads  in 
Fletcher's  "  Monfieur  Thomas,"  Act.  in.  Sc.  3.  A  Fiddler  is  there 
introduce,  who  informs  the  hero  that  he  can  fmg  the  following  :  "  The 
Duke  of  Norfolk — the  merry  ballad  of  Dives  and  Lazarus — the  Rofe 
of  England — In  Crete  when  Dedimus  firft  began — Jonas  his  Crying- 
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." — Dycis  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  Goffips,"  &c.  1613.  They 
are,  "  Miftrefs,  will  you  do,"  "  My  man  Thomas  did  me  promife," 
"  The  Pinnace  rigg'd  with  filken  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  Goffips  meet,"  1602. 


XX 


Introduction. 


principal  of  whom  was  Martin  Parker,  who  induftri- 
oufly  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  Reftora- 
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  imperfect  attempt  to  put  a  fudden  termination 
to  dramatic  performances  was  made  in  1642,  and 
carried  into  execution  in  1648  :  theatres  remained  fhut 
(with  a  few  inftances  of  difobedience)  until  the  return 
of  Charles  II.  During  this  interval  the  writers  and 
printers  of  ballads  (which  were  flill  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 


Introduction.  *xi 


thefe  productions  were  of  a  political  complexion ;  and 
although  none  fuch  have  reached  our  day,  it  is  not 
unlikely  that  fome  ballads  were  fatirically  directed 
againft  the  parties  who  had  been  prominent,  or  inftru- 
mental,  in  putting  an  end  to  theatrical  reprefenta- 
tions.  The  a<ft  for  fuppreffing  the  ftage  was  iflued  in 
the  Spring,  and  in  the  Autumn  of  1648  the  Provoft 
Marfhal  was  directed  and  empowered  "  to  feize  upon 
all  ballad-fingers,  fellers  of  malignant  pamphlets,  and 
to  fend  them  to  the  feveral  militias,  and  to  fupprefs 
ftage-plays."*  This  exhibition  of  arbitrary  power  does 
not  feem  to  have  been  by  any  means  effectual  as  re 
gards  ballad-fingers,  and  judging  from  the  numerous 
broadfides  of  the  time,  whether  reprints  of  older  pro- 
du&ions,  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  trad:  of  the 
time,  are  humoroufly  called  "  the  running  ftationers 
of  London."  -f- 


*  Whitelocke's  Memorials,  p.  337. 

f  "  Knaves  are  no  honeft  Men,  or  More  Knaves  yet,  &c.  compofed 
by  I.  L.,"  without  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,"  &c. 


XX11 


Introduction. 


Had  not  the  public  eagerly  encouraged  this  fpecies 
of  performance,  of  courfe,  fo  many  ballads  would  not 
have  been  published ;  but,  recollecting  the  comparative 
value  of  money,  the  price  of  a  broadfide  could  hardly 
have  been  within  the  reach  of  the  pooreft  claffes.  We 
may  perhaps  calculate,  that  during  the  Protectorate 
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 
fad  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  ftand  to  fmg  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- 


Introduction. 


lads."*  At  that  period  money  was  four  or  five  times 
lefs  abundant  than  with  us  :  a  quarto  play,  fuch  as 
"Much  ado  about  Nothing,"  (printed  in  1600)  was 
then  fold  for  fixpence  ;  a  fmall  tract  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  adtive  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  periling  rimes 

Begin  apace  to  grow  out  of  requeft, 
While  wanton  humours  in  thefe  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  competition,  unlefs  we  may 
aflign  to  him  one  on  p.  254  of  our  volume.  He  was  a  very  popular 
pamphleteer,  and,  as  the  parifh  regifters  fhew,  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. 


XX111 


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  corrected  themfelves,  or 
did  not  materially  interfere  with  the  fenfe.*  Our 
objeft  has  been  to  prefent  the  compofitions,  as  nearly 
as  our  typography  would  allow,  in  their  earlieft  fhape, 
even  to  the  difufe  of  many  capital  letters  at  the  com 
mencement  of  lines.  This  practice,  with  our  old 
printers,  arofe  out  of  the  facl:  that  lines,  often  divided 
into  two,  were  in  truth  only  one,  the  feparation  having 
been  made  for  the  convenience  of  the  page :  we  felecT: 
a  fmgle  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&eft  fenfe  of  the 
word  ballads :  it  occurs  on  p.  56. 

"  So  likewife  pride  in  London  now 

Doeth  floriftie  in  fuche  goodly  forte, 
That  they  invent  which  waie  and  how 

Thereby  augmented  it  might  be." 

In  every  other  ftanza  the  fecond  and  fourth  lines  rhyme,  and  here 
we  may  be  pretty  fure  that  the  fecond  line  ought  to  end  "  in  goodly 
'gree,"  in  order  that  it  might  correfpond  with  "be"  in  the  fourth  line. 
As,  however,  "  forte"  perfectly  well  fuits  the  fenfe  of  the  pafTage,  we 
have  not  difturbed  the  old  text.  This  poem  (which  is  by  one  of  the 
poets  we  have  for  the  firft  time  introduced  to  the  knowledge  of  the  | 
reader)  alfo  appeared  in  8vo.  in  the  fame  year  as  the  broadfide,  1573.  j 


Introduction.  *xv 


"  While  married  men  doe  lie 

with  worldly  cares  oppreft, 
Wee  batchelors  can  flecpe, 
and  fweetly  take  our  reft/' 

which,  in  the  author's  manufcript,  we  may  fuppofe, 
flood  thus : 

"  While  married  men  doe  lie  with  worldly  cares  oppreft, 
Wee  batchelors  can  fleepe,  and  fweetly  take  our  reft. 

Even  when  the  fhort  lines  rhymed  alternately,  the  old 
typographers  frequently  rejected  capitals,  perhaps  be- 
caufe,  being  in  a  fmall  way  of  bufinefs,  they  had  not 
fufficient  letter  for  their  purpofe.  We  have  accompanied 
the  ballads  by  fac-fimiles  of  fuch  wood-cuts  as  ufed  to 
be  prefixed  to  the  old  broadfides  themfelves  ;  the  main 
difference  being,  that  we  have  transferred  to  the  end  what 
was  formerly  invitingly  placed  at  the  beginning.  Moft 
of  thofe  we  have  adopted  were  repeatedly  employed  by 
the  printers  of  broadfides,  who  feldom  cared  whether 
an  ornament  of  the  kind  were  or  were  not  appropriate 
to  the  fubjedt  of  the  ballad,  as  long  as  it  was  likely  to 
attract  attention. 

In  this  refpect  we  have  ufually  been  fomewhat  more 
obfervant  than  they  were  :  a  ballad-printer  was  in  the 
habit  of  buying  up  old  wood-cuts,  which  had  been  en 
graved  for  any  other  works,  and  of  applying  them  to  his 
own  purpofes.  Difregarding  their  age,  rudenefs,  and 


XXVI 


Introduction. 


condition,  we  have  made  a  feledion  of  fuch  as  were 
moft  charafteriftic,  or  interesting  on  account  of  their 
reference  to  notorious  perfonages  :  thus  on  p.  54  will 
be  found  a  reprefentation  of  the  celebrated  Richard 
Tarlton,  whofe  popular  portrait  was  often  employed, 
and  who,  befides  being  a  famous  aftor,  was  himfelf 
a  ballad-writer.  On  p.  120  is  a  wood-cut  of  the  old 
poet  John  Gower,  apparelled  as  he  was  exhibited  on 
the  ftage  in  Shakefpeare's  "  Pericles,"  and  as  he  is  feen 
on  the  title-page  of  the  novel  of  1608,  founded  upon 
that  play.*  On  p.  134  is  a  full  length  of  that  great 
profe-fatirift  Thomas  Nam,  in  fetters,  as  he  figures  in 
one  of  Gabriel  Harvey's  trafts  againft  him ;  and  ano 
ther  reprefentation  of  Nam,  as  a  ghoft,  is  inferted  on 
p.  263.  Gabriel  Harvey,  his  antagonist,  is  found  on 
p.  201,  probably  from  Nafh's  own  drawing  in  his 
"Have  with  you  to  Saffron  Walden,"  1596.  Will 
Kemp,  the  comic  performer  in  fome  of  Shakefpeare's 


*  For  the  title  and  a  full  account  of  this  very  remarkable  volume  fee 
"  Farther  Particulars  regarding  Shakefpeare  and  his  Works,"  8vo.  1839. 
It  was  fold  by  auction  among  Mr.  Heber's  books,  as  if  it  were  the  ftory 
of  which  our  great  dramatift  had  availed  himfelf;  but  it  was  much 
more  curious,  becaufe  it  was  founded  upon  the  play,  not  the  play  upon 
it,  and  becaufe  it  contains  various  pafTages,  reduced  to  profe,  which 
were  no  doubt  acted,  but  are  not  in  any  of  the  printed  copies  of  "  Peri 
cles."  Much  illuftrative  matter,  connected  with  the  progrefs  of  the 
plot,  is  alfo  fupplied  by  the  novel. 


Introduction. 


dramas,  will  be  feen  dancing  his  Morris  to  Norwich 
on  p.  216,  from  the  title-page  of  his  "Nine  Day's 
Wonder,"  1600:  and  the  notorious  Robert  Greene, 
the  pamphleteer  and  dramatift,  is  depicted  writing  in 
his  winding  fheet  on  p.  303.* 

Other  amufing  reprefentations,  in  the  courfe  of  our 
volume,  had  alfo  been  previoufly  employed  for  various 
productions ;  and  in  looking  at  them,  it  is  always  to 
be  borne  in  mind  that,  as  accurate  imitations  of  the 
originals,  they  give  a  perfect  notion  of  the  for.t  of 
ornaments  required  by  the  ballad-buying  public  for 
more  than  half  a  century  before  the  death  of  Charles  I. 
The  wood-cut  of  Robin  Goodfellow,  on  p.  41,  had 
been  employed  in  a  pamphlet  devoted  to  his  "  mad 
merry  pranks,"  published,  perhaps,  before  Shakefpeare 
wrote  for  the  ftage  :  the  man  and  his  dog  on  p.  59, 
belongs  to  the  firft  edition  of  Dekker's  "  Belman 
of  London,"  printed  in  1608  :  the  Pyramus  and 
Thifbe,  on  p.  96,  is  a  foreign  produftion,  but  adorns 
the  title-page  of  R.  Wolfe's  "  Pierce  Ploughman's 


*  This  is  from  the  tide-page  of  a  rare  tra&  called  "  Greene  in 
Conceipt,  new  raifed  from  his  Grave  to  write  the  Tragique  Hif- 
torie  of  faire  Valeria  of  London,"  &c.  4to.  1598.  It  is  the  only  re- 
femblance  (if  indeed  fuch  it  may  be  termed)  of  that  remarkable  man, 
who  died  juft  as  Shakefpeare  was  faft  rifing  into  popularity,  and  who 
left  behind  him  the  earlieft  allufion  to  his  name  and  fame. 


XXV11 


XXV111 


Introduction. 


Creed,"  as  early  as  1553  :  the  wife  man  of  Gotham, 
hedging  in  the  cuckoo,  on  p.  126,  is  from  an  old  im- 
preflion  of  Andrew  Horde's  celebrated  collection  of 
Tales :  the  Watchman  on  p.  152,  is  one  of  a  curious 
fet  of  the  "  Cries  of  London,"  publifhed  in  the  reign 
of  James  I. :  the  Conjuror  fwallowing  the  ferpent  is 
contained  in  an  ancient  and  droll  account  of  Bar 
tholomew  Fair :  the  gentleman  and  countryman  con- 
verfing,  on  p.  231,  firft  appeared  in  Robert  Greene's 
"Quip  for  an  Upftart  Courtier,"  1592  :  the  Tinker, 
on  p.  286,  was  a  favourite  and  frequent  decoration 
of  ballads  during  nearly  the  whole  period  our  volume 
embraces ;  and  Sir  Bevis,  attended  by  his  Squire, 
on  p.  297,  is  evidently  older,  but  was  ufed  in  the  ro 
mance  relating  to  that  hero,  printed  by  W.  Stanfby 
before  Charles  I.  came  to  the  crown. 

Were  it  worth  while,  we  might  go  into  much 
farther  detail  refpecting  the  fources  whence  we  have 
obtained  our  illuftrations  :  among  them  are  only  three 
which  do  not  form  the  head -pieces  of  old  ballads, 
or  are  not  derived  from  chap-books  and  tracts  of  an 
early  date,  fubfequently  employed  by  printers  of  broad- 
fides  of  an  ephemeral  character  and  temporary  in- 
tereft.  Two  of  thefe  will  be  noticed  on  pp.  220  and 
311,  in  a  different  and  fuperior  ftyle  of  defign,  while 
the  third  concludes  the  prefent  introduction  :  it  was 


Introduction. 


cut  from  a  fpirited  fketch  by  no  lefs  an  artift  than  Inigo 
Jones,  as  the  reprefentation  of  an  Englim  ballad- 
finger  about  twentyyears  after  the  death  of  Shakefpeare, 
and  it  is  fo  defcribed  in  his  own  hand-writing  upon 
the  original  drawing.  The  editor  was  permitted  to  copy 
it  by  favour  of  the  Duke  of  Devonmire,  to  whom,  as 
on  many  former  occafions,  he  begs  leave  to  tender  his 
grateful  acknowledgments. 


xxix 


CONTENTS. 


I. 

Page 

EATH'S  Dance i 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Oh,  no,  no,  no,  not  yet." 

The  World's  Sweetheart 7 

To  the  Tune  of  "  The  Beggar  Boy." 

Chriftmas'  Lamentation 12 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Now  the  Spring  is  come." 

The  Gentleman  in  Thracia -.     .     17 

To  the  Tune  of"  Chevy  Chafe." 

Ragged  and  Torn  and  True 26 

To  the  Tune  of"  Old  Simon  the  King." 

The  Complaint  of  King  James 31 

Written  by  Ulpian  Fulwell. 

The  Devil  and  the  Scold 35 

To  the  Tune  of  "  The  Seminary  Prieft." 

The  Lamentation  of  Friendfhip 42 

Written  by  Thomas  Churchyard. 

Mock-Beggar's  Hall 49 

To  the  Tune  of  "  It  is  not  your  Northern  Nanny." 

A  Larum  Bell  for  London 55 

Written  by  John  Carre. 

The  Bride's  Goodmorrow 60 

To  a  pleafant  new  Tune. 


XXX11 


Contents. 


The  Soldier's  Repentance      ............ 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Calino." 

The  Widow  of  Watling  Street  ........     *WV« 

To  the  Tunes  of  «  Bragandary,"  and  "  The  Wanton  Wife. 


Page 
* 


Cupid's  Courtefie    ............. 

To  a  moft  pleafant  Northern  Tune. 

My  Wife  will  be  my  Mafter       .....     ......     85 

To  the  Tune  of  "  A  Tailor  is  no  Man." 

.....      9° 

.....      79 
.....      104 

116 


The  Conftancy  of  True  Love 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Down  by  a  Foreft." 


Few  Words  are  beft 

To  the  Tune  of  "  I'll  tell  you  but  fo." 

The  Merchant's  Daughter  of  Briftol 

To  the  Tune  of  "  The  Maiden's  Joy." 

My  Pretty  Little  One 

To  a  pleafant  new  Tune. 

The  Devil  driven  away  by  Women   .     . 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Death's  Dance." 

The  Lamentation  of  England 

By  W.  M.,  to  the  Tune  of  "  Weep,  weep." 

Be  Merry  Friends 

By  John  Heywood,  to  a  new  Tune. 

Epitaph  on  Bifhop  Jewell    . 

Written  by  William  Elderton. 

The  Father's  Admonition *43 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Grim  King  of  Ghofts." 

The  Praife  of  Nothing H7 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Though  I  have  but  a  mark  a  year." 

The  Norfolk  Farmer's  Journey  to  London       ...          -'153 
To  the  Tune  of  "  The  Spanifti  Pavin." 

Conftance  of  Cleveland  . 163 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Crimfon  Velvet." 


121 

127 
135 
139 


Contents. 


XXV 


Page 

The  Song  of  the  Caps '.-*     172 

To  the  Tune  of  "  The  Shaking  of  the  Sheets." 

Sack  for  my  Money *     .     177 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Wet  and  Weary." 

The  Brave  Englifh  Gipfey V.     183 

To  the  Tune  of  "  The  Spanish  Gipfey." 

The  Subftance  of  all  the  late  intended  Treafons      .     ....     .189 

Written  by  Thomas  Nelfon. 

The  Bull's  Feather 197 

To  a  very  pleafant  new  Tune. 

The  Weft  Country  Damfel's  Complaint 202 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Johnny  Armftrong." 

The  Common  Cries  of  London 207 

By  W.  Turner,  to  the  Tune  of  "  Watton  Town's  End." 

The  Two  Valentines      ..',-. i.     .     217 

To  the  Tune  "  Did  you  fee  Nan  to-day." 

The  Great  Booby     ..'.  :.    ^    .    V 221 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Sellenger's  Round." 

The  Tragedy  of  Hero  and  Leander 227 

To  the  Tune  of  "  I  will  never  love  thee  more." 

The  Royal  Recreation  of  Jovial  Anglers 232 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Amarillis." 

Keep  a  good  Tongue  in  your  Head 237 

By  Martin  Parker,  to  the  Tune  of  "  The  Milk  Maids." 

The  Milk-maid's  Life     *...'.* 243 

By  M.  Parker,  to  the  Tune  of  "  The  Milk  Maid's  Dumps." 

The  Bachelor's  Feaft 249 

By  Lawrence  Price,  to  the  Tune  of  "  With  a  hie  dill  do  dill." 

The  Mifer  and  the  Prodigal 254 

To  the  Tune  of  "  To  drive  the  cold  Winter  away." 

Wit's  never  good  till  'tis  Bought 264 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Bafle's  Career." 


XXVI 


Contents. 


Page 

A  Caveat  for  Cutpurfes .     .     .     .     271 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Packington's  Pound." 

The  Houfeholder's  New-year's  Gift  . 276 

To  the  Tune  of"  Where  is  my  true  Love." 

The  Time's  Abufes   ..............     281 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Over  and  Under." 

The  Lover's  Complaint 287 

To  a  pleafant  new  Tune. 

The  Coach's  Overthrow 291 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Old  King  Harry." 

The  Bad  Hufband  turn'd  thrifty    .     . .298 

By  John  Wade,  to  the  Tune  of  "  Hey  ho,  my  Honey." 

The  Pedlar's  Lamentation 304 

To  the  Tune  of  "  My  Life  and  my  Death." 

Poor  Robin's  Dream 308 

To  the  Tune  of  "  A  Game  at  Cards." 

God  fpeed  the  Plough  and  Blefs  the  Corn-mow 312 

To  the  Tune  of  "  I  am  the  Duke  of  Norfolk." 

The  Merry  Man's  Refolution .     .     317 

By  L.  Price,  to  the  Tune  of  "  The  Highlanders  new  Rant." 

Well  Matched  at  laft .323 

To  the  Tune  of  "  I  know  what  I  know." 

Death's  uncontrolable  Summons 328 

To  the  Tune  of  "  My  bleeding  Heart." 


BALLADS. 


Death's  Dance. 


To  befung  to  a  pleafant  new  Tune  called^  "  Oh  no  no  no  not  yet, 
or  The  Meddow  Brow." 

[It  is,  perhaps,  not  now  poflible  to  arrive  at  any  greater  certainty 
refpe&ing  the  age  of  this  moral  and  fatirical  ballad,  than  that  it  muft 
have  been  written  fome  time  after  the  opening  of  the  Royal  Exchange 
in  1570,  that  building  being  mentioned,  in  the  third  ftanza,  as  the  com 
mon  refort  of  merchants.  Henry  GofTon,  for  whom  the  copy  we  have 
ufed  was  printed,  was  a  bookfeller  in  the  reign  of  James  I.  and  after 
wards  ;  but  we  may  reafonably  believe  that  "  Death's  Dance"  was 
originally  publifhed  before  the  year  1580  :  J.  Awdeley  had  licenfe  to 
print  a  "  Daunce  and  Song  of  Death"  as  early  as  1568,  but  it  could 
not  be  this  ballad,  which  feems  to  have  been  unknown  to  Mr.  Douce, 
when  he  prepared  his  learned  volume  on  the  defigns  imputed  to  Macaber 
and  Holbein.  There  are  feveral  ballads  to  the  popular  tune  of  u  the 
Shaking  of  the  Sheet,  or  the  Dance  of  Death"  (See  Chappells  "  Nat. 
Engl.  Airs"  ii.  121.)  but  the  prefent  is  entirely  a  different  production.] 

F  Death  would  come  to  fhew  his  face 

as  he  dare  fhow  his  powre, 
And  fit  at  many  a  rich  mans  place 

both  every  day  and  houre, 
He  would  amaze  them  every  one 

to  fee  him  ftanding  there, 
And  wifh  that  foone  he  would  be  gone 
from  all  their  dwellings  faire. 


B 


Death's  Dance. 


Or  if  that  Death  would  take  the  paines 

to  goe  to  the  water  fide, 
Where  merchants  purchafe  golden  gaines 

to  pranke  them  up  in  pride, 
And  bid  them  thinke  upon  the  poore, 

or  elfe,  "  He  fee  you  foone," 
There  would  be  given  them  at  their  doore 

good  almes  both  night  and  noone. 

Or  walke  into  the  Roy  all-Exchange 

when  every  man  is  there, 
No  doubt,  his  comming  would  be  ftrange 

to  put  them  all  in  feare, 
How  they  do  worldly  buy  and  fell, 

to  make  their  markets  good ; 
Their  dealings  all  would  profper  well, 

if  fo  the  matter  flood. 

Or  if  Death  would  take  the  paine 

to  go  to  Pauls  one  day, 
To  talke  with  fuch  as  there  remaine 

to  walke,  and  not  to  pray ; 
Of  life  they  would  take  lafting  leafe, 

though  nere  fo  great  a  fine : 
What  is  not  that  but  fome  would  give 

to  fet  them  up  a  mrine  ? 

If  Death  would  go  to  Weftminfter 
to  walke  about  the  Hall, 


Death's  Dance. 


And  make  himfelfe  a  counfellor 

in  pleas  amongft  them  all, 
I  thinke  the  Court  of  Confcience 

would  have  a  great  regard, 
When  Death  mould  come  with  diligence 

to  have  their  matters  heard. 

For  Death  hath  been  a  Checker-man 

not  many  yeares  agoe  ; 
And  he  is  fuch  a  one  as  can 

beftow  his  checking  fo, 
That  never  a  clarke  within  the  Hall 

can  argue  fo  his  cafe, 
But  Death  can  overrule  them  all 

in  every  court  and  place. 

If  Death  would  keepe  a  tipling  houfe 

where  royfters  do  refort, 
And  take  the  cup  and  drinke  carowfe 

when  they  are  in  their  fport ; 
And  briefly  fay,  "  My  mailers  all, 

why  ftand  you  idle  here  ? 
I  bring  to  you  Saint  Giles  his  bowle," 

'twould  put  them  all  in  feare. 

If  Death  would  make  a  ftep  to  dance 

where  lufty  gallants  be, 
Or  take  dice  and  throw  a  chance 

when  he  doth  gamefters  fee ; 


Death's  Dance. 


deftroyed. 


And  fay,  "  My  matters,  have  at  all, 

I  warrant  it  will  be  mine," 
They  would  in  amazement  fall 

to  fet  him  any  coyne. 

If  Death  would  goffip  now  and  then 

amongft  the  crabbed  wives, 
That  taunt  and  raile  at  their  good  men 

to  make  them  weary  lives, 
It  would  amaze  them,  I  might  fay, 

fo  fpightfully  to  boaft, 
That  they  will  beare  the  fwing  and  fway, 

and  overrule  the  roaft. 

If  Death  but  quarterly  would  come 

amongft  the  landlords  crue, 
And  take  account  of  every  fum 

that  rifes  more  then  due, 
As  well  of  income  as  of  fine, 

above  the  old  fet  rent, 
They  would  let  leafes  without  coyne, 

for  feare  they  fhould  be  fhent. 

If  Death  would  take  his  dayly  courfe 
where  tradefmen  fell  their  ware, 

His  welcome,  fure,  would  be  more  worfe 
then  thofe  of  monyes  bare  : 

It  would  affright  them  for  to  fee 
his  leane  and  hollow  lookes, 


Death's  Dance. 


If  Death  would  fay,  "  Come,  mow  to  me 
my  reckoning  in  your  bookes." 

If  Death  would  thorow  the  markets  trace 

where  Confcience  uf  'd  to  dwell, 
And  take  but  there  a  huckfter's  place, 

he  might  do  wondrous  well : 
High  prizes  would  abated  be, 

And  nothing  found  too  deare ; 
When  Death  fhould  call,  "  Come,  buy  of  me," 

'twould  put  them  all  in  feare. 

If  Death  would  prove  a  gentleman, 

and  come  to  court  our  dames, 
And  do  the  beft  of  all  he  can 

to  blazon  forth  their  names  ; 
Yet  fhould  he  little  welcomes  have 

Amongft  fo  fayre  a  crew 
That  daily  go  fo  fine  and  brave, 

when  they  his  face  do  view. 

Or  if  he  would  but  walke  about 

our  city  fuburbs  round, 
There  would  be  given,  out  of  doubt, 

full  many  a  golden  pound 
To  fpare  our  wanton  female  crew, 

and  give  them  longer  day ; 
But  Death  will  grant  no  leafes  new, 

but  take  them  all  away. 


Death's  Dance. 


For  Death  hath  promifed  to  come, 

and  come  he  will  indeede : 
Therefore  I  warne  you,  all  and  fome, 

beware  and  take  good  heede ; 
For  what  you  do,  or  what  you  be, 

hee's  fure  to  find  and  know  you : 
Though  he  be  blind,  and  cannot  fee, 

in  earth  he  will  beftow  you. 


FINIS. 


The 


World's  Sweet-heart. 


To  the  tune  of"  The  Beggar  Boy." 

[Richard  Barnfield  firft  publifhed  his  poem  "  The  Encomion  of 
Lady  Pecunia"  in  1598,  (again  in  1605)  and  fhe  is  mentioned  by  the 
fame  name  in  the  following  ballad,  which  touches  humoroufly  upon 
topics  Barnfield  had  treated  more  ferioufly.  The  copy  we  have  followed 
was  cc  Printed  at  London  for  Thomas  Lambert,  at  the  figne  of  the 
Horfhoo  in  Smithfield"  about  the  year  1630 ;  but  it  moft  likely  made 
its  original  appearance  before  1600.  The  following  couplet  is  added 
to  the  old  title,  preceding  the  information  of  the  tune  to  which  the 
ballad  was  to  be  fung: — 

"  Whereby  is  (hewed,  that  Miftris  Money 
Is  the  world's  Sweet-heart  and  Honey." 

There  is  we  believe,  a  copy  in  the  Pepyfian  Library  at  Cambridge,  of 
a  later  date  and  without  thefe  lines.] 

WEET  Miftris  Money,  I  here  will  declare 
thy  beauty,  which  every  one  adoreth, 
The  lofty  gallant  and  beggar  fo  bare 

fomehelp  and  comfort  from  theeimplor- 
For  thou  art  become  the  World's  Sweet-heart,    [eth ; 

while  every  one  doth  make  thee  their  honey, 
And  loath  they  are  from  thee  to  depart, 

fo  well  they  doe  love  fweet  Miftris  Money. 


8  The  World's  Sweet-heart. 

Money  is  that  which  all  men  obey, 

the  wealthy  rich  mifer  doteth  upon  it, 
He  puts  her  to  trading  until  fuch  a  day, 

and  is  very  careful  in  parting  from  it : 
It  joyes  him  to  fee  a  great  heap  of  wealth, 

and  Lady  Pecunia  is  his  deare  honey, 
While  he  is  content  for  to  ftarve  himfelfe, 

even  for  the  love  of  Miftris  Money. 

The  Citty  of  London  doth  take  great  care 

to  gaine  her  favour  by  fome  new  fafhion, 
And  for  her  fake  they  will  give  you  fuch  ware, 

as  there  is  not  better  in  any  nation : 
For  every  one's  heart  is  now  fet  upon  her, 

and  me  is  become  their  onely  deare  honey ; 
Wherever  me  goes  her  fteps  they  doe  honour, 

fo  well  they  doe  love  fweet  Miftris  Money. 

Though  Money's  complexion  be  very  white, 

yet  I  doe  thinke  there  was  never  yet  any 
Could  equall  her  beauty  which  is  fo  bright, 

fo  that  me  hath  friends  and  lovers  many : 
Each  one  will  lend  her  a  helping  hand 

to  carry  abroad  their  deareft  honey, 
And  they  will  be  ready  at  her  command, 

even  for  the  love  of  Miftris  Money. 

Your  country  men  to  the  market  will  goe 
with  corne,  and  fuch  other  like  provifion, 


The  World's  Sweet-heart. 

And  to  procure  Money  fometimes,  you  do  know, 
they  will  fell  it  off  upon  any  condition  : 

To  cure  their  hearts  of  forrow  and  care 

the  favour  of  coyne  is  as  fweete  as  honey, 

And  they  are  glad  to  fell  off  their  ware, 
even  for  the  love  of  Miflris  Money. 

The  fhepheard,  that  lyeth  abroad  in  the  field 

and  never  careth  for  wind  or  weather, 
Doth  hope  that  his  fheepe  fome  profit  will  yeeld, 

which  makes  him  to  keepe  them  all  together ; 
For  he  will  fit  on  the  fide  of  a  rock, 

or  elfe  lye  upon  a  greene  banke  that  is  funny, 
And  there  he  will  keepe  his  poore  little  flock, 

even  for  the  love  of  Miflris  Money. 

In  city,  in  country,  and  every  place 

tis  Money  that  is  fo  much  refpected, 
For  me  can  never  receive  difgrace, 

fince  many  devifes  are  flill  projected 
By  thofe  that  feeke  her  favour  to  gaine, 

and  make  her  their  onely  delight  and  honey ; 
For  they  will  refufe  no  labour  and  paine, 

in  hope  for  to  get  Sweet  Miflris  Money. 

I  thinke  the  world  fhall  come  to  an  end 
before  that  Money  mail  be  defpifed, 

For  in  every  corner  me  hath  a  clofe  friend, 
and  by  every  one  me  is  highly  prifed. 


io  The  World's  Sweet-heart. 

In  every  country,  where  ever  you  ride, 

the  favour  of  coyne  is  as  fweete  as  the  honey, 

And  all  the  inns  on  the  roade  doe  provide 
to  entertaine  fweete  Miftris  Money. 

Now  Cupid  may  lay  by  his  quiver  and  bow, 

whereby  fometime  love  was  procured, 
Since  now  to  marry  they  are  very  flow, 

unlefle  that  a  portion  may  be  aflured ; 
For  that  doth  carry  their  fancy  away, 

fo  that  young  men  doe  make  it  their  honey, 
And  many  a  wedding,  without  all  delay, 

is  made  up  for  the  love  of  Miftris  Money. 

Mark  where  you  doe  come,  and  you  mall  ftill  find, 

that  for  your  Money  you  mall  be  attended : 
My  hoft  and  my  hoftefle  will  be  very  kind  ; 

but  when  that  your  filver  and  coin  is  fpended, 
Faith,  then  you  may  goe  with  much  grief  and  woe, 

becaufe  you  have  parted  from  your  deare  honey  ; 
For  that  refpedt  which  to  you  they  did  mow 

was  for  the  love  of  Miftris  Money. 

At  Rome  the  priefts  doe  make  her  a  faint, 
who  cheat  the  people  by  fond  delufion ; 

And  if  that  you  no  money  doe  want, 

you  mall  for  your  fins  have  an  abfolution : 

Thus  in  forraine  countries,  where  ever  you  goe, 
this  Mammon  is  counted  their  onely  honey, 


The  World's  Sweet-heart. 


1 1 


And  unto  you  much  kindnefle  they'll  fhow, 
even  for  the  love  of  Miftris  Money. 

The  feaman  likewife  will  travaile  abroad, 

in  ftorms  and  in  tempefts  his  heart  ne're  faileth, 
Untill  with  commodities  he  be  well  ftor'd, 

and  then  through  the  ocean  he  luftily  faileth. 
He  cares  not  if  that  he  meet  with  fome  blowes, 

for  he  fo  efteemeth  his  deareft  honey, 
That  he  fpreadeth  his  fayls  and  away  he  goes, 

and  fome  times  he  bringeth  home  gold  and  Money, 

Thus  all  mens  affections  are  equally  bent 

to  Money,  which  maketh  them  full  of  mettle, 
And  when  they  doe  want  it  they  are  difcontent, 

becaufe  their  love  on  it  they  doe  fettle : 
Yet  I  would  not  have  you  to  fet  your  heart 

on  worldly  treafure,  to  make  it  your  honey, 
But  to  buy  this  ditty  before  you  depart, 

if  that  you  doe  love  fweet  Miftris  Money. 


12 


Chriftmas'  Lamentation. 


To  the  tune  of"  Now  the  Spring  is  come." 

[This  fingular  ballad  is  unqueftionably  as  old  as  the  reign  of  Eliza 
beth  :  "  yellow  ftarch,"  which  is  mentioned,  and  would  feem  on  fome 
accounts  to  fix  it  in  that  of  James  I.,  was  in  fafhion  fome  time  before  the 
death  of  his  predeceflbr  on  the  throne.  It  is  a  bold  and  ftriking  re 
proof  of  the  decay  of  hofpitality,  efpecially  at  Chriftmas,  and  we  are 
aware  of  no  other  production  of  precifely  the  fame  kind  and  character. 
The  full  title  in  the  only  copy  known  is,  "  Chriftmas'  Lamentation  for 
the  lofle  of  his  acquaintance;  fhowing  how  he  is  forft  to  leave  the 
Country,  and  come  to  London."  It  was  "  printed  at  London  for  F.  C. 
dwelling  in  the  old  Bayly,"  F.  C.  being  Francis  Coles,  who  publifhed 
many  broadfides  of  a  comparatively  late  date,  and  various  reprints  of 
much  older  ballads,  among  which  laft  the  following  is  to  be  placed.] 

HRISTMAS  is  my  name,  farre  have  I  gone, 
Have  I  gone,  have  I  gone,  have  I  gone, 

without  regard, 
Whereas  great  men  by  flockes  there  be  flowne, 
There  be  flown,  there  be  flown,  there  be  flowne, 

to  London- ward ; 

Where  they  in  pomp  and  pleafure  doe  wafte 
That  which  Chriftmas  was  wonted  to  feaft, 
Welladay! 


Chriftmas5  Lamentation.  13 

Houfes  where  muficke  was  wont  for  to  ring 
Nothing  but  batts  and  howlets  doe  fing. 
Welladay!  Welladay!  Welladay ! 
where  fhould  I  flay  ? 

Chriftmas  beefe  and  bread  is  turn'd  into  ftones, 
Into  ftones,  into  ftones,  into  ftones, 

and  filken  rags ; 

And  Ladie  Money  fleepes  and  makes  moanes, 
And  makes  moanes,  and  makes  moanes,  and  makes 
in  mifers  bags  :  [moanes, 

Houfes  where  pleafures  once  did  abound, 
Nought  but  a  dogge  and  a  fhepheard  is  found, 

Welladay! 

Places  where  Chriftmas  revells  did  keepe 
Are  now  become  habitations  for  fheepe. 
Welladay!  Welladay!  Welladay! 
where  fhould  I  ftay  ? 

Pan,  the  fhepheards  god,  doth  deface, 
Doth  deface,  doth  deface,  doth  deface, 

Lady  Ceres  crowne, 
And  tillage  that  doth  goe  to  decay, 
To  decay,  to  decay,  to  decay : 

in  every  towne, 

Landlords  their  rents  fo  highly  inhance, 
That  Pierce,  the  plow-man,  bare  foot  may  dance ; 

Welladay ! 


I4.  Chriftmas5  Lamentation. 

And  farmers,  that  Chriftmas  would  entertaine, 
Have  fcarce  wherewith  themfelves  to  maintaine. 
Welladay!  Welladay !  Welladay! 
where  fhould  I  ftay  ? 

Come  to  the  country  man,  he  will  proteft, 
Will  proteft,  will  proteft,  will  proteft, 
and  of  bull  beefe  bofte  ; 
And  for  the  citizen  he  is  fo  hot, 
Is  fo  hot,  is  fo  hot,  is  fo  hot, 

he  will  burne  the  rofte. 
The  courtier  he  good  deeds  will  not  fcorne, 
Nor  will  he  fee  poore  Chriftmas  forlorne  : 

Welladay ! 

Since  none  of  thefe  good  deeds  will  doe, 
Chriftmas  had  beft  turn  courtier  too. 
Welladay!  Welladay!  Welladay! 

where  fhould  I  ftay  ? 

« 

Pride  and  luxury  they  doe  devoure, 
Doe  devoure,  doe  devoure,  doe  devoure, 

houfe-keeping  quite ; 
And  beggery  that  doth  beget, 
Doth  beget,  doth  beget,  doth  beget, 

in  many  a  knight. 

Madam,  forfooth,  in  her  coach  muft  wheele, 
Although  me  weare  her  hofe  out  at  heele, 
Welladay! 


Chriftmas5  Lamentation. 


And  on  her  back  weare  that  for  a  weed, 
Which  me  and  all  my  fellowes  would  feed. 
Welladay!  Welladay!  Welladay! 
where  mould  I  flay  ? 

Since  pride  came  up  with  the  yellow  ftarch, 
Yellow  ftarch,  yellow  ftarch,  yellow  ftarch, 

poore  folkes  doe  want, 
And  nothing  the  rich  men  will  to  them  give, 
To  them  give,  to  them  give,  to  them  give, 

but  doe  them  taunt ; 
For  Charity  from  the  country  is  fled, 
And  in  her  place  hath  nought  left  but  need ; 

Welladay ! 
And  corne  is  growne  to  fo  high  a  price, 
It  makes  poore  men  cry  with  weeping  eyes. 
Welladay!  Welladay!  Welladay!  ' 
where  mould  I  ftay  ? 

Briefely  for  to  end,  here  I  doe  find, 
I  doe  find,  I  doe  find,  I  doe  find, 

fo  great  vacation, 
That  moft  great  houfes  feem  to  attaine, 
To  attaine,  to  attaine,  to  attaine, 

a  ftrong  purgation : 
Where  purging  pills  fuch  effects  they  have  mewed, 
That  forth  of  doores  their  owners  have  fpewed ; 
Welladay ! 


i6 


Chriftmas'  Lamentation. 

And  whereas  Chriftmas  comes  by  and  calls, 
Nought  but  folitary  and  naked  walls. 
Welladay!  Welladay !  Welladay! 
where  fhall  I  flay  ? 

Philemon's  cottage  was  turn'd  into  gold, 
Into  gold,  into  gold,  into  gold, 

for  harbouring  Jove  : 
Rich  men  their  houfes  for  to  keepe, 
For  to  keepe,  for  to  keepe,  for  to  keepe, 

might  their  greatnefle  move  ; 
But  in  the  city  they  fay  they  doe  live, 
Where  gold  by  handfulls  away  they  doe  give 

He  away, 

And  thether  therefore  I  purpofe  to  pafle, 
Hoping  at  London  to  finde  the  golden  affe. 
He  away,  He  away,  He  away, 
for  here's  no  ftay. 


The 


Gentleman  in  Thracia 


To  the  tune  of  "  Chevy  Chace." 

[This,  like  many  others,  is  a  ballad  without  date,  but  no  doubt  it  was 
written  late  in  the  fixteenth,  or  early  in  the  feventeenth  century  :  it  has 
no  name  nor  initials  at  the  end,  but  the  ftyle,  excepting  that  it  is  a  little 
too  profaic,  is  very  like  that  of  Thomas  Deloney,  who  was  a  prolific 
ballad  writer  of  that  period.  The  romantic  ftory  may  have  been  a  mere 
invention,  or  the  author  may  have  found  it,  as  he  ftates,  in  fome  "  an 
cient  chronicle."  The  full  title  of  the  broadfide  is  this,  "  A  pleafant 
Hiftory  of  a  Gentleman  in  Thracia,  which  had  foure  Sonnes,  and  three 
of  them  none  of  his  own :  (hewing  how  miraculoufly  the  true  heire 
came  to  enjoy  his  Inheritance."  It  was  "  Printed  at  London  for  H. 
G."  H.  G.  being  of  courfe  Henry  Goflbn,  who,  we  may  prefume, 
was  fome  relation  to  the  celebrated  Stephen  Goflbn,  re&or  of  St.  Bo- 
tolph,  Biftiopgate,  the  adjoining  parim  to  that  in  which  the  bookfeller's 
family  feems  at  one  time  to  have  refided.] 

N  fearching  ancient  chronicles 
it  was  my  chance  to  finde 
A  ftory  worth  the  writing  out, 

in  my  conceit  and  mind : 
It  is  an  admonition  good 

that  children  ought  to  have, 


i) 


i8 


The  Gentleman  in  Thracia. 

With  reverence  for  to  thinke  upon 
their  parents  laid  in  grave. 

In  Thracia  liv'd  a  gentleman 

of  noble"  progeny, 
Who  rul'd  his  houfhold  with  great  fame, 

and  true  integrity  : 
This  gentleman  did  take  to  wife 

a  neat  and  gallant  dame, 
Whofe  outward  mew  and  beauty  bright 

did  many  hearts  inflame. 

The  lufter  that  came  from  her  lookes, 

her  carriage  and  her  grace, 
Like  beauteous  Cynthia  did  outfhine 

each  lady  in  that  place ; 
And  being  puffed  up  in  pride, 

with  eafe  and  jollity, 
Her  hufband  could  not  her  content, 

me  other  men  muft  try. 

Lafcivioufly  long  time  me  liv'd, 

yet  bore  it  cunningly  ; 
For  (he  had  thofe  that  watch'd  fo  well, 

that  he  could  nought  efpy  : 
With  bribes  and  gifts  me  fo  bewitch'd 

the  hearts  of  fome  were  neere, 
That  they  concealed  her  wickednefle, 

and  kept  it  from  her  deare. 


The  Gentleman  in  Thracia. 

Thus  fpending  of  her  time  away 

in  extreme  wantonnefle, 
Her  private  friends,  when  me  did  pleafe, 

unto  her  had  accefle  ; 
But  the  all-feeing  eye  of  heaven 

fuch  finnes  will  not  conceale, 
And  by  fome  meanes  at  laft  will  he 

the  truth  of  all  reveale. 

Upon  a  time  fore  ficke  fhe  fell, 

yea  to  the  very  death, 
And  her  phylician  told  her  plaine 

(he  muft  refigne  her  breath : 
Divines  did  like  wife  vifit  her, 

and  holy  counfell  gave, 
And  bade  her  call  upon  the  Lord, 

that  He  her  foule  might  fave. 

Amongft  the  reft  fhe  did  defire 

they  would  her  hufband  bring : 
I  have  a  fecret  to  reveale 

(fhe  faid)  my  heart  doth  fting. 
Then  he  came  porting  prefently 

unto  her  where  fhe  lay, 
And  weeping  then  he  did  defire 

what  fhe  to  him  would  fay. 

She  did  intreat  that  all  might  voyd 
the  roome,  and  he  would  ftay. 


2O 


The  Gentleman  in  Thracia. 

Your  pardon,  hufband,  I  befeech, 

unto  him  me  did  fay, 
For  I  have  wrong'd  your  marriage  bed 

and  plaid  the  wanton  wife : 
To  you  the  truth  I  will  reveale 

ere  I  depart  this  life. 

Foure  hopefull  fonnes  you  think  you  have, 

To  me  it  beft  is  knowne, 
And  three  of  them  are  none  of  yours ; 

of  foure  but  one's  your  owne, 
And  by  your  felfe  on  me  begot, 

which  hath  a  wanton  beene. 
Thefe  dying  teares  forgivenefle  beg  ; 

let  mercy  then  be  feene. 

This  ftrooke  her  hufband  in  a  dump, 

his  heart  was  almoft  dead  ; 
But  rouzing  of  his  fpirits  up 

thefe  words  to  her  he  faid. 
I  doe  forgive  thee  with  my  heart, 

fo  thou  the  truth  wilt  tell 
Which  of  the  foure  is  my  owne  fonne, 

and  all  things  (hall  be  well. 

O,  pardon  me,  my  hufband  deare ! 

unto  him  fhe  did  fay, 
They  are  my  children  every  one : 

and  fo  fhe  went  away. 


The  Gentleman  in  Thracia. 

Away  he  goes  with  heavy  heart ; 

his  griefes  he  did  conceale 
And  like  a  wife  and  prudent  man 

to  none  did  it  reveale. 

Not  knowing  which  to  be  his  owne, 

each  of  his  love  did  fhare, 
And  to  be  train'd  in  vertues  paths 

of  them  he  had  a  care  : 
In  learning  great  and  gentle  grace 

they  were  brought  up  and  taught ; 
Such  deare  affection  in  the  hearts 

of  parents  God  hath  wrought. 

They  now  were  growne  to  mens  eftates, 

and  liv'd  moft  gallantly ; 
Each  had  his  horfe,  his  hawke,  his  hound, 

and  did  their  manhood  try. 
The  ancient  man  did  joy  thereat, 

but  yet  he  did  not  know 
Which  was  his  fonne  amongft  the  foure ; 

that  bred  in  him  much  woe. 

« 
At  length  his  glafle  of  life  was  run, 

the  fates  doe  fo  decree  ; 
For  poore  and  rich  they  all  muft  dye, 

and  death  will  take  no  fee. 
Unto  fome  judges  he  did  fend, 

and  counfell  that  were  grave, 


21 


22 


The  Gentleman  in  Thracia 

Who  prefently  to  him  did  come 
to  know  what  he  would  have. 

They  coming  then  to  his  beds  fide, 

unto  them  he  did  fay  : 
I  know  you  all  to  be  my  friends, 

moft  faithfull  every  way ; 
And  now,  before  I  leave  the  world, 

I  beg  this  at  your  hands, 
To  have  a  care  which  of  my  fonnes 

{hall  have  my  goods  and  lands. 

And  to  them  all  he  did  relate 

what  things  his  wife  had  done. 
There  is  but  one  amongft  the  foure 

that  is  my  native  fonne  ; 
And  to  your  judgement  I  commit, 

when  I  am  laid  in  grave, 
Which  is  my  fonne,  and  which  is  fit 

my  lands  and  goods  to  have. 

He  dying,  they  in  councill  fate 

what  beft  were  to  be  done, 
For  'twas  a  tafke  of  great  import 

to  judge  which  was  his  fonne. 
The  brothers  like  wife  were  at  ft  rife, 

which  fhould  the  living  have, 
When  as  the  ancient  man  was  dead, 

and  buried  in  his  grave. 


The  Gentleman  in  Thracia.  23 

The  judges  muft  decide  the  caufe, 

and  thus  they  did  decree, 
The  dead  man's  body  up  to  take 

and  tye  it  to  a  tree : 
A  bow  each  brother  he  muft  have, 

and  eke  an  arrow  take, 
To  fhoot  at  their  dead  fathers  corps, 

as  if  he  were  a  ftake. 

And  he  whofe  arrow  neareft  hit 

his  heart,  as  he  did  ftand, 
They'd  judge  him  for  to  be  right  heire, 

and  fit  to  have  the  land. 
On  this  they  all  did  ftraight  agree, 

And  to  the  field  they  went : 
Each  had  a  man  his  {haft  to  beare, 

and  bow  already  bent. 

Now  (quoth  the  judges)  try  your  fkill 

upon  your  father  there, 
That  we  may  quickly  know  who  fhall 

unto  the  land  be  heire. 
The  eldeft  tooke  his  bow  in  hand, 

and  fhaft,  where  as  he  ftood, 
Which  pierc'd  fo  deep  the  dead  mans  breft, 

that  it  did  run  with  blood. 

The  fecond  brother  then  muft  fhoot, 
who  ftraight  did  take  his  aime, 


24  The  Gentleman  in  Thracia. 

And  with  his  arrow  made  a  wound, 
that  blood  came  from  the  fame. 

The  third  likewife  muft  try  his  fkill 
the  matter  to  decide, 

Whofe  fhaft  did  make  a  wound  moft  deep 
into  the  dead  man's  fide. 

Unto  the  fourth  and  youngeft,  then, 

a  bow  and  fhaft  were  brought, 
Who  faid,  D'ee  thinke  that  ere  my  heart 

could  harbour  fuch  a  thought, 
To  fhoot  at  my  dear  father's  heart, 

although  that  he  be  dead, 
For  all  the  kingdomes  in  the  world 

that  farre  and  wide  are  fpread  ? 

And  turning  of  him  round  about, 

the  teares  ran  downe  amaine  : 
He  flung  his  bow  upon  the  ground, 

and  broke  his  fhaft  in  twaine. 
The  judges  feeing  his  remorfe, 

they  then  concluded  all 
He  was  the  right ;  the  other  three 

they  were  unnaturall. 

And  fo  he  ftraight  pofTeft  the  lands, 
being  made  the  heire  of  all, 


The  Gentleman  in  Thracia 

And  heaven  by  nature  in  this  kind 

unto  his  heart  did  call. 
His  brothers  they  did  envy  him, 

but  yet  he  need  not  care, 
And  of  his  wealth,  in  portions  large, 

unto  them  he  did  (hare. 


25 


FINIS. 


Ragged,  and  Torne,  and  True. 

To  the  Tune  of"  Old  Simon  the  King." 

[This  capital  old  ballad,  we  may  conjecture  from  internal  evidence, 
was  first  publifhed  while  Elizabeth  was  ftill  on  the  throne  :  the  broad- 
fide  we  have  ufed  was  "  Printed  for  the  Affignes  of  Thomas  Symcocke" 
who  in  the  reign  of  James  I.  had  a  patent  for  publications  occupying 
only  "  one  fide"  of  paper  or  parchment  ("  Hift.  Engl.  Dram.  Poetry 
and  the  Stage,"  III.  383).  Symcocke  granted  deputations  to  others, 
and  by  one  of  his  "  afligns"  the  prefent  impreflion  of  an  older  produc 
tion  was  put  forth.] 

AM  a  poore  man,  God  knowes, 

and  all  my  neighbours  can  tell, 
I  want  both  money  and  clothes, 
and  yet  I  live  Wondrous  well : 
I  have  a  contented  mind, 

and  a  heart  to  beare  out  all, 
Though  fortune  (being  unkind) 

hath  given  me  fubftance  fmall. 
Then  hang  up  forrow  and  care, 
it  never  mall  make  me  rue ; 
What  though  my  backe  goes  bare, 
I 'me  ragged,  and  torne,  and  true. 

I  fcorne  to  live  by  the  fhift, 

or  by  any  finifter  dealing ; 
He  flatter  no  man  for  a  gift, 

nor  will  I  get  money  by  ftealing : 


Ragged,  and  Torne,  and  True.  27 

He  be  no  knight  of  the  poft 

to  fell  my  foule  for  a  bribe, 
Though  all  my  fortunes  be  croft, 

yet  I  fcorne  the  cheaters  tribe. 
Then  hang  up  forrow  and  care, 

it  never  fhall  make  me  rue ; 
What  though  my  cloake  be  thred-bare, 

Pme  ragged,  and  torne,  and  true. 

A  boote  of  Spanifh  leather 

I  have  feene  fet  faft  in  the  ftockes, 
Expofed  to  wind  and  weather, 

and  foul  reproach  and  mocks, 
While  I  in  my  poore  ragges 

can  pafle  at  liberty  ftill : 
O,  fie  on  thefe  brawling  bragges, 

when  money  is  gotten  fo  ill ! 
O,  fie  on  thefe  pilfering  knaves  ! 

I  fcorne  to  be  of  that  crue, 
They  fteale  to  make  themfelves  brave ; 

Pme  ragged^  and  torne,  and  true. 

I  have  feene  a  gallant  goe  by 

with  all  his  wealth  on  his  backe, 
He  look't  as  loftily 

as  one  that  did  nothing  lacke  ; 
And  yet  he  hath  no  meanes 

but  what  he  gets  by  the  fword, 


28 


and 


Which  he  confumes  on  queanes, 
for  it  thrives  not,  take  my  word. 

O,  fie  on  thefe  high-  way  thieves  ! 
the  gallowes  will  be  their  due  : 

Though  my  doublet  be  rent  i'th'  fleeves, 
Fme  raggedy  and  torne,  and  true. 

Some  do  themfelves  maintaine 

with  playing  at  cards  and  xlice  : 
O,  fie  on  that  lawlefle  gaine 

got  by  fuch  wicked  vice  ! 
They  coozen  poore  countrey-men 
vile>  with  their  delufions  vilde, 

Yet  it  happens  now  and  then 

that  they  are  themfelves  beguilde  ; 
For  if  they  be  caught  in  a  fnare 

the  pillory  claimes  its  due. 
Though  my  jerkin  be  worne  and  bare, 

I  'me  ragged^  and  torne,  and  true. 

I  have  feene  fome  gallants  brave 

up  Holborne  ride  in  a  cart, 
Which  fight  much  forrow  gave 

to  every  tender  heart  : 
Then  have  I  faid  to  my  felfe, 

what  pity  is  it  for  this, 
That  any  man  for  pelfe 

mould  do  fuch  a  foule  amifle. 


Ragged,  and  Torne,  and  True. 

O,  fie  on  deceit  and  theft ! 

it  makes  men  at  the  laft  rue ; 
Though  I  have  but  little  left, 

Ime  raggedy  and  torne,  and  true. 

The  pick-pockets  in  a  throng, 

at  a  market  or  a  faire, 
Will  try  whofe  purfe  is  ftrong, 

that  they  may  the  money  {hare ; 
But  if  they  are  caught  i'th'  adlion, 

they  are  carried  away  in  difgrace, 
Either  to  the  Houfe  of  Correction, 

or  elfe  to  a  worfer  place. 
O,  fie  on  theie  pilfering  theeves ! 

the  gallowes  will  be  their  due : 
What  need  I  fue  for  repreeves? 

Ime  ragged^  and  torne,  and  true. 

The  hoftler,  to  maintaine 

himfelfe  with  money  in's  purfe, 
Approves  the  proverbe  true, 

and  fayes,  Gramercy  horfe  : 
He  robs  the  travelling  beaft, 

that  cannot  divulge  his  ill ; 
He  fteales  a  whole  handfull  at  leaft 

from  every  halfe  peck  he  fhould  fill. 
O,  fie  on  thefe  coozening  fcabs, 

that  rob  the  poore  jades  of  their  due  ! 


29 


30  Ragged,  and  Torne,  and  True. 

I  fcorne  all  theeves  and  drabs, 
Ime  raggedy  and  torne,  and  true. 


Tis  good  to  be  honeft  and  juft, 

though  a  man  be  never  fo  poore ; 
Falfe  dealers  are  ftill  in  miftruft, 

th'are  afraid  of  the  officers  doore  : 
Their  confcience  doth  them  accufe, 

and  they  quake  at  the  noife  of  a  bum, 
While  he  that  doth  no  man  abufe 

for  the  law  needs  not  care  a  rum. 
Then  welfare  the  man  that  can  fay, 

I  pay  every  man  his  due  : 
Although  I  go  poore  in  array, 
Ime  raggedy  and  tome,  and  true. 


31 


The 

Complaint  of  King  James, 

Who  was  flayne  at  Flodden  Fielde, 
anno  1513. 

[This  piece,  not  ftri&ly  fpeaking  a  ballad,  is  in  the  form  and  fpirit 
f  that  ancient  popular  work,  "  The  Mirror  for  Magiftrates."  Ulpian 
'ulwell  originallyyprinted  it  in  his  "  Flower  of  Fame,"  1575, 4to.  where 
le  tide  ftands  thus  : — "  The  lamentable  complaint  of  King  James  of 
Gotland,  who  was  flayne  at  Scottim  fielde,"  meaning,  of  courfe,  Flod- 
en  Field.  The  work  was  "  Imprinted  at  London  in  Fleete  Streate, 
t  the  Temple  gate  by  William  Hofkins."] 

MONG  the  reft  whom  rewfull  fate  hath  reft, 
Whofe  fhrouding  fheetes  have  wrapt  their 

woful  lyves, 

Why  have  not  I  a  place  among  them  left, 
Whofe  fall  eche  tong  with  dayly  talke  revives  ? 
mch  is  the  wheele  that  froward  Fortune  drives ; 
Fo  day  a  king  of  puifance  and  might, 
\nd  in  one  howre  a  wofull  wretched  wight. 

V  happie  life  by  happie  end  is  tride, 

\.  wretched  race  by  wofull  ende  is  known : 

Though  pleafant  wind  the  (hip  do  rightly  guyde, 


fudden. 


reward. 


The  Complaint  of  King  James. 

At  laft  by  rage  of  ftormes  tis  over  throwne  : 
The  greateft  oke  with  tempeft  is  fyrft  blowne. 
Though  Fortune  feeme  a  loft  to  hoyfe  thy  fayle, 
Yet  Fortune  ofte  tymes  fmyles  to  fmall  avayle. 

I  thought  my  bower  buylt  on  happie  foyle, 

Which  under  propped  was  with  tickle  ftaye ; 

Wherfore  on  fodayne  chaunce  I  tooke  the  foyle, 

In  hope  for  to  have  had  a  noble  praye, 

In  fearch  whereof  I  reapt  my  fa  tall  daye. 

With  mamefull  death  my  fame  was  fordte  to  bow ; 

A  gwerdon  meete  for  breach  of  facred  vow. 

A  Prince  his  promife  ought  not  to  be  broke, 
Much  more  his  othe  of  ryght  obfervde  mould  be  ; 
But  greedie  gayne  doth  oft  the  mynde  provoke 
To  breake  both  othe  and  vowe,  as  feemes  by  mee  : 
Ambition  blearde  myne  eyes,  I  coulde  not  fee. 
I  fynde  though  man  with  man  his  faith  forgoe, 
Yet  man  with  God  may  not  [in  deede]  do  fo. 

I  was  a  king,  my  power  was  not  fmall ; 
I  ware  the  crowne  to  wield  the  Scottifh  land ; 
I  raignde  and  rewlde,  the  greater  was  my  fall : 
The  myght  of  God  no  kingdome  can  withftand. 
An  Earle  wan  of  mee  the  upper  hande  ; 
With  blodie  fworde  my  lucklefle  lyfe  to  ende 
By  mamefull  death,  without  tyme  to  amende. 


The  Complaint  of  King  James.  33 


Such  was  the  force  of  Atrop's  cruell  fpight, 

Unlocked  for  to  cut  my  fatall  lyne. 

My  wretched  carcas  then  was  brought  in  fight 

Through  London  ftreets,  wherat  the  Scots  repine  : 

The  endles  fhame  of  this  mifhap  is  myne. 

Like  butchers  ware  on  horfebacke  was  I  brought : 

The  King  of  Kinges  for  me  this  end  hath  wrought. 

Let  Princes  all  by  me  example  take 

What  daunger  tis  to  dally  in  fuch  cafe  ; 

By  perjurye  their  faythes  for  to  forfake, 

Leaft  feate  of  fhame  mall  be  their  endles  place  : 

Foule  infamie  mall  their  renowne  deface. 

Of  falfed  faith  fuch  is  deferved  hyre, 

And  he  muft  falle  that  will  too  hyghe  afpyre. 

Ye  noble  Peeres,  whofe  lives  with  myne  did  end, 
Send  forth  from  graves  your  griefly  ghofts  ech  one, 
To  wayle  the  chaunce  that  Fortune  us  did  fende  : 
Let  all  the  Scots  powre  out  their  plaints  and  mone, 
That  we  to  hedles  hafte  were  apt  and  prone ; 
Which  ram  beginning,  voyde  of  Godly  awe, 
Had  lyke  fucceffe  for  breach  of  facred  lawe. 

I  thought  that  Englande  had  beene  far  too  weake 
For  my  flrong  powre,  when  Henry  was  away, 
Which  made  mee  light  regarde  my  vow  to  breake ; 
But  yet  I  founde  they  were  left  in  good  ftay, 


34  The  Complaint  of  King  James. 

With  force  and  ftrength  to  purchafe  my  decay. 
Thus  my  afpiring  minde  had  guerdon  due, 
Which  may  a  myrror  bee  for  men  to  vewe : 

Whereby  to  fhun  the  breach  of  facred  vow, 
And  not  to  feeke  a  lawlefle  meanes  to  raygne, 
For  right  will  force  urfurped  rule  to  bow, 
And  reape  repulfe  in  fteade  of  noble  gaine. 
Thus  truth  in  tyme  doth  turne  her  foe  to  paine, 
And  God  him  felfe  doth  ihield  the  rightfull  caufe  : 
Then,  let  men  learne  to  lyve  within  his  lawes. 

ULPIAN  FULWELL 


35 


The  Devil  and  the  Scold. 

To  the  Tune  of  "  The  Seminary  Prieft." 

[This  is  certainly  an  early   ballad  :    the  allufion,  in   the   fecond 
tanza,  to  Tom  Thumb  and  Robin  Goodfellow  (whofe  "  Mad  Pranks" 
id  been  publifhed  before  1588,  with  the  wood-cut  which  follows  the 
>allad)  is  highly  curious,  and  one  proof  of  its  antiquity,  although  it  has 
reached  us  only  in  an  impreflion  "  Printed  at  London  for  Henry  GofTon, 
celling  upon  London  Bridge,  neare  to  the  Gate."     Befides  the  head- 
the  following  couplet  forms  part  of  the  title  : — 

"  A  pleafant  new  Ballad  you  here  may  behold, 

How  the  Devill,  though  fubtle,  was  gul'd  by  a  fcold."] 

IVE  eare,  my  loving  countrey-men 

that  flill  defire  newes, 
Nor  pafle  not  while  you  heare  it  fung, 

or  elfe  the  fong  perufe ; 
For  ere  you  heare  it  I  muft  tell 

my  newes  it  is  not  common ; 
But  He  unfold  a  truth  betwixt 
a  Devill  and  a  woman. 

Tom  Thumb  is  not  my  fubjeft, 

whom  Fairies  oft  did  aide, 
Nor  that  mad  fpirit  Robin, 

that  plagues  both  wife  and  maid ; 


36 

The  Devil  and  the  Scold. 

Nor  is  my  fong  fatyricke  like, 

invented  againft  no  man, 

But  onely  of  a  pranke  betwixt 

a  Devill  and  a  woman. 

Then,  widdowes  wives  and  maids 

give  eare  as  well  as  men, 

And  by  this  woman  learne 

to  gull  the  world  agen  : 

You  may  by  this  turn  artifts, 

or  matters  of  your  art, 

And  when  the  Devill  comes  for  you 

you  need  care  nothing  for't. 

A  woman  well  in  yeares 

liv'd  with  a  hufband  kinde, 

Who  had  a  great  defire 

to  live  content  in  minde  ; 

But  'twas  a  thing  impoffible 

to  compafs  his  defire, 

For  night  and  day  with  fcolding 

me  did  her  hufband  tire. 

roguifti. 

With,  roughiih  lowtifh  clowne! 

defpite  thee  He  be  wilde  ; 

Doeft  thou  think  I  marry  ed  thee 

to  ufe  thee  like  a  childe, 

And  fet  thee  on  my  lap, 

or  humour  what  you  fpeake  ? 

The  Devil  and  the  Scold 

Before  He  be  fo  fond 

thy  very  heart  He  breake. 

Why,  loving  wife,  quoth  he, 

He  never  doe  thee  wrong, 
So  thouFt  be  rul'd  by  me, 

and  onely  hold  thy  tongue ; 
And  when  I  come  from  worke 

wilt  pleafe  at  board  and  bed: 
Doe  this,  my  loving  wife, 

and  take  all,  being  dead. 

Marke  well,  quoth  {he,  my  words, 

what  ere  you  fpeake  me  to, 
By  faire  meanes  or  by  foule, 

the  contrary  He  doe. 
According  to  her  fpeech 

this  man  led  fuch  a  life, 
That  oft  he  wifh't  the  Devill 

to  come  and  fetch  his  wife. 

Had  he  bid  her  goe  homely, 

why  then  me  would  goe  brave ; 
Had  he  cal'd  her  good  wife, 

me  cal'd  him  rogue  and  Have ; 
Bade  he,  wife,  goe  to  church, 

and  take  the  faireft  pew, 
Shee'd  goe  unto  an  alehoufe 

and  drinke,  lye  downe  and  fpew. 


37 


The  Devil  and  the  Scold 


The  Devill,  being  merry 

with  laughing  at  this  mirth, 
Would  needs  from  hell  come  trotting 

to  fetch  her  from  the  earth  ; 
And  coming  like  a  horfe 

did  tell  this  man  his  minde, 
Saying,  fet  her  but  aftride  my  backe, 

He  hurry  her  through  the  winde. 

Kinde  Devill,  quoth  the  man, 

if  thou  a  while  wilt  wait, 
He  bid  her  doe  that  thing 

{hall  make  her  backe  thee  ftraight 
And  here  lie  make  a  vow, 

for  all  me  is  my  wife, 
He  never  fend  for  her  againe, 

Whileft  I  have  breath  or  life. 

Content,  the  Devill  cry'd  : 

then  to  his  wife  goes  he  ; 
Good  wife,  goe  leade  that  horfe 

fo  blacke  and  faire  you  fee. 
Goe  leade,  fir  knave  !  quoth  me, 

and  wherefore  not  goe  ride  ? 
She  tooke  the  Devill  by  the  reines, 

and  up  me  goes  aftride. 

The  Devill  neighed  loud, 

and  threw  his  heeles  i'th'ayre  : 


The  Devil  and  the  Scold.  39 

Kick  in  the  Devills  name  !  quoth  fhe, 

a  fhrew  doth  never  fear. 
Away  to  hell  he  went 

with  this  moft  wicked  fcold, 
But  fhe  did  curbe  him  with  the  bit, 

and  would  not  lofe  her  hold. 

The  more  he  cry'd,  Give  way, 

the  more  fhe  kept  him  in, 
And  kickt  him  fo  with  both  her  heeles, 

that  both  his  fides  were  thin. 
Alight,  the  Devill  cry'd, 

and  quicke  the  bridle  loofe  : 
No,  I  will  ride  (quoth  fhe) 

whiles  thou  haft  breath  or  fhoes. 

Again  fhe  kickt  and  prickt, 

and  fate  fo  ftiff  and  well, 
The  Devill  was  not  fo  plagu'd 

a  hundred  yeares  in  hell. 
For  pity  light  (quoth  he) 

thou  put'ft  me  to  much  paine : 
I  will  not  light  (quoth  fhe) 

till  I  come  home  againe. 

The  Devill  fhewd  her  all 

the  paines  within  that  place, 
And  told  her  that  they  were 

ordain'd  for  fcolds  fo  bafe. 


40  The  Devil  and  the  Scold 

Being  bereft  of  breath, 

for  fcolding  'tis  my  due ; 

But  whileft  I  live  on  earth, 
He  be  reveng'd  on  you. 

Then  did  fhe  draw  her  knife, 

and  gave  his  eare  a  flit : 
The  Devill  never  felt 

the  like  from  mortall  yet. 
So,  fearing  further  danger, 

he  to  his  heeles  did  take, 
And  farter  then  he  came 

he  poft  hafte  home  did  make. 

Here  take  her  (quoth  the  Devill) 

to  keep  her  here  be  bold, 
For  hell  will  not  be  troubled 

with  fuch  an  earthly  fcold. 
When  I  come  home  I  may 

to  all  my  fellowes  tell, 
I  loft  my  labour,  and  my  bloud, 

to  bring  a  fcold  to  hell. 

The  man  half  dead  did  ftand, 
away  the  Devill  hyde  : 

Then  fince  the  world  nor  hell 
can  well  a  fcold  abide. 

To  make  a  faile  of  fhips 

let  hufbands  fall  to  worke, 


The  Devil  and  the  Scold 

And  give  their  free  confents 
to  fend  them  to  the  Turke. 

Then,  honeft  wives  and  maides, 

and  widdowes  of  each  fort, 
Might  live  in  peace  and  reft 

and  Silence  keep  her  court : 
Nor  would  I  have  a  fcold 

one  penny  here  beftow, 
But,  honeft  men  and  wives, 

buy  thefe  before  you  goe. 


The 

Lamentacion  of  Freyndfhyp. 

[Thomas  Churchyard,  the  author  of  the  fubfequent  fatire,  for  it  is 
only  a  ballad  in  appearance,  began  writing  in  the  reign  of  Edward  VI. 
and  did  not  ceafe  until  James  I.  had  afcended  the  throne :  his  many 
worldly  difappointments  gave  a  colour  to  nearly  all  he  wrote,  and  what 
follows  is  ftrongly  tinged  with  mifanthropy.  It  was  compofed  in  coup 
lets,  but  the  printer  of  the  broadfide  (no  name  is  attached  to  our  copy, 
and  perhaps  it  has  been  accidentally  cut  off)  thought  fit  to  give  it  the 
appearance  of  ftanzas.  There  feems  to  have  been  another  impreffion, 
"  Imprinted  at  London  by  Thomas  Col  well  for  Nicolas  Wyer,"  a 
copy  of  which  was  in  the  collection  of  the  late  Mr.  Heber.J 

•N  Court,  fome  fay,  doth  freindfhyp  flowe, 
And  fome  to  Court  for  freindfhyp  goe, 
But  I  that  walke  the  worlde  aboute 
Could  never  yet  fynde  freyndfhyp  out; 
For  fynenefle  fhewes  fo  fayre  a  face, 
That  freyndfhyp  hath  no  dwellynge  place. 

Yea,  depe  dyflemblynge  manners  mylde 
Hath  fayth  and  freindfhyp  both  exylde. 
The  holowe  harte  is  fowle  and  fell, 
Wheare  freyndfhyp  loketh  now  to  dwell : 
The  humble  fpeche  and  Syrenes  fonge 
Hath  fhrouded  freyndfhyp  over  longe. 


The  Lamentacion  of  Freyndfhyp.          43 


The  wylye  wordes  that  wave  wyth  wynde 

Hath  brought  true  frendfhyp  out  of  mynde  ; 

And,  to  be  fhorte,  fayre  wordes  is  all 

The  fruite  that  from  the  tree  dothe  fall. 

Wordes  welde  the  worlde,  and  beare  the  fwaye,  wield. 

And  freindfhyp  daylye  doth  decaye. 

Yet  durfte  I  make  of  it  reporte, 
It  is  amonge  the  meaner  forte 
If  any  faythe  or  freindfhyp  bee ; 
But  I  fo  lytle  freindfhyp  fee, 
I  feare  the  vertue  of  the  fame 
Confyftes  but  in  a  gentle  name. 

The  worlde  is  waxen  now  fo  nyce 

That  we  have  learnd  the  Frenche  devyce, 

At  your  commaundement,  for  a  fhowe, 

And  meane  no  farther  for  to  goe : 

We  are  as  free  of  promyfe  ftyll, 

As  though  we  mente  a  great  good  wyll ; 

And  brave  it  out  for  gloryes  fake, 
And  much  adoe  therof  we  make, 
To  blafe  abrode  our  bountye  great. 
Turn,  man  !  the  fyre  hath  loft  his  heate ; 
The  flame  yeldes  furthe  but  fparkles  fmall, 
Theare  is  no  freyndfhyp  now  at  all. 

Geve  eare,  and  heare  a  pretye  jeft. 
Theare  was  a  man  (at  my  requeft) 


44 


bounty. 


Ere- 


The  Lamentacion  of  Freyndihyp 

That  feemd  an  earneft  freinde  in  dede, 
And  fwore  he  wolde  fupplye  my  nede 
Wyth  all  hys  helpe  he  could  devyfe  ; 
And  ofte  to  blere  his  ladyes  eyes, 

And  make  her  know  hys  lyberall  mynde, 
(For  women  larges  love  of  kynde) 
He  promyft  many  a  goodlye  gyfte  ; 
But  when  I  put  hym  to  hys  fhyfte 
For  quycke  performaunce  of  this  geare, 
Then  backwarde  gan  he  for  to  fweare 

Eche  worde  had  paft  hys  mouth  before. 
I  pray  you  now,  if  we  had  ftore 
Of  fuch  good  freinds  when  nede  fhuld  cum, 
Myght  not  a  pore  man  ftryke  hys  drum 
Before  theyr  dores  wyth  chereful  fprete, 
And  founde  a  marche  in  open  ftrete 

A  thousand  tymes  amidfte  hys  greefe, 


Or  he  fhould  fynde  thearby  releefe  ? 
Fyve  hundred  of  fuch  mates  as  theafe 
(Whofe  freyndfhyp  is  not  worth  a  peafe, 
Whofe  bravery  fhynes  beyonde  the  funne, 
Yet  flypper  laddes  when  all  is  done) 

My  hap  hath  bene  to  mete  or  thys. 
Beware,  I  fay,  the  Judas  kyfle, 
The  flyrynge  face,  the  parate  gaye, 
The  bablynge  tongue  that  hath  no  ftaye, 


The  Lamentacion  of  Freyndfhyp, 


45 


The  fawner  fyne  that  croutcheth  lowe, 
The  plyant  head  that  bendes  lyke  bowe, 

Whofe  nature  lykes  not  freindfhyp's  lawe, 
The  gloryous  man,  the  pratynge  dawe. 
Tut,  tut !  I  warne  thee  overfoone, 
Ful  longe  hath  nede  to  be  the  fpoone 
A  man  mould  have  for  every  feate, 
That  wyth  the  dyvell  thynkes  to  eate  : 

For  dyvels  in  thefe  dayes  are  ryfe, 
And  thou  muft  nedes  leade  out  thy  lyfe 
Wyth  depe  dyflemblers  every  wayes. 
The  dyvels  are  much  more  to  prayfe, 
Then  muffled  men  that  myfcheife  breede, 
Who  are  not  knowen  but  by  theyr  deede. 

Oh  frendfhyp  !  thou  art  much  myfufed 

To  be  wyth  freindes  thus  abufed ; 

For  freyndfhyp  mould  wyth  open  face 

Be  feene  and  felt  in  every  place  : 

Of  playnenefle  firft  was  freyndfhyp  wrought, 

Juft  as  the  Gods,  and  pure  of  thought. 

Full  free  and  franke,  as  lordes  have  byn, 

Full  bent  the  peoples  hartes  to  wynne ; 

Full  glad  to  fyll  the  nedye  hande, 

Full  firme  of  worde,  and  fure  to  ftande, 

As  oke  that  every  ftorme  wyl  byde, 

Not  loft  with  want,  nor  wonne  wyth  pryde, 


46          The  Lamentacion  of  Freyndfhyp. 

And  welthy  pompe,  the  pumpe  of  fynne, 

That  bryngeth  every  myfcheife  in ; 

But  alwayes  cleare  from  falfehedde's  trayne. 

Then,  tell  me  now,  and  do  not  fayne, 

Where  does  that  freindfhyp  buylde  his  bowre  ? 

Where  is  fuch  freinfhyp  had  this  howre  ? 

Where  maketh  he  now  hys  manfyon  place  ? 
Or  where  (good  Lord !)  hath  men  fuch  grace 
To  lyght  upon  fo  great  a  blifle  ? 
Mans  mynde  and  nature  altered  is : 
The  worlde  in  wyckedneffe  is  drbunde, 
And,  trulye,  freindfhyp  is  unfounde, 

And  rotten  lyke  corrupted  fruite. 
noHe.  Though  gloryous  men  wyll  beare  a  brute 

Of  freindes,  theyr  freyndfhyp  is  fo  colde 
That  we  therof  have  lytle  holde  : 
When  it  mould  ferve  our  turne  (God  knowes) 
We  reape  the  weede  and  plant  the  rofe. 

We  gape  for  golde,  and  grype  but  glafle. 
Now  do  fuch  wordes  of  offyce  paffe 
Tweene  all  eftates,  bothe  farre  and  nere, 
That  talke  is  nought  but  fayned  chere, 
To  make  fayre  weather  for  a  whyle, 
Tyl  one  the  other  do  beguyle. 

I  tell  thee,  man,  who  playes  the  parte 
Of  wylye  fox  muft  lerne  thys  arte  : 


'he  Lamentacion  of  Freyndfhyp.          47 

They  are  no  fmall  byrdes  (as  I  gefle) 
If  I  in  authors  maye  exprefle 
The  fynnes  that  now  be  kept  in  ftore, 
That  put  in  praftyfe  this  and  more, 

To  compaffe  cloked  freindfhyp  fyne. 

The  fowler  never  drawes  hys  lyne 

So  ftrayght  upon  the  felye  fowle, 

Nor  fure  the  byas  of  the  bowle 

Goeth  not  fo  ftrayghte  on  mayfter  blocke, 

As  dayly  dothe  thys  dallyenge  flocke 

Upon  the  polycye  of  the  brayne, 

To  brynge  the  felye  foole  to  trayne. 

Men  are  fo  ufed  thefe  dayes  wyth  wordes, 

They  take  them  but  for  jeftes  and  boordes,  jokes. 

That  Chriftmas  Lordes  were  wonte  to  fpeke. 

Well,  well,  I  fay  the  worlde  is  weke, 

And  weker  it  is  lyke  to  bee, 
When  credyte  out  of  the  worlde  fhall  flye ; 
When  truft  is  gone,  and  trothe  is  dead, 
And  faythfull  freyndfhyp  hydes  hys  head, 
And  wordes  are  helpe  of  none  effefte, 
And  promyfe  faythfull  is  fufpedle. 

Farewell !  all  earthly  hope  is  paft. 
I  fee  our  maners  change  fo  faft, 
And  fuche  affeftion  leades  our  wyll 
Awry  to  fickle  freindfhyp  ftyll, 


48          The  Lamentacion  of  Freyndfhyp, 

That  fure  true  freindfhyp  fylent  fyttes, 
And  nought  beares  rule  but  wylye  wyttes, 

Unfhamefafte  wayes,  and  meare  deceyte 
For  playnenefle,  fuch  a  pleafante  bayte 
As  choketh  up  both  hye  and  lowe, 
And  poyfoneth  all  the  worlde,  I  trowe. 
Wherfore,  fynce  freyndfhyp  takes  hys  leave, 
And  fyneneffe  dothe  us  all  deceyve, 

Let  freyndfhyppes  name  be  banyfhed  quyte  ; 
For  fure  it  is  a  great  dyfpyte 
To  fpeke  of  freindfhyp  any  tyme, 
To  make  of  freindfhyp  profe  or  ryme, 
Or  gyve  to  freyndfhyp  anye  prayfe, 
That  is  fo  frutelefle  in  our  dayes. 

T.  CHURCHYARD. 


49 


Mock-Begger's  Hall. 

To  the  tune  of '"  It  is  not  your  Northern  Nanny,"  or  "Sweet  is  the  Lass 

that  loves  me." 

[This  ballad  is  a  very  amufing  and  clever  fatire  on  many  changes 
for  the  worfe,  about  the  period  it  feems  to  have  been  written — the  be- 
|  ginning  of  the  feventeenth  century.  The  full  tide  is  u  Mock-Begger's 
Hall,  with  his  fituation  in  the  fpacious  country  called  Anywhere;" 
and  we  have  been  obliged  (from  the  exiftence  of  no  other,  excepting  a 
'{till  more  modern  reprint,)  to  ufe  a  copy  publimed,  during  the  civil  wars : 
it  purports  to  have  been  "Printed  for  Richard  Harper,  at  the  Bible 
and  Harp,  in  Smithfield."  The  wood-cut  at  the  end  is  a  reprefenta- 
tion  of  Tarlton,  the  comedian,  who  was  fo  popular  before  1588,  when 
he. died.  If  the  entry  in  the  regifter  of  St.  Leonard's,  Shoreditch,  ap 
ply  to  him,  as  no  doubt  it  does,  his  name  has  never  been  accurately 
fpelt  in  the  quotations  of  it :  it  there  flands  Richard  Torrelton  ;  and  it 
is  remarkable  that  he  was  buried  on  the  very  day  his  will  bears  date, 
September  3.  We  may  conclude  perhaps  that  he  died  of  the  plague. 
There  was  a  wood-cut  of  Tarlton,  playing  upon  his  pipe  and  tabor,  as 
early  as  1590,  no  doubt  fimilar  to  that  we  have  inferted,and  not  unfre- 
quently  found  at  the  head  of  old  ballads.] 

N  ancient  times,  when  as  plain  dealing 
Was  moft  of  all  in  fafhion, 
There  was  not  then  half  fo  much  ftealing, 

Nor  men  fo  given  to  paffion ; 

But  now  a  days  truth  fo  decays, 

And  falfe  knaves  there  are  plenty, 

So  pride  exceeds  all  worthy  deeds, 

While  Mock-begger  Hall ftands  empty. 


u 


. 

5o  Mock-begger's  Hall. 

The  hangman  now  the  fafhion  keeps, 
And  fwaggers  like  our  gallants  ; 
While  love  and  charity  fits  and  weeps, 
To  fee  them  wafte  their  talents ; 
Spend  all  their  ftore  untill  no  more, 
Such  prodigals  there  are  plenty, 
Thus  brave  it  out,  while  men  them  flout, 
And  Mock-begger  Halljiands  empty. 

Ned  Swam  hath  fetched  his  cloaths  from  pawn, 

With  dropping  of  the  barrell ; 

Joan  Duft  hath  bought  a  fmock  of  lawn, 

And  now  begins  to  quarrell : 

She  thinks  herfelfe,  poor  filly  elfe, 

To  be  the  beft  of  twenty, 

And  yet  her  fcore  is  wondrous  poor, 

While  Mock-begger  Hall ftands  empty. 

I  read  in  ancient  times  of  yore, 
That  men  of  worthy  calling 
Built  almes  houfes  and  fpittles  ftore, 
Which  now  are  all  down  falling ; 
And  few  men  feek  them  to  repair, 
Nor  none  is  there  among  twenty 
That  for  good  deeds  will  take  any  care, 
While  Mock-begger  Halljiands  empty. 

Farm  houfes  which  their  fathers  built, 
And  land  well  kept  by  tillage, 


Mock-begger's  Hall. 


51 


Their  prodigal  fons  have  fold  for  gilt 

In  every  town  and  village. 

To  the  city  and  court  they  do  refort, 

With  gold  and  filver  plenty ; 

And  there  they  fpend  their  time  in  fport, 

While  Mock-be gger  Hall  ftands  empty. 

Young  landlords,  when  to  age  they  come, 
Their  rents  they  would  be  racking ; 
The  tenant  muft  give  a  golden  fum, 
Or  elfe  he  is  turn'd  packing : 
Great  fines,  and  double  rent  befide, 
Or  elfe  they'l  not  content  be  : 
It  is  for  to  maintain  their  monftrous  pride, 
While  Mock-begger  Hall  ftands  empty. 

Their  fathers  went  in  homely  freez, 
And  wore  good  plain  cloth  breeches ; 
Their  ftockings  with  the  fame  agrees, 
Sowed  on  with  good  ftrong  flitches  : 
They  were  not  then  called  gentlemen, 
Though  they  had  wealth  great  plenty ; 
Now  every  gull's  grown  worfhipfull, 
While  Mock-begger  Hall  ftands  empty. 

No  gold  nor  filver  parchment  lace 
Was  worn  but  by  our  Nobles ; 
Nor  would  the  honeft  harmlefs  face 
Wear  cuffs  with  fo  many  doubles. 


money. 


52  Mock-begger's  Hall. 

Their  bands  were  to  their  fhirts  fown  then, 
Yet  cloth  was  full  as  plenty  ; 
Now  one  hand  hath  more  cloth  than  ten, 
While  Mock-be gger  Hall ftands  empty. 

Now  we  are  apes  in  imitation, 

The  more  indeed's  the  pity ; 

The  city  follows  the  ftranger's  fafhion, 

The  country  followes  the  city  : 

And  ere  one  fafhion  is  known  throughout, 

Another  they  will  invent  ye  ; 

'Tis  all  your  gallants  ftudy  about, 

While  Mock-begger  Halljlands  empty. 

Methinks  it  is  a  great  reproach 

To  thofe  that  are  nobly  defcended, 

When  for  their  pleafures  they  cannot  have  a  coach 

Wherewith  they  might  be  attended ; 

But  every  beggerly  Jack  and  Gill, 

That  eat  fcant  a  good  meal  in  twenty, 

Muft  through  the  ftreets  be  jaunted  ftill, 

While  Mock-begger  Hallftands  empty. 

There's  fome  are  rattled  thorough  the  ftreets, 

Probatum  eft,  I  tell  it, 

Whofe  names  are  wrapt  in  parchment  meets ; 

It  grieves  their  hearts  to  fpell  it : 

They  are  not  able  two  men  to  keep, 

With  a  coachman  they  muft  content  be, 


Mock-begger's  Hall.  53 


Which  at  play-houfe  doore  in's  box  lies  afleep, 
While  Mock-be gger  Halljlands  empty. 

Our  gentlewomen,  whofe  means  is  nothing 

To  that  which  they  make  (how  of, 

Muft  ufe  all  the  fafhions  in  their  cloathing, 

Which  they  can  hear  or  know  of: 

They  take  fuch  care  themfelves  to  deck, 

That  money  is  oft  fo  fcanty, 

The  belly  is  forc'd  to  complain  to  the  back, 

While  Mock-begger  Halljlands  empty. 

There  is  a  crue,  and  a  very  mad  crue, 

That  about  the  town  doth  fwagger, 

That  feem  like  Knights  to  the  people's  view, 

And  wear  both  fword  and  dagger, 

That  fweeten  their  cloaths  once  a  week ; 

Hunger  with  them  is  fo  plenty, 

The  broker  will  not  have  them  to  feek, 

While  Mock-begger  Halljlands  empty. 

Some  gentlemen  and  citizens  have, 

In  divers  eminent  places, 

Erected  houfes  fine  and  brave, 

Which  flood  for  the  owners'  graces. 

Let  any  poor  to  fuch  a  door 

Come,  they  expecting  plenty, 

They  there  may  afk  till  their  throats  are  fore, 

For  Mock-begger  Halljlands  empty. 


54 


Mock-begger's  Hall 


Thus  plainly  I  to  you  declare 
How  ftrangely  times  are  changed  ; 
What  humors  in  the  people  are, 
How  vertue  is  eftranged  : 
How  every  jackanapes  can  ftrut, 
Such  coxcombs  there  are  plenty  ; 
But  at  the  laft  in  the  prifon  fhut, 
So  Mock-be gger  Hall  Jlands  empty. 


FINIS. 


55 


Larum  Bell  for  London. 


[The  name  of  the  author  of  the  following  production — John  Carre — 
is  new  in  the  hiftory  of  our  poetry,  although  it  may  be  thought  that 
he  does  not  add  much  to  its  claims  to  admiration  :  his  ftanzas,  however, 
contain  a  remarkable  exhortation  again  ft  the  prevailing  vices  of  the  me 
tropolis  at  an  early  date,  for  the  colophon  of  a  work  in  which  they  ap 
peared  is,  "  Imprinted  at  London,  by  Henry  Kirkham,  1573."  The 
broadfide  has  no  date,  but  may  be  even  older.] 

OR  thee,  O  London!  I  lament, 

And  wring  my  hands  with  mourning 

chere, 
Becaufe  that  thou  wilt  not  repent, 

Seyng  thy  deftruftion  draweth  nere. 
If  it  be  true  as  Scriptures  tell, 
Thy  fynnes  will  fincke  thee  doune  to  hell. 

The  vices  whiche  in  thee  are  ufed, 

Too  tedious  are  for  me  to  tell : 
Thy  noble  fame  is  fore  abufed, 

By  thofe  whiche  in  thee  now  doe  dwell ; 
Whereby  I  fee  thy  great  decaie, 
That  God  doth  threaten  thee  eche  daie. 


A  Larum  Bell  for  London. 

The  vice  of  pride  hath  tane  fuche  place, 

That  it  can  not  be  rooted  out ; 
And  hath  continued  fo  long  fpace, 

That  of  Gods  ire  thou  haft  no  doubt : 
And  fuche  a  place  pride  doeth  fupplie, 
That  from  thee  it  will  never  flie. 

For  like  a  weede  it  up  doeth  fpryng, 

It  is  not  fet  nor  fowen  at  all ; 
The  whiche  good  herbes  and  fruidles  will  bryng, 

Ere  they  be  ripe,  unto  a  fall. 
To  cut  it  doune  it  is  no  boote, 
Except  you  cleane  plucke  up  the  roote. 

For  where  this  weede  doth  fpring  and  grow, 
Good  fruiftes  can  not  there  profper  well, 

Becaufe  that  cruelneffe  fo  doeth  flowe, 

That  vertuous  herbes  it  doeth  excell : 

Whiche  weede  we  maie  compare  to  pride, 

That  caufeth  vertue  awaie  to  flide. 

So  likewife  pride  in  London  now 

Doeth  florifhe  in  fuche  goodly  forte, 

That  they  invent  whiche  waie  and  how 
Thereby  augmented  it  might  be; 

And  nothyng  doe  regarde  at  all, 

That  pride  in  the  ende  will  have  a  fall. 

Confider  well  that  pride  hath  been 
The  fall  of  many  cities  greate, 


A  Larum  Bell  for  London.  57 

And  Sodom  foncke  for  fuche  like  fynne, 

As  facred  Scriptures  dooth  repete  ; 
Gomorrha  eke  came  to  decaie, 
Becaufe  that  pride  did  beare  the  fwaie. 

And  Alexandria  in  like  cace, 

Whiche  was  a  citie  ftrong  and  greate ; 
Pride  would  not  let  them  purchafe  grace, 

Nor  yet  for  mercie  would  intreate : 
Becaufe  that  pride  fo  muche  did  flowe, 
It  was  deftroied,  and  lies  full  lowe. 

And  Ninivie  like  caufe  I  finde, 

In  the  ende  for  pride  was  cleane  deftroied, 
For  pride  fo  muche  did  puffe  their  minde, 

That  God  .was  cleane  forgot  and  voide : 
In  pride  fo  much  they  did  delite, 
That  God  the  fame  deftroied  quite. 

Jerufalem,  that  citie  ftrong, 

Pride  would  not  let  them  God  to  knowe, 
In  whiche  pride  they  continued  long, 

As  Jofephus  the  fame  doeth  fhowe ; 
Till  Titus  did  deftroie  the  fame, 
And  did  accufe  their  pride  with  fhame. 

Enfample  take  by  noble  Troie ; 

The  like  for  pride  was  never  fene  : 
With  warres  the  Greekes  did  it  deftroie, 

Bothe  wall  and  houfe  they  threwe  doune  clene : 


foolifh 


A  Larum  Bell  for  London. 

Becaufe  that  pride  did  beare  the  fwaie, 
It  came  to  ruine  and  decaie. 

Therefore,  O  London !  now  take  heede, 
For  thou  waft  called  Troie  fometyme, 

That  fuche  decaie  doeth  not  procede 
For  to  revenge  of  pride  the  crime  : 

Therefore  repent,  from  pride  refraine, 

Left,  as  Troie  did,  thou  feele  fome  paine. 

For  God  doeth  threaten  thy  greate  fall, 
By  fignes  and  tokens  many  waies, 

The  whiche  unto  thee  happen  fhall 

Shortly,  Chrift  faieth,  and  in  fewe  daies. 

Therefore  his  power  divine  to  pleafe 

Repent,  his  ire  thou  fhalt  appeafe. 

O  London !  thou  haft  caufe  to  weepe, 

For  to  confider  thyne  eftate : 
Thou  art  in  fynne  now  drownde  fo  deepe, 

That  from  hell  mouthe  thou  canft  not  fcape 
Except  repentance  thou  embrace, 
At  God's  hande  thou  fhalt  finde  no  grace. 

To  pradlife  pride  thou  doeft  delight, 
And  fonde  devifes  for  to  gaine, 

Whiche  is  efteemed  all  in  God's  fight 
A  thing  moft  frivolous  and  vaine : 

Yet  thou  doeft  feke  the  fame  to  ufe,     , 

Whiche  doeth  thy  noble  fame  abufe. 


A  Larum  Bell  for  London. 

Let  this  a  reformation  be 

For  thee,  that  thou  in  time  repent, 
Whereby  thou  mightft  have  grace  to  flee 

From  pride,  the  Lorde's  will  to  content. 
Revolve  in  mynde  what  happen  mall, 
For  pride  in  the  ende  mall  have  a  fall. 

JOHN  CARRE, 


59 


6o 


The  Bride's  Good-morrow. 

To  a  pleafant  new  Tune* 

[This  is  a  peculiar,  but  a  pleafmg  ballad,  tinged  with  a  puritanical 
fpirit,  and  unqueftionably  of  an  early  date,  though,  as  we  learn  at  the 
end  of  it,  "  Printed  by  the  Affignes  of  Thomas  Symcocke,"  of  whom 
we  have  before  fpoken  (p.  26).  The  domeftic  ceremonials,  preceding 
a  marriage,  near  the  end  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  are  delicately  touched, 
and  afford  a  not  uninterefting  illuftration  of  the  manners  of  the  time. 
The  lines  near  the  clofe, 

"  With  fweet  rofemary  in  their  hand, 
a  perfect  token  of  your  virgin's  life," 

fhew  why  that  herb  was  of  old  employed  as  an  emblem  at  weddings, 
and  afford  a  particular  explanation  of  a  paffage  in  "  Pericles."  Acl:  iv. 
Sc.  6.  The  exclamation  "  Good  morrow,  Miftris  Bride  !  "  is  found,  as 
a  quotation,  in  more  than  one  play  of  the  time  of  Shakefpeare,  with 
other  allufions  to  this  ballad.] 

HE  night  is  pafled,  and  joyfull  day  appeareth 

moft  cleare  on  every  fide, 
With  pleafant  muiick  we  therefore  falute  you: 

good  morrow,  Miftris  Bride ! 
From  fleepe  and  flumber  now  wake  you  out  of  hand, 

your  Bridegroome  ftayeth  at  home, 
Whofe  fancy,  favour  and  affediion  ftill  doth  ftand 

fixed  on  thee  alone. 
Drefle  you  in  your  beft  array  ; 
This  muft  be  your  wedding  day. 


The  Bride's  Good-morrow. 

God  almighty  fend  you  happy  joy  ! 
'n  health  and  wealth  to  keep  you  ftill, 
.nd,  if  it  be  his  blefled  will, 
God  keepe  you  fafe  from  forrow  and  annoy. 

[This  day  is  honour  now  brought  into  thy  bofome, 

and  comfort  to  thy  heart ; 
[For  God  hath  fent  you  a  friend  for  to  defend  you 

from  forrow  care  and  fmart. 
[In  health  and  ficknes,  for  thy  comfort  day  and  night 

he  is  appointed  and  brought, 
I Whofe  love  and  liking  is  moft  conftant  fure  and  right ; 

then,  love  him  as«ye  ought. 
[Now  you  have  your  hearts  defire 
[And  the  thing  you  did  require. 

God  almighty  fend  you  happy  joy  ! 
[In  health  and  wealth  to  keepe  you  ftill, 
And,  if  it  be  his  blefled  will, 

God  keepe  you  fafe  from  forrow  and  annoy. 

[There  is  no  treafure  the  which  may  be  compared 

unto  a  faithfull  friend: 
jGold  foone  decayeth,  and  worldly  wealth  confumeth, 

and  wafteth  in  the  winde  ; 
But  love  once  planted  in  a  perfedt  and  pure  minde 

indureth  weale  and  woe : 
|The  frownes  of  fortune,  come  they  never  fo  unkinde, 

cannot  the  fame  overthrowe. 


61 


62  The  Bride's  Good-morrow. 

A  bit  of  bread  is  better  cheare, 

Where  love  and  friendfhip  doth  appeare, 

then  dainty  difhes  fluffed  full  of  flrife ; 
For  where  the  heart  is  cloyd  with  care, 
Sower  is  the  fweetefl  fare, 

And  death  far  better  then  fo  bad  a  life. 

Sweet  Bride,  then  may  you  full  well  contented  flay  you, 

and  in  your  heart  rejoyce, 
Sith  God  was  guider  both  of  your  heart  and  fancy, 

and  maker  of  your  choice  : 
And  he  that  preferd  you  to  this  happie  flate 

will  not  behold  you  decay, 
Nor  fee  you  lacke  reliefe  or  helpe  in  any  rate, 

if  you  his  precepts  obey. 
To  thofe  that  afk  it  faithfully 
The  Lord  will  no  good  thing  deny  ; 

this  comfort  in  the  Scriptures  you  may  finde : 
Then,  let  no  worldly  griefe  and  care 
Vexe  your  heart  with  foule  difpaire, 

Which  doth  declare  the  unbelieving  minde. 

All  things  are  ready,  and  every  whit  prepared, 

to  beare  you  company ; 
Your  friends  and  parents  doe  give  their  due  attendance 

together  courteoufly. 
The  houfe  is  drefl  and  garnifht  for  your  fake 

with  flowers  gallant  and  green  : 


The  Bride's  Good-morrow. 

folem  feaft  your  comely  cooks  do  ready  make 

where  all  your  friends  will  be  feen. 
'oungmen  and  maids  do  ready  ftand, 

rith  fweet  rofemary  in  their  hand, 

a  perfeft  token  of  your  virgin's  life  : 
'o  wait  upon  you  they  intend 
rnto  the  Church  to  make  an  end, 

And  God  make  thee  a  joyfull  wedded  wife  ! 


FINIS. 


The  Soldier's  Repentance. 

To  an  excellent  new  Tune^  called  "  Calino." 

[This  ballad  has  neither  printer's  name  (which  is  unufual)  nor  date 
(which  is  commonly  omitted)  but  we  may  feel  fure  that  it  was  written 
about  the  middle  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth.  The  Irifh  tune  to  which 
it  was  to  be  fung,  was  employed  as  early  as  1584,  in  Clement  Robin- 
fon's  "  Handfull  of  Pleafant  Delights  ;  "  and  Piftol  ufes  it  in  Shakes 
peare's  "  Henry  V.,"  though  Malone,  Steevens,  &c.  were  at  fault  about 
it  (See  Collier's  Shakefpeare,  iv.  543).  The  ballad  was  fuppofed 
to  be  fung  regarding  fome  worthy  foldier,  who  perhaps  had  returned 
poor  and  wounded  from  the  wars  in  the  Low  Countries  :  it  is  much  in 
the  fpirit  of  Barnaby  Rich,  but  it  is  too  good  for  his  verification.  The 
full  title  in  the  original  broadfide  is  fomewhat  long  : — "A  pleafant  fong 
made  by  a  Soldier,  whofe  bringing  up  had  been  dainty,  and  partly  by 
thofe  afte&ions  of  his  unbridled  youth  is  now  beaten  with  his  own  rod ; 
and  therefore  termed  his  Repentance,  or  the  Fall  of  Folly."] 

;N  fummer  time,  when  Phoebus  rayes 
Did  cheer  each  mortall  mans  delight, 
Increafing  of  the  cheerfull  dayes, 
And  cutting  of  the  darkfome  night : 

When  nature  brought  foorth  every  thing 
By  juft  return  of  Aprill  mowers, 
To  make  the  pleafant  branches  fpring 
With  fundry  forts  of  herbs  and  flowers, 


The  Soldier's  Repentance.  65 

It  was  my  chance  to  walk  abroad 
To  view  dame  Natures  new  come  brood: 
The  pretty  birds  did  lay  on  load 
With  fugred  tunes  in  every  wood. 

The  gallant  nightingale  did  fet 
Her  fpeckled  breft  againft  a  bryer, 
Whofe  mournfull  tunes  bewail  (as  yet) 
Her  brother  Tereus  falfe  defire. 

The  ferpents  having  caft  their  coats 
Lay  liftning  how  the  birds  did  ling ; 
The  pretty  birds  with  fugred  notes 
Did  welcome  in  the  pleafant  fpring. 

I  drew  me  to  the  green-wood  fide 
To  hear  this  country  harmony, 
Whereas  er'e  long  I  had  efpy'd 
A  wofull  man  in  mifery. 

He  lay  alone  upon  the  ground, 
And  to  the  heavens  he  caft  his  eye  : 
The  bordering  hills  and  dales  refound 
The  echoes  of  his  piteous  cry. 

He  wailing  fore  and  fighing  faid, 
O  heavens,  what  endlefle  grief  have  I ! 
Why  are  my  forrows  thus  delaid  ? 
Come  therefore,  Death,  and  let  me  die. 


66  The  Soldier's  Repentance. 

When  Nature  firft  had  made  my  frame, 
And  fet  me  loofe  when  me  had  done, 
Steps  Fortune  in,  that  fickle  dame, 
To  end  what  Nature  had  begun. 

She  fet  my  feet  upon  her  knee, 
And  bleft  my  tender  age  with  ftore; 
But,  in  the  end,  me  did  agree 
To  mar  what  me  had  done  before. 

I  could  no  fooner  creep  alone, 
But  me  forfook  her  foftered  child  : 
I  had  no  lands  to  live  upon, 
But  trac'd  abroad  the  world  fo  wild. 

At  length  I  fell  in  company 

With  gallant  youths  of  Mars  his  train  : 

I  fpent  my  life  in  jeopardy, 

And  got  my  labour  for  my  pain. 

I  watched  on  the  fieged  walls, 
In  thunder  lightning  rain  and  fnow, 
And  oft  being  mot  with  powdred  balls, 
Whofe  coftly  markes  are  yet  to  mow. 

When  all  my  kindred  took  their  reft 
At  home  in  many  a  ftately  bed, 
The  ground  and  pavement  was  my  neft, 
My  flafk  a  pillow  for  my  head. 


The  Soldier's  Repentance. 

My  meat  was  fuch  as  I  could  find, 
Of  roots  and  herbs  of  fundry  fort, 
Which  did  content  my  hungry  mind, 
Although  my  commons  were  but  fhort. 

My  powder  ferv'd  to  fait  my  meat, 
My  murrion  for  a  gilded  cup ; 
Whereas  fuch  drink  as  I  could  get 
In  Ip ring  or  ditch,  I  drank  it  up. 

My  rapier  always  by  my  fide, 

My  piece  lay  charged  with  match  and  light, 

Thus  many  a  month  I  did  abide, 

To  ward  all  day,  and  watch  by  night. 

N 

I  lived  in  this  glorious  vein, 
Untill  my  limbs  grew  ftiffand  lame ; 
And  thus  I  got  me  home  again, 
Regarding  no  fuch  coftly  fame. 

When  I  came  home  I  made  a  proof 
What  friends  would  do,  if  need  fhould  be  : 
My  neareft  kinsfolk  lookt  aloof, 
As  though  they  had  forgotten  me. 

And  as  the  owl  by  chattering  charmes 
Is  wondred  at  by  other  birds, 
So  they  came  wondring  at  my  harms, 
And  yeeld  me  no  relief  but  words. 


67 


helmet. 


68 


The  Soldier's  Repentance. 


Thus  do  I  want,  while  they  have  ftore, 
That  am  their  equall  every  way, 
Though  Fortune  lent  them  fomewhat  more, 
Elfe  I  had  been  as  good  as  they. 

Come,  gentle  Death,  and  end  my  grief. 
Ye  pretty  birds  ring  forth  my  knell : 
Let  Robin  Red-breaft  be  the  chief 
To  bury  me,  and  fo  farewell. 

Let  no  good  fouldier  be  difmaid 
To  fight  in  field  with  courage  bold ; 
Yet  mark  the  words  that  I  have  faid, 
Truft  not  to  friends  when  thou  art  old. 


69 


The 

Widow  of  Watling  Street. 

PART  I. 

To  the  Tune  of"  Bragandary." 

[This  ballad,  in  two  parts,  and  to  two  different  tunes,  was  entered 
"or  publication  on  the  books  of  the  Stationers  Company  by  Richard 
ones  on  I5th  Aug.  1597,  which  with  fufficient  exa&nefs  afcertains 
ts  date.  It  was  extremely  popular,  and  muft  have  been  often  re- 
>rinted  :  our  impreffion  is  made  from  a  reprint,  no  copy  of  the  oldeft 
dition  being  now  known,  and  all  others  being  of  extreme  rarity, 
/lalone  could  not  obtain  a  fight  of  it,  and  fuppofed  that  it  was  the 
Dundation  of  the  play  called  "  The  Puritan,  or  the  Widow  of  Watling 
treet,"  firft  printed  in  1607,  and  attributed  to  Shakefpeare  in  the  folio  of 
664,  but  in  reality  by  Wentworth  (not  William,  as  Malone  gives  it, 
uppl.  ii.  534,)  Smith,  whofe  name  occurs  in  Henflowe's  "Diary," 
>rinted  by  the  Shakefpeare  Society.  The  facl:  is,  that  the  ballad  has  no 
brt  of  connexion  with  the  play,  beyond  the  tide,  which  perhaps  was 
dopted  by  the  dramatift  on  account  of  its  popularity.  The  copy  we 
lave  ufed  was  "  Printed  for  Fr.  Cowles,"  who  omitted  the  burden 
fter  the  firft  ftanza.] 

F  the  kind  Widdow  of  Watling  ftreet 

I  will  the  ftory  tell, 
Who  by  her  hufband  deere  was  left 

in  fubftance  very  well. 
A  prodigall  fonne  likewife  had  (he, 
And  faire  young  daughters  lovely  three. 


7° 


The  Widow  of  Watling  Street. 

_ 

Great  mifery ,  forrow  and  mifery, 
Commethfor  want  of  grace. 

For  by  his  daily  pra&ifes, 

which  were  both  lewd  and  ill, 
His  father's  heart  from  him  was  drawne, 

his  love  and  his  good  will : 
But  what  chance  fo  ere  befell, 
His  mother  lov'd  him  dearely  well. 

When  in  prifon  he  lay  full  poore 

for  debt  that  he  did  owe, 
His  father  would  not  ftirre  out  of  doore 

for  to  releafe  his  woe ; 
But  when  his  mother  his  griefe  did  fee, 
Shee  found  the  meanes  to  fet  him  free. 

And  when  her  hufband  fell  full  ficke, 
and  went  to  make  his  will, 

0  hulband!    remember  your  fon,  me  fayd, 

although  he  hath  beene  ill ; 
But  yet,  no  doubt,  he  may  returne, 
Repenting  the  evill  he  hath  done. 

Remember,  wife,  what  forrow  and  care 

through  him  I  daily  found, 
Who  through  his  lewd  ungracious  deedes 

hath  fpent  me  many  a  pound  ; 
And,  therefore,  let  him  finke  or  fwim, 

1  meane  not  for  to  deale  with  him. 


The  Widow  of  Watling  Street, 

And,  therefore,  fole  Executor  heere 

I  doe  thee  onely  make, 
To  pay  my  debts  and  legacies ; 

the  reft  unto  thee  take. 
Not  fo,  my  hufband  deare,  quoth  me, 
But  let  your  fonne  be  joyn'd  with  me. 

For  why  he  is  our  child,  me  fayd, 

we  can  it  not  denie, 
The  firft  that  ever  graced  you 

with  father's  dignitie : 
Oh  !  that  ever  you  did  me  love, 
Grant  this  requeft  for  his  behove. 

Thy  love,  deare  wife,  was  evermore 

moft  pretious  unto  me  ; 
And,  therefore,  for  thy  fweet  love's  fake, 

I  grant  thy  fuit  to  thee ; 
But  ere  one  yeare  be  fully  fpent, 
I  know  thou  wilt  the  fame  repent. 

Now  was  his  sonne  received  home, 

and  with  his  mother  deare 
Was  joyn'd  Executor  of  the  will, 

which  did  his  courage  cheere. 
The  old  man  dying  buried  was : 
And  now  behold  what  came  to  pafle. 

The  funerall  being  ended  quite, 
it  fell  upon  a  day, 


7  2  The  Widow  of  Watling  Street. 

Some  friend  did  fetch  the  Widdow  forth, 

to  drive  conceits  away : 
While  fhe  was  forth,  and  thought  no  ill, 
Her  wicked  fonne  doth  worke  his  will. 

PofTeffion  of  the  houfe  he  took 

in  moft  defpitefull  wife, 
Throwing  his  lifters  out  of  doore 

with  fad  lamenting  cryes. 
When  this  they  did  his  mother  mow, 
She  would  not  believe  he  would  do  fo. 

But  when  fhe  came  unto  her  houfe, 

and  found  it  fo  indeede, 
She  cald  unto  her  fonne  and  faid, 

although  her  heart  did  bleede, 
Come  downe,  my  fonne,  come  downe,  faid  fhe ; 
Let  in  thy  mother  and  fitters  three. 

I  will  not  let  in  my  mother,  he  faid, 

nor  fitters  any  one  ; 
The  houfe  is  mine,  I  will  it  keepe  ; 

Therefore,  away,  begone ! 
O  fonne  !  how  canft  thou  endure  to  fee't 
Thy  mother  and  fitters  to  lye  i'th'  ttreet  ? 

Did  not  thy  father  by  his  will, 

for  tearme  of  this  my  life, 
Give  me  this  houfe  for  to  enjoy, 

without  all  further  ftrife  ? 


The  Widow  of  Watling  Street. 

And  more,  of  all  his  goods,  faid  fhee, 
I  am  Executor  joyn'd  with  thee. 

My  father  left  you  the  houfe,  he  faid, 

but  this  was  his  intent, 
That  you  therefore,  during  your  life, 

fhould  pay  me  yearely  rent : 
An  hundred  pound  a  yeare  therefore 
You  mall  give  me,  or  elfe  give  it  o're. 

And  fith  the  cittie's  cuftom  is, 

That  you  your  thirds  muft  have 
Of  all  my  father's  moveables, 

I  grant  what  law  doth  crave ; 
But  not  a  penny  more  will  I 
Difcharge  of  any  legacie. 

O  wicked  fonne!  quoth  fhee,  that  feekes 

thy  mother  thus  to  fleece. 
Thy  father  to  his  daughters  gave 

three  hundred  pound  a  peece : 
Tell  me,  who  mall  their  portions  pay, 
Appointed  at  their  marriage  day  ? 

Then  with  a  fcornefull  fmile  he  faid, 

what  talke  you  of  fo  much  ? 
Ten  pounds  a  peece  I  will  them  give, 

my  charity  is  fuch. 
Now  fie  upon  thee,  beaft !  quoth  me, 
That  thus  doft  deale  with  them  and  me. 


74  The  Widow  of  Watling  Street. 

But  ere  that  they  and  I  will  take 

this  injurie  at  thy  hand, 
The  chiefeft  peeres  of  England  {hall 

the  matter  underftand. 
Nay,  if  you  go  to  that,  quoth  he, 
Marke  well  what  I  fhall  tell  to  thee. 

Thou  haft  a  fecret  harlot  beene ; 

and  this  He  prove  full  plaine. 
That  in  my  father's  lifetime  didft 

lewd  ruffians  entertaine ; 
The  which  did  then  beget  of  thee, 
In  wicked  fort,  thefe  baftards  three. 

No  daughters  to  my  father,  then, 

were  they  in  any  wife, 
As  he  fuppofed  them  to  be, 

Thou  blinding  fo  his  eyes : 
Therefore,  no  right  at  all  have  they 
To  any  penny  given  this  day. 

When  fhee  did  heare  her  fhamelefle  fonne 

for  to  defame  her  fo, 
Shee  with  her  lovely  daughters  three 

with  griefe  away  did  goe. 
But  how  this  matter  out  did  fall 
The  fecond  part  will  mew  you  all. 

FINIS  PART  I. 


The  Widow  of  Watling  Street, 


75 


PART  II. 

To  the  Tune  of"  The  Wanton  Wife." 

HPHE  beautifull  Widdow  of  Watling  Street, 
-*-    Being  thus  falfely  accufed  by  her  fonne, 
With  her  three  daughters  of  favour  fo  fweet, 
Whofe  beauty  the  love  of  many  had  wonne, 
With  her  daughters  three  for  fuccour  went  fhe 
Unto  the  King's  Counfell  of  noble  degree. 

Nowyjie  upon  falfehood  and  forger  ie  fraile  ! 

For  great  is  the  truth,  and  it  will  prevaile. 

'er  fonne  by  writ  now  fummoned  is 
At  the  Star-chamber  with  fpeed  to  appeare, 
And  anfwer  the  vile  abufes  of  his  ; 
The  Lords  of  the  Counfell  the  matter  will  heare. 
This  newes  being  brought,  his  wits  he  fought, 
Which  way  his  villany  beft  might  be  wrought. 

Then  up  and  down  the  citie  fo  faire 

He  feeketh  companions  to  ferve  his  turne, 

A  fort  of  vagabonds  naked  and  bare, 

The  which  to  worke  murders  for  money  are  won 

Thefe  wretches,  behold,  for  money  and  gold, 

He  hired  for  witnefs,  his  lies  to  uphold. 

My  mafters,  quoth  he,  my  mother  by  name 
To  be  a  lewd  ftrumpet  accufed  I  have  ; 


76 


The  Widow  of  Watling  Street. 

And  having  no  witnefle  to  prove  the  fame, 
Your  ayde  and  afllftance  herein  I  doe  crave  : 
Therefore,  without  fear,  before  the  Lords  there, 
That  this  thing  is  certain  you  fixe  fhall  it  fweare. 

The  firft  two,  quoth  he,  fhall  fweare  on  a  booke 
That  fixteene  yeares  paft  they  plainely  did  fee, 
As  they  through  the  garden  hedge  fadly  did  looke, 
That  fhe  in  one  houre  was  abufed  by  three  : 
And  how  it  befell,  they  two  mark'd  it  well, 
That  juft  nine  months  after  fhe  had  her  firft  girle. 

The  fecond  couple  fhall  fweare  in  this  fort ; 
That  at  Briftow,  about  thirteene  yeares  paft, 
She  with  her  owne  prentice  did  fall  in  fuch  fport, 
That  her  fecond  daughter  was  got  at  the  laft. 
Now  truft  us,  quoth  they,  wee'le  fweare  what  you  fa; 
Or  any  thing  elfe  for  money  this  day. 

And  thus  the  third  couple  their  oath  now  fhal  take, 
That  as  at  the  Bath  fhee  ftay'd  on  a  day, 
For  ach  in  the  bones  an  excufe  fhe  did  make, 
How  fhee  with  a  courtier  the  wanton  did  play ; 
And  how,  well  you  wot,  in  that  pleafant  plot 
Her  deareft  young  daughter  for  certaine  was  got. 

But  now,  my  matters,  your  names  let  me  know, 
That  I  may  provide  your  apparell  with  fpeede 
Like  fixe  grave  citizens,  fo  you  muft  goe ; 
The  better  your  fpeeches  the  Nobles  will  heed. 


The  Widow  of  Watling  Street.  77 

So  fhall  I  with  fcorne,  ere  Saturday  morne, 
Prove  her  a  harlot,  my  fifters  bafe  borne. 

My  name  is  Make-fhift,  the  firft  man  did  fay  ; 
And  Francis  Light-finger,  the  fecond  likewife  ; 
Cuthbert  Creepe-window,  the  third  to  difplay  ; 
And  Rowland  Robman  with  foule  flaring  eyes ; 
Jacke  Shamelefle  came  then  with  Harry  Steale-hen  : 
You  are,  quoth  the  young  man,  fome  right  honeft  men, 

Before  the  Lords  moft  prudent  and  grave 
This  wretch  doth  with  his  witnefles  come. 
The  mother  complaines,  and  juftice  doth  crave, 
Of  all  the  offences  that  he  hath  her  done. 
My  Lords,  then  quoth  he,  I  pray  you  heare  me ; 
The  law  for  my  deeds  my  warrant  fhall  be. 

Her  fonne  fayd  alfo,  fhee's  a  harlot  moft  vilde, 
And  thofe  be  her  baftards  that  ftond  here  in  place  ; 
And  that  me  hath  often  her  body  defilde, 
By  very  good  witnefle  He  prove  to  her  face. 
This  thing  of  thy  mother  thou  oughteft  to  fmother : 
Tis  fhame  for  a  child  to  fpeake  ill  of  his  Mother. 

But  if  this  matter  be  proved  untrue, 

And  thou  a  falfe  lyar  be  found  to  thy  face, 

Worfe  than  an  infidel  Pagan,  or  Jew, 

Thou  ought' ft  to  be  punifh'd  and  plagu'd  in  this  cafe  : 

And  therefore  draw  neare,  and  let  us  heare 

What  fays  the  witnefs  that  here  doth  appeare. 


inftantly 


The  Widow  of  Watling  Street. 

When  the  firft  couple  did  come  for  to  fweare, 
They  quivered  and  quaked  in  moft  wondrous  fort : 
The  Lords  very  countenance  did  put  them  in  feare, 
And  now  they  knew  not  what  to  report. 
The  fecond  like  wife  fo  ftar'd  with  their  eyes, 
They  ftammered,  and  knew  not  what  to  devife. 

The  Lords  perceiving  the  cafe  how  it  went, 
Did  afke  the  laft  couple  what  they  had  to  fay, 
Who  fell  on  their  knees  incontinent, 
Saying  they  were  hired  for  money  that  day : 
Quoth  they,  it  is  fo ;  the  truth  for  to  fhow, 
Againft  the  good  Widdow  no  harme  we  doe  know. 

Thus  was  the  Widdow  delivered  from  blame, 
With  her  three  daughters  of  beauty  moft  bright  ; 
Her  fonne  reproached  with  forrow  and  fhame, 
Having  his  judgement  appointed  him  right : 
For  forfeit  even  all  the  goods  he  pofleft, 
To  loofe  both  his  eares,  and  banifht  fo  reft. 

When  he  heard  his  judgement  pronounced  to  be, 
The  tears  full  bitterly  fell  downe  from  his  face ; 
To  mother  and  fifters  he  kneeled  on  his  knee, 
Confeffing  that  lucre  had  brought  this  difgrace  : 
That  for  mine  owne  gaine  I  fought  to  detaine 
My  fifters'  three  portions,  this  lie  I  did  faine. 

Therefore,  deare  mother,  forgivenefle  I  crave 
Of  you  and  my  fifters,  offended  fo  fore  ; 


The  Widow  of  Watling  Street. 

My  body  from  perill  if  you  will  but  fave, 
I  fweare  I  will  grieve  and  offend  you  no  more. 
The  Lords  then  replide,  the  law  juftly  tride, 
The  punimment  now  thou  art  like  to  abide. 

[Therefore  to  prifon  now  thou  malt  goe, 

[Whereas  thou  malt  the  King's  pleafure  abide, 

[From  thence  to  be  brought  with  fhame  and  with  woe, 

"o  fuffer  the  punimment  due  for  thy  pride. 

'hen  out  of  hand  thou  (halt  underftand, 
[That  prefently  thou  fhalt  be  banifh'd  the  land. 

hSTow  while  in  prifon  this  prifoner  did  reft, 
Himfelfe  he  hanged  in  defperate  wife, 
Such  horrour  of  confcience  poflefed  his  breaft  ; 
And,  being  caft  forth,  the  ravens  peckt  out  his  eyes. 
All  children  behold,  what  truth  hath  been  told  : 
Accufe  no  man  falfely  for  lucre  of  gold. 


79 


8o 


Cupid's  Courtefie:  or 

The  Young  Gallant  foil'd  at  his  own  Weapon. 

To  a  moft  pleafant  "  Northern  Tune,  &c." 

[An  early  love-ballad,  the  date  of  which  we  cannot  pretend  to  afcer- 
tain  farther  than  that  there  exifts  a  manufcript  copy  of  it,  dated  1595  : 
the  edition  we  have  ufed  has,  as  ufual,  no  year  added  to  the  imprint, 
which  runs  thus  : — "  London :  Printed  by  and  for  W.  O.  for  A.  M. 
and  fold  by  the  Bookfellers."  A  mifprint  occurs  in  the  laft  ftanza  but 
four,  where  "  which  made  him  tremble  "  is  given,  inftead  of  "  which 
made  me  tremble."  The  fecond  ftanza  would  have  afforded  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Halpin  (See  Shakefpeare  Society's  Papers,  ii.  14.)  a  very  appofite 
illuftration  for  his  charming  eflay  on  the  pafTage  "runaway's  eyes," 
&c.  in  "Romeo  and  Juliet,"  Aft  iii.  Sc.  2.] 

HRO'  the  cool  fhady  woods 

as  I  was  ranging, 
I  heard  the  pretty  birds 
notes  rweetly  changing : 
Down  by  a  meadow  fide 

there  runs  a  river ; 
A  little  boy  I  efpy'd 
with  bow  and  quiver. 

Little  boy,  tell  me  why 
thou  art  here  diving  ? 


Cupid's  Courtefie, 


81 


Art  thou  fome  run-away, 
and  haft  no  biding  ? — 

I  am  no  run-away ; 
Venus,  my  mother, 

She  gave  me  leave  to  play 
when  I  came  hither. 

Little  boy,  go  with  me, 

and  be  my  fervant : 
I  will  take  care  to  fee 

for  thy  preferment.— 
If  I  with  thee  fhould  go, 

Venus  would  chide  me, 
And  take  away  my  bow, 

and  never  abide  me. 

Little  boy,  let  me  know 

what's  thy  name  termed, 
That  thou  doft  wear  a  bow, 

and  go'ft  fo  armed  ?— 
You  may  perceive  the  fame 

with  often  changing, 
Cupid  it  is  my  name ; 

I  live  by  ranging. 

If  Cupid  be  thy  name, 
that  moots  at  rovers, 

I  have  heard  of  thy  fame 
by  wounded  lovers. 


82  Cupid's  Courtefie. 


Should  any  languifh  that 

are  fet  on  fire 
By  fuch  a  naked  brat, 

I  much  admire. 

If  thou  doft  but  the  leaft 

at  my  laws  grumble, 
I'll  pierce  thy  ftubborn  breaft, 

and  make  thee  humble  : 
If  I  with  golden  dart 

wound  thee  but  furely, 
There's  no  phyfitian's  art 

that  e'er  can  cure  thee. 

Little  boy,  with  thy  bow 

why  doft  thou  threaten  ? 
It  is  not  long  ago 

fince  thou  was  beaten. 
Thy  wanton  mother  fair, 

Venus,  will  chide  thee : 
When  all  thy  arrows  are  gone, 

thou  may'ft  go  hide  thee. 

Of  powerful  {hafts,  you  fee, 

I  am  well  ftored, 
Which  makes  my  deity 

fo  much  adored  : 
With  one  poor  arrow  now 

HI  make  thee  fhiver, 


Cupid's  Courtefie. 


And  bend  unto  my  bow, 
and  fear  my  quiver. 

Dear  little  Cupid,  be 

courteous  and  kindly  ; 
I  know  thou  canft  not  hit, 

but  fhooteft  blindly. — 
Although  thou  calPft  me  blind, 

furely  I'll  hit  thee, 
That  thou  fhalt  quickly  find ; 

I'll  not  forget  thee. 

Then  little  Cupid  caught 

his  bow  fo  nimble, 
And  fhot  a  fatal  fhaft 

which  made  him  tremble. 
Go,  tell  thy  miftrefs  dear 

thou  can'ft  difcover 
What  all  the  paffions  are 

of  a  dying  lover. 

And  now  his  gallant  heart 

forely  was  bleeding, 
And  felt  the  greateft  fmart 

from  love  proceeding  : 
He  did  her  help  implore 

whom  he  affefted, 
But  found  that  more  and  more 

him  fhe  rejected. 


Cupid's  Courtefie 


For  Cupid  with  his  craft 

quickly  had  chofen, 
And  with  a  leaden  fhaft 

her  heart  had  frozen  ; 
Which  cauf  d  this  lover  more 

fadly  to  languifh, 
And  Cupid's  aid  implore, 

to  heal  his  anguifh. 

He  humble  pardon  crav'd 

for  his  offence  paft, 
And  vow'd  himfelf  a  flave, 

and  to  love  ftedfaft. 
His  prayers  fo  ardent  were, 

whilft  his  heart  panted, 
That  Cupid  lent  an  ear, 

and  his  fuit  granted. 

For  by  his  prefent  plaint 

he  was  regarded, 
And  his  adored  faint 

his  love  rewarded. 
And  now  they  live  in  joy 

fweetly  imbracing, 
And  left  the  little  boy 

in  the  woods  chafing. 

FINIS. 


My  Wife  will  be  my  Mafter. 

To  the  Tune  of '"  A  Taylour  is  no  man." 

[The  full  title  of  this  "merry  ballad  *'  in  the  broadfide  is  "My 
Wife  will  be  my  Mafter  ;  or  the  Married-man's  Complaint  againft  his 
unruly  Wife,  being  a  warning  for  all  unmarried  perfons  to  have  efpe- 
ciall  care  in  choohng  their  Maike,  left  they  meet  with  fuch  a  Myre- 
fhype  as  this  poor  man  did."  It  has  no  printer's  name  nor  date,  but 
we  may  place  it  after  1600.  Several  obvious  mifprints  occur,  fuch  as 
Jhooes  for  "  fheets"  in  the  fecond  line  of  the  eighth  ftanza,  and  offend  her 
is  twice  fubftituted  for  "  diftafte  her,"  which  the  rhyme  requires.  On 
this  point  it  is  to  be  obferved  that  "  mafter  "  was  of  old  pronounced 
and  printed  malfter,  and  fuch  may  have  been  the  cafe  in  the  original 
edition  of  this  ballad.] 

S  I  was  walking  forth  of  late, 

I  heard  a  man  complaining  ; 
With  that  I  drew  me  near  to  him, 
to  know  the  caufe  and  meaning 
Of  this  his  forrow,  pain,  and  grief, 

which  bred  him  fuch  difafter  : 
Alace  !  quoth  he,  what  (hall  I  do? 
my  wife  will  be  my  mafter. 

If  I  fhould  give  her  fourty  pound 
within  her  apron  folding, 


86  My  Wife  will  be  my  Mafter. 

No  longer  then  the  telling  on't 

her  tongue  leaves  never  fcolding : 

As  JEfop's  dog  barkt  at  the  moon, 
thinking  for  to  diftafte  her, 

So  doth  my  wife  fcold  without  caufe, 
and  ftrives  to  be  my  mafter. 

Were  I  fo  ftrong  as  Hercules, 

or  wifer  then  Apollo, 
Or  had  I  Icarus  wings  to  flee, 

my  wife  would  after  follow ; 
Or  fhould  I  live  as  many  years 

as  ever  did  King  Neftor, 
Yet  do  I  greatly  ftand  in  fear 

my  wife  would  be  my  mafter. 

I  know  no  caufe  nor  reafon  why 

that  me  with  me  fhould  jangle  : 
I  never  gave  her  caufe  at  all 

to  make  her  with  me  wrangle. 
I  pleafe  her  ftill  in  what  I  may, 

and  do  ho  jot  diftafte  her, 
Yet  me  doth  ftrive,  both  night  and  day, 

alwayes  to  be  my  mafter. 

I  every  morning  make  a  fire, 
all  which  is  done  to  eafe  her, 

I  get  a  nutmeg,  make  a  toft, 

In  hope  therewith  to  pleafe  her, 


My  Wife  will  be  my  Mafter.  87 

With  a  cup  of  nappy  ale  and  fpice, 

of  which  fhe  is  firft  tafter ; 
And  yet  this  crofs-grain'd  quean  will  fcold, 

and  ftrive  to  be  my  matter. 

I  warn  the  dimes,  fweep  the  houfe, 

I  drefs  the  wholefome  dyet ; 
I  humour  her  in  every  thing, 

becaufe  I  would  be  quyet. 
Of  every  feveral  dim  of  meat 

fhe'l  furely  be  firft  tafter, 
And  I  am  glad  to  pick  the  bones, 

fhe  is  fo  much  my  mafter. 

Sometimes  fhe'l  fit  while  day  be  light 

in  company  with  good  fellowes, 
In  taverns  and  in  bowfing  tents, 

or  in  fome  pimping  ale-houfe ; 
And  when  fhe  comes  home  drunk  at  night, 

though  I  do  not  diftafte  her, 
She'l  fling,  fhe'l  throw,  fhe'l  fcratch,  fhe'l  bite, 

and  ftrive  to  be  my  mafter. 

Her  bed  I  make  both  foft  and  fine, 

and  put  on  fheets  compleatly  ; 
Her  fhooes  and  ftockings  I  pull  off, 

and  lay  her  down  moft  neatly : 
I  cover  her  and  keep  her  warm 

for  fear  I  fhould  diftafte  her ; 


88  My  Wife  will  be  my  Mafter. 

I  hug  her  kindly  in  my  arme, 
yet  ftill  fhe'l  be  my  mafter. 

And  when  I  am  with  her  in  bed, 

me  doth  not  ufe  me  well,  fir ; 
She'l  wring  my  nofe  and  pull  my  ears, 

a  pittiful  tale  to  tell,  fir  ; 
And  when  I  am  with  her  in  bed, 

not  meaning  to  moleft  her, 
She'l  kick  me  out  at  the  bed's  feet, 

and  fo  become  my  mafter. 

And  thus  you  hear  how  cruelly 

my  wife  doth  ftill  abufe  me, 
At  bed,  at  board,  at  noon,  at  night, 

me  alwayes  doth  mifufe  me ; 
But  if  I  were  a  lufty  man, 

and  able  for  to  bafte  her, 
Then  would  I  furely  ufe  a  means, 

that  me  fhould  not  be  my  mafter. 

You  batchelours  that  fweet-hearts  have, 

when  as  you  are  a  wooing, 
Be  fure  you  look  before  you  leap, 

for  fear  of  your  undoing : 
The  after  wit  is  not  the  beft, 

and  he  that  weds  in  hafte,  fir, 
May  like  to  me  bewaile  his  cafe, 

if  his  wife  do  prove  his  mafter. 


My  Wife  will  be  my  Mafter. 

i 

You  married  men  that  have  good  wives, 

I  pray  you  fet  much  by  them, 
For  they  more  precious  are  then  gold, 

if  once  you  come  to  try  them  : 
A  good  wife  makes  a  hulband  glad, 

then  let  him  not  diftafte  her ; 
But  a  fcold  will  make  a  man  run  mad, 

if  once  me  prove  his  mafter. 


FINIS. 


9o 


The 

Conftancy  of  True  Love. 

"To  the  tune  of  "  Downe  by  a  Forreft." 

[This  ballad  is,  in  the  main  incidents,  the  tale  of  Pyramus  and  Thifbe, ! 
told  ferioufly,  as  in  the  "  Midfummer  Night's  Dream"  it  is  burlefqued 
Dunftan  Gale  took  the  fame  fubjecT:,  and  his  poem  was  printed  in  1617, 
but  there  is  little  doubt  that  this  ballad  is  older,  and  nearer  the  date 
which  Gale  gives  to  his  dedication,  viz.  1596  (fee  the  "  Bridgewater 
Catalogue,"  p.  125).     The  word  "  mufled,"  in  the  line 

u  And  having  mufled  thus  the  fame," 

is  ufed  in  the  fenfe  Shakefpeare  employs  "  moufed"-— •  "  Well  moufed, 
lion  ; "  from  the  Italian  mufo^  the  mouth  or  muzzle.  The  full  title  o 
the  ballad  is,  "  The  Conftancy  of  True  Love,  or  an  excellent  Relation 
of  the  untimely  death  of  Two  Faithfull  Lovers : "  the  imprint  is, 
u  Imprinted  at  London  for  Francis  Coules,  and  are  to  be  fould  at  his 
fhop  in  the  Old-Bayly."] 

that  faire  fragrant  month  of  May, 
When  earth  her  curtaines  doth  difplay, 
I  did  by  chance  my  corps  repofe 
Upon  a  banke,  where  woods  did  clofe 
With  greene  and  leafy  bowres  about ; 
A  place  to  fhunne  the  tedious  rout 
Of  Tibs  and  Toms  :  for  this  intent 
This  flowrie  feat  I  did  frequent. 


The  Conftancy  of  True  Love.  91 

Nature  had  flrove  to  fhew  her  feate 
In  the  compofure  of  this  feat, 
For  in  a  valley  plaine  was  found 
This  place  by  hills  encircled  round. 
Both  lofty  beech  and  cedars  tall 
Did  fhelter  this  rich  filvan  hall : 

Here  Satires  and  the  Naiades, 

Here  Silvans  and  the  Driades. 

Here  rurall  gods  and  tripping  nymphs 

Did  bath  their  corps  in  the  pure  lymphs, 

And  chriftall  ftreams,  which  made  a  noife, 

In  compaffing  this  place  of  joyes. 

No  fairer  place  nor  fountain  found 

Dian,  with  golden  trefles  crown'd, 
And  lady-guarded  :  in  this  feate 
The  whittling  wind  cool'd  fummers  heat. 

Here  the  nine  Mufes  ufde  to  dance, 
Here  the  kind  Graces  ufde  to  prance ; 
Here  Phoebus  his  warbling  harpe  did  tune 
The  lifefome  monthes  of  May  and  June  : 
Here  Philomel  tun'd  melody  ; 
Hither  the, chirping  birds  did  fly, 

Here  thrum  and  blackbird  from  their  throats 

Strain'd  divers  fundry  pleafant  notes. 

Here  the  nymph  Eccho  in  hollow  ground 
Did  the  laft  fyllable  refound. 


92  The  Conftancy  of  True  Love. 

What  harbour  could  the  world  fpare 
More  trim,  more  neat,  more  fweet,  more  rare  ? 
Here,  as  I  fate  mufing  alone, 
Me  thought  I  heard  one  grieve  and  groane. 
Ah  me,  poore  wretch !  this  creature  faid, 
Whereat  my  fenfes  grew  afraid. 

I  ftarted,  looking  here  and  there, 
To  view  the  fubjecT:  of  this  feare:  , 
A  Lady,  object  to  mine  eyes, 
I  found  the  effect  of  all  thefe  cryes. 
I  hafted  to  enquire  the  caufe, 
Which  did  her  weeping  eyes  amaze : 
Behold,  quoth  me,  my  love,  (alas !) 
Whofe  crimfon  blood  here  dyes  the  graffe. 

The  fweeteft  creature  here  lyeth  dead, 

That  famous  Europe  ever  bred  : 

I  have  my  wronged  lover  flaine ; 

His  death  mall  be  the  death  of  twaine. — 

I  praid  her  then  for  to  relate 

The  caufe  of  his  untimely  fate : 

She  then,  fcarce  fetching  of  her  breath, 
Beginnes  the  ftory  of  his  death. 

Blinde  Cupid,  quoth  fhe,  with  his  dart, 
In  tender  yeares  did  wound  his  heart, 
Made  fubjedt  to  the  love  of  me, 
An  adlor  in  this  tragedie. 


The  Conftancy  of  True  Love.  93 


His  heart  and  mind,  together  tried, 
His  love  and  mine  together  ti'ed. 

Our  parents  fought  to  crofTe  our  will, 
But  we  continued  conftant  (till. 

Though  time  the  difadvantage  gave, 
As  we  no  place  for  love  could  have, 
Yet  ftill  we  fought  to  recompence 
Love  with  true  love  without  offence. 
We  dwelt  in  neighbouring  houfes  nie ; 
And  getting  conference  thereby, 
We  did  appoint  under  this  tree 
To  meet,  but  difappointed  bee. 

When  bright  Aurora  peeped  out, 
And  Phoebus  newly  look'd  about, 
I  firft  (according  to  my  vow) 
Made  hafte  unto  this  plighted  bough : 
Here,  as  I  flayed  for  my  love, 
Whofe  comming  over-late  did  prove, 
A  lyon  with  inhumane  pawes 
Came  to  that  well  to  coole  his  jawes. 

His  mouth  was  all  with  blood  befmear'd. 
This  inftrument  of  death  I  fear'd ; 
I  fled  to  hide  my  felfe  for  feare, 
And  left  behind  my  mantle  there. 
The  lyon,  having  flak'd  his  thirft, 
Ran  where  I  left  my  garment  firft ; 


94  The  Conftancy  of  True  Love. 

But  when  he  faw  no  place  for  prey, 
He  foul'd  with  blood  my  liverie  : 

And  having  mufled  thus  the  fame, 
Thither  he  went  whence  firft  he  came  ; 
But  I  knew  not  that  hee  was  gone 
And  therefore  ftayd  I  hid,  alone. 
In  the  meane  time  (Oh  griefe !)  came  hee, 
Who  promifd  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  abfence  made  him  fore  afraid. 
What  mould  he  thinke,  but  that  fome  beaft 
Upon  my  carcaffe  made  his  feaft  ? 

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  fide 
Ready  for  combats  he  had  tyed. — 
I  have,  quoth  hee,  wrought  my  loves  death, 
The  end  of  her  {hall  end  my  breath ; 
And  thereupon  thruft  to  the  hilt 
His  fword,  and  thus  his  blood  he  fpilt. 


The  Conftancy  of  True  Love.  95 

That  the  firft  paflenger  might  know, 
The  difmall  events  of  this  woe, 
He  wrote  and  pinn'd  a  note  thereof 
Upon  his  hatt,  to  fhew  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  copie  of  his  death, 

And  his  dead  carcafle  voyd  of  breath. 

No  fobs,  no  fighes,  no  griefes,  no  groanes, 

No  trickling  teares,  no  mournfull  moanes, 

No  ejaculations,  no  cries, 

No  dolefull  dittie  or  elegies, 

Shall  ferve  for  to  bewaile  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  (hall  us  unite; 
And  I  will  follow  him  in  hafte, 
Who  thought  he  followed  me  being  paft. 

Thefe  words  aflbone  as  fhee  had  fpoke, 
She  gave  her  felfe  a  deadly  ftroke  : 


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  life  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, 
Adted  by  lovers  conftancy  : 
God  fend  fuch  lovers  better  fpeed, 
Where  fervency  true  love  doth  breed. 


97 


Few  Words  are  beft. 


To  the  Tune  of  "  He  tell  you  but  fo." 

[A  ballad,  in  its  original  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  Shakefpeare,  and  to  the  religious  opinions 
of  his  father  (fee  the  Shakefpeare  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  : — 

"  Come  buy  this  new  ballad  before  you  doe  goe  : 
If  you  raile  at  the  Author,  I  know  what  I  know."] 

T  is  an  old  faying 

that  few  words  are  beft, 
And  he  that  fays  little 

fhall  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  fhall  perceive  well 

though  little  I  fay, 
That  many  enormities 

I  will  difplay : 


g  8  Few  Words  are  belt. 


You  may  guefle  my  meaning 
by  that  which  I  mow  ; 

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  flay  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  iheepes  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. 


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  clofing  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. 


ioo  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  kiffe  from  a  ftranger 

they'le  hardly  endure ; 
They  are  like  Lucretia, 

modeft  in  mow : 
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.  101 


Beleeving  kind  lafles, 

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. 

y 

There  be  many  gallants 

that  goe  in  gay  rayment, 
For  which  the  taylor 

did  never  receive  payment : 
They  ruffle  it  out 

with  a  gorgeous  (how. 
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  ; 


102 


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  outfides, 

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  proteft ; 

but  I  know  what  I  know. 

There  be  many  people 

fo  given  to  ftrife, 
That  they'le  goe  to  law 

for  a  twopenny  knife  : 
The  lawyers  nere  afke  them 

why  they  doe  fo  ; 


Few  Words  are  beft 


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,  fhee,  or  they, 

let  me  tell  ere  I  goe, 
If  they  fpeake  againft  this  fong, 

I  know  what  I  know. 


103 


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,"  (Acl:  iii.  Sc.  3.)  j 
by  the  name  of  "Maudlin  the  Merchant's  Daughter."     Two  early  edi-  i 
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  imprefiion  it  was  much  modern-  ! 
ized  and  corrupted.] 

EH  OLD  the  touchftone  of  true  love, 
Maudlin  the  Merchant's  Daughter  of  Brif 
tow  towne, 

Whofe  firme  affedtion  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  faithfully, 

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  Daughter.  105 

And  now,  to  take  his  laft  farewell 

Of  his  true  love,  his  faire  and  conftant  Maudlen, 

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  mall  bee  my  habitation  now ; 
Although  my  love  doth  lodge  in  thee, 
To  whom  alone  my  heart  I  vow. 

With  trickling  teares  this  hee  did  fing, 

With  fighs  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  me  durft  reply, 

Fearing  her  parents  angry  mood. 


io6  The  Merchant's  Daughter. 

In  teares  (he  fpent  this  dolefull  night, 
Wifhing  (though  naked)  with  her  faithfull  friend  : 
She  blames  her  friends,  and  fortune's  fpight, 
That  wrought  their  loves  fuch  lucklefle  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  me  efpies. 

A  gallant  mailer  amongft  them  all, 

(The  mailer  of  a  faire  and  goodlie  fhip  was  he) 

Who  there  flood  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  fland  : 

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  mofl  piteoufly, 

She  thus  to  him  did  make  her  moane. 


The  Merchant's  Daughter.  107 

Shee  falls  upon  her  tender  knee : 

Good  fir  (me  faid)  now  pittie  you  a  woman's  woe, 

And  prove  a  faithfull  friend  to  me, 

That  I  my  griefe  to  you  may  mew. 

Sith  you  repofe  your  truft,  he  faid, 

To  me  that  am  unknowne,  and  eke  a  ftranger  heere, 

Be  you  afliir'd,  moft  proper  maid, 

Moft  faithfull  ftill  I  will  appeare. 

I  have  a  brother,  then,  quoth  fhee, 

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  mew. 

Some  fhip-boye's  garment  bring  to  mee, 

That  I  difguifd  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  kifle, 
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  me  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  Ipeed, 
Saying,  our  daughter  is  gone  away! 

The  Merchant,  thus  amaz'd  in  mind, 

Yonder  vile  wretch  intic'd  away  my  child,  quoth  he  -r 

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  Daughter.  109 

Sweet  youth  (quoth  hee)  if  it  be  fo, 

Beare  me  a  letter  to  the  Englifh  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  daughter  fee, 

Let  me  thereof  foone  underftand, 

And  there  is  twenty  crownes  for  thee. 

hus,  through  the  daughter's  ftrange  difguife, 
The  mother  knew  not  when  mee  fpake  unto  her  child; 
And  after  her  mafter  ftraightway  mee  hies, 
Taking  her  leave  with  countenance  milde. 

Thus  to  the  fea  faire  Maudlin  is  gone 

With  her  gentle  mafter  :  God  fend  them  a  merry  wind ; 

Where  wee  a  while  muft  let  them  alone, 

Till  you  the  fecond  part  doe  find. 


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  thankfull  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  viewe  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  to  wne. 


The  Merchant's  Daughter. 

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  mafic, 
In  fiery  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  mare. 

Shee  walkes  under  the  prifon  walls, 

Where  her  true  love  doth  lye  and  languim  in  diftrefle; 

Moft  wofully  for  foode  he  calls, 

When  hunger  did  his  heart  opprefle. 

He  fighs  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  moft  of  all  farewell,  quoth  hee, 

My  owne  true  love,fweet  Maudlin, 'whom  I  left  behind; 

For  never  more  mall  I  fee  thee. 

Woe  to  thy  father  moft  unkind  ! 


ill 


112 


The  Merchant's  Daughter. 

How  well  were  I,  if  thou  wert  here, 

With  thy  faire  hands  to  clofe  thefe  wretched  eyes : 

My  torments  eafie  would  appeare ; 

My  foule  with  joy  fhall  fcale  the  ikies. 

When  Maudlin  heard  her  lover's  moane, 
Her  eyes  with  teares,  her  heart  with  forrow  filled  w; 
To  fpeake  with  him  no  meanes  is  knowne, 
Such  grievous  doome  on  him  did  pafle. 

Then  fhee  caft  off  her  lad's  attire  ; 

A  maiden's  weede  upon  her  back  me  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  me  did  her  felfe  behave, 

With  her  in  love  her  matter  fell ; 

His  fervant's  favour  hee  doth  crave. 

Maudlin,  quoth  hee,  my  heart's  delight, 
To  whom  my  heart  is  in  affedlion  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.  1 1 3 

I  have  a  brother,  fir,  me  faid, 
For  his  religion  is  now  condemned  to  dye  : 
In  loathfome  prifon  hee  is  layd, 
Oppreft  with  griefe  and  mifery. 

Grant  me  my  brother's  life,  fhee  faid, 
And  to  you  my  love  and  liking  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  paffing  pure  of  life, 
:t  him  to  my  brother  be  fent, 
jid  he  will  finifh  foone  the  ftrife. 

[er  mafter  hearing  this  requeft, 

'he  marriner  in  frier's  weed  fhe  did  array, 
And  to  her  love,  that  lay  diftreft, 
Shee  did  a  letter  ftraight  convey. 

When  hee  had  read  thefe  gentle  lines, 
His  heart  was  ravifhed  with  fudden  joy ; 
Where  now  fhee  was  full  well  hee  knew  : 
The  frier  likewife  was  not  coy ; 

But  did  declare  to  him  at  large 
The  enterprife  for  him  his  love  had  taken  in  hand. 
The  young  man  did  the  frier  charge, 
[is  love  fhould  ftraight  depart  the  land. 


The  Merchant's  Daughter. 

Here  is  no  place  for  her,  hee  faid, 

But  woefull  death  and  danger  of  her  harmlefle  life  : 

Profeffing  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  me  had  wrought  all  meanes  that  might 

To  fave  her  friend,  and  that  me  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  fai< 

She  was  with  him  condemned  to  die, 

And  for  them  both  one  fire  was  made. 

And  arme  in  arme  moft  joyfully 

Thefe  lovers  twaine  unto  the  fire  they  did  goe  : 

The  marriner  moft  faithfully 

Was  likewife  partner  of  their  woe. 


The  Merchant's  Daughter. 

But  when  the  judges  underftood 

The  faithfull  friendfhip  did  in  them  remaine, 

They  faved  their  lives ;  and  afterward 

To  England  fent  them  home  againe. 

Now  was  their  forrow  turned  to  joy, 

And  faithfull  lovers  had  now  their  heart's  defire  : 

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. 

er  gentle  mafter  fhee  defired 

To  be  her  father,  and  at  the  church  to  give  her  then 
It  was  fulfilled  as  fhee  required, 
Unto  the  joy  of  all  good  men. 


n6 


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  impreffion  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  mine  : 
Then  let  us  in  conjunction  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  kifle  ? 
If  it  may  be  granted, 
I  that  long  have  wanted 

fuch  a  blifle, 
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  mall  never 
Joyn  more  clofe  together, 

then  will  I : 
Then  mew  thy  fruits,  my  amorous  joy, 

and  He  with  love  fupply. 


n8  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  aik  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, 

mew  its  gold : 
Difplay  thy  beams,  my  glorious  fun, 

and  lie  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. 


119 


Then,  be  thou  conftant  in  thy  love, 
and  I  will  be  thy  dear. 

Till  I  have  pofleft 
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  kifTe  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  mall  never  ftart. 

As  to  me  thou  art  kind, 
Duty  fhall  mee  bind 


I2O 


My  pretty  little  one. 


Ever  to  obey  thee  ; 
Reafon  fo  doth  fway  me 

to  thy  mind  : 
Thou  haft  my  heart  where  e're  thou  art, 

although  I  ftay  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 ! 


121 


The  Devil  driven  away 

I  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  muft  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  title 
of  the  old  copy  is  this  : — 

"  An  excellent  new  Ditty,  or 

Which  proveth  that  women  the  beft  warriers  be, 
For  they  made  the  Devill  from  earth  for  to  flee." 

It  was  "  Printed  at  London,  for  H.  G."  /.  e.  Henry  Goflbn,  who  pub- 
limed  fo  many  productions  for  the  amufement  of  the  multitude.] 

• 

LD  Beelzebub  merry 

difpofed  to  be, 
To  earth  he  did  hurry, 
fome  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  mall  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  flye, 
The  fluggard  and  lazy 

this  bargaine  would  buy. 

The  gallants  and  gentry, 

his  love  to  embrace, 
From  city  and  country 

flockt  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  curtefans  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  lafles  and  ladies 

this  bargaine  would  buy. 

The  lecher,  which  viewed 

fuch  pretty  ones  there, 
His  love  was  renewed, 

and  hee'd  have  a  mare ; 
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, 


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  their  hands  had 
Pawnes  heaped  together, 

both  good  ones  and  bad  : 
To  live  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  flockes  enter 

all  into  his  cell ; 
Yet  ftill  he  proclaimed 

they  never  mould  dye, 
Who  ere  it  was  aimed 

this  bargaine  to  buy. 

Next  came  the  poore  women 
that  cry  fifh  and  oyflers ; 

They  flocke  here  in  common, 
and  many  great  clutters  : 

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  I  ftay  here, 
In  pieces  among  them 

my  body  they'l  teare : 
Quoth  he,  I  am  willing 

to  deale  among  men, 
But  nere  will  have  dealing 

'mongft  women  agen. 


127 


The 

Lamentation  of  Englande. 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Weepe,  weepe." 

[It  is  impoflible  now  to  afcertain  whom  the  initials  W.  M.  at  the 
end  of  this  hiftorical  ballad  reprefent :  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.  101.)  This  "Lamentation"  on  the  execution  of  Throg- 
morton  contains  fome  particulars  connected  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  confpired  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  part,  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  fedtes 

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  Chriftian'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  flande 

with  zeale  and  godly  minde, 
Maintaining  truth,  embracing  faith, 

and  to  eche  fubjeft  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  Englande.  129 

And  have  not  I  a  carefull  Prince, 

the  prop  of  all  your  flay, 
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  wickednefle, 

and  doth  his  power  fhowe. 

For  when  his  highnes  doth  perceive 
that  dangers  are  at  hande, 


i3°  The  Lamentation  of  Englande 

Then  doth  he  fhewe  by  fecret  meanes 
thofe  perils  to  withftande ; 

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  prctcnde  to  kill  my  Queene, 

and  worke  her  fubjefts  woe : 
But  God  who  doth  her  ftill  defende, 

her  Grace  he  did  preferve, 
And  wrought  a  fhame  unto  them  felves, 

as  they  did  beft  deferve. 

Throgmorton  lately  did  conipire 

to  overthrowe  the  State, 
That  ftrangers  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, 
Informing  her  and  other  States 

of  all  that  he  did  knowe  ; 


The  Lamentation  of  Englande. 

What  freends  in  England  they  fhould  find, 
What  power  they  fhould  bring, 

Our  Queene  thereby  for  to  difplace ; 
this  was  a  wofull  thing. 

He  fought  to  difpoflefle  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. 

Thefe  were  the  treafons  which  he  wrought, 

my  good  Queene  to  difplace, 
To  fpoyle  the  ftate  of  all  this  realme, 

Such  was  his  want  of  grace  : 
But  God,  who  doth  protect  me  ftill, 

offended  at  the  fame, 
Even  in  his  yong  and  tender  yeares, 

did  cut  him  off  with  fhame. 

O,  thou  Throgmorton,  wicked  wight ! 

why  didft  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  fubjeftes  all  will  loofe  their  lives, 
ere  tray  tors  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  fpight  of  him, 

his  chofen  veflell  pure, 
That  me  might  florim  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, 

deflroyed  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  pafladge  founde, 
And  Pharao  with  his  mightie  hofle 

came  after,  and  was  drounde. 


The  Lamentation  of  Englande.  133 

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  fhamefull  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  ftands  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  deleft : 
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 ; 


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. 


'35 


Be  merry,  Friends. 


To  be  fung  to  a  new  Tune. 

[This,  in  its  original  ftate,  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  fome  of  the  ftanzas 
are  incomplete,  but  in  the  broadfide  the  deficiencies  were  fupplied,  either 
from  a  better  copy  or  by  conjecture.  It  appears  from  a  MS.  in  the 
pofTeflion  of  Lord  Francis  Egerton  that  John  Heywood  was  (till  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  ling  this  fong  untill. 

Be  merry,  friends ! 


136 

Be  merry.  Friends. 

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  fing  this  fhort  fweet  text, 

Be  merry,  friends  ! 

To  laugh  and  winne  each  man  agrees, 

lofe 

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  leflbn  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  graffing  crab  with  crab,  ne're  done. 

Be  merry,  friends  ! 

Be  merry,  Friends. 


137 


To  take  our  forrows  mournfully 
Augmenteth  but  our  malady  ; 
But  taking  forrows  merrily 
Maketh  them  fmaller,  verily. 

Be  merry,  friends ! 

Of  griefes  to  come  ftand  not  in  fray, 
But  make  defence,  the  beft  you  may ; 
Which  done,  no  more  to  do  or  fay, 
Come  what  come  mall,  but  care  away. 

Be  merry,  friends ! 

If  forrowes  come  we  can  not  flee, 
But  needs  they  muft  indured  bee, 
Make  vertue  of  neceffitie, 
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  firft  for  to  beginne : 
The  only  grief  is  truly  fmne. 

Be  merry,  friends  ! 

If  friends  be  loft,  then  get  thee  more ; 
If  wealth  be  loft,  thou  ftill  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  aflert : 
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  florifhing, 
With  birds  upon  the  tree  or  wing, 
Who  in  their  fafhion  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  fig  for  care,  and  a  fig  for  woe  ! 
If  I  cant  pay,  why,  I  can  owe ; 
And  death  makes  equall  the  high  and  low. 

Be  merry,  friends ! 

JOHN  HEYWOOD, 


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,  Doctor  of  Divinitie,  and  Biftiop  of  Sarif- 
burie,  whom  God  called  to  his  marcie  the  22  of  September,  1571." 
Anthony  Wood  (Ath.  Oxon.  i.  395.  edit.  Blifs )  gives  the  day  of 
Jewell's  death  23  Sept.  The  colophon  runs  thus  :  u  Imprynted  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  Sallelbury,  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  fhall  keepe  the  clocke  ? 


140  Epitaph  on  Bifhop  Jewell 

O  God !  what  greefe  is  this, 

thye  charie  Church  fhould  want 

A  Bifhoppe  of  fo  good  a  grace, 
wher  good  men  be  fo  fkant. 

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, 

How  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  finde  it  right. 

His  houfe  and  houfholde  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  la  we. 


Epitaph  on  Bilhop  Jewell.  141 

His  handes  and  harte  were  free, 

the  needle  could  not  lacke ; 
Such  peace  and  Concorde  planted  hee, 

as  nothing  went  to  wracke. 

And  charie  went  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,  debts 

With  large  and  lordlie  recompence : 

this  can  not  be  denied. 

Alas  !  with  piteous  mone 

all  Chriftians  now  maye  weepe, 
That  wee  have  fuch  a  fhepard  gone  : 

God  helpe  the  felie  fheepe ! 

Methinkes,  I  fee  in  heaven 

triumphant  Truth  appeare, 
And  Faythfulnes,  which  fpeake  alowde, 

Let  Juell  nowe  come  neare. 

Th'  Appoftelles  all  do  preafe,  prefs 

methinkes,  to  fee  his  face ; 
And  all  the  angells  go  about 

to  bring  him  to  his  place  : 


X42  Epitaph  on  Bilhop  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  impoflible  to 
fettle  that  date  with  any  degree  of  accuracy.  It  was  written  to  the 
tune  of  a  fong  in  Percy's  Reliques,  ii.  395.  (Edit.  1812.)  there  printed 
under  the  title  of  "  The  Lunatic  Lover,"  beginning 

"  Grim  king  of  ghofts,  make  hafte." 

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,  iflued  late  in 
the  feventeenth  century,  with  the  following  title  :  "  The  Father's 
wholefome  Admonition,  or  a  lumping  Pennyworth  of  good  Counfel  for 
bad  Hufoands."] 


;  Y  fon,  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  fhould  you  fpend  all,  and  grow  poor, 

your  cafe  you'll  have  caufe  to  bewail : 
In  troubles  you'll  ftrangely  be  huiTd, 

the  which  will  your  fenfes  furprife ; 
But  he  that  will  thrive  in  this  world 

muft  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  me  was  wed, 

'twere  better  me  had  gone  to  her  grave  : 
Her  lands  and  her  livings  all  fold, 

which  cauf 'd  tears  to  flow  from  her  eyes ; 
And  likewife  true  friendship  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.  14.5 

For  means  is  not  eafily  got, 

as  it  may  be  fquander'd  away. 
Be  carefull,  and  always  contrive 

thofe  temporall  bleffings  to  prize, 
For  he  that  is  willing  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  fhould  chance  to  grow  bad, 

he  fcarce  has  a  groat  in  his  purfe : 
While  he  that  doth  get,  fpend,  and  fave, 

has  always  enough  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 


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.  . 
Act  like  the  induftrious  bee, 

and ;  then  you  to  riches  may  rife ; 
And  flourishing  days  you  will  fee, 

if  you'll  but  be  merry  and  wife. 


J47 


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  tract  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  feyeral  places  the  poem  long 
afterwards  attributed  to  the  Earl  of  Rochefter,  who,  however,  feems  to 
have  borrowed  more  clofely  from  the  Capitolo  of  Francefco  Copetta, 
nel  quale  fi  lodano  le  Noncovelle^  publimed  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  thefe  lamentable  daies, 
When  they  have  read,  and  will  my  counfell  take, 
I  hope  of  Nothing  they  will  Something  make  !  " 

From  the  expreflion  "  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.  Goflbn, 
dwelling  upon  London-Bridge,  nere  the  Gate."  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  write3 
and  fome  the  praife  of  money, 

And  every  one,  like  bees  to  thj  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  firfr  and  fhall  be  laft, 

for  Nothing  holds  for  ever ; 
And  Nothing  ever  yet  fcap't  death, 

fo  can't  the  longeft  liver : 
Nothing's  immortall ;  Nothing  can 
From  crofles  ever  keepe  a  man  : 
Nothing  can  live  when  the  world  is  gone, 
for  all  fhall  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  me  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  Praife  of  Nothing.  149 

But  what's  more  light  then  her,  I  pray  ? 
the  wifeman  anfweres,  Nothing. 

Nothing  (hall  therefore  pleafe  me  more 

than  women  to  abandon; 
For  if  that  I  mould  fall  in  love 

or  joyne  with  fuch  a  wanton, 
Shee'd  breake  my  very  heart-firings  fure, 
Or  I  muft  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  refpedted, 
But  ill  got  wealth,  which  to  procure 

no  vice  at  all's  neglected . 
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. 


i5°  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  fmalleft  chinke  or  cranny: 
He  can  within  thy  heart  efpy 
The  fecret'ft  finnes  which  there  doe  lye, 
But  if  you  to  repentance  hie, 
they  mall  appeare  as  Nothing. 

Nothing  therefore  hereafter  feeke, 
but  vertue,  vice  detefting, 


The  Praife  of  Nothing.  151 

With  pureft  robes  of  fanftity 

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  rting, 

or  elfe  defire  Nothing. 

For  though  but  little  thou  art  worth, 

yet  Nothing  doft  defire, 
Nor  coveteft  thy  neighbour's  goods, 

nor  'bove  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  ftudying  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  : 


152 


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. 


£anffiorne  &nc£awjro(e  CancCefC 
,  flange  oufjrour  figf&s  fieare 


J53 


The  Norfolk  Farmer's 

Journey  to  London. 

To  the  Tune  of"  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  amufing  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  dialogue 
is  irregularly  conducted,  and  mixed  up  with  narrative  matter.  The 
full  title  is  as  follows  :  u  A  merry  Difcourfe  betweene  Norfolke 
Thomas  and  Sifly  Standtoo't,  his  wife  ;  together  with  their  thanklefTe 
journey  from  Norfolk  to  London,  onely  to  fee  their  friends,  and  how 
they  doe  refpecl:  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  firft  appearance  of  the  broadfide,  which  clearly  came 
out  during  the  prevalence  of  the  plague,  perhaps  in  1603.] 

O  London  is  mad  Thomas  come, 
With  Sifly,  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, 


x 


'54 


The  Norfolk  Farmer's 


As  I  fhall  find  it  by  and  by, 

Or  elfe  poore  Tom  and  Siffe  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  'urn  all  fo  well, 
A  little  thing  would  make  me  dwell 
Within  the  founding  of  Bow-bell, 

at  London. 

Sify. 

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  Crofle ; 
For  though  our  houfe  be  thatch't  with  ftraw, 
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.  155 


They  brawle  and  brabble  every  day, 
And  few  or  none  but  finds  a  way 

to  Hogdfdon. 

Thomas. 

Mum,  Sifly  ;   keejtyour  clapper  frill  ; 
There's  them  can  hear  at  Highgate  Hill : 
There's  rats  has  been  in  Peggie's  mill, 

or  elfe  fhe  lies  her  felfe. 
What  if  the  world  be  vilde  and  bad,  vile 

Shall  I  be  fuch  a  foolifh  lad 
To  blaze  and  noyfe  it  all  abroad  ? 

I  fcorn  it. 

Although,  indeed,  I  muft  confefle 
Thou  fpeak'ft  but  truth,  my  honeft  Sifle, 
Yet  ever  while  you  live  marke  this, 

and  take  it  for  a  rule, 
That  every  chimney  muft  not  fmoake, 
Nor  every  begger  weare  a  cloake, 
Nor  every  truth  muft  not  be  fpoke, 

in  fadnefTe. 

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  fcold  fometime,  I  know, 


156  The  Norfolk  Farmer's 

The  more  is  Thomas  Stand  toot'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^iid  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  me,  good  hulband,  flay, 
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.  157 

And  there's  a  woman  winding  filk, 
And  here's  another  fetches  milk 

at  Hackney. 

And  here's  the  prettieft  fight  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  fuppofe  them  about  the 

Exchange. 

And  here's  a  world  of  people  fine, 
That  do  in  filks  and  fatins  mine : 
I  would  that  fuite  and  cloak  were  mine. 

I  hope  I  wifh  no  harme. 
And  here  hangs  piftures  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  'urn  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  me  meanes  to  do 

in  fummer. 

And  here's  an  empty  church,  I  fee : 
Great  pitty  'tis,  moft  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.  159 

That  if  a  man  fall  to  decay, 

There's  few  or  none  will  bid  him  flay, 

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  Sifle  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  ftay. 
For  I  have  friends  within,  truly, 
That  if  they  mould  a  ftranger  fee, 
They  ftrait  would  very  fearfull  be 

of  danger. 

Thomas. 

Why,  brother,  we  no  ficknefle  have, 
Nor  are  we  ftarted  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, 


i6o 


The  Norfolk  Farmer's 


guefts 


Nor  yet  to  put  you  unto  coft. 
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, 
lie  give  it  you,  and  nere  repine. 

hang  mony !  what  care  I  ? 
And  had  I  not  fo  many  ghefle, 
Indeed  I  ferioufly  profefle, 
Your  welcome  fhould  be  more,  or  leile, 

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  lifter  we 
Will  go  with  all  celerity : 
No  doubt  that  me  mall  kinder  be 


unto  us. 


They  condefcend  and  were  content, 
And  to  their  fifter  ftraight  they  went ; 
But  all  in  vain  their  time  was  fpent, 

for  when  they  thither  came, 
Their  fifter  did  her  maid  compell, 


Journey  to  London. 


161 


And  bid  her  thus  much  to  them  tell, 
Indeed,  me  was  not  very  well 

at  that  time, 

From  thence  they  to  their  couzen  go, 
Being  much  defirous  for  to  know 
Whether  that  me  would  ferve  'urn  fo, 

or  ufe  'urn  in  that  kind : 
But,  being  there,  this  newes  was  brought, 
That  me  a  fmock  had  newly  bought, 
And  me  was  gone  to  have  it  wrought 

with  woofted, 

Well  now,  fays  Thomas  to  his  dear,- 
What  fayft  thou,  Sifly,  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  {hall  a  ftranger  find  ? 
Protefl,  it  troubles  much  my  mind 

to  think  on't. 

"'"  Sifly. 

Nay,  hufband,  let  us  not  do  fo  : 
The  beft  is  we  can  homewards  go, 
And  yet  not  trouble  friend  nor  foe : 

what  need  we  then  to  care  ? 
For  now  each  one,  I  tell  you  true, 


matter 


62          The  Norfolk  Farmer's  Journey. 

Will  only  afk  you,  how  do  you  ? 

I  am  glad  to  fee  you  well,  Sir  Hugh; 

good  morrow. 

Ihomas. 

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  {hall  have  a  better  text. 
I  fwear,  and  vow  I  am  foundly  vext: 

who  cares  for't  ? 

ED.  FORD, 


163 


Conftance  of  Cleveland. 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Crimfon  Velvet." 

[This  romantic  ballad,  in  a  fomewhat  plain  and  unpretending  ftyle, 
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  leaft 
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  Diary  under 
the  year  1600,  (p.  171.)  The  tune  of  "  Crimfon  Velvet"  was  highly 
popular  in  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth  and  her  fucceflbr.] 

?T  was  a  youthfull  knight 

lov'd  a  gallant  lady ; 
Fair  me  was  and  bright, 

and  of  vertues  rare  : 
Herfelf  (he  did  behave, 

fo  courteoufly  as  may  be. 
Wedded  they  were  brave  ; 

joy  without  compare. 
Here  began  the  grief, 
Pain  without  relief: 

her  hulband  foon  her  love  forfook, 


1 64  Conftance  of  Cleveland 

To  women  lewd  of  mind, 
Being  bad  inclin'd, 

he  only  lent  a  pleafant  look. 
The  lady  me  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. 

0  !  what  hap  had  I 
Thus  to  wail  and  cry, 

unrefpedted  every  day, 
Living  in  difdain, 
While  that  others  gain 

all  the  right  I  mould  enjoy ! 

1  am  left  forfaken 
Others  they  are  taken  : 

ah  my  love !  why  doft  thou  fo  ? 
Her  flatteries  beleeve  not, 


Conftance  of  Cleveland .  165 


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  ftore  : 
Secretly  (he  flood, 

while  me  her  fafhions  tryed, 
With  a  patient  mind, 

while  deep  the  ftrumpet  fwore. 
O,  Sir  Knight !  quoth  fhe, 
So  dearly  I  love  thee, 

my  life  doth  reft  at  thy  difpofe  : 
By  day,  and  eke  by  night, 
For  thy  fweet  delight, 

thou  malt  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. 

The  vertuous  Lady  mild 
enters  then  among  them, 

Being  big  with  child 
as  ever  me  might  be : 


1 66  Conftance  of  Cleveland. 

With  diflilling  tears 

fhe  looked  then  upon  them. 
Filled  full  of  fears, 

thus  replyed  fhe : 
Ah,  my  love  and  dear  ! 
Wherefore  flay  you  here 

refufing  me,  your  loving  wife, 
For  an  harlot's  fake, 
Which  each  one  will  take ; 

whofe  vile  deeds  provoke  much  ftrife  ? 
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  Ladie'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, 


Conftance  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  fhall  work  my  love's  decay. 
Thou  fhalt  be  my  treafure, 
Thou  fhalt  be  my  pleafure, 

thou  fhalt  be  my  heart's  delight : 
I  will  be  thy  darling, 


1 68  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, 
They  do  him  defie ; 

they  will  not  once  his  face  behold. 
Being  thus  diftrefled, 
Being  thus  opprefled, 

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  directly, 
Where  the  youthful  Knight 

faft  a  fleeping  lay. 
The  bloody  dagger  than, 
Wherewith  they  kilFd  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  fo  abufed, 
Was  forthwith  accufed 

for  this  murder  which  was  done ; 
And  he  was  condemned 
That  had  not  offended : 

fhamefull  death  he  might  not  fhun. 

When  the  Lady  bright 

underftood  the  matter, 
That  her  wedded  Knight 

was  condemn'd  to  dye, 
To  the  King  me  went 

with  all  the  fpeed  that  might  be, 
Where  {he  did  lament 

her  hard  deftiny. 
Noble  King !  quoth  me, 
Pitty  take  on  me, 

and  pardon  my  poor  hufbands  life ; 


170 


Conftance  of  Cleveland 


fatisfied 


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. 

0  my  liege  !  quoth  {he, 

grant  your  gracious  favour  : 
Dear  he  is  to  me, 

though  he  did  me  wrong. 
The  King  reply'd  again, 

with  a  ftern  behaviour, 
A  fubjecT:  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!  (he  faid, 
Glad  am  I  apaid ; 

that  fame  perfon  will  I  be. 

1  will  fuffer  duly, 
I  will  fufFer  truly, 

for  my  love  and  hufbands  fake. 
The  King  thereat  amazed, 


Conftance  of  Cleveland. 

Though  he  her  beauty  praifed, 

he  bad  from  thence  they  fhould  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  kifles  fweet. 
In  this  wofull  cafe 
They  did  both  imbrace, 

which  mov'd  the  ruffians,  in  that  place, 
Straight  for  to  difcover 
This  concealed  murder ; 

whereby  the  lady  faved  was. 
The  harlot  then  was  hanged, 
As  me  well  deferved : 

this  did  vertue  bring  to  paffe. 


171 


FINIS. 


172 


The  Song  of  the  Caps. 

To  the  Tune  of  «  The  Shaking  of  the  Sheets/' 

[This  fpirited  and  humorous  fong  Teems  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  fufpe&ed,  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 
{rate,  in  a  work  publifhed  in  1656,  called  "  Sportive  Wit :  the  Mufes 
Merriment,  a  new  Spring  of  lufty  Drollery,"  &c.  The  broadfide  w,e 
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  figne  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  fign  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  figne  of  fome  degree. 

The  Monmouth  Cap,  the  faylors  thrum, 
And  that  wherein  the  faylors  come ; 
The  phyiick,  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  ftill  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. 


1 74  The  Song  of  the  Caps. 

Thus  any  Cap,  whatere  it  bee, 
Is  ftill  the  ligne  of  fome  degree. 

The  phyfick  Cap  to  duft  may  bring 
Without  controull  the  greateft  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  aft  the  fool  where  great  men  fit, 
For  folly  is  in  fuch  requeft 
That  each  man  ftrives  to  do  his  beft. 
Thus  any  Cap,  whatere  it  bee, 
Is  ftill  the  figne  of  fome  degree. 


The  Song  of  the  Caps.  175 

The  fick  man's  Cap,  not  wrought  with  filk, 
Is,  like  repentant,  white  as  milk. 
When  hats  in  church  drop  off  in  hafte, 
This  Cap  ne'er  leaves  the  head  uncafte : 
The  fick  man's  Cap,  if  wrought,  can  tell 
Though  he  be  ill,  his  flate  is  well. 

So  any  Cap,  whatere  it  bee, 

Is  ftill  the  figne  of  fome  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  ftore. 
The  furr'd  and  quilted  Cap  of  age 
Can  make  a  mufty  proverb  fage ; 

And  any  Cap,  whatere  it  bee, 

It  is  the  figne  of  fome  degree. 

Though  fuftian  Caps  be  flender  ware, 

The  head  is  of  no  better  gear. 

The  crewell  Cap  is  knit  like  hofe 

For  them  whofe  zeale  takes  cold  T  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  bifhoprick  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  flem,  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. 


i77 


Sack  for  my  Money.,    - 

The  Tune  is  "Wet  and  Weary." 

tA  capital  old  drinking  fong,  probably  of  the  time  of  James  I,  though 
rinted  for  W.  Gilbertfon  in  Giltfpur  ftreet,"  fome  forty  years 
afterwards.  It  gives  not  only  the  names  of  the  principal  wines  then  in 
ufe  with  various  clafTes,  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  frilPd  in  the  Spanifh  nation. 

Then  buy  it,  deny  it,  like  it  or  leave  it, 

Not  one  amongft  ten  but  is  willing  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  ling,  good  newes  I  bring 

to  the  countrey  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  brifk  and  fine, 

the  Alligant  and  Sherry, 
I  hold  it  good  to  purge  the  blood, 
and  make  the  fenfes  merry. 


A  A 


i78 


Sack  for  my  Money. 


'Tis  fparkling  Sack  that  binds  the  back, 

and  cherifhes  the  heart,  boys, 
For  recompence  juft  eighteen  pence 

you  muft  give  for  a  quart,  boys : 
Away  with  beer  and  fuch  like  geer, 

that  makes  our  fpirits  muddy, 
For  wine  compleat  will  do  the  feat 

that  we  all  notes  can  ftudy. 

The  pureft  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  rarifies  the  dulleft  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  mall  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.  179 

Canary  Sack  makes  firm  the  back ; 

both  Alligant  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  fweet  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  Rhenifh  wine,  &c. 

The  drawer  ftill  the  fame  mall  fill 

to  elevate  the  heart,  boys ; 
For  Rhenifh  gay  you  now  muft  pay 

juft  twelve  pence  for  a  quart,  boys. 
Who  would  be  ty'de  to  brewers  fide, 

whofe  meafures  do  fo  vary, 
When  we  may  fit,  to  raife  our  wit, 

with  drinking  of  Canary  ? 

The  pureft  wine,  &c. 

The  French  wine  pure,  for  7  pence,  fure, 

you  mall  have  choice  and  plenty, 
At  this  fame  rate  to  drink  in  plate, 

which  is  both  good  and  dainty  : 


i8o  Sack  for  my  Money. 

A  maunding  cove  that  doth  it  love, 

'twill  make  him  dance  and  caper, 
And  Captain  Puff  will  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  tradefmen  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. 


181 


The  cobler  faft  will  ftay  the  laft, 

for  he's  a  lufty  drinker ; 
He'l  pawn  his  foul  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  afhes. 
The  pureft  wine,  fo  brilk  and  fine, 

the  Alligant  and  Sherry, 
I  hold  is  beft  to  give  us  reft, 

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  queereft  whiddles  : 
They'l  rant  and  tear  like  men  of  war, 

they  voyces  roar  like  thunder, 
And  growing  curft  their  fiddles  burft, 

and  break  'urn  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  trufty : 
'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. 


'83 


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.  101.)  which,  though  not  printed  until  1653,  had 
perhaps  been  performed  forty,  or  even  fifty,  years  before :  the  fubfe- 
quent  ballad,  the  earlieft  of  the  kind,  was  written  "  to  the  tune  of  The 
Spanifh  Gipfey,"  poflibly  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 
Smithfield,"  and  from  a  paflage  in  Ben  Jonfon's  "  Every  Man  in  his 
Humour,"  we  find  that  he  was  a  celebrated  publifher  of  ballads  as  early 
as  1598  :  the  Elder  Knowell  (the  character  fuppofed  to  have  been  fuf- 
tained  by  Shakefpeare)  fays,  "  Well,  if  I  read  this  with  patience  I'll 
t  *  *  *  tro|j  bajiacjs  for  mafter  John  Trundle,  yonder,  the  reft  of  my 
mortality."  Trundle  was  alfo  a  general  publifher  of  popular  works  and 
traces,  and  lived  in  Cripplegate.] 

OME  follow,  follow  all! 
'Tis  Englifh  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, 


1 84  The  brave  Englifh  Gipfey. 

To  fee  what  we  can  doe ; 
Such  paines  they  undergoe  : 
Serioufly,  a  number  ftrives 
To,  lead  the  Englifh  Gipfies  lives. 

We  humor  none  that  lives, 

Nor  hate  no  man  that  gives  : 

Ambition  doth  not  reft 

I'th'  Englifh  Gipfie's  breft. 

If  they  give,  weele  willing  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  formal!  courfe, 

Some  fixe  upon  a  horfe : 

We  fingle  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  Engliih  Gipfey.  185 

We  beare  no  beautious  face 
Our  fubtile  flightes  to  grace  : 
We  can  paint  when  we  command, 
And  looke  like  Indians  that  are  tand. 

We  pradlife  not  to  dance, 
Nor  learne  no  tunes  from  France : 
Our  knockers  make  no  noife, 
We  are  no  roaring  boyes. 
Englifli  Gipfies  live  all  free, 
And  love  and  live  moft  jovially. 

Our  fare  is  of  the  beft ; 

Three  times  a  weeke  we  feafl, 

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  Gipfie  lawes  obayes. 

We  feare  to  wrong  the  law, 
We  live  in  fervile  awe, 


1 86  The  brave  Englifh  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  ftore, 

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  Englifh  Gipfies  lives. 

We  beare  this  hone  ft  mind 
To  love  all  friends  are  kind  : 


The  brave  Engliih  Gipfey.  187 

Our  foes  we  can  requite 

With  hatred  and  defpight ; 

For  we  can  plague  our  mortall  foe, 

Yet  he  the  adtors  never  know. 

Great  ftore  of  coyne  we  gaine, 

Yet  for  it  take  no  paine  : 

Our  diet's  feldom  fought, 

For  it  is  to  us  brought : 

Pigs,  or  geefe,  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. 

We  hate  all  furly  flaves, 

Nor  love  no  cunning  knaves : 

Our  felves  can  cunning  ufe, 

Yet  none  we  will  abufe. 

He  that  freely  gives  mall  find 

The  Englifh  Gipfies  alwaies  kind. 

Who  ere  hath  bin  in  Spaine, 
And  feene  there  Gipfie's  vaine, 


i88 


The  brave  Engliih  Gipfey 

Shall  foone  the  difference  find, 
Elfe  judgement  makes  him  blind. 
So,  Spanifh  Gipfies,  all  adoe ! 
For  Englifh  equall  are  to  you. 


FINIS. 


i89 


The  Subftance  of  all  the 

late  entended  Treafons. 


[We  here  introduce  another  new  name  to  the  ftudent  of  our  early 
ballad  poetry — 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  hiftorical  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  are  to  be  (bide  at  his  (hop  at 
the  figne  of  the  Gun."] 

LORD,  preferve  our  noble  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  praftifed  by  many  a  wicked  wight, 
Againft  their  Prince  whofe  life  thei  fought,  and  many 

a  noble  Peere, 
The  fubftaunce  of  whofe  treafons  ftraunge,  you  fhall 

moft  truely  heare ; 


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  moft  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  ; 

Affuring  them  that  all  her  care  was  for  their  fafetie  ftill, 
And  that  thereby  (he  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  ftraight  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  refpeft  you  fhall  moft  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  Dodtor  Gifford  did  perfwade  great  honor  he 

fhould  gaine, 
If  that  he  would  goe  take  in  hand  (thefe  matters  very 

ftraunge) 
Firft  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 

Orjforceably  to  difpofleffe  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  Doftor  vowed  by  his  fowle,  and  bad  him  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  Babington  of  Darbyfhire,  a  man  fure  voyde  of  mame : 

And  tolde  him  how  that  he  had  vowed  to  doe  it,  or  to  dye, 
Deliring  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  fhould  have  ayde  of  fixtie 

thoufand  men,  [when. 

That  fecretly  fhould  landed  be,  and  tolde  him  how  and 

And  in  refpedl  of  all  his  paines  he  truely  might  depende, 
That  it  was  lawfull  foto  doe,  renowne  fhould  be  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  devilifh  aft,  and  for  to  take  in  hand 
The  fpoyle  of  our  renowmed  Prince,  and  people  of 
this  land. 

Who  did  conclude  with  bloudie  blade  a  daughter  to 
commit,  [fit : 

Upon  her  Counfell  as  they  fhould  within  Star  Chamber 

Which  is  a  place  whereas  the  Lords,  and  thofe  of  that 
degree,   f ' 

Yeelde  juftice  unto  every  man  that  crave  it  on  their  kriee. 

Yea,  famous  London  they  did  meane  for  to  have  fackt 

befide, 
Both  Maior  and  Magiflrates  therein  have  murdered  at 

that  tide. 


c  c 


94  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  praftifes  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  fubjefts  to 

her  Grace. 

fpiked          They  had  determinde  to  have  cloyde,  and  poyfoned 

out  of  hand, 
The  cheefe  and  greateft  Ordinaunce  that  is  within 

this  land, 

And  did  entend  by  violence  orr  rich  men  for  to  fall, 
To  have  their  money  and  their  plate,  and  to  have  fpoyld 

them  all. 

The  Common  wealth  of  England  foone  mould  thereby 

have  bene  fpoylde, 
Our  goodes  for  which  our  Parents  and  our  felves  long 

tyme  had  toylde, 

Had  all  bene  taken  from  us,  belides  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  (till,  offended  at  the  fame, 
Even  in  their  young  and  tender  yeres  did  cut  them  of 

with  fhame. 

Thele  Traytors  executed  were  on  ftage  full  ftrongly 

wrought, 
i  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  Traytors  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 

herftill; 
True  fubjefts  all  will  lofe  their  lives  ere  Traytors  have 

their  will. 

How  many  mifchiefes  are  devifde,  how  many  waies 

are  wrought, 

How  many  vilde  confpiracies  againfther  Grace  is  fought: 
Yet  God  that  doth  protect  her  ftill  her  Grace  doth 

well  preferve,  [ferve. 

And  workes  a  mame  unto  her  foes,  as  they  doe  beft  de- 


196  The  late  entended  Treafons. 

O  heavenly  God!  preferve  ourQueene  in  plentie,  health,, 

and  peace ; 
Confound  her  foes,  maintaine  her  right,  her  joyes,  O 

Lord !  encreafe : 
Lord,  blefle  her  Counfaile  evermore  and  nobles  of  this 

land; 
Preferve  her  fubiefts  and  this  realme  with  thy  moft 

mightie  hand. 

THOMAS  NELSON. 


197 


The  Bulls  Feather. 


To  a  very  pleafant  New  7W,  or  The  Bull's  Feather. 

[This  is  a  comparatively  modern  reprint  of  a  much  older  comic  bal 
lad  :  the  only  copy  known  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  me  reply'd ; 

fweet,  art  thou  jealous  ? 
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  honeft  man 

,    wears  the  Bulls  Feather. 

u  . .  . 

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  fubjedt 

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  fhall  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  Feather.  199 


Since  neighbours  fare  always 
is  counted  the  beft  ? 

Thofe  women  who  are  faireft 

are  likeft  to  give  it, 
And  hufbands  that  have  them 

are  apt  to  believe  it. 
Some  men,  though  their  wives 

they  feem  for  to  tether, 
They  would  play  the  kind  neighbors, 

and  give  the  Bulls  Feather. 

Why  mould  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  fhorteft,  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  ufing  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. 


2OI 


For  fear  that  falfe  jealoufie 

fhorten  their  line, 
That  difeafe  will  torment  them 

worle  than  any  feavor ; 
Then  let  all  be  contented,  and 

wear  the  Bulls  Feather. 


FINIS. 


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 
attra&ive  additions  when  the  broadfide  was  "  Printed  by  r.  Brookfby, 
at  the  Golden  Bull  in  Weftfmith-field,  neer  the  Hofpitall  Gate:"  it 
runs  as  follows : — "  The  Weft-Country  DamofePs  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  tragtck  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  amongft  the  buck  and  doe. 


The  DamofePs  Complaint.  203 

Where  thou  fhalt  eat  of  the  hips  and  haws, 

and  the  roots  that  are  fo  fweet, 
And  thou  fhalt  drink  of  the  cold  water 

that  runs  underneath  your  feet. 


Now  had  fhe  not  been  in  the  wild  forreft 
paffing  three  months  and  a  day, 

But  with  hunger  and  cold  (he  had  her  fill, 
till  fhe  was  quite  worn  away. 

At  laft  fhe  faw  a  fair  tyl'd  houfe, 
and  there  fhe  fwore  by  the  rood, 

That  fhe  would  to  that  fair  tyl'd  houfe, 
there  for  to  get  her  fome  food, 

But  when  fhe  came  unto  the  gates, 

aloud,  aloud  fhe  cry'd, 
An  alms,  an  alms,  my  own  fifler ! 

I  afk  you  for  no  pride. 

Her  fifter  calPd  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. 

i 

They  hunted  her  o're  hill  and  dale, 

and  they  hunted  her  fo  fore, 
That  they  hunted  her  into  the  forreft, 

where  her  forrows  grew  more  and  more, 


204 


The  Weft-Country 


She  laid  a  flone  all  at  her  head, 

and  another  all  at  her  feet, 
And  down  fhe  lay  between  thefe  two, 

till  death  had  lull'd  her  afleep. 

When  fweet  Will  came  and  flood  at  her  head, 

and  likewife  flood  at  her  feet, 
A  thoufand  times  he  kifs'd  her  cold  lips, 

her  body  being  fafl  afleep. 

Yea,  feaven  times  he  flood  at  her  feet, 

and  feaven  times  at  her  head ; 
A  thoufand  times  he  fhook  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, 
Whilfl  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  loveliefl  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  penfive  care, 
{he  ended  her  life  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  kilFd, 
come,  yield  in  death  to  me  relief. 

Cruel  her  lifter,  was't  for  me 
that  to  her  me  was  unkind  ? 

Her  hufband  I  will  never  be, 

but  with  this  my  love  be  joyn'd. 

Grim  Death  mall  tye  the  marriage  bands, 
which  jealoufie  fhan't  divide  ; 

Together  mall  tye  our  cold  hands, 
whilft  here  we  lye  fide  by  fide. 

Witnefs,  ye  groves,  and  chryftal  ftreams, 
how  faithlefs  I  late  have  been  ; 

But  do  repent  with  dying  leaves 
of  that  my  ungrateful  fin  ; 

And  wifh  a  thoufand  times  that  I 
had  been  but  to  her  more  kind, 

And  not  have  let  a  virgin  dye, 

whofe  equal  there's  none  can  find. 


206 


The  DamofePs  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  ftay. 

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. 

Whilft  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. 


The 


Common  Cries  of  London. 


To  the  Tune  of  «  Watton  Towns  End." 

[It  is  impoflible  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  century.  The  firft  ftanza  of  the  fecond  part  mews, 
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  actor  from  1603  to  I^35j  when  he  died.  (See  the  life 
of  Shancke,  in  the  "  Memoirs  of  Shakefpeare's  Actors,"  printed  by 
the  Shakefpeare  Society,  p.  276.)  The  allufion  to  carrying  perfons  to 
the  play-houfes  by  water  is  alfo  a  curious  note  of  time.  There  were 
ieveral  old  actors  of  the  name  of  Turner ;  and  W.  Turner  may  have 
been  upon  the  ftage,  and  may  have  compofed  and  fung  this  production 
as  "  a  jig"  for  the  amufement  of  audiences.  It  was  "  Printed  for 
F.  C, 
the 
runs  thus : — 


"  a  jig"  for  the  amufement  of  audiences.  It  was  "  Printed  for 
C.,  T.  V.  and  W.  G."  in  1662,  but  that  was  unqueftionably  not 
firft  impreffion  of  it,  although  we  know  of  no  other  :  the  full  title 


"  The  Common  Cries  of  London  Town  : 
Some  go  up  ftreet,  fome  go  down. 

With  Turner's  Dim  of  Stuff,  or  a  Gaily maufery." 

The  tune  is  the  fame  as  "  Peg  a'  Ramfey,"mentioned  by  Shakefpeare 
in  Twelfth  Night,  and  is  at  leaft  as  old  as  1589.] 


Y  mafters  all,  attend  you, 

if  mirth  you  love  to  heare, 
And  I  will  tell  you  what  they  cry 
in  London  all  the  yeare. 


207 


208          The  Common  Cries  of  London 

He  pleafe  you  if  I  can, 

I  will  not  be  too  long : 
I  pray  you  all  attend  awhile, 

and  liflen  to  my  fong. 

The  fifh-wife  firft  begins, 

Anye  mufcles  lilly  white  ! 
Herrings,  fprats  or  place, 

or  cockles  for  delight. 
Anye  welflet  oyfters  ! 

Then  fhe  doth  change  her  note : 
She  had  need  to  have  her  tongue  be  greas'd, 

for  fhe  rattles  in  the  throat. 

For  why,  the  are  but  Kentifh, 

to  tell  you  out  of  doubt : 
'  Her  meafure  is  too  little ; 

goe,  beat  the  bottom  out. 
Half  a  peck  for  two  pence  ? 

I  doubt  it  is  a  bodge. 
Thus  all  the  City  over 

the  people  they  do  dodge. 

The  wench  that  cries  the  kitchin  fluff, 

I  marvel  what  fhe  ayle, 
She  fings  her  note  fo  merry, 

but  fhe  hath  a  draggle  tayle : 
An  empty  car  came  running, 

and  hit  her  on  the  bum ; 


The  Common  Cries  of  London.  209 

Down  fhe  threw  her  greafie  tub, 
and  away  ftraight  (he  did  run. 

But  fhe  did  give  her  bleffing 

to  fome,  but  not  to  all, 
To  bear  a  load  to  Tyburne, 

and  there  to  let  it  fall : 
The  miller  and  his  golden  thumb, 

and  his  dirty  neck, 
If  he  grind  but  two  bufhels, 

he  muft  needs  fteal  a  peck. 

The  weaver  and  the  taylor, 

cozens  they  be  fure, 
They  cannot  work  but  they  muft  fteal, 

to  keep  their  hands  in  ure ; 
For  it  is  a  common  proverb 

thorowout  the  town, 
The  taylor  he  muft  cut  three  fleeves 

to  every  womans  gown. 

Mark  but  the  waterman 

attending  for  his  fare, 
Of  hot  and  cold,  of  wet  and  dry, 

he  alwaies  takes  his  fhare : 
He  carrieth  bonny  lafles 

over  to  the  playes, 
And  here  and  there  he  gets  a  bit, 

and  that  his  ftomach  ftaies. 


210          The  Common  Cries  of  London. 

There  was  a  finging  boy 

who  did  ride  to  Rumford ; 
When  I  go  to  my  own  fchool 

I  will  take  him  in  a  comfort ; 
But  what  I  leave  behind 

{hall  be  no  private  gain ; 
But  all  is  one  when  I  am  gone : 

let  him  take  it  for  his  pain. 

Old  fhoes  for  new  brooms ! 

the  broom-man  he  doth  ling, 
For  hats  or  caps  or  bufkins, 

or  any  old  pouch  ring. 
Buy  a  mat,  a  bed-mat ! 

a  haffock  or  a  prefle, 
A  cover  for  a  clofe  ftool, 

a  bigger  or  a  lefle. 

Ripe,  cherry  ripe ! 

the  cofter-monger  cries  ; 
Pippins  fine  or  pears ! 

another  after  hies, 
Wifh  bafket  on  his  head 

his  living  to  advance, 
And  in  his  purfe  a  pair  of  dice 

for  to  play  at  mumchance. 


Hot  pippin  pies ! 

to  fell  unto  my  friends, 


The  Common  Cries  of  London.  2I1 

Or  pudding  pies  in  pans, 

well  ftuft  with  candles  ends. 
Will  you  buy  any  milk  ? 

I  heard  a  wench  that  cries : 
With  a  pale  of  frefh  cheefe  and  cream, 

another  after  hies. 

Oh !  the  wench  went  neatly ; 

me  thought  it  did  me  good, 
to  fee  her  cherry  cheeks 

fo  dimpled  ore  with  blood : 
Her  waiftcoat  warned  white 

as  any  lilly  floure ; 
Would  I  had  time  to  talk  with  her 

the  fpace  of  half  an  hour. 

Buy  black !  faith  the  blacking  man, 

the  befl  that  ere  was  feen ; 
Tis  good  for  poore  citizens 

to  make  their  mooes  to  fhine. 
Oh !  tis  a  rare  commodity, 

it  muft  not  be  forgot ; 
It  wil  make  them  to  glitter  gallantly, 

and  quickly  make  them  rot. 

The  world  is  full  of  thread-bare  poets 

that  live  upon  their  pen, 
But  they  will  write  too  eloquent, 

they  are  fuch  witty  men. 


212          The  Common  Cries  of  London 

But  the  tinker  with  his  budget, 

the  beggar  with  his  wallet, 
And  Turners  turnd  a  gallant  man 

at  making  of  a  ballet. 

THE  SECOND  PART. 

To  the  fame  Tune. 

THAT'S  the  fat  foole  of  the  Curtin, 
and  the  lean  fool  of  the  Bull : 
Since  Shancke  did  leave  to  fing  his  rimes, 

he  is  counted  but  a  gull. 
The  players  on  the  Banckefide, 

the  round  Globe  and  the  Swan, 
Will  teach  you  idle  tricks  of  love, 
but  the  Bull  will  play  the  man. 

But  what  do  I  ftand  tattling 

of  fuch  idle  toyes  ? 
I  had  better  go  to  Smith-Field 

to  play  among  the  boyes : 
But  you  cheating  and  deceiving  lads, 

with  your  bafe  artillery, 
I  would  wifh  you  to  fhun  Newgate, 

and  withall  the  pillory. 

And  fome  there  be  in  patcht  gownes, 
I  know  not  what  they  be, 


The  Common  Cries  of  London.  213 

That  pinch  the  country-man 

with  nimming  of  a  fee ; 
For  where  they  get  a  booty, 

they'le  make  him  pay  fo  dear, 
They'le  entertain  more  in  a  day, 

then  he  mall  in  a  year. 

Which  makes  them  trim  up  houfes 

made  of  brick  and  ftone, 
And  poor  men  go  a  begging, 

when  houfe  and  land  is  gone. 
Some  there  be  with  both  hands 

will  fwear  they  will  not  dally, 
Till  they  have  turn'd  all  upfide  down, 

as  many  ufe  to  fally. 

You  pedlers,  give  good  meafure, 

when  as  your  wares  you  fell : 
Tho'  your  yard  be  Ihort,  your  thum  will  flip  ; 

Your  tricks  I  know  full  well. 
And  you  that  fell  your  wares  by  weight, 

and  live  upon  the  trade, 
Some  beams  be  falfe,  fome  waits  too  light ; 

Such  tricks  there  have  been  plaid. 

But  fmall  coals,  or  great  coals  ! 

I  have  them  on  my  back : 
The  goofe  lies  in  the  bottom  ; 

you  may  hear  the  duck  cry  quack. 


214          The  Common  Cries  of  London. 

Thus  Grim,  the  black  collier, 
whofe  living  is  fo  loofe, 

As  he  doth  walk  the  commons  ore, 
fome times  he  fteals  a  goofe. 

Thou  ufurer  with  thy  money  bags 

that  liveft  fo  at  eafe, 
By  gaping  after  gold  thou  doft 

thy  mighty  God  difpleafe ; 
And  for  thy  greedy  ufury, 

and  thy  great  extortion, 
Except  thou  doft  repent  thy  fins, 

hell  fire  will  be  thy  portion. 

For  firft  I  came  to  Houns-Ditch, 

then  round  about  I  creep, 
Where  cruelty  was  crowned  chief 

and  pity  faft  afleep  : 
Where  ufury  gets  profit, 

and  brokers  bear  the  bell. 
Oh,  fie  upon  this  deadly  fin ! 

it  finks  the  foul  to  hell. 

The  man  that  fweeps  the  chimnyes 
with  the  bum  of  thorns, 

And  on  his  neck  a  trufle  of  poles 
tipped  all  with  horns, 

With  care  he  is  not  cumbred, 
he  liveth  not  in  dread ; 


The  Common  Cries  of  London.  215 

For  though  he  wear  them  on  his  pole, 
fome  wear  them  on  their  head. 

The  landlord  with  his  racking  rents 

turns  poor  men  out  of  dore ; 
Their  children  go  a  begging 

where  they  have  fpent  their  ftore* 
I  hope  none  is  offended 

with  that  which  is  endited  : 
If  any  be,  let  him  go  home 

and  take  a  pen  and  write  it. 

Buy  a  trap,  a  moufe  trap, 

a  torment  for  the  fleas ! 
The  hangman  works  but  half  the  day ; 

he  lives  too  much  at  eafe. 
Come  let  us  leave  this  boyes  play 

and  idle  prittle  prat, 
And  let  us  go  to  nine  holes, 

to  fpurn-point,  or  to  cat. 

Oh  !  you  nimble  fingered  lads 

that  live  upon  your  wits, 
Take  heed  of  Tyburn  ague, 

for  they  be  dangerous  fits ; 
For  many  a  proper  man, 

for  to  fupply  his  lack, 
Doth  leap  a  leap  at  Tyburn, 

which  makes  his  neck  to  crack. 


216          The  Common  Cries  of  London 

And  to  him  that  writ  this  fong 

I  give  this  iimple  lot : 
Let  every  one  be  ready 

to  give  him  half  a  pot. 
And  thus  I  do  conclude, 

wifhing  both  health  and  peace 
To  thofe  that  are  laid  in  their  bed, 

and  cannot  fleep  for  fleas. 

W.  TURNER. 


2I7 


The  Two  Valentines. 

Tbt  Tune  is,  "  Did  you  fee  Nan  to  Day." 

[An  early  fbng  upon  the  much  earlier  cuftom  of  chufmg  Valentines. 
In  Deloney's  "Garland  of  Goodwill,"  which  came  out  anterior  to  1596, 
there  is  a  oallad  to  the  tune  of  u  My  Valentine,"  but  not  at  all  like  the 
prefent.  Our  broadfide  was  not  printed  until  the  middle  of  the  feven- 
teenth  century  "for  F.  Coles,  T.  Vere  and  W.  Gilbertfon;"  and  the  full 
title  is,  "  A  pleafant  new  Song  of  two  Valentines  and  their  Lovers."] 

OOD  morrow,  Valentine: 

God  blefle  you  ever ! 
Kind  in  your  promifes, 

Faithfull  as  ever. 
Be  thou  ftill  true  to  me, 
The  kindeft  heart  He  be 
That  ever  you  did  fee. 

Kifle  me,  and  good  morrow. 

I  like  my  choyie  fo  well, 

Love  doth  compell  me, 
And  force  my  tongue  to  tell, 

The  truth  is  I  love  thee : 
Kindly  I  do  requeft, 
That  in  your  heart  and  breft 
My  love  may  ever  reft. 

Kifle  me,  and  good  morrow. 


2i 8  The  Two  Valentines. 

There  was  never  kind  fweet  heart, 

That  lufted  for  pleafure, 
Could  find  fuch  a  Valentine, 

Faffing  all  treafure. 
I  have  obtain'd  the  thing, 
Which  to  my  heart  doth  bring 
Great  joy,  which  makes  me  fing, 
Kifle  me,  and  good  morrow. 

When  others  fleep  in  bed, 

I  lye  ftill  mufing, 
To  think  on  my  good  hap 

I  had  in  chufing ; 
To  find  fuch  a  Valentine 
Bearing  a  faithfull  mind, 
Courteous  in  love,  and  kind. 

Kifle  me,  and  good  morrow. 

There  is  an  old  proverb, 

That  birds  of  a  feather 
Upon  St.  Valentines  day 
Will  meet  together : 
So,  when  true  lovers  meet, 
With  many  a  kifle  full  fweet, 
That  day  each  other  greet, 

With  kifle  and  good  morrow. 

All  you  that  have  Valentines, 
If  they  be  faithful, 


The  Two  Valentines.  219 

You  have  a  great  blefling ; 

Therefore  be  thankfull, 
And  kind  to  them  again, 
For  elfe,  I  tel  you  plain, 
Much  love  is  fpent  in  vain. 

Rifle,  and  good  morrow. 

If  my  Valentine  for  my  fake 

Would  be  a  neat-heard, 
Well  could  I  find  in  heart 

To  be  a  fhepheard ; 
To  keep  fheep  on  a  hill, 
So  I  might  have  my  will, 
To  talk  with  lier  my  fill, 

While  my  flock  fcatters. 

Shall  I  live  to  deny 

My  Valentine  for  ever  ? 
Refrain  her  company  ? 

That  I  will  never. 
For  if  I  her  refrain, 
I  muft  not  come  again  : 
Not  for  all  worldly  gain, 

For  love  lafls  ever. 

Adieu  to  my  true  love, 

Whom  I  loved  ever : 
When  I  am  out  of  fight, 

Let  not  your  mind  waver. 


220 


The  Two  Valentines, 


Though  Valentine's  day  be  gone, 
And  we  not  both  as  one, 
My  love  to  thee  alone 
Shall  be  for  ever. 

Good  night  to  my  Valentine. 

Now  I  have  ended, 
To  ftay  any  longer, 

I  cannot  intend  it. 
I  wifli  all  young  men  kind, 
That  bear  a  faithful  mind, 
To  give  their  Valentine 

A  kifle,  and  good  morrow. 


221 


I    The  Great  Boobee. 

To  a  pleafant  new  Tune,  or  "  Sellengers  Round." 

[A  remarkable  and  very  droll  ballad,  relating  to  old  manners  and 
amufements  :  by  various  allufions  in  it  we  may  affign  it  to  the  reign  of 
James  I.  In  a  previous  produ&ion  (p.  157)  we  have  had  the  "  pic 
tures"  at  the  Royal  Exchange  mentioned,  and  we  are  to  take  "pic 
tures,"  here  as  well  as  there,  in  the  fenfe  of  ftatues :  the  words  were 
fometimes  fynonymous  :  thus,  in  "  The  Hiftory  of  Euordanus,"  1605, 
we  read  of  a  tent "  on  the  top  of  which  flood  Cupid,  &c.  aiming  directly 
at  a  fair  picture  of  marble."  Statues  were  often  formerly  painted,  and 
this  perhaps  led  to  the  error,  which  explains  naturally  the  delufion 
of  Leontes  in  u  The  Winter's  Tale."  There  were  few  tunes  more 
ancient  than  Sellengers  Round :  Sir  John  Hawkins  tells  us,  that  it  is 
"  the  oldeft  country  dance  known,"  but  this  does  not  feem  to  be  quite 
correct: :  (See  ChappelFs  Nat.  Engl.  Airs  II.  76.)  It  was  exceffively 
popular,  from  the  middle  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  to  the  days  of  Dur- 
fey.  The  enfuing  ballad  was  "  Printed  for  F.  Coles  in  Wine  ftreet, 
on  Saffron-hill,  near  Hatton  Garden."] 

Y  friend,  if  you  will  underftand 
my  fortunes  what  they  are, 
I  once  had  cattel,  houfe,  and  land, 

but  now  am  never  the  near : 
My  father  left  a  good  eftate, 

as  I  may  tell  to  thee  ; 
I  couzned  was  of  all  I  had, 
like  a  great  Boobee. 


222  The  Great  Boobee. 


I  went  to  fchool  with  good  intent, 

and  for  to  learn  my  book, 
And  all  the  day  I  went  to  play ; 

in  it  I  never  did  look. 
Full  feven  years,  or  very  nigh, 

as  I  may  tell  to  thee, 
I  could  hardly  fay  my  Chrift-Crofs  Row, 

like  a  great  Boobee. 

My  father,  then,  in  all  the  hafte 

did  fet  me  to  the  plow, 
And  for  to  lam  the  horfe  about, 

indeed,  I  knew  not  how : 
My  father  took  his  whip  in  hand, 

and  foundly  lamed  me ; 
He  called  me  fool,  and  country  clown, 

and  great  Boobee. 

But  I  did  from  my  father  run, 

for  I  will  plow  no  more, 
Becaufe  he  had  fo  flafhed  me, 
and  made  my  fides  fo  fore ; 
But  I  will  go  to  London  town, 

fome  vafhions  for  to  fee  : 
When  I  came  there,  they  call'd  me  clown, 

and  great  Boobee. 

But  as  I  went  along  the  ftreet 
I  carried  my  hat  in  my  hand, 


The  Great  Boobee.  223 


And  to  every  one  that  I  did  meet 

I  bravely  bent  my  band  : 
Some  did  laugh,  and  fome  did  feoff, 

and  fome  did  mock  at  me, 
And  fome  did  fay  I  was  a  woodcock, 

and  a  great  Boobee. 

Then  I  did  walk  in  haft  to  Pauls, 

the  fteeple  for  to  view, 
Becaufe  I  heard  fome  people  fay 

it  fhould  be  builded  new. 
When  I  got  up  unto  the  top, 

the  city  for  to  fee, 
It  was  fo  high,  it  made  me  cry, 

like  a  great  Boobee. 

From  thence  I  went  to  Weftminfter, 

and  for  to  fee  the  tombs  : 
O  !  faid  I,  what  a  houfe  is  here, 

with  an  infinite  fight  of  rooms. 
Sweetly  the  Abbey  bells  did  ring, 

it  was  a  fine  fight  to  fee ; 
Methought  I  was  going  to  Heaven  in  a  ftring, 

like  a  great  Boobee. 

But  as  I  went  along  the  ftreet 

the  moft  part  of  the  day, 
Many  gallants  did  I  meet ; 

methought  they  were  very  gay. 


224  The  Great  Boobee. 


I  blew  my  nofe,  and  ray'd  my  hofe  ; 

fome  people  did  me  fee, 
And  faid  I  was  a  beaftly  fool, 

and  a  great  Boobee. 

Next  day  I  through  Pye-corner  paft  : 

the  roaft-meat  on  the  ftall 
Invited  me  to  take  a  tafte ; 

my  money  was  but  fmall : 
The  meat  I  pickt,  the  cook  me  kickt, 

as  I  may  tell  to  thee, 
He  beat  me  fore,  and  made  me  rore, 

like  a  great  Boobee. 

As  I  through  Smithfield  lately  walkt 

a  gallant  lafs  I  met ; 
Familiarly  with  me  me  talkt, 

Which  I  cannot  forget : 
She  profferd  me  a  pint  of  wine, 

methought  me  was  wondrous  free, 
To  the  tavern  then  I  went  with  her, 

like  a  great  Boobee. 

She  told  me  we  were  next  of  kin, 
and  calld  for  wine  good  ftore 

Before  the  reckoning  was  brought  in, 
my  coufm  was  no  more. 

My  purfe  fhe  pickt  and  went  away, 
my  coufin  couzned  me ; 


The  Great  Boobee. 


225 


The  Vintner  kickt  me  out  of  door, 
like  a  great  Boobee. 

At  the  Exchange,  when  I  came  there, 

I  faw  moft  gallant  things  ; 
I  thought  the  pictures  living  were 

of  all  our  Englifh  kings  : 
I  doft  my  hat,  and  made  a  leg, 

and  kneeled  on  my  knee : 
The  people  laught,  and  calPd  me  fool, 

and  great  Boobee. 

To  Paris  Garden  then  I  went, 

where  there  is  great  refort : 
My  pleafure  was  my  punifhment, 

I  did  not  like  the  fport. 
The  garden  bull  with  his  ftout  horns 

on  high  then  tofled  me, 
I  did  bewray  my  felf  with  fear 

like  a  great  Boobee. 

The  Bearheard  went  to  fave  me  then, 

the  people  flockt  about ; 
I  told  the  Bear-garden  men 

my  guts  were  almoft  out : 
They  faid  I  flunk  moft  grievoufly, 

no  man  would  pity  me ; 
They  calPd  me  witlefs  fool  and  afs, 

and  great  Boobee. 


226 


The  Great  Boobee. 


Then  o're  the  water  did  I  pafs, 

as  you  fhall  underftand  : 
I  dropt  into  the  Thames,  alas ! 

before  I  came  to  land : 
The  waterman  did  help  me  out, 

and  thus  did  fay  to  me, 
'Tis  not  thy  fortune  to  be  drownd, 

like  a  great  Boobee. 

But  I  have  learned  fo  much  wit 

fhall  fhorten  all  my  cares, 
If  I  can  but  a  licenfe  get 

to  play  before  the  bears  : 
"Twill  be  a  gallant  place  indeed, 

as  I  may  tell  to  thee ; 
Then  who  dares  call  me  fool,  or  afs, 

or  great  Boobee  ? 


227 


The  Tragedy  of  Hero  and 

Leander. 

To  a  pleafant  New  Tune,  or  "  I  will  never  love  thee  more." 

[This  ballad  is  founded  upon  the 

"  Story  of  deep  love, 

How  young  Leander  crofPd  the  Hellefpont," 

which  was  firft  made  known  in  Englifh  by  Chriftopher  Marlowe  in 
his  verfion,  publiftied  in  1598,  five  years  after  his  death.  Our  broad- 
fide,  "  Printed  for  R.  Burton,  at  the  Horfefhoe  in  Weft-Smithfield,neer 
the  Hofpital-gate,"  is  not  fo  early  by  twenty  or  thirty  years ;  but  we 
apprehend,  it  muft  have  been  written,  and  firft  printed,  foon  after  Mar 
lowe's  paraphrafe  (completed  by  Chapman  in  1600)  had  made  the 
incidents  popular.  It  was  the  work  of  no  very  inferior  hand,  (though 
evidently  corrupted  in  the  copy  that  has  come  down  to  us)  and  every 
body  will  recognife  the  tranflation  of  Martial's  well-known  epigram 
at  the  clofe  of  the  fecond-ftanza.  In  the  Pepyfian  collection,  is  a 
ballad,  figned  William  Meafh,  on  the  fame  incidents  but  a  different 
production,  entitled  "  Leander's  Love  for  loyall  Hero  : "  that  was  "  im 
printed  at  London  for  J.  W."] 

OME,  mournful  Mufe,  affift  my  quill, 

whilft  I  with  grief  relate 
A  flory  of  two  lovers  true, 

cut  off  by  cruel  fate. 
Death  onely  parts  united  hearts, 

and  brings  them  to  their  graves ; 
Whilft  others  fleep  within  the  deep, 
or  perim  in  the  waves. 


228  The  Tragedy  of 


Leander  on  the  bay  of  blifs, 

Pontus,  he  naked  flood  : 
In  paffion  of  delay  he  fprang, 

into  the  fatal  flood. 
The  raging  feas  can  none  appeafe, 

his  fortune  ebbs  and  flows, 
The  heaven  down  fhowres,  and  rain  down  powers, 

and  the  wind  aloft  it  blows. 

The  lad  forfook  the  land,  and  did 

Unto  the  Gods  complain  : 
You  rocks,  you  rugged  waters, 

you  elements,  hail  and  rain, 
What  'tis  to  mifs  true  lovers  blifs, 

alas !  you  do  not  know ; 
Make  me  a  wrack  as  I  come  back, 

But  ipare  me  as  I  go. 

Behold  on  yonder  tower,  fee  where 

my  fair  beloved  lyes ! 
This  is  th'  appointed  hour  ;  hark,  how 

me  on  Leander  cryes  !— 
The  Gods  were  mute  unto  his  fute, 

the  billows  anfwered  no  : 
The  furges  rife  up  to  the  fkyes, 

but  he  funk  down  below. 

Sweet  Hero,  like  dame  Venus  fair, 
all  in  her  turrit  flood, 


Hero  and  Leander. 


229 


Expecting  of  her  lover  dear, 
who  crofling  was  the  flood. 

A  feeble  light  through  darkfome  night 
me  fet  her  love  to  guide ; 

With  wavering  arms  and  loves  alarms, 
with  a  voyce  full  loud  me  cry'd : 

You  cruel  waves,  fome  pity  (how 

unto  my  deareft  friend, 
And  you  tempeftuous  winds  that  blow, 

at  this  time  prove  more  kind. 
O  !  waft  my  love  fecure  to  more 

that  I  his  face  may  fee ; 
With  tears  your  help  I  do  implore, 

your  pitty  lend  to  me. 

Let  each  kind  dolphin  now  befriend, 

and  help  my  love  along, 
And  bring  him  to  his  journeys  end 

before  his  breath  is  gone. 
Let  not  a  wave  become  his  grave, 

and  part  us  both  for  ever : 
Pitty  my  grief,  fend  him  relief, 

and  help  him  now  or  never ! 

The  fierce  and  cruel  tempeft  did 

moft  violently  rage ; 
Not  her  laments,  nor  difcontents, 

its  fury  could  aflwage : 


2 30  The  Tragedy  of 


The  winds  were  high,  and  he  muft  dye, 

the  fates  did  fo  ordain  ; 
It  was  affign'd  he  ne'r  fhould  find 

his  deareft  love  again. 

She  fpred  her  filken  vail,  for  to 

fecure  the  blazing  light, 
To  guide  her  love,  leaft  on  the  rocks 

his  wearied  limbs  fhould  fmite ; 
But,  cruel  fate !  it  prov'd  his  date, 

and  caufed  him  to  fleep. 
She  from  above  beheld  her  love 

lye  drowned  in  the  deep. 

Her  ihowry  eyes  with  tears  brought  in 

the  tide  before  its  time ; 
Her  fad  lamenting  groans  likewife 

unto  the  fkyes  did  clime. 
O  Heavens !  (quoth  me)  againft  poor  me 

do  you  your  forces  bend  ? 
Then  from  the  walls  in  hafte  me  falls, 

to  meet  her  dying  friend. 

Her  new  bedewed  arms  about 
his  fencelefs  corps  me  clipps, 

And  many  kiffes  fpent  in  vain 
upon  his  dying  lipps  : 

Then  wav'd  her  hands  unto  the  lands, 
Singing  with  dying  pride, 


Hero  and  Leander. 


231 


Go,  tell  the  world  in  billows  ftrong 
I  with  my  love  have  dy'd. 

Thus  did  they  both  their  breath  refign 

unto  the  will  of  fate, 
And  in  the  deep  imbrace  and  twine, 

when  Death  did  end  their  date. 
Let  lovers  all  example  take, 

and  evermore  prove  true, 
For  Hero  and  Leander's  fake, 

who  bids  you  all  adieu. 


232 


The  Royal  Recreation  of 

jovial  Anglers. 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Amarillis." 

[F.  Coles,  T.  Vere,  W.  Gilbertfon,  and  J.  Wright,  whofe  names 
are  at  the  end  of  this  ballad,  may  have  been  the  original  publimers  of 
it,  as  we  doubt  if  it  be  much  older  than  the  date  of  the  firft  imprefiion 
of  Walton's  "  Angler,"  in  1653.  The  hour  of  bufmefs  on  the  Royal 
Exchange  is  ftated  in  it  to  be  "  twixt  twelve  and  one,"  whereas  in  the 
latter  end  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  and  in  that  of  James  L,  it  was 
between  eleven  and  twelve.  William  Haughton's  comedy  "  Englifh- 
men  for  my  Money,"  (printed  in  1616  but  written  in  1598,  as  appears 
by  Henflowe's  Diary  p.  119),  fhews  that  merchants  then  attended 
Change  at  1 1  oj  clock,  and  dined  at  12  o'  clock.  There  is  no  other  very 
diftinct  note  of  time  in  the  ballad,  the  full  title  of  which  is, "  The  Royal 
Recreation  of  jovial  Anglers, 

Proving  that  all  men  are  Intanglers, 
And  all  Profeffions  are  turn'd  Anglers." 

o 

The  tune  feems  comparatively  modern,  as  we  do  not  find  it  in  any 
early  collection.] 

F  all  the  recreations  which 
attend  on  human  nature. 
There's  nothing  fores  fo  high  a  pitch, 

or  is  of  fuch  a  ftature, 
As  is  a  fubtle  Anglers  life 
in  all  mens  approbation ; 


Recreation  of  jovial  Anglers.  233 

For  Anglers  tricks  do  daily  mix 
with  every  corporation. 

When  Eve  and  Adam  liv'd  by  love, 

and  had  no  caufe  for  jangling, 
The  Devil  did  the  waters  move, 

the  ferpent  fell  to  angling  : 
He  baits  his  hook  with  godlike  look, 

quoth  he,  this  will  intangle  her ; 
The  woman  chops,  and  down  fhe  drops  : 

the  Devil  was  the  firft  Angler. 

Phyfitians,  lawyers,  and  divines 

are  moft  ingenious  janglers, 
And  he  that  tryes  ftiall  find,  in  fine, 

that  all  of  them  are  Anglers  : 
Whilft  grave  divines  doe  fifh  for  fouls, 

phyfitians,  like  curmudgeons, 
Do  bait  with  health  to  fifh  for  wealth, 

And  lawyers  fifh  for  gudgeons* 

A  politician,  too,  is  one 

concern'd  in  pifcatory ; 
He  writes  and  fights,  unites  and  flights, 

to  purchafe  wealth  and  glory. 
His  plumet  founds  the  kingdom's  bounds, 

to  make  the  fifhes  nibble : 
He  draws  them  with  a  pack  of  lyes, 

and  blinds  them  with  a  quibble. 


H  H 


234  The  Royal  Recreation 

A  fifherman  fubdued  a  place, 

in  fpight  of  locks  and  ftaples  : 
The  warlike  Maffianello  was 

a  fifherman  of  Naples ; 
Commanded  forty  thoufand  men, 
and  prov'd  a  royal  wrangler  : 
You  ne're  mall  fee  the  like  again 
.of  fuch  a  famous  Angler. 

Upon  the  Exchange,  twixt  twelve  and  one, 

meets  many  a  neat  intangler  : 
Mofl  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  kifTes ; 


of  jovial  Anglers.  235 


He  playes,  and  toyes,  and  fain  would  do, 

but  often  times  he  mifles : 
He  gives  her  rings,  and  fuch  fine  things 

as  fan,  or  muff,  or  night-hood; 
But  if  you'l  cheat  a  city  peat, 

you  muft  bait  her  with  a  knight-hood. 

There  is  no  Angler  like  a  wench 

juft  rifing  in  the  water ; 
She'l  make  you  leave  both  trout  and  tench, 

and  throw  yourfelf  in  after. 
Your  hook  and  line  me  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  ftill  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, tne  ^1X  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 
lection,  as  if  they  were  one  and  the  fame  fong  :  they  are  both  given  to 
Maudlin  in  Walton's  work,  and  the  fa6l>we  have  ftated  forms  a  new 
illuftration  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  Protectorate :  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  refpedt, 
But  only  her  tongue  breeds  all  her  defect." 

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  muft  confefle, 
Her  cheefe  amiffe 
Is  onely  this, 
As  fome  wives  is, 

{he  cannot  rule  her  tongue. 

She  hath  as  fweet  a  face 

as  any  in  feaven  miles  fpace ; 
Her  eyes  chriftalline 
Like  diamonds  doe  ihine, 

{he  looks  with  a  modeft  grace  : 
Her  haire  is  like  flax, 
Her  lips  are  red  wax, 

that  feal'd  the  bond  fo  ftrong 
Twixt  her  and  I, 
That  till  I  die 
He  juftifie 
Her  conftancy ; 

but  me  cannot  rule  her  tongue. 

Her  cheeks  are  red  as  the  rofe 

which  June  for  her  glory  {hows : 

Her  teeth  on  a  row 

Stand  like  a  wall  of  fnow 

between  her  round  chin  and  her  nofe. 

Her  {houlders  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, 
Moil  womenkind 
Muft  come  behind  : 

O,  that  me  could  rule  her  tongue 

Her  breafts  like  Pyreene  hills, 

which  nature  yearly  fils, 
With  liquor  that  by  ods 
Doth  pafle  the  drink  o'  th'  gods ; 

all  nectar  it  far  excels  : 
With  this  me  doth  feed 
The  twigs  that  proceed 

from  our  affeftions  ftrong. 
Shee's  fruitful  as 
The  fpringing  grafle, 
No  time  lets  pafle, 
And  yet,  alas ! 

me  cannot  rule  her  tongue. 

Her  body,  which  I  have  oft 

embraced,  fo  fmooth  and  foft, 
Is  flender  and  white 
Proportioned  aright ; 

tis  ftraight  as  any  fhaft. 
Her  leg  is  compleat, 
Her  foot's  fine  and  neat, 

tis  neither  too  fhort  nor  too  long : 


240  Keep  a  good  tongue 

In  every  part 
Dame  Nature's  art 
Gives  her  the  ftart : 
With  all  my  heart 

I  wifh  me  could  rule  her  tongue, 

As  me  in  feature  excels 

wel  nye  moft  women  elfe, 
Even  fo  doth  her  wit, 
If  fhee'l  make  ufe  of  it, 

as  daily  experience  tels  : 
I  cannot  deny  it, 
If  me  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  me  will  difpute ; 

few  women  can  her  confute  : 
She  fings  and  me  playes, 
And  me  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  fhe  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  fhe. 

O,  that  fhe  could  rule  her  tongue ! 

For  hufwifery  fhe  doth  exceed  ; 

fhe  looks  to  her  bufinefle  with  heed 
Shee's  early  and  late 
Emploid,  I  dare  fay't, 

to  fee  all  things  well  fucceede. 
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 
Are  at  her  call, 
But  fhee'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  wifh  both  old  and  yong 
Great  heed  to  take, 
When  choice  they  make 
For  vertues  fake : 
No  venemous  fnake 

flings  like  a  womans  tongue. 

M.  P. 


FINIS. 


The  Milke-maids  Life. 


To  a  curious  new  Tune,  called  "  The  Milke-maids  Dumps." 

[This  is  the  ballad  referred  to  in  our  introduction  to  the  preceding, 
S  having  had  eight  lines  quoted  from  it  by  Walton  in  his  "Angler," 
p.  152,  edit.  1808).  They  form  the  conclufion  of  our  fixth  ftanza, 
lut  Walton  either  printed  from  a  different  copy  to  that  we  have  ufed, 
>r  he  altered  one  of  the  lines.  He  does  not  ftate  who  was  the  author, 
>ut  the  initials  at  the  end  of  the  Roxburghe  broadfide  {hew  that  it  was 
>y  Martin  Parker.  Both  this  and  the  laft  ballad  were  written  to  the  fame 
une,  which  in  one  cafe  is  called  "  the  Milkmaids  &c."  and  in  the  other 
1  the  Milkmaids  Dumps  :"  a  "  dump"  was  a  fpecies  of  dance,  as  well 
is  a  poem.  (Collier's  Shakefpeare,  vi.  478.)  The  enfuing,  like  the 
bregoing,  ballad  was  "  Printed  at  London  for  T.  Lambert;"  and  to  the 
tide  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 
down fal  of  May-games"  under  the  puritans.] 

OU  rural  goddeffes, 

that  woods  and  fields  poffefle, 
Affift  me  with  your  fkill, 
That  may  direcft  my  quill 

more  jocundly  to  exprefle 
The  mirth  and  delight, 
Both  morning  and  night, 
on  mountaine  or  in  dale, 


243 


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  lafles  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  Iky, 
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  ling 

To  welcome  the  fpring, 

'gainft  heaven  they  never  rayle : 


The  Milke-maids  Life.  245 

If  grafle  wel  grow 
Their  thankes  they  (how, 
And  froft  or  fnow, 
They  merrily  goe 

along  with  the  milking  paile. 

Bafe  idlenefle  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  fmg  on  each  bum ; 

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  doftors  rules  they  obferve, 
While  others,  too  nice 
In  taking  their  advice, 

look  alwaies  as  though  they  wold  ftarve. 
Their  meat  is  digefted, 
They  nere  are  molefted, 

no  ficknefle  doth  them  afTaile : 


246  The  Milke-maids  Life. 

Their  time  is  fpent 
In  merryment ; 
While  limbs  are  lent, 
They  are  content 

to  carry  the  milking  paile. 

Thofe  lafles  nice  and  ftrange, 

that  keep  (hops  in  the  Exchange, 
Sit  pricking  of  clouts, 
And  giving  of  flouts ; 

they  feldome  abroad  doe  range : 
Then  comes  the  green  lickneffe, 
And  changeth  their  likenefle, 

all  this  for  want  of  good  fale ; 
But  tis  not  fo, 
As  proofe  doth  (how, 
By  them  that  goe 
In  froft  and  fnow, 

to  carry  the  milking  paile. 

If  they  any  fweet-hearts  have, 
that  do  affection  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  : 


The  Milke-maids  Life.  247 

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  mufick  fweet, 
For  fuch  a  feafon  meet, 

they  pafle  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  vidlory, 

in  honour  o'  th'  milking  paile. 

If  any  thinke  that  I 

doe  pradtife  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 ; 


248 


The  Milke-maids  Life. 


In  their  defence 
Whofe  innocence, 
And  providence, 
Gets  honeft  pence 

out  of  the  milking  paile. 


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  collections.  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  Bimops,  Yorke  and  Canterbury," 
1642.  8vo.  Sec.  The  entire  title  of  the  following  ballad  runs  thus  : — 
«  The  Batchelor's  Feaft,  or 

The  difference  betwixt  a  fingle  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  grafle  and  flowers  fpring, 
I  heard  a  Batchelor 

within  an  harbour  fing : 
The  tenor  of  his  fong 

contained  much  melodic  ; 
It  is  a  gallant  thing 
to  live  at  liberty. 
With  hie  dill  do  dill, 
hie  ho  dildurlie. 


K  K 


The  Batchelors  feaft, 

It  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  ftill  keepe  good  company 
With  them  that  take  delight 

to  live  at  liberty. 

With  hie  dill® c. 

While  married  men  doe  lie 
with  worldly  cares  oppreft, 

Wee  Batchelors  can  fleepe, 
and  fweetly  take  our  reft. 

O  !  married  men  muft  feeke 
for  goffips  and  a  nurfe, 


The  Batchelors  feaft, 


251 


Which  heavie  makes  the  heart, 
but  light  it  makes  the  purfe. 
With  hie  dill  &c. 

A  man,  that  doth  intend 

to  lead  a  quiet  life, 
Muft  pradtife  day  and  night 

to  pleafe  his  longing  wife : 
New  fafhions  muft  be  had 

as  oft  as  fhee  them  fee. 
O  !  tis  a  pleafant  thing 

to  live  at  liberty. 

With  hie  dill  &c. 

The  taylor  muft  be  payd 

for  making  of  her  gowne ; 
The  fhoemakers  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  fhee  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  lightfome  thing 
to  live  at  liberty. 

With  hie  dill  &c. 

Yet  all  this  pleafeth  not, 

except  that  thou  dofl  burfe 
Both  gold  and  filver  coyne, 

to  carry  in  her  purfe, 
To  taverne  when  fhe  hies, 

where  fhee  fhall  merry  bee. 
O  !  tis  a  gallant  thing 

to  live  at  liberty. 

With  hie  dill  &c. 

Some  think  a  fingle  life 

to  bee  a  dayly  trouble, 
But  many  men  doe  wed 

and  make  their  forrowes  double  : 
Therefore,  I  wifh  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. 


253 


Hee  better  were  to  live 

ftill  fmgle,  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, 
Wifhing  that  every  fhrew 

her  qualities  would  amend ; 
And  that  all  Batchelors 

may  now  be  rul'd  by  mee, 
To  chufe  a  loving  wife, 

or  live  at  liberty. 

With  hie  dill  &c. 

L.  P. 


254 


The 

Mifer  and  the  Prodigal. 

To  the  Tune  of  "  To  drive  the  cold  winter  away." 

[This  production,  in  two  parts,  has  the  initials  N.  P.  at  the  end, 
which  may  have  been  an  error  for  M.  P.  z.  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  flourished 
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  Prodigal. 

. 

And  I  fafely  will  keepe 

you  lockt  in  my  yron  bound  cheft. 
No  thieves  you  fhall  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, 

Come,  filver  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  glittering  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. 


255 


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  lie  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  Prodigal.  257 

as  they  brew,  fo  let  them  bake  : 
This  rule  I  obferve, 
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  goe  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, 

fpr  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, 

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  the  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  mall  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  Prodigal.  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  mall  lacke : 
Give  us  claret  and  facke ! 

hang  pinching,  it  is  againft  nature. 
Lets  have  all  good  cheere, 
Coft  it  never  fo  deare, 

for  I  with  my  forke  will  fcatter. 


260  The  Mifer  and  the  Prodigal 

Let  me  have  a  laffe, 

That  faire  Venus  doth  paffe  ; 

give  me  all  delights  that  I  may  : 
He  make  my  gold  fly 
Aloft  in  the  ikie  ; 

I  thinke  it  will  never  be  day. 
Let  the  welkin  roare  ! 
He  never  give  o're : 

Tobacco,  and  with  it  ftrong  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  filver  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  mall  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  Prodigal.  261 


and  here's  to  my  miftrefle  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  ftand  on  no  ground, 

And  I  with  my  forke  will  it  fcatter. 

My  lordfhips  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. 

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  ftore ; 

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  {hold  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  Prodigal. 

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. 


263 


FINIS, 


264 


Wit's  never  good  till  'tis 

bought. 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Bafle's  Carreere." 

[This  excellent  didactic  ballad  was  "  Printed  at  London  for  Th( 
mas  Lambert,"  and,  like  many  more,  may  be  pronounced  a  reprint  < 
an  older  production  :  how  much  older  muft  be  matter  of  fpeculatioi 
but  no  earlier  copy  is  known.  On  the  broadfide,  after  the  burdei 
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  impreffion  of  it  for  the  fame  publifher  in  the  Pepyfian 
Library.  The  tune  to  which  it  was  fung,  "  Bafle's  Carreere,"  means 
of  courfe  the  tune  mentioned  in  Walton's  Angler  "  The  Hunter  in  his 
career,"  compofed,  as  he  ftates,  by  William  BafTe,  who  was  a  writer 
in  the  early  part  of  the  reign  of  James  I.] 

NCE  muling  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  good  till  'tis  bought. 

what  I  fince  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  wimt  I  had  ftayd 

at  my  own  proper  trade ; 
But  true  wit's  never  good  till  'tis  bought. 

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 


265 


266  Wit's  never  good 


I  ufed  to  roare, 

and  to  drinke  on  the  fcore, 
And  never  thought  more  on  the  fhot : 

come,  Tapfter,  faid  I, 

one  tooth  ftill  is  dry, 
Then  fill's  (by  and  by)  tother  pot. 

I  cal'd  ftill  apace, 

but  within  a  fhort  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  bought. 


267 


As  may  plainly  be  feene  by  my  ftate; 

contention  in  law 

did  my  purfe  empty  draw, 
Which  I  never  forefaw  til  too  late : 

upon  every  flight  thing 

I  my  adlion  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, 

catechifing  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, 


268  Wit's  never  good 


I  with  paper  and  inke 
Have  made,  I  did  thinke,  a  good  match ; 

b'ut  after,  when  I 

more  deliberately 
The  bufinefle  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, 
Thinking  him  truly  grave,  truly  juft  ; 

I  my  heart  have  expos'd, 

And  my  fecrets  difclos'd, 
As  a  friend  I  repos'd  on  his  truft : 

but  the  rafcall  ignoble, 

his  heart  being  double, 
Me  much  woe  and  trouble  hath  wrought  ; 

But  I've  learnd,  ere  fince  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  bought.  269 


but  upon  fmall  diftafle 

my  felf  I  difplaft, 
Thus  my  downfall  in  hade  then  I  fought ; 

Since  I  wifht  to  obtaine 

what  I  oft  did  difdaine  : 
Thus  true  wit's  never  good  till  'tis  bought. 

Too  willing  I  was 

my  owne  credite  to  pafle, 
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  pafTed  my  word 

for  what  others  have  fcor'd, 
And  I  oft,  like  a  bird,  have  bin  caught, 

in  the  prifon  to  flay 

where  I  fung  Lachrima  : 
Thus  true  wit's  never  good  till  'tis  bought. 

If  any  of  thofe 

that  are  (caufelefle)  my  foes 
Should  fo  rafhly  fuppofe  in  their  hearts, 

that  all  in  this  fong 

to  my  felfe  doth  belong, 
Their  conjecture  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  leffon, 

That  wit's  never  good  till  'tis  bought. 


FINIS. 


271 


A  Caveat  for  Cut-purfes. 

To  the  Tune  of  "  Packingtons  Pound." 

[This  fmgular  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  u  Mr.  John 
Ketch,"  whofe  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 
{hews  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  actor  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  u  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,  mewing  the  confidence  of  the  firft,  and 
the  carelefnefTe  of  the  laft,  with  neceuary  admonitions  for  them  both, 
left  the  Hangman  get  the  one,  and  the  Begger  the  other."] 

>  Y  mafters,  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,  thouhadft  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  worfhip  did  there  mew  his  face 
Againft  the  foul  finners  in  zeale  for  to  raile, 
And  fo  loft,  ipfo  faffio,  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  thofe  that  fo  venture  their  necks  for  a  purfe ! 

Youth,  youth  &c. 

At  playes,  and  at  fermons,  and  at  the  Seffions 

"Pis  daily  their  praftife  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  honeft  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  Aftors,  it  feems,  had  the  fate 


273 


N   N 


274  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  ftrange  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  me  aware  that  you  have  done  the  feat, 
Untill  me  is  going  to  pay  for  her  meat : 
Then  me  cryes  and  rages 
Amongft  the  baggages, 

And  fwears  at  one  thruft  me  hath  loft  all  her  wages; 
For  me  is  ingaged  her  own  to  difburfe, 


A  Caveat  for  Cut-purfes. 

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  flut, 

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  firft  mew'd  you  to  flam  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  cam  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  moft  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, 
'hen  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,  was  unqueftionably  written  in  a  dear  year,  fuch  as  Stow  def- 
cribes  1596,  when  wheat  was  fold  as  high  as  fix,  feven  and  eight  fhillings 
abufhel,  or  1597  when  the  price  rofe  to  thirteen  fhillings  (Annals  1615 
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  firft  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  new  yeare. 

H.  Alacke,  and  alas  for  woe  ! 
how  can  I  chufe  ? 


Houfeholders  New-year's  Gift.  277 

The  world  is  grown  fo  cruell, 

that  friendship  few  doe  ufe  : 
Flattery  gets  credit, 

plaine  troth  it  over  thro  wes. 
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. 


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  frill  behinde  ; 

And  for  the  fame  no  remedy, 

New-year's  Gift.  279 


alacke  !  that  I  can  finde. 
Good  Lord  !  fend  a  merry  new  yeere. 

W.  Take  courage,  gentle  hufband, 
and  hearken  what  I  fay : 

After  freezing  January 

commeth  pleafant  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  calamitie 

no  way  can  I  fhunne, 
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  mercifull 

as  he  was  wont  to  bee. 
Goe  thou,  and  ply  thy  labour, 

and  I  will  worke  with  thee. 
Good  Lord !  fend  a  merry  new  yeere. 


I  will  not  be  idle, 

but  I  will  card  and  fpin ; 


280  Houfeholders  New-year's  Gift 

I  will  fave  together 

that  thou  bringeft  in  : 
No  man  for  a  debt  is  hanged  ; 

then,  pafle  thou  not  a  pin, 
And  God  fend  a  merry  new  yeere ! 

H.  Deare  wife,  thy  gentle  Ipeeches 
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 ! 

W.  Poverty,  fweet  hufband, 

oft  time  hath  been  blamed, 

But  poverty  with  honefty 
never  yet  was  mamed. 

The  rich  man  difcontented 

may  be  a  poor  man  named  ; 

But  God  fend  a  merry  new  yeere ! 

What  thou  want'ft  in  riches 

I  will  fupply  in  love ; 
Thou  {halt  be  my  honey, 

and  I  thy  turtle  dove : 
Thou  art  my  beloved, 

no  forrow  {hall  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  character 
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  fong  in  love  to  all  which  bafenefle  hates." 

The  allufions  to,  and  defcriptions  of  the  various  occupations  in  London 
are  amufing  and  curious.] 

TTEND,  my  mafters,  and  give  eare, 

whilft  here  I  doe  relate 
The  bafe  injurious  flanders 

are  throwne  on  me  in  hate : 
My  wrongs  and  great  abufes 
fo  commonly  are  knowne, 
As  in  a  fong,  to  right  my  wrong, 

{hall  inftantly  be  fhowne. 
They  call  me  fudling  Muld-facke, 

when  drinke  I  have  got  none : 
Cannot  they  looke  to  their  bufineffe, 
and  let  Muld-Sack  alone  ? 


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, 

offeniive  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  ling 

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  delight 

in  drunkennefle  to  joy, 
They  with  their  pimps  and  panders, 

Decoy es,  and  cheating  knaves, 
Which  run  to  wenches,  drinks  and  roars, 

and  fimple  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  Times  Abufes. 


Yet  muft  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  ? 

The  jeering  fleering  coxcombe, 

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  brainleffe  gull, 
He'l  caft  on  me  a  fcornfull  looke, 

though  harme  I  doe  him  none : 
Cannot  he  looke  to  his  fhop-booke, 

and  let  Muld-Sacke  alone  ? 

The  taylors  fawcie  prentices, 

as  I  do  pafle  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  moft  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  difdainfull  fpeeches, 

having  no  caufe  at  all, 
Will  taunt  and  feoff,  and  jeer  and  laugh, 

and  bafely  me  mifcall, 
And  call  me  fudling  Muld-Sacke, 

though  I  am  no  fuch  one  : 
Cannot  me  fcrape  her  greafie  tripes, 

and  let  Muld-Sacke  alone  ? 

The  clownifh  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  pafle, 
To  follow  his  cart  with  "  gee,  gee  ho," 

moft  like  a  witlefle  affe  : 


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  paffe  them  by, 

they  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  Affignes  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  XI. 
of  "  The  Paffionate  Pilgrim,"  with  the  later  ftanzas  of  the  ballad.  The 
full  title  is  only  this,  "  The  Lovers  Complaint  for  the  lofle  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  fhouldft  me  forfake, 

Nor  never  brake  the  faithfull  vow 
that  you  and  I  did  make : 


288  The  Lover's  Complaint. 

Farewell,  my  deareft  love  ; 

I  tooke  thee  at  thy  word. 
Hard  hap  had  I  to  beat  the  bum, 

and  another  catch  the  bird. 

I  will  goe  range  abroad, 

He  find  fbme  other  thing : 
If  I  had  knowne  you  would  have  flowne, 

I  would  have  clipt  your  wing.— 
Would  you  have  clipt  my  wing  ? 

me  anfwered  me  againe  : 
You  might  have  done  it  in  the  wood ; 

you  know  the  time  and  when. 

Farewell,  my  deareft  love, 

to  thee  I  made  my  fute ; 
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  me  goes ; 

I  hope  fhee'l  come  againe. 

I  heard  a  pretty  tune 

concerning  to  a  fong, 
A  lover  mourning  for  his  love, 

and  faid  me  did  him  wrong  : 
He  had  her  in  the  wood, 

he  might  have  wrought  his  will ; 


The  Lover's  Complaint.  289 


Pittie  it  was  to  doe  him  good 
that  he  had  no  better  {kill. 

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  me  been  light  of  love, 

I  fhould  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  fift  ? 
Then,  let  her  laugh  and  fcoffe  at  me, 

and  ufe  me  as  me  lift. 
He  ftill  doth  beate  the  bum, 

although  the  bird  be  loft, 
And  being  flothfull  in  his  fuit, 

thus  fortune  hath  him  coft. 

If  with  my  love  in  woods 

fo  happy  were  I  fped, 
I  fhould  fuppofe  my  hap  were  hard, 

to  mifle  her  maiden  head. 
Good  friend,  be  rul'd  by  me 

that  made  this  morall  fong ; 
If  thou  wander  up  and  downer 

thy  felfe  hath  done  thee  wrong. 

p  P 


2 go  The  Lover's  Complaint. 

Thou  alwaies  wailft  in  woe, 

thou  travaileft  ftill  in  paine : 
Looke,  yonder,  where  my  true  love  goes, 

me  will  never  come  againe ! 
Therefore  be  rulde  by  me, 

and  let  thy  lover  paffe  : 
If  thou  looke  well,  thy  chance  may  be 

to  find  another  lafle. 


FINIS. 


2gi 


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  neceflary  to  interpofe  "  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— (Hift.  Engl.  Dram.  Poetry  and 
the  Stage  II.  31.,  III.  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  joviall  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  conje&ure.] 


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. 

Tis  cry'd  aloud, 
They  make  fuch  a  crowd, 
Men  cannot  pafle  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  fing ; 
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. 

The  Carriers  of  every  mire 
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.  293 

with  the  hackney  coaches  downe ! 
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  beft  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  paffe  along  the  towne. 

The  very  flugs  did  pipe  for  joy 

that  coachmen  hence  fhould  hye, 
And  that  the  coaches  muft  away, 

a  mellowing  up  to  lye. 
Hey  downe,  dery,  dery  downe, 

with  the  hackney  coachmen  downe  ! 
Paffe  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, 


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  ihall  run  on  wheels 

with  coach-men,  as't  has  done, 
But  they  muft  take  them  to  their  heeles, 

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. 

The  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  (hod, 

and  neere  difturbe  the  eare. 
Heigh  downe,  dery,  dery  downe, 

With  the  hackney  coaches  downe ! 
Their  jumpings  make 
The  pavement  (hake, 
Their  noyfe  doth  mad  the  towne. 

The  elder  brother  {hall  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  many  a  crowne. 


296  The  Coach's  Overthrow. 

What  though  we  trip  ore  boots  and  fhoes, 

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  1 
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  fafhion  ; 
Tis  thought  they  very  likely  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. 


297 


298 


The  Bad  Hufband  turn'd 

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  productions  : 
this  may  have  been  printed  for  the  firft  time  "  for  W.  Thackeray,  T. 
Paffinger  and  W.  Whitwood,"  towards  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  whilft  that  you  are  young 

this  Caveat  take  of  me  : 
Be  ruled  by  no  tempting  tongue 

to  bring  you  to  poverty. 
/  have  been  a  bad  hujband  long, 

and  have  fpent  ftore  ofjilver  and  gold; 
Yet  now  lie  fave  fome thing  whilft  I  am  young 
to  keep  me  when  I  am  old. 


The  Bad  Huiband  turn'd  Thrifty.        299 

I  had  good  ftore  of  means, 

and  liv'd  moft  gallantly ; 
But  yet  upon  wenches,  and  on  queans 

I  fpent  it  by  and  by. 
My  hoaftis  {he  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  ftraight  again : — 
If  you  begin  to  fcold 

then  I  will  bang  thy  coat.— 
What  woman  her  tongue  can  hold, 

when  a  man  fwallows  all  down  his  throat  ? 
/  have  been  &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  felfloftenfool'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. 
/  have  been  &c. 

She'd  chuck  me  under  the  chin, 

and  perhaps  would  give  me  a  kifs ; 
As  Venus  drew  Adonis  in, 

my  hoaftis  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. 
/  have  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.  3°' 


fuch  was  her  grievous  care. 
/  have  been  &c. 

The  more  my  wife  did  fpeak, 

the  worfer  I  would  be ; 
Fde  drinke  till  my  brains  did  ake, 

onely  to  anger  me  : 
So  long  as  I  had  a  penny 

Fde  never  give  out  for  game  ; 
But  fince  I  have  found  by  many, 

a  good  fellows  a  coftly  name. 
/  have  been  &c. 

At  laft  I  did  perceive 

my  eftate  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  me  me  denied, 

and  bid  me  ftraight  be  gone. 


302 


The  Bad  Huiband 


What,  will  you  not  truft  me  a  flagon  ? 

thofe  words  replied  I : 
No,  quoth  fhe,  not  a  nogging, 

if  you  fhould  ftarve  and  dye. 
/  have  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. 


By  no  ale-wives  be  you  fooled, 

and  then  repent  too  late  : 
For  when  that  all  is  gone, 

and  you  have  but  little  flock, 
If  to  the  ale-wives  you  make  moan, 

they  will  you  but  jear  and  mock. 
/  have  been  a  bad  hujband  long, 

and  have  fpent  ftore  ofjlher  and  gold \ 
Yet  now  He  fave  fomething  whilji  I  am  young 

to  keep  me  when  I  am  old. 

JOHN  WADE. 


303 


The  Pedlar's  Lamentation. 


To  the  Tune  of  "  My  life  and  my  death." 

[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  neceflary,  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,  come  fee  what  you  lack. 
And  buy  the  fine  toys  that  I  have  in  my  pack  ! 

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. 


305 


Then  open  your  purfes  and  be  not  afraid. 

»  Come,  maidens  &c. 

Let  none  at  a  tefter  repent  or  repine  : 

Come  bring  me  your  money,  and  Fie  make  you  fine  ; 

Young  Billy  mail  look  as  fpruce  as  the  day, 

And  pretty  fweet  Betty  more  finer  then  May. 

Then,  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  fome  pretty  toy, 
Come,  buy  this  fine  whittle  for  your  little  boy. 

Comey  maidens  &c. 

Here's  garters  for  hofe,  and  cotten  for  mooes, 
And  there's  a  guilt  bodkin,  which  none  would  refufe  : 
This  bodkin  let  John  give  to  fweet  Miftrifs  Jane, 
And  then  of  unkindnefs  he  (hall  not  complain. 

Come,  maidens  &c. 

Come  buy  this  fine  coife,  this  drefiing,  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. 

Then,  maidens  &c. 

Here's  band  firings  for  men,  and  there  you  have  lace, 
Bone-lace  to  adorne  the  fair  virgins  fweet  face : 


R   R 


306 


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  pack  me  away. 

Come,  maidens  &c. 

Here's  all  things  that's  fine,  and  all  things  that's  rare, 
All  modim  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  whittle  at  plough, 
And  every  fair  milk-maid  may  fing  at  her  cow. 

Then,  maidens  &c. 

Since  trading's  fo  dead  we  muft  needs  complain, 
And,  therefore,  pray  let  us  have  fome  little  gain  : 


The  Pedlar's  Lamentation. 


307 


If  you  will  be  free,  we  will  you  fupply 
With  what  you  do  want ;  therefore,  pray  come  and  buy, 
The  world  is  fo  hard,  that  although  we  take  pains, 
When  we  look  in  our  purfes  we  find  little  gains. 


FINIS. 


3o8 


melancholy 


Poor  Robin's  Dream,  commonly 
called  Poor  Charity. 

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  Morality,  or  Moral-play,  in  the 
form  of  a  fong,  and  the  alluflons  to  the  ftage  and  to  imperfonations 
upon  it,  fuch  as  Time,  Confcience,  Plain-dealing,  Diilimulation, 
Youth,  Age,  &c.  are  obvious.  Poor  Robin  figured  afterwards  very 
prominently  in  many  popular  productions.  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  Weft  Smith-field  : "  this  certainly  was  not  the  earlieft  im- 
preffion,  though  no  older  copy  has  yet  come  to  light.  The  information 
regarding  the  tune,  in  a  ftill  more  modern  impreffion,  is  unufually 
minute  : — "  To  a  compleate  Tune,  well  known  to  Mufitians  and  many 
others,  or  a  game  at  Cards."] 

O  W  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  fpend,  nor  Ive  nothing  to  lend ; 

Ive  nothing  to  do,  I  tarry  at  home. 
Sitting  in  my  chair,  drawing  near  to  the  fire, 

I  fell  into  a  deep,  like  an  idle  drone ; 
And  as  I  flept  I  fell  into  a  dream: 
I  faw  a  play  adled  without  er'e  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  aftors  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  firft  that  acfted,  I  proteft, 

was  Time,  with  a  glafs  and  a  fithe  in  his  hand, 
With  the  globe  of  the  world  upon  his  breaft, 

to  fliew  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, 


310 


Poor  Robin's  Dream. 


Which  put  the  a&ors  in  fuch  a  rage, 

That  they  kickt  poor  Confcience  off  the  ftage. 

Plain-dealing  prefently  appears, 

in  habit  like  a  fimple  man : 
The  acftors  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  defire. 
They  entertain'd  him  in  their  very  breaft ; 
There  he  could  have  harbor,  and  quietly  reft, 
For  diflemblers  and  turn-coats  fare  the  beft. 

Then  cometh  in  poor  Charity  : 

methinks  me  looked  wondrous  old ; 

She  quiver'd  and  me  quak't  moft  piteoufly, 

it  griev'd  me  to  think  me  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. 


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  befide. 

Hark,  how  Bellona's  drums  they  do  beat ! 

methinks  it  goes  rattling  through  the  town. 
Hark,  how  they  thunder  through  the  ftreet, 

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  day  has-been  orally  preferved  in  fome  parts  of  the  country  :  in  Mr. 
J.  H.  Dixon's  "  Ancient  Poems"  &c,  (printed  for  the  Percy  Society) 
is  one  of  thefe  traditional  verfions,  and  another  is  given  in  Mr.  Davies 
Gilbert's  "  Chriftmas  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 — u  God  fpeed 
the  Plow,  and  blefs  the  Corn-mow,  a  Dialogue  between  the  Hufband- 
man  and  Serving-man," — is  followed  by  fix  lines  ftating  the  particular 
purpofe  of  the  ballad,  viz.  to  (how  the  fuperiority  of  the  life  of  the 
former  to  the  latter.  The  tune  may  ferve  to  prove  the  antiquity  of 
the  ballad,  fince  it  was,  doubtlefs,  derived  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 ; 

Fie  tell  you,  as  fa  ft  as  I  can, 
A  ftory  very  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.  313 

I  pray  you,  tell  to  me 
Of  what  calling  you  be, 

or  if  you  be  a  Serving-man  ?— 

Quoth  he,  my  brother  dear, 
The  coaft  I  mean  to  clear, 

and  the  truth  you  fhall  underftand. 
I  do  no  one  difdain, 
But  this  I  tell  you  plain, 

I  am  an  honeft  Hufband-man. 

Serving-man. 

If  a  Hufband-man  you  be, 
Then,  come  along  with  me  ; 

Tie  help  you,  as  foon  as  I  can, 
Unto  a  gallant  place, 
Where  in  a  little  fpace 

you  (hall  be  a  Serving-man. 

Hujband-man. 
Sir,  for  your  diligence 
I  give  you  many  thanks, 

then  anfwered  the  Plowman  again  : 
I  pray  you,  to  me  mow 
Whereby  that  I  might  know, 

what  pleafures  hath  a  Serving-man. 

.  Serving-man. 

A  Serving-man  hath  pleafure, 
Which  pafleth  time  and  meafure, 

when  the  hawk  on  his  fift  doth  ftand : 


God  fpeed  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 : 


1 

God  (peed  the  Plough.  3 1 5 

The  plowing  and  the  fowing, 
The  reaping  and  the  mowing, 

yeelds  pleafure  to  the  Hufband-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, 
Tie  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  fined  filk : 

that's  pleafure  for  a  Serving-man. 

Hujband-man. 

Such  proud  and  coftly  gear 
Is  not  for  us  to  wear 


316 


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  muft  be  confeft, 
That  your  calling  is  the  beft  : 

no  longer  difcourfe  with  you  I  can ; 
But  henceforth  I  will  pray, 
By  night  and  by  day, 

Heavens  blefs  the  honeft  Hufband-man ! 


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  produ&ion,  (hew  that  it  was 
by  Lawrence  Price,  of  whom  we  have  before  fpoken  :  it  contains  a 
fingular  enumeration  of  the  queftionable  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  pleafed  him  beft,  fo  left  the  reft  alone  : 
To  her  he  then  clinged  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  Crofle-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  Mopfies 
ever  at  my  own  command. 
Sing,  come  Love, 
Stay  Love, 

The  Merry  Man's  Refolution. 

go  along  with  me ; 
For  all  the  world  He  forfake  for  thee. 


Farewel  to  the  Bank-fide, 

farewel  to  Blackmans-ftreet, 
Where  with  my  bouncing  lafles 

I  oftentimes  did  meet : 
Farewel  to  Kent-ftreet  garrifon, 

farewel  to  Horfly-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. 

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. 


319 


320  The  Merry  Man's  Refolution 

In  White-crofie-ftreet,  and  Golden-lane, 

do  ftraping  laffes  dwell, 
And  fo  there  do  in  every  ftreet 

twixt  that  and  darken-well : 
At  Cow-crofle  and  Smith-field 

I  have  much  pleafure  found, 
Where  wenches,  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. 
Yet,  come  Love, 
Stay  Love, 

go  not  from  me  ; 
For  all  thofe  girles  He  forfake  for  thee. 

To  all  the  country  Mopfies, 
wherever  they  do  dwell, 


The  Merry  Man's  Refolution. 

In  this  my  laft  conclufion 

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  Glocefter 

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  (halt  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  lie  forfake  for  thee. 

Farewel  unto  black  patches, 
and  farewel  powdered  locks, 

And  farewel  Luthner's  ladies, 
for  they  are  full  of  mocks. 

T  T 


321 


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  beft,"  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  rubbifli  to  inrich  his  ftate. 

Faire  maidens  were  offend  him,  two,  three  and  four, 
Sufficient  men's  daughters,  with  money  to  boote, 
Yet  his  greedy  mind  did  ftill  gape  after  more, 
For  he  faid,  'twas  too  little  for  him  to  go  to'te. 


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  fafhions  and  toyes  ? 
No ;  yet  it  is  time,  and  I  noW  will  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  lafle  live, 
Then  grim  goodman  Death  tooke  her  life  cleane  away  ; 
And  griefe  for  her  lofle  had  the  man  almoft  fped, 
But  that  a  new  widdow  his  journey  did  flay. 

His  wife  being  buried,  next  morning  he  went 
Another  fpruce  widdow  agen  for  to  fee, 
Where  mounted  on  crutches  he  ftraight  one  efpide : 
Who  in  ftate  of  riches  was  better  than  fhee  ? 

His  mother's  fmocke  fure  did  this  widdower  weare, 
For  no  fooner  wod'd,  but  he  prefenly  fped : 


Well  Matched  at  laft. 


A  licence  he  fetcht,  and  he  marri'd  her  ftraight ; 
Then  me  threw  downe  her  ftilts,  and  (he  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  fhe  air'd  fo  the  bed, 
That  never  had  groome  fuch  a  night  with  a  bride. 

But  ftill  did  her  money  perfume  all  againe, 
And  in  a  moneth  after  fhe  bed-rid  did  lye : 
Seven  winters  and  fummers  fhe  lay  at  fmall  cafe, 
And  then  fhe  departed,  becaufe  fhe  muft  dye. 

Five  hundred  a  yeere  fhe  augmented  his  ftate  ; 
Ten  thoufand  pound  cleare  by  the  other  he  got : 
Meane  time  of  another  fpruce  widdow  he  heard, 
I  Then  he  praid  unto  Jove  that  fhe  might  be  his  lot. 

This  widdow  feem'd  not  above  fifty  at  moft, 

So  fpruce  and  fo  neat  was  her  carkas  bedreft ; 

She  wanted  no  meanes  for  to  fet  her  to  fale, 

They  lik't,  and  were  marri'd  :  now,  marke  well  the  reft. 

She  feem'd  fo  compleate  and  fo  comely  of  fhape, 
That  he  doted  on  her  more  than  on  both  the  reft. 
She  faid  then,  fweet  hufband,  be  not  you  difmaid, 
For  the  truth  muft  be  knowne  when  you  fee  me  undreft. 

Two  rowes  of  white  teeth  fhe  tooke  out  of  her  mouth, 
And  put  'em  ftraight  into  a  little  round  boxe ; 
A  glaffe  eye  likewife  fhe  pull'd  out  of  her  head, 
Which  made  the  man  feare  that  his  wife  hadgotknocks. 


325 


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  oflridge's  egge. 

Then,  ftraightway  down  ftooped  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  me  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  me  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  wafte  : 
French  kickfhaws  of  ten  pound  a  difh  fhe  would  have, 
With  other  dear  meats  for  to  fit  her  fine  tafle. 

No  phyfick,  no  dodlors,  no  coft  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  wifh  that  me  ne'r  had  beene  feene  in  his  fight. 

No  love,  nor  no  liking,  this  young  wife  e're  had, 
Becaufe  fhe  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  fubjecl;  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  {lumber  and  fleep  my  fenfes  fall, 

hey  ho,  hey  ho  !  then  flept  I : 
The  bright  fun  rais'd  a  mift  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  flill : 
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  fhall  flay 

Oh  Death !  what  will  my  true  love  fay  ? 
hey  ho,  hey  ho !  fhee'l  complain 


33°          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  muft  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. 


in  his 


Page  3,  line  21. 
"  I  bring  to  you  Saint  Giles  his  bowle." 

HIS  line  refers  to  the  old  cuftom  of  prefenting  criminals, 
on  their  way  to  Tyburn,  with  a  cup  of  water,  at  or  near 
the  Church  of  St.  Giles  in  the  Fields.     It  is  alluded  to  bv 
feveral  writers,  and  among  them  by  Thomas  Churchyard, 
Mirror  of  Man,"  1594,  4to. 

"  Trufting  in  friendfhip  makes  fome  be  truft  up, 
Or  ride  in  a  cart  to  kis  Saint  Giles  his  cup." 


Page  12,  line  I. 
"  Chriftmas  Lamentation." 

In  the  Pepyfian  Colleaion  is  an  anfwer  to  this  ballad,  under 
title  of"  Old  Chriftmas  return'd,  or  Hofpitality  revived,"  &c.  It 
"  Printed  for  P.  Brookfby." 


under  the 


was 


Page  14,  line  24. 

"  Madam,  forfooth,  in  her  coach  muft  wheele." 
Stephen  Goflbn,  in  his  «  Quippes  for  upftart  new-fangled  Gentle- 
women,"  1596,  4to,  thus  alludes  to  the  then  ordinary  ufe  of  coach 
"  To  carrie  all  this  pelfe  and  tra(h, 

becaufe  their  bodies  are  unfit, 
Our  wantons  now  in  coaches  dafli 

from  houfe  to  houfe,  from  ftreet  to  ftrcct. 
Were  they  of  ftate,  or  were  they  lame,  ^ 
To  ride  in  coach  they  need  not  (hame." 

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  poft :  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  expreffion  "  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. 
cc  Nor  that  mad  fpirit  Robin, 

that  plagues  both  wife  and  maid." 

The  reafon  why  we  ftate,  in  the  introduction  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  publifhed 
juft  after  his  death  in  Sept.  1588. 

Page  49,  line  26. 
cc  While  Mock-beggar  Hall  ftands  empty." 

On  the  word  "Mockbeggar"  Mr.  Halliwell  inferts  the  following, 
in  his  "  Dictionary  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." 


Notes. 


335 


Page  51,  line  I. 
"  Their  prodigal  fons  have  fold  for  gilt." 

i.e.  for  gelt  A.  S.  money.  Our  old  writers  punned  upon  the  word, 
as  in  Middleton's  "  Family  of  Love,"  where  Dryfat  fays  u  Ay, 
marry,  there  fpoke  an  angel :  gilt's  current,  indeed."  DycSs  Middle- 
ton's  Works,  ii.  197. 

Page  80,  line  8. 

A  mifprint  is  here  imputed  by  miftake  :  "  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  u  lifefome"  read  lifefome. 

Page  104,  line  n. 

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  fa&, 
although  it  is  probable  that  the  ftriking  incidents  of  it  were  dramatized 
at  the  time. 

Page  135,  line  11. 

"  In  the  pofleflion  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. 
the  other  hand,  Bale  informs  us  that  he  was  civls  Londinenfts,  but  not 
that  he  was  born  there  ;  and  the  fa&,  as  we  have  mentioned,  feems 
to  be  that  he  was  born  in  Kent,  probably  at  Canterbury. 

Page  135,  line  21. 

"  Nor  need  I  fing  this  fong  untill." 

The  meaning  of  this  line  is  "  Nor  need  I  fing  this  fong  unto  them  :" 
the  Scotch  ftill  ufe  "  until  "  for  unto. 


336 


Notes. 


Page  138,  line  3. 
cc  The  happy  man's  without  a  fhirt."  . 

Alluding  to  the  old  Italian  novel  of  the  fearch  after  a  perfectly* 
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. 

cc  Nothing  in  all  the  world  be  finde." 
For  "  be  "  read  we. 

Page  157,  line  18: 
fc  And  here  hangs  pictures  two  or  three." 

The  "  pictures"  here  alluded  to  werejlatues  of  kings  and  queens. 
At  that  time  (as  various  inftances  might  eftablifh)  the  words  "  pi&ure" 
and  "flatue"  were  ufed  indifferently :  many  ftatues  were  then  both 
ftatues  and  pi&ures,  being  painted  to  imitate  life. 

Page  163,  line  I. 
"  Conftance  of  Cleveland." 

There  is  a  copy  of  this  ballad  in  the  Pepyfian  Collection,  "  Printed 
at  London  for  J.  Wright." 

Page  1 73,  line  5. 
cc  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  1581,  fpeaks  of  "  perriwigs"  having  then  come 
into  fafhion :  fee  his  "  Farewell  to  Military  Profeflion,"  (reprinted  for 
the  Shakefpeare  Society)  in  what  he  calls  the  "  Conclufion,"  The 
fame  point  may  be  eftablifhed  from  Philip  Stubbes'  "Anatomy  of 
Abufes,"  1583,  and  many  other  authorities. 


Notes. 

Page  178,  line  24. 
"  The  Butterboxes  potion." 

Butterbox  was  a  common  nick-name  for  a  Dutchman,  in  reference 
to  one  chief  product  of.his  country. 

Page  1 80,  line  25. 

<c  And  gorrilPd  guts  will  quarrel." 
See  Collier's  Shakefpeare,  iv.  255,  n.  8. 

Page  185,  line  7. 
cc  Our  knockers  make  no  noife." 

We  ought  perhaps  to  read  knackers  for  "  knockers/'  See  a  fong  in 
Middleton's  "  Spaniih  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." 
u  Welflet  oyfters  "  may  be  a  mifprint  for  Wainfleet  oyfters. 

Page  208,  line  13. 

"  For  why,  the  are  but  Kentifh." 

The  letter  y  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  neceflary  to  fay  that  to  nim  is  to  (hatch  or  take  nimbly; 
from  the  A.  S.  mman :  in  modern  German  it  is  nehmcn. 


337 


X  X 


338 


Notes. 


Page  227,  line  16. 
For  "  fecond  ftanza  "  read  third  ftanza. 


Page  259,  line  4. 
cc  Old  Flatcap  is  laid  in  his  grave." 

Flatcap  was  of  old  not  an  unufual  derifive  defignation  for  a  citizen, 
as  in  the  well-known  paflage  from  Ben  Jonfon's  "  Every  Man  in  his 
Humour,"  Act  ii.  Sc.  I. 

. —  "  mock  me  all  over, 

From  my  flatcap.  unto  my  fhining  fhoes." 

On  page  211  we  have  already  had  a  moft  appofite  illuftration  of  the 
laft  part  of  the  quotation. 

Page  264,  line  3. 

This  tune  fhould  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." 

Lacbrymte,  here  called  Lachryma  for  the  fake  of  the  rhime,  was  a 
very  celebrated  old  tune,  mentioned  by  Maflinger  and  many  other 
authors  :  from  its  character  it  is  generally  termed  "  the  doleful  tune  of 
Lachrymae." 

Page  272,  line  4. 
cc  And  bidden  beware  of  the  cut-purfe  fo  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,"  Act  iv.  Sc.  i.)  and  hence  the  proverb 
"  Out  of  debt  out  of  danger." 


Notes. 

Page  280,  line  4. 

"  Then,  pafle  thou  not  a  pin." 

The  phrafe  "  pafs  thou  not  a  pin,"  is  equivalent  to  "  care  thou  not  a 
pin."  Shakefpeare,  2  Henry  VI.  A&  iv.  Sc.  2,  has  "  pafs  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  ftood  at  their  doors 
inquiring  of  paflengers  "  What  do  you  lack  ?  "  They  are  often  ridi 
culed  by  thefe  terms. 

Page  289,  line  18. 

"  Thus  fortune  hath  him  coft." 

For  "  coft  "  read  c  roft. 

Page  292,  line  20. 
f c  Of  poore  Carry-coales." 

Referring  to  the  proverbial  expreflion,  made  familiar  to  all  ears 
by  the  firft  fcene  of  "  Romeo  and  Juliet." 

Page  295,  line  20. 
"  That  are  as  right's  leg." 
This  line  no  doubt  ought  to  run,  "  that  are  as  right  as  his  leg." 

Page  309,  line  12. 
c  And  when  the  play  is  ended,  the  ftage  down  they  fling." 

Alluding  to  the  temporary  ftages,  in  early  times  creeled  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." 


339 


340 


Notes. 


Page  314,  line  16. 

cc  And  the  hounds  run  all  a  row." 
A  colon  fhould  have  been  placed  at  the  end  of  this  line. 


315,  line  15. 
cc  We  puddings  have  and  foufe." 

"  Soufe  "  fometimes  feems  to  be  ufed  for  any  kind  of  pickled  meat, 
but  ftri&ly  it  means  the  pickled  ears  of  fwine.  See  Dyce's  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher,  vii.  125,  and  viii.  216. 

Page  3  15,  line  23. 
cc  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 
I0/.  each.  fo.  23.  b.  This  paflage,  like  many  other  curious  additions, 
is  not  in  the  firft  impreflion  printed  in  the  fame  year. 

Page  319,  line  23. 

<c  Where  mobs  to  pick  up  callies." 
For  "  callies  "  we  ought  doubtlefs  to  read  cullies. 

Page  324,  line  12. 
cc  And  to  her  He  go  as  a  fhutering  gueft." 

The  words  "  fute  "  and  "  fuitor  "  feem  of  old  to  have  often  been 
pronounced  Jhute  and  Jhuter  ;  and  Shakefpeare  in  "  Love's  Labours 
Loft,"  AcT:  iv.  Sc.  I.  founds  a  pun  upon  the  circumftance.  Drayton, 
in  his  "  Idea,  the  Shepheard's  Garland,"  1593,  has 

"  Though  Envy  fute  her  feven-times  poyfned  dartes  ;  " 
and  Stubbes  calls  Shooter's  Hill  Suters  Hill. 


THE  END. 


C.  WHITTINGHAM,    CHISWICK. 


\ 


BINDING  SECT.    APR  8  4  1968 


HI 

1181 

C65 


Collier,  John  Payne 

A  book  of  Roxburghe 
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