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C. F. CLAY, Manager 










OF THE YEARS I 595-1 639 





I n ^ '^ (p_5_ 

) :^ 1 1) •'2- ^ 







PERHAPS the most important of all the treasures — 
apart from the inimitable Diary — in the library be- 
queathed by Samuel Pepys to Magdalene College, Cam- 
bridge, is his collection of broadside ballads. These were 
grouped loosely according to subject-matter and provided 
with title-pages and descriptive headings in Pepys's own 
hand before being bound into five large folio volumes. 
The first title-page runs: 

My Collection of Ballads. Vol. I. Begun by M' Selden; Im- 
prov'd by y^ addition of many Pieces elder thereto in Time; and 
the whole continued to the year 1700. When the Form, till then 
peculiar thereto, viz', of the Black Letter with Picturs, seems (for 
cheapness sake) wholly laid aside, for that of the White Letter 
without Pictures. 

Nearly every broadside in the first four volumes is printed 
in black-letter type, while in the fifth volume appear only 
broadsides in roman and italic type. Ballads of a com- 
paratively early date — almost none later than 1640 — are 
found in the first volume, those in the other volumes being, 
for the most part, printed during the years 1660— 1700. 
It seems likely that the majority of the older ballads came 
from John Selden's collection. A careful study of the old 
numbering on the separate sheets and of Pepys's new 
pagination would no doubt partially reveal the extent of 
the Selden nucleus on which the collection was built. 

A manuscript catalogue of the collection shows 1797 
entries of first lines. This number, however, not only in- 
cludes printed duplicates as well as manuscript ballads 
that Pepys copied but also fails to indicate when more than 
one ballad is printed on a single sheet. J. W. Ebsworth^, 
after a painstaking examination of the collection, stated 
that it contains 1738 individual printed sheets, 67 of 

1 Roxburghe Ballads, viii, 740. 



which are duplicates, and that of the 1671 distinct ballads 
in the five volumes 964 are unique. 

No edition of Pepysian ballads has hitherto been pub- 
lished: for the present edition students are indebted to 
the good offices of Mr Stephen Gaselee and Mr O. F. 
Morshead, past and present Librarians of the Bibliotheca 
Pepysiana. The Ballad Society, founded by Dr Furnivall 
in 1868, announced its intention of printing the Pepys 
collection as an initial effort, but, failing to obtain the 
necessary authorization, turned instead to the huge collec- 
tions in the British Museum. The Roxburghe and Bagford 
collections, have, as a result, long been accessible in the 
eleven volumes published by the Ballad Society under 
the titles of the Roxburghe Ballads (1871-1891) and 
the Bagford Ballads (1878). Among the eight volumes of 
these publications that appeared under his riotous, if 
learned, editorship, Ebsworth^ estimated that he had 
reprinted, in one form or another, at least five hundred 
ballads that occur in Pepys's collection. From the collec- 
tion, too, long before Ebsworth's time, distinguished 
students had drawn heavily. Bishop Percy made a thorough 
study of it before beginning the publication of his epoch- 
making Reliques 0} Ancient English Poetry (1765), in that 
work reproduced a number of Pepysian ballads, and had 
many others copied for him. These copies, by the way, are 
now preserved in the Percy Papers owned by the Harvard 
College Library. Others were reprinted by Thomas Evans 
and R. H. Evans in various editions of their Old Ballads^ 
Historical and Narrative (i 777-1 8 10). Macaulay gleaned 
from the ballads some picturesque facts for his History of 
England\ and within the last few years many other broad- 
sides from the collection have been here and there re- 
printed 2, often in unexpected places. Many of Pepys's 
ballads, then, are accessible if one searches diligently. The 
bulk of the collection, however, is still generally unknown, 

^ Roxburghe Ballads^ viii, 740. 

2 Noteworthy are the photographic reproductions in Professor C. H. 
Firth's six volume illustrated edition of Macaulay's History. 



and is likely to remain so until a trustworthy printed 
catalogue is published. Such a catalogue I hope to make 
some day. Meanwhile, this Garland reprints the most 
interesting seventeenth century ballads in Pepys's first 
volume, none of a later date than 1639, and to them adds 
from other sources six or seven early ballads in which 
Pepys himself would have revelled. 

Undeniably the golden age of the ballad, like the golden 
age of the theatre, ended with the outbreak of the Great Re- 
bellion. During the Commonwealth period (1649— 1659) 
ballad-singing was prohibited by law, and offending street 
singers were flogged out of the trade. To be sure, ballads 
continued to be printed, but in not so large numbers as in 
the years before 1642 and after 1660. For this decay re- 
pressive laws were but partly to blame : more important is 
the fact that the chief writers turned from ballads to chap- 
books and news-pamphlets. Martin Parker, the greatest 
of them all, is known to have written many pamphlets but 
only five or six ballads after 1642, and with his death in 
1652 the best part of balladry came to an end. Laurence 
Price, almost the last of the distinguished line of ballad- 
writers that began in 1559 with William Elderton (or in 
1 5 1 2 with John Skelton), wrote for only a brief time after 
the Restoration. In authorship, in typography, and in 
subject-matter, Restoration ballads can seldom compare 
in interest with those of the reigns of the Tudors and early 

It may be well to explain the use of the word ballad. 
Modern critics very often think of a ballad only as a 
traditional song that, like "Sir Patrick Spens," "Barbara 
Allen," or "Johnny Armstrong," has decided merits as 
poetry. This unhistoric restriction of the term to the Eng- 
lish and Scottish "popular" ballads is a development of 
the nineteenth century. To quarrel with it would be out 
of place; but at least readers may be reminded that to 
Shakespeare, Jonson, Beaumont, Fletcher, Dryden, and 
Pepys the word ballad had in general one meaning only: 
namely, a song (usually written by a hack-poet) that was 



printed on a broadside and sold in the streets by pro- 
fessional singers. If "Johnny Armstrong," "Chevy 
Chase," or Sir Edward Dyer's " My Mind to Me a King- 
dom Is" got into the hands of the John Trundles of 
London, it, too, became a ballad. Elizabethans and 
Jacobeans recognized no difference whatever in type be- 
tween what are now called traditional (or popular) ballads 
and broadside (or stall) ballads: some of them no doubt 
thought "Chevy Chase" a better ballad than, say, "The 
Famous Rat-catcher" (No. lo). But, if so, they were judg- 
ing each by its manner and matter, not discriminating 
between traditional and stall songs. In this book the word 
ballad, when otherwise unqualified, refers to the printed 
broadside type only. 

To judge the ballad as poetry is altogether unfair. A 
few ballads, to be sure, do appear in TotteVs Miscellany, 
the Paradise of Dainty Devises, and the Gorgeous Gallery of 
Gallant Inventions without reeking of their humble origin; 
while the Handfull of Pleasant Delights (1584), which con- 
tains nothing but ballads, has been absurdly overpraised 
by critics (who, apparently, do not know that all of its 
songs had before collection been printed as broadside 
ballads) as "a work of considerable merit, containing 
some notable songs," or as "one of the most prized of the 
poetical book gems of the Elizabethan period," or as 
"lyric poems^." If such criticism of the Handfull were 
sound, an editor need have no fear in introducing the 
eighty ballads in this book as a very notable collection 
indeed of Elizabethan and Stuart lyrics. But sound it is 

Ballads worthy to be called real poetry can almost be 
counted on the fingers of both hands. Among them might 
be placed the old ballad of "Love Will Find Out the 
Way," which Palgrave included in his Golden Treasury 
and which Thomas Hardy and Alfred Noyes quote with 

^ See a discussion of A Handfull of Pleasant Delights by the present 
writer in the Journal of English and Germanic Philology, January, 19 19. 


evident gusto; or "A Farewell to Love," from Thomas 
Deloney's Garland of Good Will^ that is also included in 
the Passionate Pilgrim as the work of Shakespeare; or 
"Mary Ambree," a stirring song beloved by literary men 
from Ben Jonson to George Meredith; or, possibly, "The 
Babes in the Woods," so highly praised in Wordsworth's 
preface to the Lyrical Ballads. 

From the point of view of sheer melody and rhythm, 
ballads often answer more than fairly to the test. It is a 
fact too often forgotten that, whatever their subject, 
ballads were written to be sung to certain definite and 
well-known tunes. Hence it often happens that the most 
doleful subject-matter is embodied in a measure that is 
decidedly musical and attractive. Cases in point are the 
refrains to the lugubrious ditty of Mrs Francis (No. 52) 
and the history of Jonah (No. 1 1). The matter and the 
diction of ballads are often contemptible while the measure 
is very good indeed. For this reason, or simply from the 
fact that a naive news-story is told, ballads may at times 
pardonably be described as "remarkable" or "splendid" 
or even "delicious." 

Ballads were not written for poetry. They were, in the 
main, the equivalent of modern newspapers, and it cannot 
well be denied that customarily they performed their func- 
tion as creditably in verse as the average newspaper does 
in prose. Journalistic ballads outnumbered all other types. 
Others were sermons, or romances, or ditties of love and 
jealousy, of tricks and "jests," comparable to the ragtime, 
or music hall, songs of the present time. As such they 
may be beyond praise, however woefully lacking in high 
seriousness and criticism of life. The ballad has interest 
and value quite independent of its defects or its merits as 
poetry; and many of the most delightful and most valuable 
ballads are those which as poetry are worthless or even 
contemptible. Written for the common people by pro- 
fessional rhymesters — journalists of the earth earthy — 
ballads made no claims to poetry and art. They have 
always interested educated men, not as poems but as 



popular songs or as mirrors held up to the life of the 
people. In them are clearly reflected the lives and thoughts, 
the hopes and fears, the beliefs and amusements, of six- 
teenth and seventeenth century Englishmen. In them 
history becomes animated. 

Shakespeare knew dozens of ballads by heart: he and 
his fellow-dramatists quote from ballads in nearly every 
play; and if occasionally they quote in ridicule, then their 
ridicule applies also to "John Dory," "George Aloe," 
"Little Musgrave," and " Mussleborough Field," — 
traditional ballads now enshrined in Professor Child's 
English and Scottish Popular Ballads. The great Eliza- 
bethans did not dream of judging ballads as poetry — 
though indisputably they enjoyed reading and singing 
them — and lost no opportunity of denouncing their 
authors. Ben Jonson, for example, flatly declared that "a 
poet should detest a ballad-maker," echoing Thomas 
Nashe's grave remark that if a man would "love good 
poets he must not countenance ballad-makers." The 
Parkers and Prices of balladry were butts of never-ceasing 
ridicule: their very names were odious to poets, though 
many of their ballads rang pleasingly on the ear, sounded 
trippingly on the tongue. Nothing else brings one so close 
to the mass of people for whom Shakespeare wrote as do 
these songs of the street. Produced solely for the common 
people, in them are presented topics often of real value and 
interest. It is doubtful if a more remarkable group of 
ballads has ever been brought together in one volume 
than those here reprinted; but he would be a bold man 
who should characterize them as poetry. 

The Pepysian Garland contains eighty ballads. Seventy- 
three of them come from the Pepys collection, six from the 
Wood and Rawlinson collections at the Bodleian Library, 
and one from the Manchester Free Reference Library. 
The earliest is dated 1595, the latest (except for No. 26, 
which is included only to illustrate another ballad) 1639. 
For obvious reasons a chronological arrangement has been 
adopted, with the result that great variety of subjects 



greets the eye of a reader as he turns through the pages, 
— a variety characteristic of the wares offered daily in the 
streets of seventeenth century London. A ballad-monger, 
said Thomas Middleton, never lacked "a subject to 
write of: one hangs himself today, another drowns him- 
self tomorrow, a sergeant stabbed next day; here a petti- 
fogger a' the pillory; a bawd in the cart's nose, and a 
pander in the tail; hie mulier^ haec vir^ fashions, fictions, 
felonies, fooleries; — a hundred havens has the ballad- 
monger to traffic at, and new ones still daily discovered^." 
Middleton's comment reads like a description of the 
Pepysian Garland\ 

Among the eighty ballads are historical accounts, more 
or less trustworthy, — a few derived from news-books, 
others from actual observation, — of the assassination of 
Henry IV of France, the execution of Sir Walter Raleigh, 
the activities of three Northamptonshire witches against 
the Earl of Rutland, the fall of Oldenbarneveldt and of 
Sir Francis Michell, prodigies above Cork and the burning 
of that city in 1622, the Amboyna Massacre, the murder 
of Dr John Lamb, and a battle between the Dutch and 
Spanish fleets in 1639. Journalistic, too, are the "hanging 
ballads" and doleful "good-nights" of criminals who 
atoned for their crimes at the stake or on the gallows — 
illustrating a curiosity for news, often mistakenly called 
morbid, that is quite as eager to-day as then. As journalism 
some of these ballads are admirable. 

Sermonizing ballads full of dire warnings and moraliz- 
ing also have a place, and we are asked to shudder at a 
"passing bell" that tolled from heaven in 1582, at Caleb 
Shillock's prophecies for the year 1607, and at a prophecy 
of the Judgment Day found in France in 161 8. In a 
curiously modern tone "The Goodfellow's Complaint" 
and "The Back's Complaint" present the woes attendant 
on drunkenness and plead for total abstinence; while for 
the edification of the unread other ballads paraphrase the 
Biblical account of Solomon's judgment and of Jonah. 

1 The World Tost at Tennis, 1620 {Works, ed. A. H. Bullen, vii, i 54). 



A number deal with marvellous events or persons, — 
with the "admirable" teeth and stomach of Nicholas 
Wood, with a "monstrous strange" fish caught in 
Cheshire, with a sprightly "pig-faced gentlewoman" who 
was called Miss Tannakin Skinker, or with the too 
severely punished Lamenting Lady who bore ^6^ children 
at one burden. Fewer demands on one's credulity are made 
by the romances of Hero and Leander, of a conventionally 
cruel Western Knight and a Bristol maid, of a Wiltshire 
Cressid and a doting old dad. Pictures of manners and 
customs as valuable as those in the comedies of Dekker 
and Middleton, — coming as they do from another angle 
of observation, — are given in "Whipping Cheer," "The 
Rat-catcher," "A Banquet for Sovereign Husbands," and 
"Turner's Dish of Lenten Stuff." Satires of the foibles of 
the people abound. Lovers and their ladies are laughed at 
in "Ten Shillings for a Kiss," "A Proverb Old," and 
"The Wiving Age"; husbands are depicted as "He- 
Devils," wives as incorrigible scolds; and all trades and 
professions are held up to scorn for their dishonest actions. 
In contrast to these tirades, however, are a number of 
pleasing ballads written to glorify certain low trades and 
honest manual labour. 

The most important single ballad in the volume is 
"Francis' New Jig" (No. i), of the date 1595. This is 
apparently the only printed Elizabethan jig that has been 
preserved. Of hardly less interest is the "Country New 
Jig between Simon and Susan" (No. 21), and there are at 
least two other ballads (Nos. 29, ^^'y cf. also No. 38) that 
perhaps were jigs. A jig may be defined as a miniature 
comedy or farce, written in ballad-measure, which, at the 
end of a play, was sung and danced on the stage to ballad- 
tunes. Thanks to the mystifications of J. P. Collier^ the 

1 In his Nezo Fads Regarding the Life of Shakespeare (183 5), pp. 1 8-20, 
Collier gave an erroneous definition and a specimen jig from a spurious 
MS. that have deceived his followers. Fleay {Biographical Chronicle of the 
English Drama, 11, 258), Furness {Nezv Variorum Hamlet, i, 190), 
A. W. Ward {History of English Dramatic Literature, i, 454, 476), and 



jig has received scanty and inadequate treatment from 
historians of the English drama. A number of other 
genuine jigs are extant. First in importance is that pre- 
served in MS. Rawlinson Poet. 185 under the title of "A 
proper new ballett, intituled Rowland's god-sonne. To the 
tune of hoth to departed There is a reference to this jig 
in the prologue to Nashe's play Summer s Last Will^ and 
a two-part moralization was registered on April 28 and 
2,9, 1592^. Almost as interesting is an unnamed jig pre- 
served among the Henslowe papers at Dulwich College, 
which Collier misled scholars into believing to be a frag- 
ment of a play by Christopher Marlowe^. Still other jigs 
occur among the Roxburghe Ballads'^, in Robert Cox's 
drolls*, and, from lost originals, in German translations^. 
By 1590 jigs were thoroughly established in London 
theatres as the usual conclusions to plays. In his Pierce 
Penilesse (1592) Thomas Nashe sneered at 

the queint comedians of our time, 
That when their Play is donne do fal to ryme^; 

and he threatened Gabriel Harvey that "Comedie vpon 
Comedie he shall haue, a Morall, a Historie, a Tragedie, 
or what hee will... with a ligge at the latter ende in Eng- 
lish Hexameters of O neighbour Gabriell^ and his wooing of 
Kate Cotton'^ r Comparatively few jigs were registered at 

others accept Collier's definition and his specimen as genuine. W. W. Greg 
(JB.enslozve' s Diary, 11, 189) says that "no undoubtedly genuine specimen 
[of a jig] is extant." 

1 Andrew Clark's Shir burn Ballads, p. 354; Herrig's Arckiv, 1904, 
cxiv, 326 fF.; R. B. McKerrow's Nashe, iii, 235; Arber's Transcript of the 
Stationers' Registers, 11, 609 f. 

2 Collier's Alleyn Papers, pp. 8-1 1; G. F. Warner's Catalogue of the 
MSS. and Muniments of Alleyns College at Dulwich, pp. 60 f.; A. Dyce's 
Marlowe, Appendix. 

^ E.g. I, 125, 201, 249. 

* Actaeon and Diana, etc., 1656. 

5 E.g. "Roland und Margareth, Ein Lied, von Englischen Comedi- 
anten albie gemacht" (F. M. Boehme's Altdeutsches Liederbuch, 1877, pp. 
174 fF.), which appears to be a translation of the "gigge betwene Rowland 
and the Sexton" that was licensed on December 16, i 591. 

^ R. B. McKerrow's Nashe, i, 244. ' Ibid, iii, 114. 



Stationers' Hall, all during the years 1 591-1595. The 
reason for the small number lies, no doubt, in the unwill- 
ingness of the dramatic companies to have their jigs 
"staled" by the press: they protected the jigs in their 
repertory more successfully than their plays. Uncertainty 
about printers' rights to the copies caused the Clerk of 
the Stationers' Company to license, in December, 1591, 
two jigs with the proviso, so often met with in entries of 
plays, "so that they appertain not to any other 1." But 
jigs did not die out in 1595; far from it. 

On December 12, 1597, Philip Henslowe bought two 
jigs for the use of a company of actors, paying for the 
two six shillings and eight pence^, — proof that jigs had 
received the approval of the box-office. In 1598, Ben 
Jonson tells us, jigs came "ordinarily after a play^." He 
loathed "the concupiscence of jigs and dances," and be- 
lieved that they prevented audiences from appreciating 
plays*. "Your only jig-maker," Hamlet calls himself after 
he has carried on a vulgar dialogue with the bewildered 
Ophelia. As for Polonius, who is bored by the long tragic 
speech of the Player, Hamlet sarcastically remarks: "He's 
for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps^." 

Customarily when a play was finished and the epilogue 
spoken, the musicians struck up a tune and the comedians 
came dancing out for the jig. "I haue often scene," 
wrote Thomas Dekker in 1613, "after the finishing of 
some worthy Tragedy, or Catastrophe in the open Thea- 
ters, that the Sceane after the Epilogue hath beene more 
blacke (about a nasty bawdy ligge) then the most horrid 
Sceane in the Play was^." There can be no doubt that 
some people went to the theatres to see the jig no less 

^ Arber's Transcript, 11, 600. 
- Henslowe's Diary, ed. W. W. Greg, i, 70, 82. 
^ Every Man out of His Humour, 11, i. 
* Induction to Bartholomew Fair. 
^ Hamlet, in, ii, 132; 11, ii, 522. 

^ A Strange Horse Race {Works, ed. Grosart, iii, 340). Cf. Edmund 
Gayton's Pleasant Notes upon Don Quixot, 1654, pp. 108, 187, 271-272. 



than the play. Says Thrift, in Thomas Goffe's Careless 
Shepherdess'^ (2iho\it 1620): 

I will hasten to the money Box, 
And take my shilling out again, for now 
I have considered that it is too much; 
rie go to th' Bull, or Fortune, and there see 
A Play for two pense, with a Jig to boot. 

A document of the highest importance, — not quoted, I be- 
lieve, in any work on the drama, — that shows the attitude 
both of the common people and of the civil authorities 
towards jigs is printed in J. C. Jeaffreson's Middlesex 
County Records (11, 83). It is "An C3rder for suppressinge 
of Jigges att the ende of Playes" passed at the General 
Sessions of the Peace on October i, 1612, which runs as 
follows : 

Whereas Complaynte have \_sic'] beene made at this last General! 
Sessions that by reason of certayne lewde Jigges songes and daunces 
vsed and accustomed at the play-house called the Fortune in 
Gouldinglane divers cutt-purses and other lewde and ill disposed 
persons in greate multitudes doe resorte thither at th' end of euerye 
playe many tymes causinge tumultes and outrages. . . Itt was here- 
uppon expresselye commaunded and ordered by the Justices of the 
said benche That all Actors of euerye playehouse within this cittye 
and liberties thereof and in the Countye of Middlesex that they 
and euerie of them utterlye abolishe all Jigges Rymes and Daunces 
after their playes And not to tollerate permitt or suffer anye of them 
to be used vpon payne of ymprisonment and puttinge downe and 
suppressinge of theire playes. And such further punishment to be 
inflicted upon them as their offences shall deserve. . . 

As a result of this order, the comedian John Shank 
ceased "to sing his rhymes," as William Turner (cf. p. 2S) 
phrased it: no doubt other jig-dancers suffered a like 
eclipse; but the effect of the order was temporary, and jigs 
continued to be sung regularly down to 1642. 

At least two characters were required in all jigs for the 
sake of dialogue, and the number often, perhaps usually, 
was three or four. Jigs were never improvised: instead 
they were composed by professional ballad-writers or jig- 

^ 1654 ed., sig. B 4^ {Praeludium). 

xvii b 


makers, and were performed with fairly elaborate cos- 
tumes and stage-properties. "Francis' New Jig" has roles 
for two women, both of whom were at times masked, and 
for two men, whose costumes indicate which was the 
gentleman, which the farmer. Furthermore, the gentle- 
man was provided with ten pounds in stage money and a 
ring to give his supposed mistress. One scene in "Row- 
land's Godson" is represented as taking place in an 
orchard, where the servant beats his master, who is dis- 
guised in a woman's clothes. One of Robert Cox's jigs 
required a bedroom set and a chest big enough to hold a 
man. Stage-directions, too, were as explicit as in the 
majority of plays and, with the action itself, show that 
jigs were written with the peculiar conventions of the 
Elizabethan stage in mind. Notice, for example, the prin- 
ciple of alternating scenes and the lapse of an entire 
night's time in "Francis' New Jig." 

There is reason to believe that educated and ignorant 
people alike delighted in jigs. Good jig-makers invariably 
aimed at making their work "both witty to the wise, and 
pleasing to the ignorant ^" That they succeeded the con- 
tinual protests of the great dramatists show. Shortly before 
his death John Fletcher declared with some bitterness 
that a good play 

Meets oftentimes with the sweet commendation 
Of "Hang't!" "'tis scurvy": when for approbation 
A jig shall be clapt at, and every rhyme 
Prais'd and applauded by a clamorous chime^. 

In jigs Elizabethan comedians won much of their 
fame. William Kemp, in particular, gained enormous 
popularity during the years 1 591-1595 with his jigs of 
"The Broomman," "The Kitchen-Stuff Woman," "A 
Soldier, a Miser, and Sym the Clown," and the three 
parts of "Kemp's Jig^." That his reputation for jigs had 
not declined in 1599 is attested by striking allusions to 

1 Hog Hath Lost His Pearl (Dodsley-Hazlitt's Old Plays, xi, 435). 

2 Prologue to The Fair Maid of the Inn. 

3 Cf. Arber's Transcript, 11, 297, 600, 669; iii, 50. 



them in the satires of John Marston and Edward Guilpin ^. 
Hardly less popular, perhaps, were Augustine Phillips — 
an actor in Shakespeare's plays — whose "Jig of the 
Slippers^" was licensed in May, 1595; George Attowell, 
who danced "Francis' New Jig" in 1595; John Shank, 
who is mentioned in "Turner's Dish" (No. 5); and, 
much later, Robert Cox. 

Of the widespread influence of the jigs a bare mention 
must suffice. Through the visits of English comedians to 
the Continent after 1585, a lively imitation of English 
ballad-tunes and jigs grew up, especially in the Nether- 
lands, Scandinavia, and Germany. A particularly notable 
result in Germany was the Singspiele of Jacob Ayrer and 
his successors ^ In England itself, until the closing of the 
theatres by the Long Parliament, jigs lost none of their 
popularity. In 1633 Lupton wrote that "most commonly 
when the play is done, you shal haue a lige or dance of 
all trads, they mean to put their legs to it, as well as their 
to'ngs^." After the severe anti-stage laws of 1642 and 
1649, jigs continued to be performed regularly, though 
the term usually applied to them nowaday is droll. "The 
incomparable Robert Cox, who," as Francis Kirkman^ 
wrote, "was not only the principal actor, but also the con- 
triver and author of most of these farces," did not flatter 
himself on inventing a new type of amusement. He merely 
substituted jigs for the plays themselves; his perform- 
ances were called jigs by some of his contemporaries^; 
and in several of them, like "Singing Simpkin," he merely 

^ Marston 's Works, ed. A. H. Bullen, iii, 372; Guilpin's Skialethia, 
Satire V. 

2 Arber's Transcript, 11, 298. 

^ Cf. J. Bolte's Die Singspiele der englischen Komoedianten und ikrer 
Nachfolger in Deutschland, Holland, und Skandinavien, 1893, and a re- 
view by B. Hoenig in Anzeiger fUr Deutsches Altertum, xxii, 296-319. 

* London and Country Carbonadoed, p. 8 1 . 

^ Preface to The Wits, or Sport upon Sport, 1672. 

^ Thus Mercurius Democritus for June 22-29, '^53' ^'^^^^ '^^ h°w 
soldiers raided the Red Bull playhouse and arrested Cox who was per- 
forming "a modest and ha[r]mless jigge, calle[d] Swobber^'' — one of the 
drolls on which Kirkman lavished praise. 

xix bi 


revived old jigs that years before had been carried abroad 
by English comedians and that survive in Swedish, 
Dutch, and German versions far earlier than his own ^. 

But by an extension of the drolls to include farces in 
prose as well as comic scenes cut from the plays of 
Shakespeare, Fletcher, and other playwrights, the jig 
may have been partially forgotten. After the Restoration, 
however, it was immediately revived. Typical early ex- 
amples are "A Dialogue Betwixt Tom and Dick, The 
former a Country-man, The other a Citizen, Presented to 
his Excellency and the Council of State, at Drapers-Hall 
in London, March 28. 16602," g^j^^ Thomas Jordan's 
"The Cheaters Cheated. A Representation in four parts 
to be Sung by Nim, Filcher, Wat, and Moll, made for 
the Sheriffs of London^." Jigs and drolls long survived in 
the provincial towns after they had been displaced from 
the London theatres'*; and possibly their influence can 
be traced in the farces with which plays even in the first 
half of the nineteenth century customarily ended. Cer- 
tainly their influence is seen in the dances and dialogue 
songs ^ so common in Restoration plays. Few minor forms 
of literature have had so great an influence, and none has 
been so neglected by students. 

The Garland introduces a number of ballad-writers 
who have for three centuries been forgotten, in spite of 
the belief they once must have shared with other members 
of their tribe that 

Who makes a ballad for an ale-house door 
Shall live in future times for evermore®! 

1 See especially Cox's own edition, Actaeon and Diana, etc., and cf. 
the work of Bolte previously cited. 

2 Luttrell Collection, II, 63 (British Museum); The Rump, 1662,11,188 ff. 
^ Thomas Jordan's A Royal Arbor of Loyal Poesie, 1664, pp. 34-55. 

^ At Norwich licenses were granted to players of drolls on October 21, 
1 67 1, and March 9, 1687 (Walter Rye, Depositions taken before the Mayor 
and Aldermen of Norwich, 1905, pp. 143, 180). 

^ Many of them are printed with the music in Wit and Mirth, or Pills 
to Purge Melancholy {e.g. 1719 ed., i, 46, 91, 236). 

^ Parnassus Plays, ed. Macray, p. 83. 



The most important of these old ballad-poets is undoubt- 
edly Thomas Brewer. His ballad of the year 1 605 on the 
Society of Porters, and another, dated 1609, on two mon- 
strous births (cf. No. 2) clearly indicate that he flourished 
rather in 1605—10 than, as all writers interested in the 
history of the drama have said, in "1620?" The 1605 
ballad is the earliest work of Brewer's yet brought to light. 
Interesting also is the signature of George Attowell, a 
well-known Elizabethan actor, though the authenticity of 
it is open to grave suspicion. William Turner, a figure 
who has mystified earlier commentators, is the author of 
No. 5, and is shown to have been actively writing ballads 
in 16 1 3. Other new ballad-authors, about whom no bio- 
graphical details are obtainable, are William Meash, 
T. Platte, Edward Culter, William Cooke, Thomas 
Dickerson, LI. Morgan, and T.F. 

Many well-known writers, too, are represented here by 
ballads that have not before been reprinted, — among 
them John Cart, Richard Climsal, and Robert Guy. 
Sixteen of the ballads are signed by Martin Parker, most 
of them new additions to his bibliography. Only one 
ballad by him now remains in the Pepys collection (i, 410) 
unreproduced : "The Married-womans Case. Or, Good 
Counsell to Mayds, to be carefull of hastie Marriage, 
by the example of other Married-women. To the tune of 
The Married-mans Case^ It was printed by H[enry]. 
G[osson]. and begins "You Maidens all, that are willing 
to wed," but almost the entire first column is torn away. 
Laurence Price is the author of five of the ballads, and 
one in the Pepys collection (i, 218) still remains to be 
reprinted: "Oh Gramercy Penny. To the tune of Its 
better late thriue then neuerS' 

As to editorial methods: The original texts are re- 
produced diplomatically save for two slight exceptions: 
the statement of titles and tunes has been normalized bythe 
printer, and unmistakable typographical errors, such as but 
for but, nad for and, are corrected in the text but indicated 
in the foot-notes. The long s (/), too, is disregarded. 



Words and letters torn off the original sheets have been 
supplied within square brackets; but no attempt has been 
made to smooth away or omit the three or four objection- 
able words that occur. Bowdlerizing is out of the question 
in a work of this kind. 

The separate introductions purpose to give the necessary 
bibliographical details, to establish the date, to indicate 
where the tune can be found, and to present appropriate 
facts about the author and the general situation of the 
ballad. It has not been possible to realize this aim for all 
the ballads, but perhaps it is permissible to call attention 
to the large number here first identified with entries in 
the Stationers' Registers, to the sources found for most 
of them, and to the identification of tunes heretofore 
wrongly assigned or unknown. As the texts themselves 
present few difficulties to any one versed in Elizabethan 
literature, annotations have been reduced to the minimum, 
and such explanation of archaic words and of names as 
seems desirable has been put for the most part in the 
glossarial index. 

Grateful acknowledgment must be made to the authori- 
ties of the Pepysian, Bodleian, and Manchester Free Re- 
ference Libraries for permission to reproduce ballads from 
their collections, especially to Mr Morshead, of Magdalene 
College, whose interest and aid have been unceasing; 
to Mr S. C. Roberts, of the Cambridge University Press, 
for help in securing rotographs of all the ballads contained 
in this book and for many valuable suggestions as the 
book was passing through the press; to Mr Alfred 
Rogers, of the Cambridge University Library, for a tran- 
script of the fourth ballad; to Miss Addie F. Rowe, of 
the Harvard College Library, for verifying a number of 
references and quotations; to my colleague, Dr Albert S. 
Borgman, for his help in the proof-reading; and to 
Professor C. H. Firth, whose essay on "The Ballad His- 
tory of the Reign of James I" (Royal Historical Society 
Transactions, 3rd Series, v, 21—61) has been frequently 
consulted. It would be churlish to fail to mention the 



consideration and courtesy shown me by the officials of 
the British Museum and the Harvard College Library, 
two noble libraries from whose treasures I have drawn 


Above all, I am indebted to Professor George Lyman 
Kittredge, who read the text in manuscript and to whose 
great erudition (the despair of his students) and equally 
great kindness this book owes very much indeed. In the 
separate introductions to the ballads I have tried specific- 
ally to indicate his aid. Such an acknowledgment, however, 
is at best misleading: it was my delightful years as a 
student at Harvard under Professor Kittredge that gave 
me an interest in ballads, and only my training under him 
has made this book — whatever its faults — possible. 

H. E. R. 

New York City. 





1. FRANCIS' NEW JIG (1595). By George Attowell. 
(Pepys, I, 226) I 

PORTERS (1605). By Thomas Brewer. (Pepys, i, 196) . 11 

PREDICTION (1607). (Pepys, I, 38) .... 17 


IV (1610). (Pepys, I, 112) 24 

William Turner. (Pepys, i, 206) ..... 30 

6. WHIPPING CHEER (161 2?). (Pepys, I, 208) . . 39 


SWEDEN (16 1 3). (Pepys, I, 100) 44 

William Meash. (Pepys, i, 344) ..... 49 


HIS WIFE (161 5). (Pepys, I, 130) .... 54 

10. THE FAMOUS RAT-CATCHER (1615.?). (Pepys, 1,458) 60 

(Pepys, I, 28) . . . . . . . . 66 

12. THE CUCKING OF A SCOLD (161 5?). (Pepys, i, 454) 72 


A KISS (161 5.?). (Pepys, I, 316) 78 

Platte. (Pepys, i, 124) ....... 84 

(Pepys, I, III) 89 




SHIRE WITCHES (1619). (Pepys, i, 132) ... 96 

CONSPIRACY (1619). (Pepys, I, 108) .... 104 


(Pepys, I, 36) . . . . . . . .110 

(Pepys, I, 238) 116 

20. THE LAMENTING LADY (1620.?). (Pepys, i, 44) . 121 

SUSAN (1620?). (Pepys, i, 260) 132 

22. THE POST OF WARE (1621?). By the Post. (Pepys, i, 

212) 139 

CONSCIENCE (1621). (Pepys, i, 142) .... 144 


IN IRELAND (1622). (Pepys, i, 70) .... 150 

CORK (1622). (Pepys, I, 68) 155 


OF THE BIRDS (1676). (Rawlinson 566, fol. 78) . . 161 

CuLTER. (Pepys, I, 446) ...... 166 

28. A NEW-YEAR'S GIFT FOR THE POPE (1624). (Pepys, 

1, 62) .......... 170 

(Pepys, IV, 42) 173 


A SINNER (1624). (Pepys, I, 39) 176 

CONCEIT (1624). (Pepys, I, 455) .... 179 

MIND (1624). (Wood 276 B/103) .... 185 




(1624). (Pepys, I, 214) 189 

(Pepys, I, 164) 196 

35. NEWS OUT OF EAST INDIA (1624). (Pepys, I, 94) . 200 

THE WIVES IN THE CITY (1625?). (Pepys, i, 376) . 207 

37. THE TWO WELSH LOVERS (1625?). By Martin 
Parker. (Pepys, i, 270) 212 

(1625?). (Pepys, I, 210) 217 

39. THE CRIES OF THE DEAD (1625?). (Pepys, I, 116) . 222 

(1625?). By Martin Parker. (Pepys, i, 386) . . . 229 

41. THE WIVING AGE (1625?). By Martin Parker. 
(Pepys, I, 384) 234 

42. THE CUNNING AGE (1626?). By John Cart. (Pepys, 
1,412) 239 

43. THE CHEATING AGE (1626.?). By William Cooke. 
(Pepys, I, 158) 244 

(1626). (Pepys, I, 128) 248 

AND REPENTANCE (1626.?). By Thomas Dickerson. 
(Pepys, I, 114) 256 

(Pepys, I, 382) 263 

47. EVERY MAN'S CONDITION (1627?). By Ll. Morgan. 
(Pepys, I, 220) ....•••• 270 

48. THE TRAGEDY OF DR LAMB (1628). By Martin 
Parker. (Pepys, i, 134) ^7^ 





I, 122) 283 

THE EXAMPLE OF ALICE DAVIS (1628). (Pepys, i, 

120) 288 

OF THE FRENCH KING (1628). By Martin Parker. 
(Pepys, I, 96) 293 

Parker. (Pepys, i, i i 8) 299 

MAID OF BRISTOL (1629). (Pepys, 1,312) . . . 305 


By Martin Parker. (Pepys, i, 362) .... 309 

55. A FOOL'S BOLT IS SOON SHOT (1629). By T. F. 
(Pepys, I, 178) 316 

Martin Parker. (Pepys, i, 274) 323 


By Martin Parker. (Pepys, i, 402) . . . .328 

58. A HE-DEVIL (1630). By Martin Parker. (Pepys, i, 398) 332 

(1630). (Pepys, I, 170) 337 

Richard Climsal. (Pepys, i, 72) 342 

61. THE JUDGMENT OF SOLOMON (1630.?). (Pepys, 
1,30) 350 

MARRIED LIFE (1630?). (Pepys, I, 394) . . -356 

STRONG BEER (1630?). (Pepys, i, 438) . . .361 





By Martin Parker. (Pepys, i, 194) . . . -365 


h 148) 370 

66. NEWS FROM THE TOWER HILL (163 1). By Martin 
Parker. (Pepys, i, 266) ....... 376 

(1631.''). By Martin Parker. (Pepys, i, 314) . . . 380 

LAND (1632). (Pepys, I, 74) 386 

Robert Guy. (Pepys, i, 440) ...... 393 

Laurence Price. (Pepys, i, 98) ..... 399 

71. THE HONEST AGE (1632). By Laurence Price. 
(Pepys, I, 156) . . . . . . . . 406 

72. KNAVERY IN ALL TRADES (1632). By Martin 
Parker. (Pepys, i, 166) . . . . . . .410 

WARS AGAIN (1632?). (Pepys, I, 102) . . .415 

Charles Rickets. (Pepys, i, 172) ..... 420 


By Martin Parker. (Manchester, ii, 2) . . . .425 

(1635). (Wood 401/129) 431 

LOUS FISH (1636.?). By Martin Parker. (Wood 
401/127) 437 





HOLIDAY (1637). By Laurence Price. (Pepys, i, 442) 443 

STER (1639). By Laurence Price. (Wood 401/135) . 449 

Laurence Price. (Wood 401/137) .... 455 




Three London Porters, 1605. (Pepys, i, 196) . . . 12 

Supposed Meeting between the Danish and Swedish Am- 
bassadors, 161 3. (Pepys, I, 100) . . . . . 45 

A Jacobean Rat-Catch er. (Pepys, i, 458) .... 61 

The Murder of John Wallen by his Wife. (Pepys, i, 124) . 84 

The Witch Joan Flower and her Daughters. (Pepys, i, 132) 97 

Imaginary Portrait of Johan Van Oldenbarneveldt. (Pepys, 

I, 108) 105 

Countess Marguerite of Henneberg and a Beggarwoman. 

(Pepys, I, 44) 125 

Countess Marguerite and her 365 Children (Pepys, i, 44) . 129 

The Ware PosT-BoY. (Pepys, i, 212) 140 

The Public Degradation of Sir Francis Michell, J. P. (Pepys, 

I, 142) H7 



Pretended View of Cork City. (Pepys, i, 68) 

"Husband, Beware the Stocks." (Pepys, i, 214) 

A Swearing Fiddler in the Stocks. (Pepys, i, 214) 

The Massacre at Amboyna. (Pepys, i, 94) 

An Apprentice tortured by his Master. (Pepys, i, 116) 

Mr George Sandys and his Valet. (Pepys, i, 128) 

Dr John Lamb, the Conjurer, and his Devil. (Pepys, i, 134) 

The Arrest of Alice Davis, Murderess. (Pepys, i, 120) 

Beware the Fool's Bolt. (Pepys, i, 178) 

A Hunter and his Hounds. (Pepys, i, 274) . 

Nicholas Wood, the Great Eater. (Pepys, i, 72) . 

The Judgment of Solomon. (Pepys, i, 30) 

John Russell, an Engrosser of Corn, Ploughing. (Pepys, i, 148) 

The Defence of "Holland's Leaguer." (Pepys, i, 98) . 

A Monstrous Fish at Worwell, Cheshire. (Wood 401/127) 

Tannakin Skinker, the Hog-Faced Lady. (Wood 401/135) 










Francis'^ new jig 

Pepys, I, 226, B.L., two woodcuts, five columns. 

This ballad is of the very highest importance, for it is the only printed 
copy extant, so far as is known, of a genuine Elizabethan dramatic jig (cf. 
pp. xivfF.). It belongs to the original edition that was licensed for publica- 
tion to Thomas Gosson on October 14, i 595 (Arber's Transcript, in, 49), 
as "A pretie newe J[i]gge betwene ffrancis the gentleman Richard the 
farmer and theire wyves." Another version is preserved in manuscript 
{QXzxV!^ Skirburii Ballads, pp. 244-254) under the title, "Mr. Attowel's 
Jigge: betweene Francis, a Gentleman; Richard, a farmer; and their 
wives." The printed sheet has a number of misprints, and is occasionally 
inaccurate in its attribution of lines to the speakers, but is far superior to 
the Shirburn copy (6".). It differs from S. in many details, corrects it in 
others, and is three stanzas longer. A collation of the two versions is made 
in the notes. A few stage directions have been inserted in the text between 
square brackets. 

George Attowell, or Atwell, was himself a prominent Elizabethan actor. 
He is mentioned in Henslowe's Diary (ed. W. W. Greg, i, 6, 11, 240; 
cf. Murray's English Dramatic Companies, i, 15) three times: on Decem- 
ber 27, I 590, and February 16, i 591, when he received payment on behalf 
of the combined Lord Strange's and Lord Admiral's players for perform- 
ances at the Court; and on June i, 1595, when he was probably a member 
of the Queen's Company. It may well be doubted whether Atwell did 
anything more than dance in the jig; his name was probably signed to it 
from that fact alone — not because he was the author — just as the author- 
ship of the jigs in which William Kemp danced was foisted on that famous 
comedian (see his Nine Days' Wonder, 1600). It is strange, however, that 
for more than three hundred years the jig itself and Atwell's connection 
with it have remained unknown. 

The tune of As I went to Walsingham is given both in the Shirburn 
Ballads and in William Chappell's Popular Music of the Olden Time, i 
121. It applies only to the first division of the ballad. Bugle Bow and the 
Jewish Dance are apparently unknown: with the latter Clark suggests a 
comparison with the ballad of eighteen-line stanzas in the Roxburghe 
Ballads, VI, 490; with the former may be compared a ballad of "The 
Bugle Bow, or A Merry Match of Shooting. The Tune is. My Husband 
is a Carpenter; or, The Oil of Care"""" (Pepys, in, 118; Crawford, No. 1 23 1 ; 
British Museum, C. 22. f. 14(90)). With the plot itself compare Measure 
for Measure and the analogues of the story cited by various Shakespearean 

R.P.G. I A 


Jfraumisi netti Sigge, bettoeene jrraunci£f a (Gentleman, 
anb i^icljarb a Jf armer. 

To the tune of Walsingham. 


1 AS I went to Walsingham, 
■t\ to the shrine with speed, 
Met I with a iolly Palmer, 

in a Pilgrims weede. [Enter Francis] 

Now God you^ saue you iolly Palmer. 

Fran. Welcome Lady gay. 
Oft haue I sued to thee for loue. 

B. Oft haue I said you nay. 

2 F. My loue is fixed. B. And so is mine, 

but not on you: 
For to my husband whilst I Hue, 

I will euer be true. 
F. He giue thee gold and rich array. 

B. Which I shall buy too deare. 
F. Nought shalt thou want : then say not nay. 

B. Naught would you make mee I feare. 

3 What though you be a Gentleman, 

and haue lands great^ store? 
I will be chaste doe what you can, 

though I Hue ne're^ so poore. 
F. Thy beauty rare hath wounded mee, 

and pierst my heart. 
B. Your foolish loue doth trouble mee, 

pray you Sir depart. 

4 F. Then tel mee sweet wilt thou consent 

vnto my desire: 
B. And if I should, then tel me sir, 
what is it you require ? 

S. omits. 2 lands great : land and good S. ^ never S. 


F. For to inioy thee as my loue. 

B, Sir you haue a wife : 
Therefore let your sute haue an end. 

F. First will I lose my life. 

5 All that I haue thou shalt commaund. 

B. Then my loue you haue. 
F, Your meaning I well^ vnderstand. 

B. I yeeld to what you craue. 
F. But tel mee sweet when shall I enioy 

my hearts delight. 
B. I prethee^ sweete heart be not coy, 

euen soone at night. 

6 My husband is rid ten miles from home, 

money to receiue: 
In the euening see you come. 

F. Til then I take my leaue. (Exit. 

B. Thus haue I rid my hands^ full well 

of my amorous loue, 
And my sweet husband wil I tell, 

how hee doth me moue. 

Enter Richard Besses husband. 
To the tune of the lewisk dance. 

7 Rich. Hey doune a doune, 

hey doune, a doune a doune, 
There is neuer a lusty Farmer, 

in all our towne: 
That hath more cause, 

to lead a merry life. 
Then I that am married 

to an honest faithfulH wife. 
B. I thanke you gentle husband, 

you praise mee to my face. 
R. I cry thee mercy, Bessee, 

I knew thee not in place. 
*• well \ S. 2 praye the S. ^ husband S. * S. omits. 

X A2 


8 B. Beleeue me gentle husband, 

if you knew as much as I, 
The words that you haue spoken, 

you quickly would deny: 
For since you went from home, 

A sutor I haue had, 
Who is so farre in loue with mee, 

that he is almost madde. 
Heele giue me gold and siluer^ store, 

and money for to spend. 
And I haue promis'd him therefore, 

to be his louing friend. 

9 R. Beleeue me, gentle wife, 

but this makes mee to frowne, 
There is no gentleman nor^ knight, 

nor Lord of high renowne: 
That shall enioy thy loue, gyrle, 

though he were ne're so good : 
Before he wrong my Bessee so. 

He spend on him my blood. 
And therefore tell me who it is 

that doth desire thy loue. 
B. Our neighbour master Francis 3, 

that often did me moue. 

lo To whom I gaue consent, 

his mind for to fulfill. 
And promis'd him this night, 

that he should haue his will : 
Nay doe not frowne, good Dickie, 

but heare me speake my minde: 
For thou shalt see He warrant thee. 

He vse him in his kind. 
For vnto thee I will be true, 

so long as I doe Hue, 
He neuer change thee for a new, 

nor once my mind so giue. 
1 Jewels S. ^ ox S. ^ S. adds 'tis. 


1 1 Goe you to mistrisse Frauncis, 

and this to her declare: 
And will her with all speed, 

to my house to repaire : 
Where shee and ile deuise 

some pretty knauish wile: 
For I haue layd the plot, 

hfer husband to beguile. 
Make hast I pray and^ tarry not, 

for long he will not stay. 
R. Feare not, ile tell her such a tale, 

shall make her come away. [Exii] 

12 B. Now Besse bethinke thee,^ 

what thou hast to doe. 
Thy louer will come presently, 

and hardly will he woo: 
I will teach my Gentleman, 

a tricke that he may know, 
I am too craftie and too wise, 

to be ore-reached so: 
But heere he comes now: not a word, 

but fall to worke againe. she sowes {Enter F.] 
F. How now sweetheart, at worke so hard. 

B. I sir^, I must take paines^. 

1 3 F. But say, my louely sweeting, 

thy promise wilt thou keepe r 
Shall I enioy thy loue, 

this night with me to sleeper 
B. My husband rid^ from home, 

heere safely may you^ stay. 
F. And I haue made my wife beleeue 

I rid another way. 

^ yow S. 

2 This line in S. runs, Make hast sweet Francis, which Clark amends to 
Make haste, then, my sweet Richard. 

3 Le. aye, sir. * Read paine S. ^ is rid S. ^ yow may .S". 



B. Goe in good sir, what ere betide, 

this night and lodge with mee. 
F. The happiest night that euer I had, 

thy friend still will I bee. [Exit F. Bess retires] 

Enter Mistris Frauncis with Richard, 

To the tune of Bugle Boe. 

Imprinted at London for I.W.i 

Ws^t ^econii part of Attoweis neto 3igse. 

To the tune oi as I went to Walsingham'^. 

14 /F. T Thankc you neighbour Richard, 
1 for bringing me this newes : 
R. Nay, thanke my wife that loues me so^, 

and will not you^ abuse. 
W. But see whereas shee stands, 

and waiteth our return. 
R. You must goe coole your husbands heate, 

that so in loue doth burne. 
B. Now Dickie welcome home, 

and Mistris welcome hither: 
Grieue not although you finde 

your husband and I together. 
For you shall haue your right, 

nor will I wrong you so: 
Then change apparrell with me straight^, 

and vnto him doe goe. 
W. For this your kind goodwill 5, 

a thousand thankes I giue: 
And make account I will requite 

this kindnesse, if I Hue. 

1 These are printer's insertions due to the fact that the first part and 
the second column ended here. Both should be omitted. 

2 S. omits. 3 me -y. * S. omits. 
^ This line and the following seven lines are not in S. 



B. I hope it shall not need, 

Dick will not serue me so: 
I know he loues me not so ill, 

a ranging for to goe. 
R. No faith, my louely Besse, 

first will P lose my life: 
Before Ile^ breake my wedlock bonds, 

or^ seeke to wrong my wife. [Exit IV. '] 

Now thinks good Master Frauncis, 

he hath thee in his bed: 
And makes account he is grafting 

of homes vpon my head. 
But softly stand aside, 

now shall wee know his minde. 
And how hee would haue vsed thee, 

if thou hadst beene so kind. 

Enter Master Francis with his owne wije^ hauing a 
maske before her face ^ supposing her to be Besse. 

To the tune o^ goe from my window. 

1 5 F. Farewell my ioy and hearts delight, 
til next wee meete againe : 
Thy kindnes to requite, for lodging me al night, 

heeres ten pound for thy paine: 
And more to shew my loue to thee, 

weare this ring for my sake. 
IV. Without your gold or fee you shal haue more of 
F. No doubt of that I make. 
JV.'^ Then let your loue continue still. 

F. It shall ^ til life doth end. 
JV. Your wife I greatly feare. F. for her thou needst 
not care, 
so I remaine thy freind^. 

1 I will S. ^ IS. 3 to S. 

^ Really a new stanza. ^ shall be S. * -S". omiis this line. 


W. But youle suspect me without cause, 

that I am false to you : 
And then youle cast mee off, and make mee but a 

since that I proue vntrue. 

1 6 F. Then neuer trust man for my sake, 

if I proue so vnkind: 
[/^.] So often haue you sworn, sir, since that you 
were borne, 

and soone haue^ changde your minde. 
[F.] Nor wife nor life, nor goods nor lands, 

shall make me leaue my loue, 
Nor any worldly treasure make me forgoe^ my pleasure, 

nor once my mind remoue. 

1 7 W, But soft a while, who is yonder ? doe you see 

my husband? out alasse. 
F. And yonder is my wife, now shal we haue alife 

how commeth this to passe? 
R. Com hither gentle Besse I charge thee do confesse 

what makes Master Francis heere. 
5.^ Good husband pardon me. He tel the troth to thee. 

R. Then speake and doe not feare. 

1 8 F. Nay, neighbour Richard harke to mee, 

lie tel the troth to you. 
W?" Nay tell it vnto me, good sir^, that I may^ see, 

what you haue here to doe. 
But' you can make no scuse to colour this abuse, 

this wrong is too too great. 
R. Good sir I take great scorne you should profer me 
the home. 
W. Now must I coole this^ heate. 

\Wife unmasks] 

^ haue soone 6". ^ forget S. ^ So S., but read W. 

* Read B. {S. gives these two lines to Francis, but they are undoubtedly 
intended for Bess, who is still disguised as Mrs Francis.) 
5 S. omits good sir. ® may quickly S. 

' In S. Bess begins to speak here. ^ his S. 



19 F} Nay neighbour Richard be content, 

thou hast no wrong at all : 
Thy wife hath done thee right, and pleasurde me this 
F. This frets mee to the gall. 
Good wife forgiue me this offence, 

I doe repent mine ill. 
fV. I thank you with mine hart, for playing this kind 
though sore against your^ will. 

20 Nay gentle husband frowne not so, 

for you haue made amends : 
I thinke it is good gaine, to haue ten pound for my 
paine^ : 

then let vs both be friends, 
F. Ashamed I am and know not what to say, 

good wife forgiue this crime*: 
Alasse I doe repent. PF. Tut I could be content, 

to be serued so many a time. 

21 F. Good neighbour Richard be content, 

ile woo thy wife no more : 
I haue enough of this. PF. Then all forgiuen is. 

I thanke thee Dick therefore. 
And to thy wife ile giue this gold, 

I hope youle not say no: 
Since I haue had the pleasure, let her enioy the treasure. 

F. Good wife let it be so^. 

22 B. I thank you gentle Mistris. R. Faith & so do I. 

sir, learne your owne wife to know: 
And shoote not in the darke, for feare you mis the 
B. He hath paid for this I trow. 

1 Read W. The wife addresses Richard in the first two lines and her 
husband in the last line. 

2 my S. ^ paynes S. 

* me this tyme S. ^ S. ends here. 



All women learn of me. F. All men by me take heed 

how you a woman trust. 
fF. Nay women trust no men. F. And if they do: 
how then ? 

PF. Ther's few of them prooue iust. 

23 Farewell neighbour Richard, farewell honest Besse 
I hope wee are all friends. 
fV} And if you stay at home, and vse not thus to 
heere all our quarrell ends. . 


George Attowell? 

At London Printed for I.W.2 
1 Read R. 2 ^ot in S. 


Commendation of porters 

Pepys, I, 196, B.L., three columns. There is one large cut (here repro- 
duced) in which a porter is first depicted as standing idle with an empty 
basket, next as walking with a heavy load in his basket, and finally as setting 
out in holiday costume for a meeting of his society. Above the figures are 
printed the headings, "At the first went we, as here you see," "But since 
our Corporation, on this fashion," "And to our Hall, thus we goe all." 

Nobody will deny the interest of this account of how the 1041 porters 
in London formed a corporation and secured a Hall for meetings. Here we 
see a worshipful company in the making! More interesting, however, is 
the author. Thomas Brewer is now remembered because of his prose tract 
The Merry Devil of Edmonton^ which was registered for publication on 
April 5, 1608. The ballad, which is omitted in the list of Brewer's publica- 
tions given in the Dictionary of National Biography, was registered on 
June I 5, 1605 (Arber's Transcript, iii, 292). No early copy of The Merry 
Devil h extant; but from the ballad it is evident that in 1 605-1 608 Brewer 
was "flourishing." He appears, further, to have been a common person 
who applauded manual labour; and the entry at Stationers' Hall on 
January 14, 1609 {ibid. p. 399) of "A ballad made by Thomas Brew[er]. 
of the Twoo monstruous births in Devon and Plymmouth in November 
last" indicates that he was, like Antony Munday, more or less a professional 
ballad-writer. Like Munday, too, he wrote a number of dramatic com- 
positions. His J knot of Fooles, preserved in editions of 1624 and 1658, 
was almost certainly, I think, the Knott of Fooles that, along with Shake- 
speare's Tempest and twelve other court entertainments (see the list in 
H. H. Furness's Nezv Variorum Tempest, p. 275), was performed before 
the Princess Elizabeth and Frederick, the Elector Palatine, in 161 3. His 
ideals of poetry are sufficiently revealed by the fact that in 1630 he 
contributed highly laudatory verses to the folio edition of the works of 
John Taylor, the Water Poet. Possibly he was the "Thom: Brewer, my 
Mus : Servant, [who] through his proneness to goodfellowshippe ... at- 
tained to a very rich and rubicund nose," mentioned by Sir Nicholas 
Lestrange (1603-1655) {Anecdotes and Traditions, ed. W. J. Thorns, 
Camden Society, 1839, p. 76). 

The tune is unknown. 



^ nebbe fallal), composieb tn commenbation of tfie 
^ocietie, or Companie of tfie ^orterfli. 

To the tune of, In Edenbrugh, behold. 

Atlhtfir(ltBcnthr,M *>rTCjl^i(tt. 

Bmfittt larCirfirnian.epttiufiih'ufi. 

Atl/lll a»r HiUji^i mt^MgtF. 

THrise blessed is that Land 
where King and Rulers bee, 
and men of great Command 
that carefull are to see, 
that carefull are to see, 
the Commons good mantainde 
by friendly vnitie, 
the proppe of any land. 

Then blessed is this Land 
by our dread soueraignes raigne, 
whose prudence in command, 
doth all estates maintaine: 
[his helpe]! to comfort all 
is vnto all extended : 
rich, poore, both great and small, 
are by his care defended. 

^ Torn off. 


3 As plainly doth appeare, 
by that was lately done, 

for them that burthens beare, 

and doe on businesse runne: 

the Porters of this Cittie, 

some being men of Trade, 

but now the more, the more the pitty 

by crosses are decayde. 

4 Yet bearing honest mindes, 
their charge for to maintaine, 
as Gods command them bindes, 
with trauell and with paine: 
they all haue wisely ioynd, 

for that they haue effected, 
their company to binde 
and make it more respected. 

5 Now they that were before 
of meanest estimation, 

by suite haue salude that sore, 
and gainde a Corporation : 
excludes, and shuts out many 
that were of base esteeme, 
and will not suffer any 
such person bide with them. 

6 But such as well are knov/en, 
and honest Acts imbrace: 
among them theile haue none 
that haue no biding place: 
among them theile haue none 
(as neare as they can nnde) 
but such as well are knowen 

to beare an honest minde. 

7 For now vnto their hall 

they pay their quarteridge downe, 
attending maisters call, 
and fearing maisters frowne, 



there seeking for redresse 
and right if they haue wrong, 
there, they that doe transgresse 
haue that to them doth long. 

8 If there be any one 

of them, a burthen takes, 
and with the same be gone: 
their hall, the owner makes 
sufficient satisfaction 
for that that he hath lost: 
the theefe without redemption, 
out of their numbers crost. 

9 It is a better order 
then that they had before, 
when as the malefactor 
was on a coultstaffe bore: 

for th' owner tis much better, 
but for th' offender worse, 
to taste this newe made order, 
then ride a wooden horse. 

10 That shame was soone slipt ouer, 
soone in obliuion drownde, 

and then againe, another 
would in like fault be found: 
not caring for their credit, 
and trust another time, 
this orders therefore as a bit 
to hold them from that crime. 

1 1 They that are rash, and rude, 
and obstinately runne 

as their owne willes conclude, 
and cannot well be wonne 
to condescend, and stand 
to orders they haue made, 
by the Rulers out of hand, 
haue fines vppon them laide. 



12 All iarres and braules are bard 
that mongst them might arise, 
first commer, first is serude, 
where as a burthen lyes, 

if one be ready there 
he must his profite take: 
all other must forbeare 
and no resistance make. 

13 Such as haue long bin knowen 
to vse this bearing trade, 

and into yeares are growen, 
(so that their strengths decayde) 
they can no longer labour 
as they haue done before, 
the Companie doth succour 
and maintaine euermore. 

14 These and a many moe 
good orders they haue, sure, 
to make rude fellowes know 
their stoutnesse, doth procure 
but their owne detriment 
and losse, if they could see't: 
and likewise to augment 

their generall good, there meete. 

1 5 For great is the number 
of this Societie : 

and many without order 
can neuer setled bee; 
but things will be amisse, 
as oft it hath bin knowen, 
the number of them is, 
a thousand fortie one. 

1 6 They all mette together, 
most hansomely arlyde, 

at Christ churchy to heare there 
a sermon, for them made. 



There markes of Admittaince 
made out of tinne, they bare 
about their neckes in ribbons: 
the chiefe, of siluer weare. 

17 To haue seene them so, you'd wonder, 
so many should maintaine 
themselues, by such a labour, 

but that, thats got with paine, 
God doth increase and blesse: 
for God^ himselfe hath sed, 
with paine and wearinesse, 
we all should get our bread. 

1 8 Thus therefore I conclude, 
more happie men are they, 
then many that delude 

the world, and beare away 
the sweete of poore mens labour 
their chests to cram and stuffe, 
not caring for Gods fauour, 
so they haue golde enough. 

19 Our royall King and Oueene 
thou King of Kings defend, 

as thou to them hast beene 
most mercifull and kinder 
thy loue to them increase, 
blesse all they vndertake : 
His Counsels counsell, blesse, 
euen for thy deare sons sake. 


Tho. Brewer. 

Imprinted at London by Thomas Creed, and are to be 

solde at the signe of the Eagle and chiide, in 

the olde Chaunge. 1605. 

^ Text good. 



Caleb Shillock's prophecy 

Pepys, I, 38, B.L., one woodcut, three columns. 

The ballad is a poetical rendering of part of a prose pamphlet called 
Nerves from Rome. . .J ho certaine prophecies of a lew seruing to that Armie^ 
called Caleb Shil\ock\ which was "Translated out of Italian into English, 
by W. W." in 1607. From the slightly mutilated copy in the British 
Museum (C. 32. d. 26), sigs. B 3^'-B 4, the prophecy is quoted. Square 
brackets indicate, as in the title quoted above, tears in the text. 

Caleb Shilock his prophesie, for the yeere, 1607. 

Be it knowne vnto all men, that in the yeere 1607. when as the Moone 
is in the watrie signe, the world is like to bee in great danger: for a learned 
Jew, named Caleb Shilock, doth write, that in the foresaid yeere, the Sun 
shall be couered with the Dragon in the morning, from fine of the clocke 
vntill nine, and will appeare like fire: therefore it is not good that any man 
doe behold the same, for by beholding thereof he may lose his sight. 

Secondly, there shall come in the same yeere a meruailous great flood 
of water, to the great terror and amasement of many people. 

Thirdly, there shall arise a meruailous great wind, and for feare thereof 
many people shall be consumed, or distraughted of tteir wits. 

Fourthlie the same yeere, about the month of May, will arise another 
wonderfull great flood, and so great as no man hath seene since Noyes 
flood, which wil continue three dales and three nights, whereby many 
Citties and Town[es] which standeth vppon sandie ground will be in 
[grejat danger. 

Fiftly, Infidels and Hereticks, through great feare and dread, will flie 
and gather together, and asmuch as in them lies, make war against Christian 

Sixtlie, in the same yeere after the great waters be past, about the end 
of the yeere will be very great and fearefull Sicknesses: so that many 
people are like to die by the infection of strange diseases. 

Seauenthly, there will be throughout the Worlde great trouble and 
contention about matters of Religion, and wonderfull strange newes vnto 
all people, as concerning the same. 

Eightly, the Turke with his God Mahomet shall bee in danger to lose 
his Septer, through the great change and alteration in his Regiment, by 
reason of famine and warres, so that the most part of his people will rather 
seeke reliefe from the Christian, then from him. 




Ninthlie, there will also arise great Earth-quakes, whereby diuers goodly 
buildings & high houses, are like to be ouerthrowne and ruinated. 

Lasdie, there will be great remoouings of the earth in diuers places, so 
that for feare thereof, many people will be in a strange amazement and 

These punishments are prognosticated by this learned Jew, to fall vppon 
the whole world by reason of sinne, wherefore it behooueth all Christian 
[/;V] to amend their euill Hues, and to pray earnestly vnto GOD to with- 
hold these calamities from vs, and to conuart our harts wholy to him, 
whereby we may find fauour in our time of neede, through Jesus Christ 
our Lord. Amen. 

Certain scholars have suggested that from this pamphlet Shakespeare 
got the name Shy lock for his Merchant of Venice (Sir A. W. Ward, History 
of English Dramatic Literature, ii, 107). For the tune cf. the notes to 
No. 49. 

Caletjtje ^tiUocfee, fjis: ^ropljesiie : or, 
tfie Vetoes! ^retiiction. 

To the tune of Bragandarie . 

I nr^O Caleb Shillocks Prophesies, 
-1- Who Hst to lend an eare, 
Of griefe, and great calamities^, 
A sad Discourse shall heare: 

Of Plagues (for sinne) shall soone ensew 
Prognosticated by this lew: 
O Lord^ Lord in thy mercy^ 
Hold thy heauy hand. 

1 And first, within this present yeere, 
Beeing Sixteene hundreth seau'n: 
The Prince of Planets shall appeare. 
Like flaming Fire in heau'n, 

Like flaming Fire his radiant rayes 
To all shall seeme (old S hillock sayes.) 
O Lord^ Lord in thy mercie. 
Hold thy heauie hand. 

1 Text calamitie. 


3 No mortall man shall able bee, 
(As he affirmes) to looke 
Upon this fearefull Progedie, 
This sinners bloody Booke: 

this booke, by which he soone may know 
the cause of all our griefe and woe. 
O Lord^ Lord in thy mercie, ^c. 

4 For he that dares to gaze vpon 
The Sunne, so dreadfull-bright. 
Shall neuer after gaze vpon 
An obiect sad, or light: 

But suddainly be striken blind, 
As leaues are shaken with the wind. 
O Lord^ Lord in thy mercie^ ^c. 

5 And next to this, old Shillock sayes. 
The waters shall arise. 

And set a period to the dayes 

Of many fond, and wise: 

And all that know't by eye, or eare, 
shal stand (almost) distraught with feare. 
O Lord, Lord in thy mercie, ^c. 

6 And after this hath playde his part, 
In Calebs Scrowle I finde, 
Another woe to wound the heart. 
And terrifie the minde: 

The winds (he sayes) shall strangly blow 
And strong-built Houses ouerthrow. 
O Lordy Lord in thy mercie, ^c. 

7 With greater Waters after this, 
The Earth shall plagued bee. 
So sore our God incensed is, 
By our impietie: 

So sore a Flood since godly Noe, 
As is to come, neare man did know. 
O Lord^ Lord in thy mercie, ^c. 




8 Three dayes this Flood the Land shal hide 
This learned Caleb writes, 

Within her watry mantle, wide : 
And iust as many nights. 

O then imagine you the rest, 
the sodaine death of man and beast. 
O hord^ Lord in thy mercie^ 
hold thy heauie hand, 

9 For to imagine the euent, 
(With searching care and heed) 
Of such a wofull accident, 
Would make the heart to bleed : 

For vnder such a wofull worke, 
full many wofull sights do lurke. 
O Lord^ Lord in thy mercie^ ^c. 

10 Of Heretickes and Infidels, 
A multitude shall flocke 
Together, (learned Shillocke telles) 
With hope, like strongest Rocke, 

to stand and fight against all those, 
that power, against their power oppose. 
O hord^^ Lord in thy mercie^ &c. 

1 1 Next, Deaths Ambassadour shall come, 
To act his fatall part. 

To summon to receiue a doome. 

According to desart: 

But, to desart, O gracious Lord, 
Let not thy Judgement then accord. 
O Lord, Lord in &€. 

12 Whole Families at once, shall lie 
Sore sicke vpon their beddes : 

From house to house shall Sicknesse flie, 
When his infection spreddes: 

^ Texf Lard. 


when he has paind them, mauger death, 
shall step, to stop their vitall breath. 
O Lord J Lord in. &c. 

1 3 Through all the world. Great trouble, next 
(He sayth) there shall be seene, 

As strife about the Holy text, 

The meaning altering cleene. 
About Religion strife shall rise: 
Enlighten Lord, our heartes and eyes. 
O Lordj Lord in thy mercie^ ^c. 

14 The Turke lyes next in dangers way, 
With Mahomet his God, 

(His Diuell rather, I should say) 
to loose his Regall rod: 

For in his Land a ciuill strife 
shall many men bereaue of life. 
O Lord^ Lord in thy mercie^ 
hold thy heauie hand. 

1 5 From Ciuill warres, shall Famine rise, 
And all that Land oppresse: 

In Mahomet no comfort lies, 
when men are in distresse. 

To Christians, shall his people flie 

for succour in their miserie. 

O Lord^ Lord in thy mercie^ i^c. 

16 When time, has borne these plagues away. 
More greeuous shall succeede. 

More heauie Judgements of the Lord, 
Against vs shall proceede. 

The Earth (with wind inclosd therein) 
Shall quake and tremble, for our sinne. 
O Lord^ Lord in thy mercie. 
Hold thy heauie hand. 



17 Braue high-buylt Houses, on the earth, 
The quaking earth shall lay. 
When many at their Feastes and mirth. 
Their iocund sports and play 

(Mistrusting no such thing) are set. 
Our sinnes desart we still forget. 
O Lord. ^c. 

I 8 Then (for a time) the Seas grow calme, 

The Skies are cleere, and still : 
Which time of stilnesse (like to Balme) 
Cures many, greefe would kill : 

But when our hopes stand faire for peace 
Our sorrowes shall againe increase. 
O Lord. (fj'c. 

19 An other Earthquake presently. 
Heart-wounding sorrow brings, 
Remoouing Houses, Churches, hie 
Hils, Trees, and other things. 

Our sinnes, like Hidras heads, increase, 
How should our plagues and torments cease ? 
O Lord. ^c. 

20 It is the part (^Boetius sayes) 
Of men discreete and wise, 

Of wonderous thinges to search the cause: 

For tis the Simples guise. 

To gaze vpon the thing that 's done, 
and nere looke how, or why't begun. 
O Lord. &c. 

I I Then let vs search into the cause 
Of these, with Plagues are past. 
That to repentance they may drawe's 
And to amend at last. 

The cause is Sin, our Sinn's the cause: 
Neclect of Gods decrees, and lawes. 
O Lord^ &c. 



22 O let vs turne vnto the Lord, 
For he (alone) is hee, 

That can from water, fire, and sword 

At 's pleasure set vs free. 

If we by grace, cast Sin away. 
By mercy he his hand will stay. 
O Lord^ &c. 

23 O Let vs flie those deadly sinnes 
The Conscience ouercloyes. 

The Conscience, Souls Saluation wins 
Or else the Soule destroyes. 

Let 's labour then to keepe it free. 
That God, in glory, wee may see. 
O Lord, &€. 

24 O Lord, with thy all sauing hand 
Our King and Queene defend: 
The Heire^ to this vnited Land 
And all their isshue tend. 

The Honorable Counsell blesse 
With many dayes, and happines. 
O Lordy Lord in &€. 


At London printed for T.P. 
1 I.e. Henry, Prince of Wales (f 161 2). 


The lamentable complaint of France 

Pepys, I, 112, B.L., two woodcuts, three columns. 

William Barley registered this ballad on May 15, 1610 (Arber's Tran- 
script, III, 433), as "The wofuU complaynt of Ffraunce for the deathe of 
the late kinge Henry the Ffowrth." Fran9ois Ravaillac (born in the town 
of Angouleme) killed Henry IV on May 14, 16 10 (new style), and was 
executed with dreadful tortures on May 27. His crime and punishment 
aroused enormous interest in England : books on the subject were registered 
for publication on May 10, May 14, May 30 (three entries), 16 10, 
January 12, 161 1, and October 10, 161 1. (I give these dates, except for 
the year, in English, or old, style.) A number of the books are extant, and 
from one of them — which is reprinted in the Harleian Miscellany, 1810, 
VI, 607 fF. — the account in the ballad appears to have been summarized. 
The spirit of Ravaillac appears at the end of Dekker's If It Be Not Good, 
The Devil Is In It, 161 2, to remark that "were my tongue tome out with 
burning flesh-hookes. Fames 1000. tonges shall thunder out Rauillacs 
name, extoU it, eternise it, Cronicle it. Canonise it!" In the third stanza 
there is a description of the coronation of Henry I V's second wife, Maria 
de' Medici. Their son, the Dauphin of the last three or four stanzas (Louis 
XIII), was born on September 27, 1601. 

For a transcript of this ballad I am indebted to Alfred Rogers, Esq., of 
the Cambridge University Library. 

^fje lamentatilei complaint of jFraume, for t^e beatf) 
of ttje late iling l^enrp tfje 4., tofjo toag latelp mur= 
breb Ijp one^ jfraunces; i^amlliacfee, borne in tfje totone 
of ^ngolsiem, gftetoing tfje manner of W beatJj, anb 
of tfje election anb proclaiming of tfje neto iling 
Hetoig, tfje 13. of tfjat name, being a cbilbe 
of 9. peeres! of age. 

To a new tune. 

^ Text lamentabe. 2 „ upside down in the text. 



I T^Raunce that is so famous, 
± and late in ioyes abounded, 
May now lament the losse of him: 

that mischiefe hath confounded. 
Their thrice renowned King, 

that Souldier braue and bolde. 
In peace and wars so well belou'de, 

lyes clad in earthly molde. 
All Kingdomes come and mourne, 

for this same sad mischaunce: 
For wee haue lost our Countries King 

and flower of famous fraunce. 

2 The bloudy hand that wrought 

and hart that gaue consent: 
Now makes more eies in France to weep: 

then euer did lament. 
More sighes [anjd^ sobes was neuer heard, 

then be in Fraunce this day. 
For euery one now mourning sits: 

this pleasant month of May. 
No ioye, no hearts delight, 

but death and bloudy deedes. 
In euery Coast of famous Fraunce: 

much griefe and sorrow breedes. 

3 In May the thirteenth day, 

it pleased this royall King: 
To make his Wife a Crowned Queene, 

which was a princely thing 
Who then in Triumph rode 

along fayre Paris streets, 
Whom all the Lordes & peeres of Fraunce 

in ioyfull manner greetes. 
And all the streetes along, 

whereas the Oueene did ride. 
Were like the walles of Paradice, 

bedeckt on euery side: 
1 Text torn. 



4 The royall King himselfe, 

the Dolphin his young sonne: 
The lordly Prelates of that land, 

and Barrons many one. 
With all the states of Fraunce: 

there honored Henries Queene, 
More stately triumphes neuer was, 

within that Countrie seene. 
But soone thiese glories vanish't, 

for death put in his hand, 
And in lesse time then forty houres 

made Fraunce a wofull land. 

5 This noble King god wot, 

supposing all good friends: 
The following day for pleasures sake: 

a iourney foorth intends. 
Wherein his Coatch he rides, 

some of his lordes with him. 
Along renowned Paris streetes, 

being then deckt out most trim. 
The people cryed with ioy: 

God saue our Royall King, 
The presence of your Maiestie : 

reioycing loue doth bring. 

6 The People throngd so fast, 

about him in the streetes. 
That hardly he could passe along: 

such numbers did he meete. 
Amongst so many friends, 

a Judas hand there was. 
That turnd the cheereful flower of france 

to fading withered grasse, 
Two Coatches by hard chance, 

his graces Passage stayde, 
A time wherein his gentle life, 

by murder was betrayde. 



7 The Traytour that three times, 

before had mist his ayme, 
And could not in his royall bloud : 

his cursed fingers stayne. 
Now desperatly thrust foorth: 

vnto his coatches side, 
And gaue him there, 2 mortall wounds, 

by which, the King soone dyed, 
A cursed knife it was, 

which did this bloudy deede. 
But ten times cursed be the cause, 

that did this mischiefe breed. 

8 The wounded King cryed out, 

then with a fainting breath: 
Oh, saue his Hfe till hee reueale^, 

the plotters of my death. 
The Traytour being stayed, 

was so offence bereauen, 
That presently for this vilde deede: 

he thought to purchase heauen. 
Some led this villaine thence, 

and some, the King conuaide: 
Unto his Pallace mournfully, 

in bloudy Robes arrayde. 

9 A natiue frenchman borne, 

this wretch is knowne to be: 
Bred in the Towne of Angolsem, 

a Courtier in degree. 
Fraunces Ravilliacke namde, 

in passed time a Fryer, 
Maynteyned long about this court, 

to accomplish his desire. 
But who the causers be: 

and chiefest in this crime. 
By wisedome of the peeres of Fraunce: 

wilbe found out in time. 
^ Text has a period here. 



10 Meanewhile the vlllanes teeth, 

are pulde out euery one: 
Least he should bite cleane out his tongue, 

and so no trueth be showen. 
His nayles likewise pincht off, 

least he should teare it out. 
And speachles thus should lose his life: 

and no wayes cleare this doubt^. 
But let vs speake againe, 

of this the bleeding King, 
Who entring at his pallace gate: 

death broke his life heart string. 

1 1 Euen in a Bushops Armes, 

he yeelded vp his breath, 
And said I die true Christian King, 

sweete lordes reuenge my death. 
His Queene, his sonne, and peeres, 

with wringing handes made mone. 
And sayde, if God be not our friende, 

our states be ouerthrowne. 
The heauiest day in Fraunce, 

this is that euer was seene. 
His death now makes an orphant Prince, 

and eke a widdowed Oueene. 

12 Yet wisdome so preuailde, 

amongst the lordes of Fraunce, 
That by the gracious helpe of God, 

they salued this mischaunce. 
The next day in the morne : 

fower Cardinalls of estate. 
And Princes of the Kings owne bloud, 

this buisines did debate. 
To establish loue and peace: 

within this mournefull land, 
They there proclaym'd the Dolphin King 

in Paris out of hand. 

^ No period in the text. 



I 3 A childe of nine yeeres olde, 

being true and lawfull heyre, 
The onely hope the Kingdome hath, 

to rid them from all feare. 
Up to his fathers throne, 

the Dolphin straight was led. 
In Purple Robes most gorgeously; 

with sumptuous lewells spread. 
Whome, in the peoples hearts, 

did moue such present ioy. 
That euery one in gladsome sort, 

did cry vi, va, le roy. 

14 Yea euery one doth pray, 

now dwelling in the land. 
That like his father he may proue, 

an Impe of Mars his band. 
But three such dayes in Fraunce, 

no age hath euer knowne, 
Where present ioy gayn'd sudden woe, 

yet woe to ioy is growne. 
One day a Crowned Queene, 

the next a murdred King, 
The third a Prince in ioy proclaymde, 

a setled peace to bring. 

I 5 But God defend each Land, 

from such a suddaine chaunce. 
As lately hath befalne the King, 
of fayre renowned Fraunce. 


At London printed for William Barley, and are to be sould 
at his shop in Gratious Streete 1610. 


T'urner's dish of L,enten stuff 

Pepys, I, 206, B.L., one woodcut, five columns. 

There is another copy of this ballad, later by fifty years, in the collection 
of the Earl of Crawford {Bibliotheca Lindesiana, Catalogue of English 
Ballads, No. 841). It is entitled 

The Common Cries of London Town, 
Some go up street, some go down. 
With Turners Dish of Stuff, or a Gallymaufery, 

is signed "Finis. W. Turner," and has the imprint, "London, Printed 
for F. C[oles]. T. V[ere]. and W. G[ilbertson]. 1662." Lord Crawford's 
copy was formerly in the possession of J. P. Collier, who commented on 
it in his Bibliographical and Critical Account of the Rarest Books in the 
English Language (i, 163) and, later, reprinted it in his Book of Roxburghe 
Ballads (pp. 207-216). Collations with this reprint (C.) are given in the 
notes. It is curious that the existence of the Pepysian ballad has remained 
unnoticed, for Collier's reprint has attracted a considerable amount of 
attention from students of the Elizabethan drama. One of them, F. G. 
Fleay {Chronicle History of the London Stage, "New York, 1909, p. 375), 
correctly argued that the ballad had originally appeared in 161 2, and added 
the following important note: "The "lean fool' is Thomas Greene, the 
Queen Anne's player at the Bull. The 'fat fool' is William Rowley, the 
player in Prince Henry's company at the Curtain w^ho acted Plum Porridge 
in the Inner Temple Mask, and in it 'moved like one of the great porridge 
tubs going to the Counter.' Shank's rhymes were acted as 'Shank's 
Ordinary' after he moved to the King's Company, c. 1623." John Shank 
(cf. p. xix) and his jigs are mentioned, also, in a poem in Choyce Drollery, 
1656 (ed. J. W. Ebsworth, p. 7). 

Apart from its interesting comments on stage-players, the ballad pre- 
serves a curious lot of old street-cries; among them the cry of "Cherry 
Ripe" so often used by Elizabethan lyricists. Nothing else of Turner's 
seems to be extant, but evidently he was prominent among Jacobean 
balladists. Three ballads by him were licensed to Thomas Pavier on 
November 19, 161 2 (Arber's Transcript, iii, 503): "Turners disshe of 
wagtayles," "Turners Dreame of Sym Subtill and Susan the brokers 
Daughter," and "Turners Pylgrymage to the land of Iniquitye." He is 
again mentioned in the Stationers' Register when, on August 25, 161 3 



{ibid. p. 532), Charlton and Blackwell secured a license for a ballad called 
"Wycked Wylles sawce to Turners sawce to Turners Dysshe of Wag- 
tayles Sent to Turner for A fayringe." 

The tune is given in Chappell's Popular Music, i, 219. 

^urnerg bisfj of Hentten fituffe, or a #alj>mauferp. 

To the tune of Wat ton Townes end. 

1 A /TY Maisters all attend you, 
IV JL if mirth you loue to heare: 
And I will tell you what they cry, 

in London all the yeare. 
He please you if I can, 

I will not be too long, 
I pray you all attend a while, 

and lissen to my song. 

2 The fish-wife first begins, 

nye^ Musckles lylly white: 
Hearings, Sprats, or Pleace, 

or Cockles for delight. 
Nye^ welflet Oysters : 

then she doth change her note. 
She had need to hane her tongue by grease' 

for she rattles in the throat. 

3 For why they are but Kentish, 

to tell you out of doubt : 
Her measure is to little, 

go beate the bottom out. 
Halfe a Pecke for two pence, 

I doubt it is a bodge. 
Thus all the citty ouer, 

the people they do dodge. 

1 Anye C. 

2 She had need to have her tongue be greas'd C. 



4 The wench that cries the Kitchin stuffe, 

I maruell what she ayles^ : 
She sings her note so merry, 

but she has a dragle taile, 
An empty Car came running, 

and hit her on the bum, 
Downe she threw her greasie tub, 

and away that^ she did run. 

5 But she did giue a^ blessing, 

to some but not to all : 
To beare a loade to Tyburne, 

and there to let it fall. 
The miller with^ his golden thumbe, 

and his dusty^ necke: 
If that he grind but two bushels, 

he needs must^ steale a peck. 

6 The Weauer and the Tayler, 

cozens they be sure : 
They cannot worke but they must steale, 

to keepe their hands in vre. 
For it is a common prouerbe, 

throughout alP the towne. 
The Taylor he must cut three sleeues, 

for euery womans gowne. 

7 Marke but the Water man, 

attending for his fare: 
Of hot and could, of wet and dry, 

he alwaies takes a^ share. 
He carrieth bony lasses, 

ouer to the plaies. 
And here and there he gets a bit, 

and that his stomake staies. 

1 Read with C. ayle. ^ straight C. ^ her C. 

4 and C. ^ dirty C. ^ must needs C. 

■^ C. omits. ^ his C. 



8 There was a slinging^ boy, 

did write to^ ride to Rumford : 
When I go to my close stoole^, 

I will put* him in a comfort : 
But what I leaue behind, 

shall be no priuate gaine: 
But all is one when I am gone, 

let him take it for his paine. 

9 Ould shoes for new Broomes, 

the broome man he doth sing: 
For hats or caps or buskins, 

or any ould Pooch rings. 
[Buy5] a Mat, a bed Mat, 

[a padjlock or a Pas^, 
A couer for a close stoole, 

a bigger or a lesse. 

10 Ripe Chery ripe, 

the Coster-monger cries, 
Pipins fine, or Peares, 

another after hies. 
With basket on his head, 

his liuing to aduance. 
And in his purse a paire of Dice, 

for to play at Mumchance. 

1 1 Hot Pippin pies, 

to sell vnto my friends: 
Or puding pies in pans, 

well stuft with Candles ends. 
Will you buy any Milke, 

I heare a wench to cry^. 
With a paile of fresh Cheese and creame, 

another after hies. 

^ singing C. 2 ^jj ^pj^g ^q. ^Yio did C. ^ own school C. 

4 take C. 5 j^gxt torn. C. has Buy. 

* a hassock or a presse C. ' to cry : that cries C. 




12 Oh the wench went neately, 

my thought it did me good: 
To see her cheery cheekes, 

so dimpled ore with blood, 
Her wastecoate washed white: 

as any lilly flower, 
would I had time to talke with her 

the space of halfe an houre. 

13 Buy blacke, saith the blacking man 

the best that ere was seene: 
Tis good for poore men^ Cittizens 

to make their shooes to shine, 
Oh tis a rare comodity, 

it must not be for-got, 
It wil make them^ glister gallantly 

and quickly make them rot. 

14 the world is ful of thredbare poets, 

that Hue vpon their pen : 
But they will write too eloquent, 

they are such witty men. 
But the Tinker with his budget, 

the begger with his wallet^, 
And Turners turnd a gallant man, 

at making of a Ballet. 


Imprinted at London for I.W. 

^ C omits. 2 them to C. 

3 Text walled. 



^fje itconh part, or pou are toelcomc mp gueflit to pour 

Hentten fare if pou come tofjen Hent ii gone, pou sii^ali 

fjaue better cfjeere^ Co tfje game tune. 

15 npHat 's the fat foole of the Curtin, 

A and the leane foole of the Bull : 
Since Shanke did leaue to sing his rimes, 

he is counted but a gull. 
The players of^ the Banke side, 

the round Globe and the Swan, 
Will teach you idle trickes of loue, 

but the Bull will play the man. 

1 6 But what do I stand tattling, 

of such Idle toyes : 
I had better go to Smith-field, 

to play among the Boyes, 
But you cheating and decoying^ Lads, 

with your base Art-tillery: 
I would wish you shun* Newgate, 

and withall the Pillery. 

17 And some there be in patcht gownes, 

I know not what they be: 
They pinch the simple^ Contry men, 

with nimming of a fee. 
For where they get a booty, 

theyle make him pay so deere, 
Theyle entertaine more in a day, 

then he shall in a yeere. 

1 8 Which makes them trimme vp houses, 

made of brick, and stone: 
And poore men goe a begging, 
when house and land is gone. 

^ None of this title is in C Text has a comma after ckeere and tune. 
2 on C. ^ deceiving C. * to shun C ^ C. omiti. 




Some there be with both hands^ 

will sweare they will not dally. 
Till they haue turnd all vpside^ downe, 

as many^ vse to salley. 

1 9 You Pedlers giue good measure, 

when as your wares you sell : 
though your yard be short your thum wil slip, 

your trickes I know full wel, 
And you that sel your wares by waight, 

and Hue vpon the trade: 
Some beames be false, som waits to light 

such trikes there haue bin plaid. 

20 Buy smale Coles, or great Coles, 

I haue them one my backe : 
The Goose lies in the bottom, 

you may heere the Ducke cry quacke. 
Thus grim the blacke Colyer, 

whose liuing is so loose. 
As he doth walke the comans ore, 

sometimes he steales a goose. 

2 1 Thou Usurer with thy money bags, 

that liueth so at ease : 
By gaping after gould thou doest, 

thy mighty God displease. 
And for thy greedy vsur[ie]* 

and thy great extortion : 
Except^ thou doest repent thy sinnes, 

hel fire wilbe thy portion. 

2 2 For first I came to Hounds-dich, 
then round about I crept®: 
Where cruelty is' crowned chiefe, 
and pitty fast a sleepe. 

Text handsl ? ^ Text vpsie. ^ Text mnay. 

Text blurred. ^ Text Exdept. ^ Read creep with C. 

was C. 



Where Usury gets profit, 
and brokers beare the bel, 

Oh fie vpon this deadly sinne, 
it sinkes the house^ to hel. 

23 The man that sweepes the chimneys, 

with the bunsh^ of thornes: 
And one his necke a trusse of poles, 

tipped al with homes. 
With care he is not cumbred, 

he liueth not in dread: 
For though he weares them on his pole, 

some weare them one there head. 

24 The Landlord with his racking rents, 

turne poore men out of doore: 
There children goe a begging, 

where they haue spent their store, 
I hope none is affended: 

at^ that which is indited, 
If any be, let him go home, 

and take a pen and write it. 

25 Buy a trap a Mouse trap, 

a tormentor* for the fleas: 
The hang-man workes but halfe the day, 

he Hues too much at ease. 
Come let vs leaue this boyes play, 

and idle prittle prat. 
And let vs goe to nine holes, 

to spurne point or to cat. 

26 Oh you nimble fingured lads, 

that Hues vpon your wits: 
Take heed of Tyburne Ague, 
for they be daungerous fits. 

1 soul C. 2 bush C. 3 with C. •* torment C. 



For many a proper man, 

for to supply his lacke : 
Doth leape a leape at Tyburne, 

which makes his neck to crack. 

27 And to him that writ this song, 

I giue this simple lot: 
Let euery one be ready, 

to giue him halfe a pot. 
And thus I doe conclude, 

wishing both health and peace, 
To those that are laid in their bed, 

and cannot sleepe for fleas. 


fV. Turner. 

At London printed for I.W. 


JVhipping cheer 

Pepys, I, 208, B.L., two woodcuts, four columns. 

Bridewell stood near Fleet Ditch. Originally a handsome house built 
by Henry VIII, it was turned over to the city of London in 1553, by 
Edward VI, to be used as a house of correction for rogues and loose women. 
'■'■Bridewel" says Antony Munday, in his Br'iefe Chronicle of the Successe 
of Times (161 1, p. 522), was "appointed for the Vagabond, ydle strumpet, 
and vnthrift." It was formally opened in 1555 and was destroyed, more 
than a century later, in the Great Fire. 

The author of the ballad had — what is so rare among ballad-writers — 
a real sense of humour. In the first part he represents three files de joie 
— three "fatal sisters" — as moaning and complaining for departed 
pleasures while they are beating hemp with beetles or spinning flax at 
Bridewell under the vigilant eye and ever-ready lash of Matron and 
Beadle. In the second part, the roaring boys, — the gulls, coney-catchers, 
and panders of London, — are seen sending a comforting letter to the Sis- 
ters: "comfort" is supposed to come from the news that the roaring boys 
themselves are soon to be sent to Bridewell, and as misery loves company, 
the Sisters should cease their laments. That neither the roaring boys nor 
the fatal sisters exaggerated their punishment is evident from the sentence 
passed on one Henry Skyte (July 10, 1609), whom the court ordered 
"forthwith sent to Bridewell and there soundlye whipped for speakinge 
contemptuous wordes against Sir Robert Leighe, sittinge upon the Benche, 
and to be kepte to beatinge of hempe" (J. C. Jeaffreson, Middlesex County 
Records, 11, 54). 

The ballad was printed about 161 2. It is a valuable commentary on the 
fifth act of Dekker's Honest Whore, Part II, where a constable with "two 
Beadles, one with hemp, the other with a beetle," and with various inmates 
of Bridewell play important roles. The phrase whipping-cheer occurs often 
in the works of Thomas Nashe {Works, ed. R. B. McKerrow, 11, 291) 
and in Henry IF, Part 11, v, iv, 5. The refrain of the ballad is very attrac- 
tive indeed, and it is a pity that the tune it demands. Hemp and Flax, is 
not known. 



^"^fjipping Cfjeare. 
0v tte toofull lamentations; of tfie^ tfjree ^igters; in 
tfje spittle tDfjen tfjep toere in neto ^vihtAatlW 

To the tune of kempe and flax. 

I /"^Ome you fatall Sisters three, 
v^ whose exercise is spinning; 
And helpe vs to pull out these thrids, 
for heer's^ but a harsh begining. 

Oh hemp., and flax., and tow to to to., 
Tow to to to., tow tero. 
Oh hempe, &'c. 

1 The blinded whipper hee attends vs, 
if the wheele leaue turning, 
And then the very Matrons lookes, 
turnes all our mirth to mourning. 

Oh hempe and flax and Tow to to tOy 
tow to to to to to tero. 
Oh hempe ^c. 

3 Now for a Cup of bottle Ale, 
some suger-plummes and Cakes a. 
But neuer a client must come in, 
to giu's a poore pinte of Sacke*. 

Heers hemp and flax and tow to to to 
tow tow to to to to tero. 
Heer's hempe and &'c. 

4 Besse the eldest Sister, shee 

is slayned much with honour^. 
And one cannot endure the labour, 
which is thrust vpon her. 

O hemp and flax and tow to to to.. 

Tow to to., to to tero. 
O hemp i^c. 

1 Text the the. ^ No period in text. ^ Text hee'rs. 

^ Read Sacke a. ^ The n is upside down in the text. 



5 Garden-allies cleare are swept, 
Hog-laine laments a little: 

Our tinder boxes ouer our heades, 
were broken at the Spittle: 

Heers hemp and flax and tow to to to^ 

tow to to to to to tero. 
Heers hempe ^c. 

6 If the London Prentises, 

And other good men of fashion : 
Would but refraine our companies, 
Then woe to our occupation. 

Then hempe and flaxe and tow to to to 

Tow to to to to tero. 
Then hempe^ ^c. 

7 O you lusty Roring Boyes, 
Come shew your brazen faces : 
Let your weapons turne to beetles, 
And shoulder out some of these lashes. 

At hemp and flaxe and tow to to to^ 
Tow to to to to to tero^ 
At hemp^ ^c. 

8 Gold and siluer hath forsaken, 
Our acquaintance cleerely: 
Twined whipcord takes the place, 
And strikes t'our shoulders neerely. 

Heers hempe and flax and tow to to to^ 
Tow to to to to tero^ . 
Heere's hemp^ &c. 

9 You Punkes and Panders euery one, 
Come follow your louing sisters: 

In new Bridewell there is a mill, 
Fills all our hands with blisters. 

And hempe and flax and^ tow to to to to tero? 

lo If the Millers art you like not, 
to the hempe blocke packe yee: 

^ Text telo ? 2 Text has a comma. 



Thumpe, and thumpe, and thump apace, 
for feare the whipper take yee. 

Ther's hemp^ ^ flax and tow to to to^ 

Tow to to to to tero. 

®!je ^cconb ^art of tfje OTlfjippins Cfjeere. Wi\\^ ttje 
3Ri)rms1l[abJi']^comfortable ansitoere to tfjree fatall^igteri. 

(!Co tfje game tune. 

1 1 O Isters wee haue receiu'd your letters, 
O And lament your 2 cases: 

Worke but apace a little while, 
Wee will possesse your places. 

At hempe and flaxe and tow, to, to, to. 

At hempe and flaxe^ &'c. 

12 You haue plaid your parts wee see, 
And well maintaind the battle: 
Now to giue the Counterblow, 
Weele make the beetles rattle. 

At hempe and flaxe and tow, to to to. 
At hempe i^c. 

13 Dice and cards and mony store. 
Which euerv foole disburses: 
Commands vs all to sing and roare. 
With full impleated purses. 

Now to the hempe and Tow to to to. 
Now to the, ^c. 

14 Clownes shall not escape our hands. 
But still we will be nipping; 

Weele ventures gentry state and lands. 
Because weele haue some whipping. 

At hempe and flaxe and Tow to to to. 

At hempe, ^c, 

1 5 Sommons shall be sent abroad, 
To call home country brothers: 

^ Torn. ^ Text yours. 



Panders, Foysters, and roring boyes, 
The Pimps and all such others. 

To the hemp and flaxe ^ Tow to to to. 

To the hempe, ^c. 

1 6 Cutpurse boyes shall grow to strength. 
For labours best befitting : 

Play the beetles out at length, 
Unlesse youle goe to whipping. 

To the hemp and flax and Tow to to to, 

To the hempe, i^c. 

17 Pads and Prancers run and ride, 
Decoyes come shew your cunning: 
Make hast to bring the cards and dice, 
Your labours worth the running. 

Heers hemp and flaxe and tow to to to, 
Heer's hemp, ^c. 

1 8 Worke apace for Wine and Capon, 
And good cheere growes scanty: 
Now the beetles grow the weapon, 
Our fares not halfe so dainty. 

Heers hemp and flaxe and tow to to to, 
Heere's hemp. 

19 Sisters what thinke you that we. 
Do second out your labours. 
When we meet abroad againe, 

I display the double coulours. 

O hempe and flaxe and tow to to to, 
O hempe, &'c. 

20 Lastly to amend the matter. 
Shew your shoulders printed: 
Weele shew as faire and if not better, 
For so it is appointed. 

y^t hempe and flaxe and to to to to. 

At hemp and flaxe and tow to to to, ^c. 

Printed at London for H.G. 



T' he peace between Denmark 
and Sweden 

Pepys, I, loo, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. 

Charles IX of Sweden imprudently assumed the title of "King of the 
Lapps of Nordland," which belonged to the Danish Crown, and the so- 
called War of Kalmar between him and Christian IV of Norway and 
Denmark (James I's brother-in-law) followed. Most of the fighting cen- 
tered around Kalmar ("Caiman"), the eastern fortress of Sweden, which 
the Danes finally captured. Charles IX's son, Gustavus Adolphus, con- 
cluded with Christian IV the disastrous peace of Knared, celebrated in 
the ballad, on January 20, 161 3. So onerous were the terms, however, 
that instead of the brotherly love mentioned by the balladist, for many 
decades hatred existed between the two countries. The peace terms — 
summarized from a pamphlet " translated out of the Dutche copy printed 
at Hamburgh" that Gosson registered on April 8, 1613 (Arber's Tran- 
script, III, 518) — are accurately enough enumerated in the ballad. 

The tune will be found in ChappeU's Popular Music, i, 144. 



Cijf SopfuU ^eace, conclulicb bettoeene rije lling of 

Denmarke anb tfje ^ing of Sweden^ bp ttje meaneg 

of our mojSt toortfjp ^oueraigne, lames^ bp tfje 

grace of (gob, i^ing of great Prittaine 

France anb Ireland^ Z2c. 

To the tune of who list to lead a Soldiers life. 


'He Lord of Hosts hath blest no Land 

As he hath blessed ours: 
Whom neither famine, sword nor fire 
Nor myserie deuoures. 
But in his mercy alwayes still 
He giues vs blessings store: 
And doth the hungry euer fill, 
And feeds both rich and poore. 



2 For wee that know not woes of war 
Forget the loyes of peace : 

But if we once should feele wars stroak 
Then would our loyes decreace, 
Let men of ludgement, ponder well 
The dangerous State of Armes 
And they will iudge a happy peace 
More good then feirce allarmes. 

3 How many kingdomes hath bin spoyld? 
How many Cittyes sackt? 

How many valliant men byn foyld 
How many ships byn wrackt? 
What bloody massakers and Rapes 
What dismall horride deeds? 
The wars hath both vndon and don 
Whilst thousand thousands bleeds. 

4 And true report to Britaines brings 
What warlike cruell strife 

'Twixt Denmarke & the Sweauian kings 

Where thousands lost their life 

Till mighty lames our Royall Leidge 

Did cause the wars to end, 

And both these foes gaue or'e their seidge 

And each is others freind. 

5 For what the one demanded still 
The other still denyed: 

And Kings contention was the cause 

That many subiects dyed. 

What Princes speake in heate of blood 

Is feirce consuming wrath 

And seldome can it be withstood 

Without their subiects scath. 

6 The Royall King of Denmarke layd 
lust clayme to certaine Land 

The which the Sweauian King denay'd 
And did his force withstand 



But after many myseries 

And deadly dints of wars 

Our gracious Soueraigne Lord King lames 

Did end these bloody lars. 

W^t geconb part of tfje SopfuU ^eace, conclulieti bettoeene 

rtje ^ing of Denmar\e anb tfje Eing of Sweden^ bp 

tfje rneaneg of our mosit toortfjp Soueraigne, 

lames^ bj> tfje grace of (^ob, ^ing of great 

Britaine France anb Ireland^ &c. 

To the tune of zvAo list to lead a Soldiers life. 

7 OIxe Articles of consequence, 
O betweene them is agreed: 

W' ith oathes confirm'd betweene each Prince, 

to be performed indeed. 
The which conditions of the peace, 

in order follow heere: 
Whereby the cause of all those broyles, 

to all men may appeare. 

8 First that the King of Sweden should, 

The City Caiman yeald: 
Into the King of Denmarkes hands, 

(e're further blood be spil'd.) 
With all the profits of the same : 

If he the same would hold 
Or else to his commodity, 

The Citty must be sold. 

9 That Elsbach^ Otland^ two great townes, 

and Mensborch^ with the land: 
And Forces must be all deliuer'd, 

to mighty Denmarks hand. 
For twelue yeares space he must inioy, 

Those Castles Townes and Forts, 
And now in rest these Princes great, 

do florish in their Courts. 



10 Besides the King of Sweden must, 

to end the mighty quarrels: 
Unto the King of Denmarke pay, 

of gold full fifteene barrells. 
For charges of the foresaid warres, 

and that their shippes at seas, 
May passe through one anothers bounds, 

and no man them displease. 

1 1 That Layland euer shall be free, 

without all contribution : 
That Greeneland is the Danish Kings, 

and giue no restitution. 
That Denmarks King without all let, 

foure golden Crownes may beare. 
Which was the great and greatest cause, 

he first these warres did reare. 

1 2 Besides some things of smaller note, 

betwixt them is decreed: 
And so those mighty Christian Kings, 

like brothers are agreed. 
Thus after many bloody fights, 

and many people slaine: 
The deadly stroake of dangerous amies, 

brings blessed peace againe. 


Those which are desirous to see this matter more at large: 
I rejerre to the booke newly come forth according to the Dutch 

Printed for Henry Gosson, and are to be sold at his shop 
on London Bridge. 1613. 



Leander^s love to loyal Hero 

Pepys, I, 344, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. 

William Meash^ is another writer quite forgotten by balladry and 
literature, though he professes an intention of immortalizing the names of 
Hero and Leander by this ballad. His choice of a tune seems inadvertently 
to add a touch of burlesque to the story of Hero and Leander. Burlesque, 
indeed, was not unusual: the story had long been a favourite for puppet- 
shows, as the parody in Jonson's Bartholomew Fair forcibly reminds us. 
There is a copy of this ballad — minus title, tune, and signature — in the 
Percy Folio MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall, iii, 295). Except for some un- 
important variations in spelling, the scribe followed the printed broadside 
carefully: most of the other variants in his work (P.) are indicated in the 
foot-notes. Later ballads on "The Tragedy of Hero and Leander; Or, 
The Two Unfortunate Lovers" and "An Excellent Sonnet of the Un- 
fortunate Loves of Hero and Leander," both dating about 1650, are pre- 
served in the Roxburgh Ballads (vi, 558, 560). 

The tune oi Shackley Hay dates from March 16, 161 3, but is given in 
Chappell's Popular Music (i, 367) only from a MS. of Charles I's reign. 
There is, however, a copy of the first stanza and the music in Additional 
MS. 38,599, fol. 140, that was made from the 161 3 issue of the ballad of 
"Shackley Hay." 

John White registered "Hero and Leander" for publication on July 2, 
1 61 4 (Arber's Transcript, iii, 549). 

Heanberg louc to lopall ||ero. 

To the tune of Shackley hay. 

I ' I "Wo famous Louers once there was, 
-L whom Fame hath quite forgott. 
Who loued long most constantly, 
without all enuious blott; 

^ Possibly he was the "William" whose last name is torn off the 
Pepysian ballad (i, 306) of "Loves up to the Elbowes. To the tune of 
Codlings,'''' or the "W.M." who wrote "The Lamentation of Englande," 
I 584 (J. P. Collier's Book of Roxburghe Ballads, p. 127; Lord Crawford's 
Catalogue of English Ballads, No. 1361). 

R.P.G. 49 D 


Shee was most faire, and hee as^ true: 

which caused that which'-^ did ensue; fa la,^ 

Whose storie I doe meane to write, 
and tytle it, True Loues delight, fa la. 

L Leander was this young-mans name, 

right Noble by dessent: 
And Hero^ she whose beautie rare, 

might giue great loue'^ content. 
He at Abidos kept his Court, 

and she at Sestos liued in sport, fa la, 
A Riuer great did part these twaine, 

which caus'd them oft poore soules complaine, fa la. 

; Euen Hellespont^ whose Current streames, 

like lightninges swift did glide, 
Accursed Riuer that two hearts, 

so faythfull must deuide. 
And more, which did augment their woe, 

their^ parents weare each others foe, fa la. 
So that no Ship durst him conuey, 

unto the place whereas^ his Hero lay, fa la. 

L Long time these Louers did complaine, 

the misse of their desire. 
Not knowing how they might obtaine, 

the thing they did require. 
Though they' were parted with rough seas, 

no waters could Loues flames appease, fa la, 
Leander ventured to^ Swim 

to Hero^ who well welcomed him, fa la. 

] Euen in the midst of darkesome night, 
when all thinges silent were. 
Would young Leander take his flight, 

through Hello spont so cleare; I 

1 most P. 2 that P. 

^ P. throughout usually has fa la la. 

^ Loue great P. ^ the P. 

« where P. ' hee P. 

8 for to P. 



Where at the shore, Hero would bee, 
to welcome him most louingly, fa la. 

And so Leander would conuey, 

vnto the chamber where she lay, fa la. 

6 Thus many dayes they did enioy, 

the fruits of their delight. 
For he oft to his Hero came, 

and backe againe^ same night. 
And she for to encourage him, 

through Hellospont more bold to^ swim, fa la. 
In her Tower top^ a Lampe did place, 

whereby he might behold her face, fa la. 

7 And by this Lampe would Hero sit, 

still praying for her loue. 
That the rough waters to Leander\ 

would^ not offensiue proue. 
Be mild quoth she, till^ he doth swim, 

and that I haue well welcomed him, fa la; 
And then euer rage and rore amaine, 

that he may neuer goe hence againe, fa la. 

8 Now Boistrous Winter hasted on, 

when windes and Waters rage: 
Yet could it not the lustfull heate, 

of this young Youth asswage: 
Though windes and waters raged so, 

no Ship durst venture for to goe, fa la; 
Leander would goe see his Loue, 

his manly Armes in Floodes to proue, fa la. 

^ Text aganie. ^ boldlye P. ^ tap tower P. 

* vnto him P. ^ might P. « while P. 

$1 D2 


Wt^t sieconb part ot Heantiersi loue to Hopall ^ero : 
Co tije game tune^ 

9 " I "Hen lept he into Hellospont 
A desirous for to goe, 
Unto the place of his delight, 

which he affected so. 
But windes and waues did him withstand, 

so that he could attaine no land, fa la; 
For his loues Lampe looking about, 
faire Hero slept, and it gone out, fa la. 

10 Then all in vaine Leander stroue; 

till Armes could doe no more. 
For naked he depriu'd of life, 

was cast vpon the shore: 
Oh had the Lampe still stayed in, 

Leander liuelesse had not been, fa la. 
Which being gone, he knew no ground, 

because thicke darknesse did abound, fa la; 

1 1 When Hero faire awakt from sleepe, 

and saw her Lampe was gone. 
Her senses all be nummed weare 

and she like to a stone. 
Oh from her Eyes then Pearles more cleare, 

proceeded many a dolefull teare, fa la, 
Presaging^ that the angry Flood, 

had drunke Leanders Louely^ blood, fa la. 

1 2 Then to the top of highest Tower,^ 

faire Hero^ did ascend: 
To see how windes did with the waues, 
for maistership contend: 

^ Not in P. 2 perswading P. 

^ guiltlesse P. ^ Text has a period. 



And on the Sandes she did espie 
a naked body Liuelesse lye, fa la; 

And looking more vpont, she knew, 
it was Leanders bloodlesse^ hue, fa la. 

13 Then did she teare her golden haire, 

and in her griefe thus sayd. 
Accursed Riuer that art still 

a foe to euery Mayde, 
Since Hellen faire, in thee was dround, 

nam'd Hellospont tha'rt^ euer found, fa la; 
And now to see what thou canst doe, 

thou hast made me a mourner too, fa la.^ 

14 But though thou didst attach my Loue, 

and tooke him for thine owne: 
That he was only Heroes deare, 

hencefoorth it shalbe knowne. 
Then from the Tower faire Hero fell, 

whose woefull death I sigh to tell, fa la : 
And on his body there did die, 

that loued her most tenderly fa la; 

1 5 Thus ended they both* life and loue, 

in prime of their young yeares: 
Since whose vntimelie funeralls 

no such true loue appeares: 
Untill more Constant loue arise, 

their names I will immortalize^, fa la. 
And heauens send^ such as haue true friends, 

as faithful hearts, but better ends, fa la. 

JfintS!. quoth William Meash. 

Imprinted at London for /. fV. 

^ bloudlye P. 2 j g th'art = thou art. ^ 'j;'gxt omits fa la. 

* both they P. ^ imupetelasze P! ^ P. omits. 


T'he arraignment ofjohn Plodder 

Pepys, I, 130, B.L., five woodcuts, four columns. 

"The arraignement ofjohn Ffloder for burneing the towne of Windham 
in Norfolke" was registered at Stationers' Hall by John Trundle on 
September 26, 161 5 (Arber's Transcript, iii, 573). 

The following passage, dealing with Plodder's crime, occurs in Francis 
Blomefield's History of Norfolk, 1805, 11, 533: 

On June nth, 1615, this town [of Wymondham] was damaged by fire to 
above 40,000/. value, there being above 300 dwelling-houses consumed. . .it 
appears it was fired on purpose; I have the original confession of one Margaret 
Bix, alias El<vyn, then under sentence of death, made before the under-sheriff, 
&c. in which she acknowledges that she was privy to the fact, and that it was 
committed by Ellen Pendleton, who was also under condemnation for it, and 
that the said Ellen lighted a match, and she placed it in the stable where the fire 
first began; Will. Plodder -was not condemned, but his brother John, and others, 
were condemned also: it appears that they were Scots, but went under the name 
of Egyptians, all but this Bix, whom they promised to carry with them into 
their own country, and maintain well, and procure a pardon from the Pope, 
for committing the fact. 

Ellen Pendleton (or "Helen Pendleton alias Floder," as she is called in the 
Calendar of State Papers, Domestic, 1611-18, p. 304) was the wife of 
John Flodder, and her examination is preserved in the Public Record 
Office. From the summary given in the Calendar it appears that she at- 
tempted to place the blame on "certain maimed soldiers, sailors, &c. whom 
she found on the road near Howlbruck, Derbyshire, who said they were 
employed by Lord Stanley beyond the seas in plots," and that her attempt 
was not successful because these men carried no "powder or match whereby 
they could be suspected of such a crime," On August 9, 161 5, one 
Humphrey Clesby, talking with an acquaintance (who promptly reported 
his words to the Government) about a sermon against Popery at Paul's 
Cross, remarked that the burning of Wymondham, though falsely imputed 
to Roman Catholic fanatics, "was done by two sailors" {Calendar of State 
Papers, Domestic, 1611-18, p. 301). 

The tune is given in Chappell's Popular Music, i, 162. 





Cfje ^ratgnement of Sofjn Jf lobber anb W fcoife, at 
i^ortDibge, toiti) tlje toife of one Picfes, for burnins 
tfje Wo\smt of IMinbfjam in i^orfolfee, bpon tfje xi. bap 
of 3une la£(t 1615. OTfjere ttoo of tfjem are noto exe= 
cuteb, anb tfje tijirb repriucb bpon furtfjer confesljfion. 

To the tune of Fortune my foe. 


BRaue Windham late, whom Fortune did adorne, 
With Buildings fayre, & fresh as Sommersmorne: 
To coale-blacke Ashes now, quite burned downe, 
May sorrowing say, I was a gallant Towne. 

2 Yea all my state and glory is put by. 

For mourning on the ground my Buildings lye : 
My Goods consum'd, my Dwellers brought full low, 
Which now goe wandring vp and downe in woe. 

3 Three hundred dwelling Houses of account, 
Which did to fourtie thousand pounds amount. 
Are all consumd and wasted quite away. 

And nothing left, but ruine and decay. 

4 Woe worth the causers of this blacke misdeed. 
That makes a thousand hearts with sorrow bleed : 
A thousand hearts with wringing hands may say, 
In Windham towne this was a wofull day. 

5 The deed was done by such vnhallowed hands. 
Whose rigour card not for a thousand Lands, 
The Earth it selfe, if that it flam'd with fier, 
Were as these damned varlets did desier. 

6 One Plodder and his cursed wife, were those, 
Which wrought this famous towne these sodaine woes : 
Confederate with one Bickes wife; which three. 
Unto this cursed action did agree. 



7 As Rogues and Beggars wandring vp and downe, 
They went to seeke reliefe from towne to towne : 
And liued by the vsage of bace sinne, 

As custome trayneth all such liuers in. 

8 [But] sure the Diuell, or else some Feend of his, 
[Persujaded^ them vnto this foule amisse, 
With Fire to wast so braue a Market towne, 
That florisht faire, with Riches and Renowne. 

9 A Fier that was deuised of the Diuell, 

A Fier of all the worst, and worse then euill : 
Wilde fier it was, that could not quenched bee, 
A Ball thereof lay kindling secretly, 

10 Within an Eaues, not seene of any man, 
A Match gaue fier, and so it first began : 

In Seruice time, when people were at Prayers, 
As God required, and not on worldly cares. 

11 A time that such a chaunce could hardly bee 
Preuented by mans helpe, as man might see: 
For on a sodaine kindled so the flame. 

That mazed people could not quench the same. 

12 Within two howers the towne was burned quite, 
And much good Wealth therin consumd outright: 
The Free-schoole house, with many a gallant Hall 
With Aged people, and poore Children small. 

1 3 Such woes were neuer seene in any place. 
Nor neuer men remaind in heauier case: 
Strange doubts were made how first the fire begun 
That hath so many good mens states vndone. 

14 At last this Plodder^ with his wandring Mates, 
Which daily beg'd for food at rich mens Gates, 
Examined were, where soone their guiltie tongues 
Confest the chiefe occasions of these wronges. 

1 Margin torn. 



1 5 And so with hearts bespotted with blacke shame, 
They were araigned, and iudged for the same, 
To suffer death, a recompence to make. 
For this offence, they thus did vndertake. 

Wf)t ^econb part of tfje ^raignement of Jf lobber anb 
ijisf tDife Set. ^0 tfje siame tune. 

1 6 A Nd when their day of death drew neere at hand, 
l\~ According to the Judges iust commaund, 
Before ten thousand peoples wondring eyes. 
This Plodder like a damned monster dyes, 

17 A selfe-wild Papist, of a stubborne heart, 

That would but small submission from him part: 
But boldly died as though he had done well. 
And not been guiltie of the fact of Hell. 

1 8 His hated body still on Earth remaines, 

 (A shame vnto his kin) hangd vp in Chaines: 
And must at all no other Buriall haue. 
But Crowes & Rauens mawes to make his graue.^ 

19 But Picks his wife in signe of penitence. 
With weeping teares bewayled her offence: , 
And at her death, confest with grieued minde, 
This deed beyond the reach of Woman-kind. 

20 And how most leawdly she had liued long, 
A shamefull life, in doing deeds of wrong: 
And trode the steps of Whoredome day by day. 
Accounting sinne and shame, the better way. 

2 1 And how that shee, was will'd to put her hope 
At last, to haue a Pardone from the Pope 

For all her sinnes: for which, she did repent, 
And sayd, no Pope, but Christ was her content. 

^ No period in the text. 



22 And as for Plodders wife, the chiefe herein, 
And damded leader to this wilfull sinne, 
Being bigg with child, repriued was therefore, 
To giue that life, which in her Wombe she bore. 

23 But hauing now deliuerance of her Child, 
All further hopes of life are quite exild. 

Yet hope of life, hath made her now confesse. 
The Townes proceeding dangers and distresse. 

24 And how the rest should all haue burned beene, 
So with a second Fire to waste it cleane: 
And how the Husband of the woman dead. 
Had giuen consent to haue this mischiefe spread. 

2 5 Likewise one Hicks, a fellow of good age. 
She sayd, his credite and his word did gage, 
To be a furtherer to this damned deed, 
That now hath made a thousand hearts to bleed. 

26 But let no such accursed wretch as this. 

The course of Law and Justice looke to misse: 
But with repentance true prepare for death, 
As most vnworthy of a minuts breath. 

27 And now let Englands Townes both farre & neere 
With wisedome still preuent like chance, & feare, 
And weed away from euery place and Cittie, 
Such idle Drones, you cherish with your pittie. 

28 Yet in your hearts let Charitie remaine. 
And freely giue, to buyld this Towne againe. 
And in your Prayers desire the Lord of heauen, 
That bountious guiftes may thereunto be giuen. 



29 Our royall King, with good and gracious hand, 
Haue graunted them, the bounties of our Land: 
In euery Church that gathering there may bee, 
As by his Letterpatents we may see. 


Imprinted at London for lohn Trundle, dwelling 
in Barbican at the signe of the No body. 

The names in the Kings Letters Pattents, to 
gather vp the mony, are these following. 

lohn Moore. \ i William Horsnell. 
Steuen Agas. I J Esa Freeman. 

Robert Carre 
lohn Doffeelde. 

j Robert Agas. 
\ William Rowse. 

The Countries and Cities, graunted for these 
men to gather in, are these following. 

London and Westminster: Middlesex, Essex, Kent, 

Hartford, Surry, and Sussex: with the Cities of 

Canterburie, Rochester, and the Cinque Ports, 

with the Citie of Chester. 



'The famous rat-catcher 

Pepys, I, 458, B.L., three woodcuts, four columns. 

The date of this ballad is about 161 5. Part I is preserved also in a MS. 
at Shirburn Castle, Oxfordshire, from which it is printed in Clark's 
Skirburn Ballads, pp. 94-95. The copyist {S>j followed the printed copy 
carefully, but the second part has been torn out of the MS. 

The ballad is a highly interesting, if coarse, song. The rat-catcher 
specialized in the treatment of the so-called social diseases no less than in 
exterminating rats and mice by means of his "painful bag" of poisons. 
The ensign of his trade, a flag of several colours, is shown in the fine wood- 
cut here reproduced from the ballad (cf. also Ebsworth's comment in the 
Roxburghe Ballads, viii, xxxvii***, and see a ballad dating about 1855, 
"The Ratcatcher's Daughter," in John Ashton's Modern Street Ballads, 
1888, p. 142). King James I himself, by the way, had an official rat- 
catcher, to whom in 1623 he was paying %d. a day {Calendar of State 
Papers, Domestic, 1623-25, p. 135). 

The tune of The Jovial Tinker, or Joans Ale is new, given in Chappell's 
Popular Music, i, 187, does not apply here. The correct tune is, instead, 
derived from "A pleasant new Songe of a jovial Tinker. To a pleasant 
new tune called Fly Brasse'"" (Pepys, i, 460), printed by John Trundle^. 
Fl-j Brass, identical with Tom of Bedlam, is in Popular Music, i, 333, 11, 


1 Later versions of this ballad, beginning "Here sits [or There was] a 
jovial tinker, dwelt in the town of Turvey," are printed in the pamphlet 
of The Tinker of Turvey (1630, pp. 2-3) and in Merry Drollery, 1661, 
I, 17-18. There are many imitations of it: e.g. "Encomium of Tobacco" 
in Sportive Wit, 1656, sigs. F. d^-Y. 7, and "The Vagabond" in Merry 
Drollery, 11, 16-18. 



Cfje famous! ^Ratfeetcfjer, toiti) W trauels! into Jfrance, 
anti of W returne to Hontron. 

To the tune of t/ie iouiail Tinker. 

THere was a rare Rat-catcher, 
Did about the Country wander, 
The soundest blade of all his trade, 
Or I should him deepely slaunder: 
For still would he cry^ a Ratt tat tai^^ 

tar a rat^ euer: 
To catch a Mouse^ or to carouse^ 
such a Ratter I saw neuer. 

1 tat tat : rat rat throughout in S, 



2 Upon a Poale he carryed 

Full fourty fulsome Vermine: 
Whose cursed Hues without any Kniues, 
To take he did determine. 

And still would he cry, a Rat tat tat, 
tara Rat, euer, is'c, 

3 His talke was all of India, 

The Voyage and the Nauie : 
What Mise or Rattes, or wild Polcats: 
What Stoates or Weesels haue yee : 
And still would he cry, a Rat, &c. 

4 He knew the Nut of India, 

That makes the Magpie stagger : ^ 

The Mercuries, and Cantharies, 

With Arsnicke, and Roseaker. | 

And still would he cry, a Rat, &c. 

5 Full often with a Negro, 

The luice of Poppies drunke hee: 
Eate Poyson franke^ with a Mountebanke, 
And Spiders with a Monkie. 

And still would he cry, a Rat, &c. 

6 In London he was well knowne: 

In many a stately House 
He layd a Bayte; whose deadly fate, 
Did kill both Ratte and Mouse. 
And still would he cry, a Rat, &c. 

7 But on a time, a Damosell, 

did him so farre intice, 
That for her, a Baite he layd straight, 
would kill no Rats nor Mice. 
And still would he cry, a Rat, &c. 

1 ranke S. 


8 And on the Baite she nibled, 

so pleasing in her taste, 
She lickt so^ ^ong, that the Poyson strong, 
did make her swell i'th waste. 
^nd still would he cry^ a Rat, ^c. 

9 H[e su]btilely2 this perceiuing, 

to the Country straight doth hie him: 
Where by his skill, he poysoneth still, 
such Vermine as come nie him. 
And still would he cry^ a Rat^ ^c. 

ro He neuer careth whether 

he be sober, lame, or tipsie: 
He can Collogue with any Rogue, 
and Cant with any Gipsie. 

And still would he cry^ a Rat^ &c. 

1 1 He was so braue a bowzer, 

that it was doubtful whether 
He taught the Rats, or the Rats taught him 
to be druncke as Rats, togeather. 
And still would he cry, a Rat, ^c, 

12 When he had tript this Hand, 

from Bristow vnto Douer, 
With painefull Bagge and painted Flagge, 
to France he sayled ouer. 

Tet still would he cry, a Rat tat tat, 
Tara rat, euer, ^c. 


1 to 6". 2 Text H ebtilely. 



Sfje 3^atfeetcf)er£f returne out of Jfrance to Hontjon. 
tKo tijc siame tune. 

13 T N France when he ariued, 

i. the heat so much perplext him, 
That all his Pouch did swell so much, 
and Poyson so had vext him. 

That scarce could he cry^ a Rat tat tat. 

tara Rat^ euer: 
To catch a Mouse, or to carouse. 
Such a Ratter I saw neuer. 

14 At last, as Witches common, 

must vse anothers ayding : 
So did this Ratter, tell the matter 

to another of's owne trading. | 

And then did he cry, a Rat tat tat. &'c. 

1 5 Who vsing many Simples, 

to quench his fiery burning: 
Did make him daunce cleane out of France, 
And home hee's now returning. 
And still doth he cry, a Rat, ^c. 

1 6 At Douer he ariued, 

and Kent hath had his cunning: 
The Maydens Lappes like poysoned Rattes 
repent his backe-home comming. 
For still doth he cry, a Rat, i^c. 

17 At Grauesend 'raongst th.e Maydens, J 

Greene sicknesse reign'd so briefly, 
None could haue cure, but such as sure 
would take his Potions chiefly. 
And still doth he cry, a Rat, &'c. 

18 The Shippe wherein he sayled, 

ere he on shore ariued, - 

Reports him that he kild a Ratte, M 

that nere will be reuiued. V 

And still doth he cry, a Rat, &c. 



19 And to the Fayre in Smithfield, 

he now is gon and paced : 
To search with Pole for the Rat-knawne hole 
that him so much outfaced. 

And still doth he cry^ a Rat^ i^c. 

20 Now to the Tipling houses, 

to kill the Vermine featly: 
French Rats and Mice all in a trice, 
he will destroy full neatly. 

And still doth he cry^ a Rat, &'c. 

2 I An vgly Wench to see-to, 

whose Nose was knawne with Vermin, 
The Ratte to kill, that vsd her ill, 
to vse him doth determine. 

And still doth he cry^ a Rat. ^c. 

11 If any other Maydens, 

or Female kinds, will vse him. 
Come call him quicke, for with a tricke 
hee's gone, if you refuse him. 
And still doth he cry, a Rat, &'c. 

23 To Sturbridge Fayre his iourny 

is plotted, and appoynted: 
Approch with speed, you that haue need 
with Poyson to be noynted. 
And still doth he cry, a Rat, ^c. 

24 When backe he commeth home-ward, 

obserue his Flagge bepainted 
With Mice and Rattes, and with Poulcats, 
if you will be acquainted. 

And heare him to cry, a Rat tat tat, 

tara Rat, euer: 
To catch a Mouse, or to carouse, 
such a Ratter I saw neuer. 

Imprinted at London for lohn Trundle, and are to be sold 
at the signe of the No-body in Barbican. 

R.p.G. 65 E 

1 1 

T'he history of y onus 

Pepys, I, 28, B.L., three woodcuts, four columns. 

This may have been the ballad of "Jonas" that was licensed to William 
Griffith in i 562-63, or "ye story of Jonas" licensed to Alexander Lacy in 
1567—68. Evidently similar in nature were ballads called "the mysse 
Deades of Jonas &c" (i 569—70) and "nowe haue with ye to Ninive being 
a sonnet of Repentance" (September 5, 1586: Arber's Transcript, i, 205, 
355, 410; II, 457). Edward Allde, the printer of the Pepysian ballad, 
printed ballads during the years i 584-1628: as a mere guess his "Jonah" 
may be dated 161 5. It is a fairly close metrical paraphrase of the four 
chapters of the Book of Jonah. Possibly this is the ballad of "Jonas his 
Crying-out against Coventry" that the Fiddler in Fletcher's Monsieur 
Thomas (iii, iii) says he can sing. 

The story of Jonah was, like that of Hero and Leander, a favourite for 
puppet-shows. The great dramatists took especial delight in ridiculing 
them. "There's a new motion of the city of Nineveh, with Jonas and the 
whale, to be seen at Fleet-bridge," says Fungoso, in Jonson's Every Man 
out of His Humour, 1599, 11, i. In Greene and Peele's Loo king-Glass for 
London and England, 1594, a remarkable stage-direction runs: "Jonas is 
cast out of the whale's belly upon the stage." 

The tune of Paggington's (or Packingtons) Pound (or Round), a tune 
(used by Ben Jonson for a ballad of his own composition in Bartholomew 
Fair) that always entails a very attractive metrical and stanzaic form, is 
given in ChappeU's Popular Music, i, 123. 

tKije ijis^torie of tfje ^ropfjet lonas. 
tKfie repentance of Niniuie ttjat great Citie, fcofjicf) toasi 48. 
mile£f in tompasisie, fjauins a tfiousianb anb fine tjwntrreli 
CotDersi atiout tfie siame, anb at tiie time of i)ts: preaching 
tljere toasi a fjunbreb anb tfcDentp tfjousfanb Cftilbren tfierein. 

To the tune of Paggingtons round. 



VNto the Prophet lonas I read, 
The word of the Lord secretly came, 
Saying to Niniuy passe thou with speed. 
To that mightie Citie of wondrous fame. 
Against it quoth he 
cry out and be free. 
Their wickednesse great is come vp to me. 
Sinne is the cause of great sorrow and care, 
But God through repentance his vengeance doth spare. 

Then lonas rose vp immediatly, 

And from the presence of the Lord God, 

He sought by sea away to flie. 

And went downe to loppa where many ships rode. 

The fare he did pay, 

and so got away. 
And thus the Lords word he did disobey. 
Sinn is the cause of great sorrow and care. 
But God through repentance, &c. 

But God sent out such a mighty great winde. 
That a sore tempest vpon the sea came : 
Which greatly tormented the Marriners minde 
Their ship being like to be broke by the same. 

And being afraid, 

no time they delaide: 
But each vnto his God earnestly praide. 
Sinne is the cause of great sorrow and care. 
But God through repentance, &c. 

Yet seeing the tempest continue so sore 
To lighten their ship they thought it the best. 
Into the rough sea, therefore they cast ore, 
All their rich marchandize ere they did rest, 

but while they did weepe, 

lonas did sleepe, 
And vnder the hatches himselfe he did keepe. 
Sinne is the cause of great sorrow and care, 
But God through repentance, &c. 

67 p-2 


5 Then came the Shipmaster to lonas in hast, 
Saying thou sluggard why sleepest thou so? 
We being in danger away to be cast, 

Rise, pray to thy God to release our great woe. 

for well you may see, 

that likely we be. 
Each one to be drowned without remedy, 
Sinne is the cause of sorrow and care: 
But God through repentance, &c. 

6 Then each vnto his fellow did say. 

Come let vs cast lots betweene vs each one. 
To know for which of our sinnes this day. 
This grieuous tempest vpon vs is blowne. 

Then truth for to tell, 

when wisely and well. 
The lots were all cast, vpon lonas it fell. 
Sinne is the cause of great sorrow and care. 
But God through repentance, &c. 

7 When they perceiued the lot to fall so. 
They asked of lonas immediatly : 

from whence he did come and where he would goe, 
Where he was borne and in what countrie. 

then lonas replide, 

and neuer denide. 
But all the whole truth vnto them discride, 
Sinne is the cause of great sorrow and care. 
But God through repentance, &c. 

8 I am an Hebrew you shall vnderstand, 
And the Lord God of heauen I onely serue: 
Which made the sea and eke the dry land, 
But from his commandement late I did swarue. 

In seeking to flie, 

from his maiestie. 
He hath laid vpon me this great misery. 
Sinne is the cause of sorrow and care, 
But God through repentance, &c. 





9 Then said the Mariners tell vs with speed, 
What shall we doe with thee in this case: 
That this great tempest may cease in our need, 
Which rageth extreamly in euery place. 
Cast mee in the sea. 
thus lonas did say, 
For 'tis for my sake you are plagued this day, 
Sinne is the causer of sorrow and care. 
But God through repentance, &c. 

10 Neuerthelesse the men were afraid. 

And sought for to row the ship vnto Land: 
But could not preuaile the tempest so plaid. 
That they in great perrill of life still did stand. 

O Lord then quoth they, 

we humbly pray. 
For this man let vs not perish this day, 
sinne is the cause of great sorrow and care, &c. 
But God through repentance, &c. 

1 1 Then tooke they vp lonas in place where he stood. 
And threw him out of the ship in the sea: 

And presently the fierce raging flood. 
With the great tempest the Lord did alay. 

and then presently, 

they all did espie. 
That the sea most calme and most quiet did lie. 
Sinne is the cause of great sorrow and care. 
But God through repentance, &c. . 

Cfje geconli part. tKo tfje game tune. 

12 A Great W^hale fish the Lord sent that way, 
-/a. Which swallowed vp lonas immediatly. 
Three daies and three nights in his belly he lay, 
And there full oft to the Lord he did cry. 

Then God did command. 

The Whale out of hand, 
To cast vp the Prophet vpon the dry land, 
Sinne is the causer of sorrow and care, &c. 



1 3 The word of the Lord came to lonas againe, 
Saying goe to Niniuies mighty Citie : 

And preach vnto that people most plaine, 
The words which I before shewed thee, 

then lonas arose, 

to the Citie he goes, 
And daily to them Gods iudgement he shewes, 
Fortie^ daies after yet remaineth quoth he, 
And Niniuie then destroyed shall be. 

14 The King and the people oi Niniuy then, 
At lonas preaching repented full sore : 

They proclaimed a fast both to beastes and to men, 
And sackcloth and ashes most humbly they wore, 

and most bitterly, 

to God they did cry. 
Asking forgiuenesse and crauing mercy. 
For forty daies yet remaineth quoth he, 
And Niniuy then destroyed shall be. 

1 5 Their great repentance the Lord did behold. 
Their true humble hearts in euery degree: 
To them his mercy he did then vnfold 

And turned his punishment from their Citie. 

his fauour and grace, 

he sent to that place, 
And all their offences he cleane did deface. 
Sinne is the causer of sorrow and care, &c. 

1 6 At this was lonas greatly displeasd, 
And thus to the Lord in anger he said : 
Now well I see thy wrath is appeas'd, 
Whereby all falshood to me will be laid. 

and therefore quoth he, 

most blest should I be. 
If my hatefull life thou shouldst take now from me. 
Sinne is the causer of sorrow and care, &c. 

1 Text Footie. 


17 So lonas went out of the Citie with speed, 
And on the east a boothe he did make: 
There to behold, to marke and take heed, 

what course with the city the Lord God would take, 

where God in one night, 

brought vp in his sight, 
A wilde vine to shadow him from the Suns heate. 
Sinne is the causer of sorrow and care, &c. 

1 8 lonas of this was wondrous glad. 

For great was the force of the Sun in that place. 
And he by that meanes a good couering had. 
But God the next day the vine did deface. 

so then the Suns heate: 

on him did so beat. 
That for this vine lonas his anger was great. 
Sin is the causer of sorrow and care, &c. 

1 9 Then said the Lord God to lonas againe. 
And dost thou well to be angry for this.'' 
He said I doe well to be angry certaine. 
Seeing my comfort so soone I doe misse. 

and better quoth he, 

it is now for me. 
To die then to Hue in this miserie, 
Sinne is the causer of sorrow and care, &c. 

20 And hast thou such pitty the Lord God did say. 
On this wilde Vine which sprung in one night: 
And in a night likewise did wither away. 
Which thou neuer plantedst, nor cost thee a mite. 

then why should not I, 

in tender mercy, 
Pitty this great repenting Citie? 
Sinne is the cause of great sorrow and care, 
But God by repentance his vengeance doth spare. 


Printed at London by E.J. 


The cucking of a scold 

Pepys, I, 454, B.L., one woodcut, three columns. 

An amusing and a highly interesting description of how scolds were, 
after due process of law, ducked is given in this ballad. The cucking was 
no tame affair, but was instead an elaborate ceremonial involving a parade 
in which a hundred archers, a hundred armed men, and fifty parrots took 
part. There are ballads out of number on scolds, but most of them tell of 
the desperate remedies applied in more or less privacy by the martyred 
husbands, and none, I believe, deals with a public cucking such as befell 
this "dainty scold in grain." That her type still lingers would appear from 
the case of a woman who was tried and convicted of being a " common scold " 
by the Criminal Court of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, on February i8, 1921. 
There seventeen families testified that they were scandalized "when they 
left their houses for a minute and that such epithets as 'poor fish,' 'moun- 
tain of flesh' and 'dirty long legs' were hurled at them" by the scold in 
question. This scold was sentenced to pay the costs of the case and to move 
from the neighbourhood. 

The printer G.P. could have been either George Purslowe or George 
Potter, who printed during the years 1614-1632 and i 599-1616 respec- 
tively. I suspect that the ballad dates at least as early as 161 5. Its first 
appearance was probably at an earlier date even than 1615. The tune, 
usually referred to as The Merchantman, comes from a ballad of Thomas 
Deloney's of the date March 22, 1594. The music is given in Chappell's 
Popular Music, i, 381. 

W(st Cucfeing of a ^coulb. 

To the tune of. The Merchant of Em den. 

I A Wedded wife there was, 
■LX. I wis of yeeres but yong, 
But if you thinke she wanted wit, 
He sweare she lackt no tongue, 
lust seventeene yeeres of age, 
This woman^ was no more, 
^ Text women. 


Yet she would scold with any one, 
From twenty to threescore. 
The cucking of a Scold^ 
The cucking of a Scold^ 
Which if you will but stay to he are 
The cucking of a Scold. 

2 As nimble as an Eele, 

This womans tongue did wag, 
And faster you shall haue it runne. 
Then any ambling Nag. 
But without mighty wrong. 
She would not shew her skill. 
But if that she were moued once 
The sport^ was not so ill. 
The cucking ^c. 

3 Each man might quickly know,^ 
When as the game begun,^ 

But none could tell you for his life. 
What time she would haue done. 
She was a famous Scould, 
A dainty Scould in graine, 
A stouter Scould was neuer bred 
Nor borne in Turne-gaine Lane. 
The cucking ^c. 

4 Upon a time it chanc'd. 
And she did thus alledge, 

A neighbours maid had taken halfe 
Her dish-clout from the hedge: 
For which great trespasse done. 
This wrong for to requite, 
She scolded very hansomely. 
Two daies and one whole night. 
The cucking &'c. 

^ sport: zcorc/ indecipherable. ^ Text has a period. 



5 Which something did molest 
The neighbours round about: 
But this was nothing to the fits 
That she would thunder out. 
But once, the truth to tell, 
Worse scolding did she keepe. 
For waking of her little Dog, 
That in the Sun did sleepe. 

The cucking, &'c. 

6 Six winter dayes together. 
From morning eight a clocke. 
Until the euening that each one 
Their doores began to lock : 
She scolded for this wrong. 
Which she accounted great. 
And vnto peace and quietnesse 
No man could her intreat. 

The cucking ifj'c. 

7 So that this little Deuill, 
With her vnquiet tongue, 
Continually both far and neere, 
Molested old and yong. 

But yet soone after this. 
She made a greater brawle, 
Against the Constable, that did 
But pisse against her wall. 
The cucking, ^c. 

8 She cal'd him beastly knaue. 
And filthy lacke for this, 

And said that euery Cuckold now 
Against her wall must pisse: 
And in most raging sort. 
She rail'd at him so long. 
He made a vow he would reuenge 
This most outragious wrong ^. 
The cucking, ^c. 
^ Text worng. 



9 And first of all behold, 
He clapt her in the Cage, 
Thinking thereby her deuillish tongue, 
He would full well asswage. 
But now worse then before. 
She did to brawling fall. 
The Constable and all the rest 
She vildly did miscall. 
The cuckingj ^c. 

10 Thus night and day she sent 
Such brawling from her brest, 
That ner a neighbour in the towne 
Could take one houres rest. 
Which when the Justice knew, 
This Judgement than gaue he, 
That she vpon a cucking stoole 
Should iustly punisht be. 

The cuckingy (s'c. 

1 1 Vpon three market dayes. 
This penance she should bide. 
And euery thing fit for the same,^ 
The Officers did prouide: 

An hundred Archers good, 
Did first before her goe, 
A hundred and fiue nimble shot 
Went next vnto the Roe. 
' The cucking ^c. 

12 An hundred armed men 
Did also follow there: 

The which did guard the gallant Scould 
With piercing Pikes and Speare: 
And trumpets^ sounding sweet. 
In order with them comes 
A company most orderly. 
With pleasant Phifes and Drums. 
The cucking^ i^c. 
1 Text has a period. ^ Text trumptes. 



1 3 And forty Parrats then, 
On sundry pearches hie, 

Were carried eke before the scould, 
Most fine and orderly 
And last of all a mighty wispe 
Was borne before her face. 
The perfect token of a Scould 
Well knowne in euery place. 
The cucking^ ^c. 

14 Then was the Scould her selfe,i 
In a wheele-barrow brought,^ 
Stripped naked to the smocke, 
As in that case she ought: 
Neats tongues about her necke 

. Were hung in open show; 
And thus vnto the cucking stoole 
This famous Scould did goe. 
The cucking^ &'c. 

15 Then fast within the chaire 
She was most finely bound. 
Which made her scold excessiuely, 
And said she should be drown'd. 
But euery time that she 

Was in the water dipt. 

The drums & trumpets sounded braue, 

For ioy the people skipt. 

TAe cucki.g, (^c. ^ 

16 Six times when she was duckt 
Within the water cleare,i 
That like vnto a drowned Rat, 
She did in sight appeare. 
The Justice thinking then 
To send her straight away, 

^ Text has a period. 


The Constable she called knaue, 
And knau'd him all the day. 
The cucking &'c. 

17 Upon which words, I wot, 
They duckt her straight againe 

A dozen times ore head and eares: 
Yet she would not refraine, 
But still reuil'd them all. 
Then to 't againe they goe. 
Till she at last held vp her hands, 
Saying, I'le no more doe so. 
T/ie cucking &'c. 

1 8 Then was she brought away. 
And after for her life. 

She neuer durst begin to scould 

With either man or wife. 

And if that euery Scould 

Might haue so good a diet, 

Then should their neighbours euery day 

Be sure to Hue in quiet. 

The cucking of a Scould^ 
The cucking of a Scould 
Which if you will but stay to heare 
The cucking of a Scould. 

Printed at London by G.P. 

^ No period in the text. 



Ten shillings for a kiss 

Pepys, I, 316, B.L., three woodcuts, four columns. 

The date is probably about 161 5 : John White printed during the years 
161 3— 1625. The ballad is unusual in having a second part in a different 
measure and to a different tune from the first part. Rare indeed is this 
procedure^. When, towards the end of the sixteenth century, printers 
began to divide ballads into two parts, they felt that each part was an 
entity, and sometimes, as in the case of the well-known "Widow of 
Wading Street," actually printed each part on a separate broadside. Two 
tunes and different measures were then appropriate. In a few years, how- 
ever, every ballad came to have two parts, but the division was a purely 
mechanical device due to \}(vq. forme \ as a result, only one tune could be 
used, and the formula, "The second part. To the same tune," became 

The ballad is unique in manner and contents, and is rather clever. The 
maid bids an astonishingly high price for a kiss, for, as her lover tells her, 
other maidens are offering for a husband only five shillings. In stanzas 19—2 1 
there is a general allusion to other ballads made by love-lorn damsels and a 
specific reference to "A Maiden's Lamentation for a Bedfellow. Or, I can, 
nor will no longer lye alone. As it hath been often sung at the Court. To 
the tune of/ will give thee kisses, one, two, or three" (Pepys, i, 246, 286). 

The first tune is given in Chappell's Popular Music, i, 315; the second, 
equivalent to / will give thee kisses, one, two, or three, is unknovni; it 
seems to involve a refrain of "sweeter than the honey" and "sweeter than 
the blossoms," both of which are used throughout in No. 21. 

^ There are other examples in the Pepys collection, e.g. the ballads of 
"Nobody loves mee," with its first part to the tune of Philliday, its second 
to Dainty, come thou to me, and "The Lover's Lamentation to his Love 
Nancy," with its first part to the tune of Did you see Nan today? its second 
to Virginia (Pepys, i, 430, and 332). 


Wf^isi iHaitie tooulb gme tenne ^t)i[UnQsi for a Misiit: 

To the Tune of S^a// I wrastle in despaire. 

1 ^\/'Ou young men all take pitty on me, 

i the haplessest Maid you euer did see: 
Refus'd of all, of all neglected, 

hated of all and by none affected : 
The cause I know not: well I know, 

their fond neglect procures my woe. 
Then since their hopefull loues I misse, 

come, here's ten shillings for a kisse. 

2 I doe as much as a Maide can doe, 

for gainst my nature I doe woe : 
I vse all meanes that ere I can, 

to get the loue of a proper man : 
Yet let me vse the best of skill, 

they still deny, and crosse my will: 
Then since their hopefull loues I misse: 

come here's ten shillings for a kisse. 

3 With Sieuet sweet I make me fine, 

with sweet complection I doe shine: 
With beautious colours passing deere, 

I paint and prune, yet nere the neere. 
My cost is vaine, so well it proues : 

for all my cost there's no man loues : 
Then since their hopefull loues I misse, 

come here's ten shillings for a kisse. 

4 I haue a face as fayre as any, 

my nose and lip surpasseth many, 
I haue an eye that rowling lies, 

though theies are better to intice: 
Why should all men disdaining proue? 

and worser beauties dearely loue ? 
But since their hopefull loues I misse: 

come here's ten shillings for a kisse. 



5 My armes are nimble to each poynt, 

actiue I am in euery ioynt: 
I am not as some maidens are, 

so coy, for young men not to care, 
Why should I then disdained be? 

when those are lou'd be worse then me? 
But since their hopefull loues I misse: 

come here's ten shillings for a kisse. 

6 My waste is small, and likewise long, 

my leg well calft, and boned strong, 
My pretty foote you all may feele, 

is not in bredth an inch in th' heele. 
From head to foote in euery part, 

I seeme a building fram'd by Art: 
Yet since their hopefull loues I misse, 

come here's ten shillings for a kisse. • 

7 Yet man's obdurate to my mones, 

they all stand senslesse of my grones, 
They nere regard a proper maide: 

great heyres are tane and she denaid, 
Yet by all meanes I will assay, 

to gaine mens loues as well as they: 
For since their hopefull loues I misse, 

come here's ten shillings for a kisse. 

8 Is Cupid dead, will he not strike, 

and make some man perforce to like: 
Or is he angry with a creature, 

making me Hue the scorne of nature: 
Or is his dart in 's Ouiuer fast: 

oh no, I hope heele strike at last: 
Since I their hopefull loues do misse, 

come here's ten shillings for a kisse. 

9 To the Dauncing schoole I vsuall goe, 

and learne farre more then many doe 
Oft I resort to weddings for this, 
onely to gayne a young mans kisse. 



Yet though my dauncing be so good,* 
by all youth there I am withstood: 

Then since their hopefull loues I misse, 
come here's ten shillings for a kisse. 

lo Let Venus guide some young mans hart, 

or Anthropos strike here thy Dart: 
Let young men pitty my hard state, 

or proue like me vnfortunate. 
Come gentle young men ease my griefe, 

nought but a kisse can giue reliefe, 
For since their hopefull loues I misse: 

come here's ten shillings for a kisse. 

Printed at London by /. White. 

tCfjE ^econb ^art sffjebbett ifjcc map fjaue tfjem 
Cfjeape 3 tm'si : 

To the Tune / can nor will no longer lye alone. 

1 1 A Lack fayre Maide, why dost thou grone, 
-ti. Is it for a kisse, alack but for one? 

Nay thou shalt haue a hundred one two or three, 
More sweeter then the hunny that comes from the Bee. 

12 Doe not thinke we men are vnkind. 
For a Kisse or two to stay behinde: 

Nay thou shalt haue a hundred one two or three. 
More sweter then the blossomes from the Tree. 

1 3 All Maydes they say, not as you say. 
For if that we pray, they will say nay: 

The more that we seeke they still will reply. 
Alack they cannot loue, yet know not why. 

1 Text has a period. 2 j-^^^ FUNS. 

R.p.G. 81 F 


14 I doe not condem all of your kind, 

But such that beare a froward faithles minde: 
The good I doe protest, I loue with my heart, 
And with the euill I, will not take part. 

15 Wee men are constant and Women to blame 
To be vnconstant, to their loues a shame : 

Yet tell them of their faults, they still will reply, 
They will haue their wills,^ yet know not why. 

16 I would all Maides were of thy minde, 
Then should we Men to woemen be kinde: 
And in loue and Amitie agree. 

More sweter then^ the hunny that comes from the Bee. 

1 7 Many examples I could procure. 
Shewing men constant in their loue: 

Which thou shalt finde in mee I tell thee plaine, 
Come kisse me gentle Sweeting O Kisse againe. 

1 8 There dwels a Mayd in our Towne greene. 
With whome many Louers, I haue scene: 

Yet shee's so coy, God wot she will haue none. 
But lead a single life all alone. 

19 But how it falles I doe not know, 

A Ballet they say, now doth it show : 

That sighing and protesting, she makes her mone, 

She can nor will no longer lye alone. 

20 An other lately as I heare. 
That vow'd to Hue a Mayden forty yeere : 
Fiue shillings for a Husband now doth cry. 
If that she be not holpen, alack shee'l die. 

2 1 Come^ Ginny come an other cryes, 
With the trickling teares in her eyes: 
My Mayden head alacke it troubles me, 

Ginny Ginny I, may say to thee. 

1 Text wiles. ^ ^g^t uhen. ^ jg^t Co we. 



22 Doe not blush at this I speake, 

For alacke I know your Sex is weaker 

Let coy Dames passe away, refusing their blisse, 

Upon thy sweet Hpes I doe seale this Kisse. 

23 And now to conclud this my Songe. 
Alacke for a Kisse thou hast stayd too long: 
Nay thou deseru'st a thousand one two or three, 
More sweeter then the blossomes of the Tree. 


Printed at London by /. White. 



Anne W^allen'^s lamentation 

Pepys, I, 124, B.L., two woodcuts, four columns. 

A "good-night" by T. Platte, an author known only by this one pro- 
duction. For the tune see Chappell's Popular Music, i, 162. 

Professor Kittredge points out the following passage in a letter written 
by John Chamberlain to Sir Dudley Carleton on July 6, 161 6 {The Court 
and Times of James I, i, 418): 

There was a seminary priest hanged at Tyburn on Monday . . . That morning 
early, there was a joiner's wife burnt in Smithfield for killing her husband. If 
the case were no otherwise than I can learn it, she had summum jus\}^\ for her 
husband having brawled and beaten her, she took up a chisal, or some such 
other instrument, and flung at him, which cut him into the belly, whereof he 

As July 6 came on Saturday, July i was Monday. On July i, according 
to the ballad, Anne Wallen was burned, so that to her execution Chamber- 
lain's comment seems applicable. For comments on burning women as a 
punishment for petty treason see the introduction to No. 52. 




^nne ^^alleng lamentation, 

Jfor tfje iHurtfjering of i^ev ijusitianb lo/in Wallen a 

Curner in CotD=lane neere ^mitfjfielti ; trone i3j> \s\& otone 

tDife, on siatterijap tfje 22. of Siine. 1616. tofto toag tiurnt 

in ^mitfjfieltr tfje first of HJulp foUotoing. 

To the tune oi Fortune my foe. 

I /^^ Reat God that sees al things that here are don 
v_J Keeping thy Court with thy celestiall Son; 
Heere her complaint that hath so sore offended, 
Forgiue my fact before my Hfe is ended. 

1 Ah me the shame vnto all women kinde, 
To harbour such a thought within my minde: 
That now hath made me to the world a scorne, 
And makes me curse the time that I was borne. 

3 O would to God my mothers haples wombe, 
Before my birth had beene my happy tombe: 
Or would to God when first I did take breath, 
That I had suffered any painefull death. 

4 If euer dyed a true repentant soule, 

Then I am she, whose deedes are blacke and foule : 
Then take heed wiues be to your husbands kinde, 
And beare this lesson truely in your minde, 

5 Let not your tongus oresway true reasons bounds, 
Which in your rage your vtmost rancour sounds: 
A woman that is wise should seldome speake, 
Unlesse discreetly she her words repeat.^ 

6 Oh would that I had thought of this before. 
Which now to thinke on makes my heart full sore: 
Then should I not haue done this deed so foule. 
The which hath stained my immortall soule. 

^ No period in the text. 



7 Tis not to dye that thus doth cause me grieue, 
I am more willing far to die then Hue; 

But tis for blood which mounteth to the skies, 
And to the Lord reuenge, reuenge, it cries. 

8 My dearest husband did I wound to death, 
And was the cause he lost his sweetest breath. 
But yet I trust his soule in heauen doth dwell, 
And mine without Gods mercy sinkes to hell. 

9 In London neere to smithfield did I dwell. 
And mongst my neighbours was beloued well: 
Till that the Deuill wrought me this same spight, 
That all their loues are turnd to hatred quight. 

lo lohn W alien was my louing husbands name, 
Which long hath liu'd in London in good fame. 
His trade a Turner, as was knowne full well. 
My name An Wallen^ dolefull tale to tell. 

^nnc toallens Hamcntation, 

^x tije Jfecontr part of t^e murtfjer of one lohn Wallen 

a tKurner in Cotolane neere ^mitfjf ielb ; bone tip ijiJS 

otone toife, on gaterbap tfje 22 of HJune 1616. toljo toasf 

burnt in ^mitfjfielti tlje firsit of 3ulj» follotoing. 

To the tune of Fortune m"^ foe. 

11 IV /T Y husband hauing beene about the towne, 
iVJL And comming home, he on his bed lay down : 

To rest himselfe, which when I did espie, 
I fell to rayling most outragiously. 

12 I cald him Rogue, and slaue, and all to naught. 
Repeating the worst language might be thought 
Thou drunken knaue I said, and arrant sot. 
Thy minde is set on nothing but the pot. 



1 3 Sweet heart he said I pray thee hold thy tongue, 
And if thou dost not, I shalP doe thee wrong, 
At which, straight way I grew in worser rage, 
That he by no meanes could my tongue asswage. 

14 He then arose and strooke me on the eare, 
I did at him begin to curse and sweare: 
Then presently one of his tooles I got. 
And on his body gaue a wicked stroake.^ 

15 Amongst his intrailes I this Chissell threw. 
Where as his Caule came out, for which I rue. 
What hast thou don, I prethee looke quoth he. 
Thou hast thy wish, for thou hast killed me, 

16 When this was done the neighbours they ran in. 
And to his bed they streight conueyed him: 
Where he was drest and liu'd till morne next day, 
Yet he forgaue me and for me did pray. 

1 7 No sooner was his breath from body fled. 
But vnto Newgate straight way they me led : 
Where I did lie vntill the Sizes came, 

Which was before I there three daies had laine. 

18 Mother in lawe, forgiue me I you pray, 
For I haue made your onely childe away, 
Euen all you had; my selfe made husbandlesse, 
My life and all, cause I did so transgresse. 

19 He nere did wrong to any in his life, 

But he too much was wronged by his wife; 
Then wiues be warn'd, example take by me. 
Heauens graunt no more that such a one may be. 

1 Text sha]] shall. ^ No period in the text. 



20 My iudgement then it was pronounced plaine, 
Because my dearest husband I had slaine: 
In burning flames of fire I should fry, 
Receiue my soule sweet Jesus now I die. 

T: Platte. 

Printed for Henry Gosson, and are to be solde 
at his shop on London bridge. 



Sir Walter Raleigh'' s lamentation 

Pepys, I, III, B.L., one poor woodcut of a ship, four columns. A fac- 
simile reproduction of this ballad, with a brief introductory note by Pro- 
fessor C. H. Firth, of Oxford, was issued in 1919. 

The ballad is correct enough in dates and places, but misrepresents 
Raleigh's words and actions on the scaffold. For this misrepresentation, 
censorship of the press rather than personal animosity of the author is, no 
doubt, responsible. For although in 1601 Raleigh's supposed responsibility 
for the execution of the Earl of Essex aroused much hostile feeling against 
him, by 161 8 this feeling had largely changed to sympathy for his own 
misfortunes. No ballads on Raleigh were entered in the Stationers' Register 
for 1618, but many were in fact printed. On November 21, 1618, John 
Chamberlain wrote: "We are so full still of Sir Walter Raleigh that 
almost every day brings forth somewhat in this kind, besides divers ballets, 
wherof some are called in, and the rest such poore stuffe as are not 
worth the overlooking" {Calendar of State Papers, Domestic, 161 1— 18, 
p. 597; C. H. Firth, Royal Historical Society Transactions, 3rd Series, 
V, 40). Of this "poore stuffe" the Pepysian ballad is the sole surviving 
printed specimen. Years later (in 1644) appeared a prose and verse pam- 
phlet called To day a man. To morrow none: Or, Sir Walter Rawleighs 
Farewell to his Lady, The night before hee was beheaded: Together with his 
advice concerning HER, and her SONNE (reprinted in Charles Hindley's 
Old Book Collector's Miscellany, vol. iii). 

For the tune see Chappell's Popular Music, i, 174. 

^ir Salter i^auleigfj \^\& lamentation : 

OTfjo toag tieljealieb in tfje olti Wallace at Wit^X= 

minsiter tfje 29. of (f^ctober. 1618. 

"To the tune of Welladay. 

I /^~^Ourteous kind Gallants all, 
V^ pittie me, pittie me, 
My time is now but small, 
here to continue: 



Thousands of people stay, 
To see my dying day, 
Sing I then welladay, 
wofully mourning. 

2 Once in a gallant sort 

liued I, liued I, 
Belou'd in Englands court 

graced with honours: 
Sir Walter Rauleighs^ name 
Had then a noble fame : 
Though turned now to shame 

through my misdoing. 

3 In youth I was too free 

of my will, of my will. 
Which now deceiueth me 

of my best fortunes: 
All that same gallant traine 
Which I did then maintaine. 
Holds me now in disdaine 

for my vaine folly. 

4 When as Oueene Elizabeth 

ruld this land, ruld this land, 
I trode the honord path 

of a braue Courtier; 
Offices I had store, 
Heapt on me more and more, 
And my selfe I in them bore 

proud and commanding. 

5 Gone are those golden dayes, 

woe is me woe is me : 
Offences many waies 
brought vnto triall, 

1 Text Ranieighs. 


Shewes that disloyaltie 
Done to his Maiestie, 
ludgeth me thus to dye; 
Lord for thy pitie. 

6 But the good graces heere 

of my King, of my King, 
Shewd to me many a yeere 

makes my soule happie 
In that his royall Grace 
Gaue me both time and space 
Repentance to embrace: 

now heauen be praised. 

7 Thirteene yeare in the tower 

haue I lien, haue I Hen, 
Before this appoynted houre 

of my Hues ending: 
Likewise such Hbertie 
Had I vnluckily. 
To be sent gallantly 

out on a voyage. 

8 But that same voyage then 

prou'd amis prou'd amis. 
Many good gentlemen 

lost their good fortunes: 
All that with me did goe 
Had sudden ouerthrowe 
My wicked will to shew 

gainst my deere Countrey. 

9 When I returned backe, 

hoping grace, hoping grace, 
The tower againe alacke 

was my abiding: 
Where for offences past, 
My life againe was cast 
Woe on woe followed fast 

to my confusion. 



10 It pleas'd^ my royall King 

thus to doe, thus to doe, 
That his peeres should me bring 

to my Hues iudgement. 
The Lieutenant of the tower 
Kept me fast in his power, 
Till the appointed houre 

of my remoouing. 

1 1 " I "O Westminster then was I 

JL garded strong, garded strong 
Where many a wandring eye 

saw me conuayed 
Where I a ludgment had, 
for my offences bad. 
Which was to loose my head, 

there the next morning. 

12 So to the Gatehouse there, 

was I sent, was I sent. 
By knights and gentlemen, 

guarding me safely. 
Where all that wofull night. 
My heart tooke no delight: 
Such is the heauie plight 

of a poore prisoner. 

13 Calling then to my mind, 

all my ioyes, all my ioyes. 
Whereto I was inclind, 

liuing in pleasures: 
All those dayes past and gon. 
Brings me now care and mone,^ 
Being thus ouerthrowne, 

by mine owne folly. 

^ Tex^ plea'sd. ^ Texi moue. 



14 When the sad morning came 

I should die, I should die: 

what a fright of shame : 
iild vp my bosome: 

My heart did almost breake, 
when I heard people speake, 

1 shold my ending make 

as a vile traitor. 

15 I thought my fortunes hard, 

when I sawj when I saw 
In the faire pallace yard 

a scaffold prepared: 
My loathed life to end: 
On which I did ascend, 
Hauing at all no friend 

there to grant mercy. 

16 Kneeling downe on my knee, 

willingly, willingly. 
Prayed for his Maiestie^ 

long to continue: 
And for his Nobles all,^ 
With subiects great and small, 
Let this my wofuU fall 

be a fit warning. 

17 And you that hither come 

thus to see, thus to see 
My most vnhappy doome : 

pittie my ending. 
A Christian true I die: 
Papistrie I defie, 
Nor neuer Atheist I 

as is reported. 

^ Text Maiustie, 2 Text has a period. 



1 8 You Lords & knights also 

in this place, in this place 
Some gentle loue bestow 

pity my falling: 
As I rose suddenly 
Vp to great dignitie, 
So I deseruedly 

die for my folly. 

19 Farewell my louing wife 

woe is me, woe is me: 
Mournefull wil bee thy life. 

Left a sad widdow. 
Farewell my children sweet, 
We neuer more shall meet 
Till we each other greet, 

blessed in heauen. 

20 With this my dying knell 

willingly, willingly. 
Bid I the world farewell 

full of vaine shadowes 
All her deluding showes 
brings my heart naught but woes 
Who rightly feeles and knowes, 

all her deceiuings. 

2 1 Thus with my dying breath 

doe I kis, doe I kis, 
This axe that for my death 

here is prouided: 
May I feele little paine, 
when as it cuts in twaine, 
what my life must sustaine, 

all her deceiuings. 

22 My head on block is laid. 

And my last part is plaid: 
Fortune hath me betraid, 
sweet lesus grant mercy. 



Thou that mv headsman art, 
when thou list, when thou list, 
Without feare doe thy part 
I am prepared : 

23 Thus here my end I take 

farewel world, farewel world, 

And my last will I make, 
climing to heauen: 

For this my oftence, 

I die with true penitence, 

lesus receiue me hence: 
farewell sweet England. 

London Printed for Philip Birch and are to be sold at 
his shop at the Guyld-hall. 



Damnable practises 

Pepys, I, 132, B.L., two woodcuts, five columns. The left margin is 
mutilated, so that missing letters and words in the first column (stanzas 
1-5) are restored within square brackets. 

The book referred to at the end of the ballad is The Wonderful discoverie 
of the Witchcrafts of Margaret and Phillippa Flower, 1619, of which a 
reprint was issued in 1838 (British Museum, C. 27. b. 3 5 and 8630. g. 16). 
Similar books are The Witches Of Northampton-S hire . . . Who were all 
executed at Northampton the 22. of luly last. 16 12 (Bodleian, Malone 709) 
and Thomas Potts's The Wonderfvll Discoverie Of Witches in The Covn-tie 
of Lan-caster (Bodleian, Wood B 18(2); Somers' Tracts, 1810, iii, 95 IF.). 
The nobleman of the ballad was Francis Manners, sixth Earl of Rutland. 
His two sons died in infancy, supposedly from witchcraft, as the ballad 
describes; but his daughter Catherine survived to marry George Villiers, 
Duke of Buckingham. The inscription on the monument of the Earl of 
Rutland at Bottesford, Leicestershire (which is given in full in Nichols's 
History and Antiquities of the County of Leicester, n, 102; cf. William 
Hone's Every-Day Book, 1889, 11, 185-187) mentions the death of his 
two sons "by wicked practice and sorcerye"; the "two boys kneel at his 
feet holding sculls, and one a rose. At the head a daughter in a coronet," 
and so forth. Cf. Notestein's History of Witchcraft, pp. 132 ff. 

The spells which the witches are represented as making against young 
Lord Ross are, of course, conventional in witchcraft and folk-lore (see, e.g., 
Jacob Grimm's Teutonic Mythology, translated by J. S. Stallybrass, 1888, 
IV, 1629, and W. J. Thoms, Anecdotes and Traditions, Camden Society, 
1 839, p. loi); they may even be found practised by fairly modern heroines 
in Mr Thomas Hardy's Return of the Native and in D. G. Rossetti's Sister 
Helen. The apparent judgment of God that caused Joan Flower's death 
could not do otherwise than convince Jacobeans of the truth of the charges 
made against her. Dozens of similar cases are vouched for by historians as 
well as by balladists. A somewhat remarkable judgment is chronicled in 
The Weekly Intelligencer for January 9, 1655 : 

One Pilson, a Bum BaylifF in Oldstreet came to arrest a Gentleman, who 
being secure in his Chamber, where the BaylifF could not arrest him, the BaylifF 
swore to him that if he would come to him, he would not arrest him, who 
opened the door, (yet the BaylifF contrary to his Oath) did arrest him, and was 
presently by the hand of God struck dumb and stil continues, and cannot 
speak a word. 

For the tune see Chappell's Popular Music, i, 196. 



JBamnable ^ractisieg 01 tfjrec HincolnsitireOTitcfjei, 
Joane Flower^ anb \^tx tttio JBaugfjters!, Margret 
anb Phillip Flower^ againjit Henry Horb i^'^j-j^', 
tDitJj otijers! tfje Cfjilbren of tfje 3^igf)t ||onourable 
tl)c Carle of i^utlanb, at Peauer^ Cagtle, tofjo for tfje 
stame toere cxecutcb at Himolne tfje U. [of]^ March 


To the tune oi the Ladies fall. 


OF damned deeds, and deadly dole, 
I make my mournfull song, 
By Witches done in Lin coin e-shire^ 

where they haue liued long: 
And practisd many a wicked deed, 

within that Country there, 
Which fills my brest and bosome full, 
of sobs, and trembling feare. 

^ I.e. Belvoir. 

2 Torn off? 



[FJine Beauer Castle is a place, 

that welcome giues to all, 
[B]y which the Earle of Rutland gaines 

the loues of great and small : 
[His] Countesse of like friendlinesse, 

[djoth beare as free a mind: 
[And] so from them both rich and poore, 

[do] helps and succour find. 

[Amo]ngst the rest were Witches three, 

[th]at to this Castle came, 
[Call'd] Margaret and Phillip Flower^ 

[ol]d loane their Mothers name: 
[Wh]ich Women dayly found reliefe, 

[an]d were contented well: 
[And] at the last this Margret was, 

[invit]ed there to dwell. 

[She to]oke vnto such houshold charge, 

[as] vnto her belongd, 
[Yet s]he possest with fraud and guile, 

[her] place and office wrongd; 
[She s]ecretly purloyned things 

[vnt]o her mother home: 
[And at] vnlawfull howers from thence, 

[wou]ld nightly goe and com. 

[And wh]en the Earle & Countesse heard, 

[and all h]er dealings knew, 
[They grie]ued much that she should proue, 

[vnto them] so vntrue. 
And so discharg'd her of the house, 

therein to come no more: 
For of heer lewd and filching prankes, 

of proofes there were some store. 

And likewise that her Mother was, 

a woman full of wrath, 
A swearing and blaspheming wretch, 

forespeaking sodaine death: 



And how that neighbours in her lookes, 

maHtious signes did see: 
And some affirm'd she dealt with Sprits, 

and so a Witch might be. 

7 And that her Sister Phillip was 

well knowne a Strumpet lewd, 
And how she had a young mans loue, 

bewitched and subdued. 
Which made the young man often say, 

he had no power to leaue 
Her curst inticing company, 

that did him so deceaue. 

8 When to the Earle and Countesse thus, 

these iust complaints were made. 
Their hearts began to breed dislike, 

and greatly grew affraid : 
Commanding that she neuer should, 

returne vnto their sight, 
Nor back into the Castle come, 

but be excluded quite. 

9 Whereat the old malitious feend, 

with these her darlings thought: 
The Earle and Countesse them disgrac't, 

and their discredits wrought: 
In turning thus despightfully, 

her daughter out of dores. 
For which reuengement in her mind 

she many a mischiefe stores. 

lo Heereat the Diuell made entraunce in, 

his Kingdome to inlarge. 
And puts his executing wrath, 

vnto these womens charge: 
Not caring whom it lighted on, 

the Innocent or no. 
And offered them his diligence, 

to flye, to run, and goe. 

99 G2 


1 1 And to attend in pretty formes, 

of Dog, of Cat, or Rat, 
To which they freely gaue consent, 

and much reioyc't thereat: 
And as it seemd they sould their soules, 

for seruice of such Spirits, 
And sealing it with drops of blood, 

damnation so inherits. 

12 These Women thus being Diuels growne 

most cunning in their Arts: 
With charmes and with inchanting spells 

they plaid most damned parts : 
They did forespeake, and Cattle kild, 

that neighbours could not thriue. 
And oftentimes their Children young, 

of life they would depriue. 

1 3 At length the Countesse and her Lord, 

to fits of sicknesse grew: 
The which they deemd the hand of God, 

and their corrections due: 
Which crosses patiently they bore, 

misdoubting no such deeds. 
As from these wicked Witches heere, 

malitiously proceeds. 

14 Yet so their mallice more increast, 

that mischiefe set in foote. 
To blast the branches of that house, 

and vndermine the roote: 
Their eldest sonne Henry Lord Rosse^ 

possest with sicknesse strange. 
Did lingring, lye tormented long, 

till death his life did change. 

15 Their second sonne Lord Francis next, 

felt like continuing woe: 



Both day and night in grieuous sort, 
yet none the cause did know: 

And then the Lady Katherin^ 
into such torments fell : 

By these their deuilish practises, 
as grieues my heart to tell. 

tE^e siecontr ^art ^o tfje game tune. 

1 6 A,/^Et did this noble minded Earle, 

J- so patiently it beare: 
As if his childrens punishments, 

right natures troubles were: 
Suspecting little, that such meanes, 

against them should be wrought, 
Untill it pleas'd the Lord to haue 

to light these mischiefes brought. 

1 7 For greatly here the hand of God, 

did worke in iustice cause: 
When he for these their practises 

them all in question drawes. 
And so before the Magistrates, 

when as the yongest came, 
Who being guilty of the fact 

confest and tould the same. 

1 8 How that her mother and her selfe, 

and sister gaue consent: 
To giue the Countesse and her Lord, 

occasions to repent 
That ere they turnd her out of dores, 

in such a vile disgrace: 
For which, or them or theirs should be, 

brought into heauy case. 

19 And how her sister found a time. 

Lord Rosses gloue to take: 



Who gaue it to her mothers hand 
consuming spels to make. 

The which she prickt all full of holes, 
and layd it deepe in ground: 

Whereas it rotted, so should he, 
be quite away consum'd. 

20 All which her elder sister did, 

acknowledge to be true : 
And how that she in boyling blood, 

did oft the same imbrew. 
And hereupon the yong Lord Rosse^ 

such torments did abide: 
That strangely he consum'd away, 

vntill the houre he died. 

2 1 And likewise she confest how they, 

together all agreed: 
Against the children of this Earle, 

to practise and proceed. 
Not leauing them a child aliue, 

and neuer to haue more : 
If witchcraft so could doe, because, 

they turnd them out of dore. 

22 The mother as the daughters told, 

could hardly this deny: 
For which they were attached all, 

by Justice speedily. 
And vnto Lincolne Citty borne, 

therein to lye in layle : 
Vntill the ludging Sizes came, 

that death might be their bayle. 

23 But there this hatefull mother witch, 

these speeches did recall: 
And said that in Lord Rosses death, 
she had no hand at all. 



Whereon she bread and butter tooke, 

God let this same (quoth she) 
If I be guilty of his death, 

passe neuer thorough me. 

24 So mumbling it within her mouth, 

she neuer spake more words: 
But fell downe dead, a iudgment iust, 

and wonder of the Lords. 
Her Daughters two their tryalls had, 

of which being guilty found, 
They dyed in shame, by strangling twist, 

and layd by shame in ground. 

25 Haue mercy Heauen, on sinners all, 

and grant that neuer like 
Be in this Nation knowne or done, 

but Lord in vengeance strike: 
Or else conuert their wicked Hues 

which in bad wayes are spent: 
The feares of God and loue of heauen, 

such courses will preuent. 


There is a booke printed of these Witches^ wherein you 
shall know all their examinations and confessions at large: As 
also the wicked practise of three other most Notorious Witches 
in Leceister-j^/Vd' with all their examinations and confessions. 

Printed by G. Eld for lohn Barnes, dwelling in the 

long Walke neere Christ-Church. 




Murther unmasked 

Pepys, I, 1 08, B.L., three woodcuts, four columns. 

Barnevile (Johan Van Olden barneveldt, i 547-1619) was arrested by 
order of Prince Maurice of Nassau on August 18, 161 8, arraigned for 
treason on February 20 following, sentenced to death, and executed at the 
Hague on May 13, 1619. The accusations brought against him were, it 
is now agreed, without foundation, while a packed jury made his trial a 
travesty of justice. "There was," said John Lothrop Motley {The Life 
and Death of John of Barneveld^ 1879, 11, 315), "no bill of indictment, 
no arraignment, no counsel. There were no witnesses and no arguments. 
The court-room contained, as it were, only a prejudiced and partial jury 
to pronounce both on law and fact without a judge to direct them." 
Perhaps the chief blot on the fame of Prince Maurice is his base desertion 
of Barnevile, when a word could have saved him. The Tragedy of Sir John 
Van Olden Barnavelt (A. H. BuUen's Old Plays, vol. 11) was acted with 
considerable success in London in the autumn of 1619. The authors 
(Massinger and Fletcher.?), according to Mr Bullen, "saw partially through 
the mists of popular error and prejudice; they refused to accept a caricature 
portrait, and proclaimed in unmistakeable accents the nobility of the fallen 
Advocate" (cf. also Sir A. W. Ward's English Dramatic Literature, 11, 
716). The balladist, on the othef hand, had a very prejudiced view, and 
distorted Barnevile's fall into a warning against Arminians and Popery. 
The printer W.I. was probably William Jones, Sr, who is known to have 
printed during the years 1601-1626. For the tune see Chappell's Popular 
Music, I, 176. 

iilurtfjer bnmasifeeb, 
P^aeii5j€^31ie^ iiasie Consipiracie agamsit W 
otoneCountrp,tiisfcouereli: toijo bnnaturallp complotteli 
to siurrcnber into tfje ^rctbufees! potoer, tfjege foure 
Cotonesi, Vtreicht, Nimingham, Bergen-op-zome^ atlb 
Brill: ^ogetfjer toitfj fjis! fjorrilile intent to murtfjer 
Graue Maurice^ anlJ iit^tx^. 

To the tune of Welladay. 


I A LI you that Christians be 
^t\. vsefully, vsefully, 
Consider now with me 

Gods bounteous mercie: 
Though Tru^/i hath bin denide 
And Papists it defide, 
Yet still it doth abide 

free from suppression. 

2 How many Treasons vile 

haue bin layd, haue bin layd, 
Gods pure Word to defile, 
in euery Country: 



Yet still he keepes the same 
From blemish, hurt, or blame, 
And brings them all to shame 
that fight against it. 

3 What strange coplots haue bin 

gainst the truth, gainst y^ truth, 
Throughout the world is seene^ 

t' haue beene attempted: 
Yet Christ his church wil haue. 
And his Professors saue. 
In spite of Pope, or slaue 

that would confound it. 

4 Approued this may be 

at this time, at this time. 
By Barnviles trecherie 

gainst the Low-countries: 
Who with vain hopes mis-led, 
Deuis'd t' haue strucke all dead, 
And to haue murthered 

men, wiues, and children. 

5 He did consult with Hell 

impiously, impiously, 
Their frontier townes to sell 

to Austria's Duke : 
To murther great and small. 
With th' English souldiers all. 
That slept within the wall 

of euery Citie. 

6 Yet here he did not stay, 

but conspir'd, but conspir'd 
Graue Maurice for to slay, 
with other Princes. 

^ Text seeue. 



Thus midst this bloodie broyle, 
He would haue made a spoyle 
Of his owne natiue soyle, 
without all pittie. 

7 This Tyger fierce of mind, 

mercilesse, mercilesse, 
these townes wold haue resignd 

to Tyrants power: 
Who would haue banisht there 
The Gospel shining cleare, 
And in its stead vpreare 

trash and Traditions. 

8 But this discouer'd was 

wondrously, wondrously : 
And nothing brought to passe 

what he intended: 
For God did from the skie, 
Cast downe his watchfull eye, 
His treasons to descrie, 

and crosse his purpose. 

9 XT Ow are his Treasons knowne 
1^ to his shame, to his shame: 
And to all Statesmen showne, 

for their example: 
That God pursues his foes, 
With heauie ouerthrowes, 
Who doe their Hate disclose 

gainst Gospellizing. 

lo What sauage Monster would 

thus haue slain, thus haue slain 
His friends; and Country sold 
for filthy lucre : 



Outmatcht this Deed cannot, 
Except with Powder-plot, 
Which ne're will be forgot 
till the last Judgement. 

1 1 Of grace he had no touch 

in his heart, in his heart, 
But still did fauour much 

th* Arminian Faction: 
And did his God forsake, 
Which did him ouertake. 
And drencht him in the Lake 

of deepe destruction. 

12 His Secretary then 

seeing well, seeing well 
Their damned plots made plain 

to both their ruines : 
Himselfe kil'd in the night, 
With knife made sharpe & bright 
So gaue the diuell his right 

by his despayring. 

1 3 You Politians all, 

carefully, carefully, 
Be warn'd^ by Barnviles fall 

midst his fowle actions : 
See you no mischiefes weaue. 
That will your selues deceiue, 
And soules of blisse bereaue 

past all redemption. 

14 And let each English heart 

speedily, speedily. 
From Poperie depart 
as from fell poyson. 

1 Text war'nd. 


May he his birthday rue, 
That striues for to subdue 
The Gospell pure and true 
in this our Nation. 

15 God guide our gracious King 

peacefully, peacefully : 
And at the last him bring 

to ioyes eternall; 
Where he amongst the best 
Of Saints and Angels blest. 
May Hue in ioy and rest 

time without ending. 

16 So blesse our vertuous Oueen 

with this gift, with this gift: 
That still her Fruit be seene 

mongst vs to flourish: 
As long as Cedars bud, 
And streames glide from the flood, 
So long her royall Blood 

here sway the Scepter. 

1 7 And powre on vs thy Grace 

plenteously, plenteously, 
To mourne while we haue space 

for sinnes committed: 
That when Death vs doth take 
And we this world forsake. 
We good account may make 

at our last ending. 

Printed by W.I. 



A prophecy of the judgment day 

Pepys, I, 36, B.L., three woodcuts, five columns. The margin of the 
first column is badly mutilated: missing letters have here been supplied in 
square brackets. 

This ballad vi^as printed about 1620, or a year or so earlier, presumably 
following a tract translated from the French. I have seen no such tract, but 
observe that in the diary of Richard Shanne, of Yorkshire (Additional MS. 
38,599, fol. 58^), an entry is made of "A prophesie Found Vnder the 
ffoundation of A Church, didicated to the name of St Dinnis in Paris, in 
ffrance written in the Hebrew tongue, in Brasse, Inclosed in A tombe of 
Marble. Found An. 16 17." Shanne then copied ten prophecies for the 
years 1621-1630, which correspond almost word for word with those 
given at the end of the ballad. There is a similar entry in the Diary of 
Walter Tonge for the year 1620 (ed. George Roberts, Camden Society, 
p. 38). The tune of The Lady's Fall is given in Chappell's Popular Music, 
I, 196. 

^ $ropi)es;te of tf)e 3)ubstnent Bap. 

iSeins latelp founb in ^aint 3Bcnis; Cturclj in Jfrance, 

anb tDtappeb in Eeabe tn tf)e forme of an i|eart. 

To the txine of tAe Ladyes fall. 

I [The w]onders of the Lord are great, 

[as] daylie may be scene, 
[In FJier, Water, Ayre, and Earth, 

[wjhich hath full often beene, 
[But no examjple doe we take, 

[our wicked] courses runne, 
[And in our] age more sinne commit, 

[than we] were new begun. 

1 10 


2 [Transgressions] daylie doe arise, 

[as wjhoredome, Theft, and Pride: 
[God's minijsters we doe reiect, 

[whose wjordes should be our guide. 
[Nor is] there any yeare as yet, 

[more wonder]full then now: 
[That whea]t, and Corne, & all thinges else, 

[the heave] nly power did low. 

3 [And for our] great vnthankefulnesse, 

[from our] Gods powerful! hand: 
[There come] great store of Floods, and Raine, 

[upon this] fruitefull Land; 
[And so I] thinke good people then, 

[that He] will send a scourge: 
[Because that fjor our wickednesse, 

[and s]innes, his wrath doth vrge. . 

4 [And mar]ke vpon the Latter day, 

[which d]raweth to an end: 
[See how tha]t thou vpon this world, 

[in smal]lest thoughtes depend. 
[We have] not alwayes heere to Hue, 

[bethi]nke that thou must die: 
[Time] being come, you must away, 

[in the twink]ling of an eye. 

5 [But for] thy Gods owne promise made, 

[thou could n]ot long endure: 
[For what] he sayd, is truth it selfe; 

[there's] nothing else, so sure. 
For he hath P[romised th]at he will, 

our time more [happy m]ake: 
And that heele Cut [down Princes],^ 

euen for his Elects [sake.] 

6 As by a Prophesie in France^ 

the which was lately found: 

1 Text apparently Cut. . .eeces. 
I I I 


In Parchment writ, and wrapt in Lead, 

most close vnto the ground. 
Within a Churches wall, which then, 

was pulled downe to mend: 
Which shew'd eare thirteene yeeres were past, 

the world should come to end. 

The first Prophesie for the ye ere ^ 1620.^ 

7 The wordes were these, which then were found : 

within this sacred place, 
Great Warres shalbe in Italy^ 

within this little space. ' 

Which is no doubt Gods handy worke, 

to Plague them for their pride: 
Which doth with foule Idolatry, 

his holy name deride. 

The Second Prophesie for the yeere 1622. 

8 There shall not be a shepheard left, 

to feed the silly Flocke : 
Then let vs pray that in our hearts, 

he Graft a surer stocke; 
And that we may not be bereft, 

of Pasters, vs to teach : 
But that amongst vs he will send, | 

good men his word to Preach. ' 

The third Prophesie for the yeere 1623. 

9 The wrath of God shall shew it selfe, 

throughout the world so wide: 
Which he will powre vpon vs all, 

for our incessant Pride, 
Then let vs pray with full consent, 

that he may hold his hand : 
And that he will not wreake his wrath, 

vpon our sinfull Land. 
^ Read 1 62 1? 



The fourth Prophesie for the yeere 1624. 

10 God shall be knowne but of a few, 

which is a grieuous thing: 
That wee so little should regard, 

our God, the heauenly King. 
Who sent his Sonne to saue our Soules, 

from Sathan, Death, and Hell: 
And that we should in heauenly blisse, 

with him for euer dwell. 

The fifth Prophesie for the yeere 1625. 

11 A great man shall arise, they say, 

which is a thing conceald: 
And vnto few but Godly men, 

the same shall be reueald. 
Then let vs pray which little know, 

that wee may ready bee: 
For him the which in glory sits, 

from all eternite. 

The sixth Prophesie for the yeere 1626. 

1 2 The fourt part of the Earth shall burne, 

the Sunne shall darkned bee, 
The Moone shall powre foorth streames of blood, 

which fearefully will see, 
Unto the Soules which ill haue done: 

but ioyfull to the rest : 
The bad twill terryfie to death, 

and greatly ioy the rest. 

Cte ^econb part of tfje ^ropfjesiie. tE^o tfje game tune. 

The seuenth Prophesie for the yeere 1628. 

13 AN vniuersall Earthquake shall 
-L^ vpon this Globe remaine: 

The earth shall seeme to mooue and stir, 
so shall the Oceans maine: 

R.p.G. 113 H 


Then if his breath can shake the same, 

which is the God of might. 
How could he plague vs if he pleas'd 

but with his force to smite. 

The eight Prophesie for the yeere 1629. 

14 The Infidels true God shall know, 

and Trinity professe: 
God graunt which wee that Christians are, 

may neuer doe the lesse: 
If those which doe not feare the Lord, 

shall truest Christians turne. 
Then wee which know the liuing God, 

in Hels hot flame shall burne. 

The ninth Prophesie for the yeere 1630. 

1 5 The Riuers shalbe dryed vp, 

one Shepheard shall remaine, 
And but one Shepefold shall be left, 

Gods glory to maintaine. 
Which is the latter day of all : 

where but one God shall raigne, 
Then let vs labour day and night : 

his fauour to obtaine.^ 

1 6 Great God which sit'st in heauely Throane 

graunt that we sinners may, 
Haue place in thy eternall Court, 

where holy Saints doe pray. 
Still holy, holy Lord of Lords 

and Spirit full of grace, 
God graunt that in thy Kingdome wee, 

may haue a resting place. 


1 Text has a comma. 




Jiefjolb 3 come s!f)ortlp : blesfsfeli in fjee tfjat feeepctf) 
tfie toortrjf of tije ^ropfjcsfie. 

Reuelation. 22. 7. 

^/^^^(j ^^r^ vnder written^ are the true words of the Pro- 
phesie of the last ludgementy which were translated into 
English, out of the Hebrue copy, being found vnder Saint 
Denis Church in the great City of Paris in France, and was 
wrapped in Lead in the forme of a Heart. 1616. Which 
copy hath been sent to diuers great Princes of Christendome 
from France. 

1620.1 There shall be great warres through Italy. 

1622. There shall not be a Shepheard to feed the 


1623. The wrath of God shall shew it selfe through 

the whole World. 

1624. God shall be knowne but of a few. 

1625. A Great Man shall arise. 

1626. Affrica shall burne: the Sunne shall be darkned, 

&c. Math. 24. 29. And the Moone shall be 
bluddy. Reue. 6. 12. 

1628. There shall be an vniuersall Earthquake. 

1629. Infidels shall know the Trinity and vnitie of the 


1630. The Ryuers shall be dryed vp, and there shall 

be but one Shepheard, and one Sheepefolde. 


At London Printed for I.W. 
1 Read 1621 ? 


H Z 



T'he pedlar opening his pack 

Pepys, I, 238, B.L., two woodcuts, five columns. 

A highly interesting picture of the cosmetics, gew-gaws, and trinkets 
that formed the mysteries of a seventeenth-century woman's toilet is given 
in this satirical song. The pack itself was a chest with drawers and com- 
partments for the various articles here enumerated. Strangely enough, the 
pedlar does not mention ballads — something that every self-respecting 
member of his trade invariably carried. A similar ballad, written some 
twenty-five years later, is "The New Exchange" in Merry Drollery, 1661 
(ed. J. W. Ebsworth, pp. 134-138). 

The stanza-form is unusual but attractive. I have not met with the tune 
elsewhere. The printer was E[dward] A[llde], whose publications appeared 
during i 584-1628. The date may be assumed to be 1620, but was prob- 
ably much earlier. 

^fte ^ebler opening of \^\& ^acfee, 

ilTo fenoto of i^apbes! tofjat i\& tfjep lacfec. 

To the tune of, Last Christmas 'twas my chanced 

1 A ^7 Ho is it will repaire, 

VV or come and see my packet: 
Where there's store of Ware, 
if any of you lacke it, 
view the Fayre. 

2 Faire Maydens come and see, 

if heere be ought will please you : 
And if we can agree, 

He giue you iust your due, 
or nere trust me. 

1 Comma in the text. 


3 And if that you do please 

to see my Fardle open, 
My burden for to ease, 

I hope that we shall Copen 
then straight waies. 

4 From Turky^ France and Spaine^ 

doe come my cheifest Treasure, 
Which doth cost much paine, 
I sell by waight and measure, 
for small gaine. 

5 Farre-fetcht Indian ware, 

and China hard to enter: 
Which to get is rare, 

costs many Hues to venter, 
we nere care. 

6 From Venice Citie comes 

great store of rare Complection, 
From westerne lies your Gummes 
to keep Teeth from infection, 
and from Rhewmes. 

7 Heere is a water rare, 

will make a wench that's fiftie. 
For to looke more fayre 

then one that wants of twenty, 
stil'd from the Ayre. 

8 A Perriwig to weare, 

or Couer for bare places: 
If you haue lost your heare, 
full many one it graces : 
tis not deare. 

9 Heeres Poking stickes of Steele, 

and Christall Looking Glasses: 
Here globes that round will wheele 
to see each one that passes, 
Dildo Dill. 




10 Pomado for your Lips, 

to make them soft and ruddy: 
And sweet as Cipres chips, 
a lustre Hke a Ruby 
soone it gets. 

1 1 Heres Bracelets for your arm 

of Corall, or of Amber: 
A Powder that will Charme 

or bring one to your Chamber, 
tis no harme. 

12 A water can restore 

a Maydenhead that's vanisht, 
You'le say she is no whoore, 
although that it were banisht 
long before. 

1 3 A paire of Bodye[s feat]^ 

to make you fine and slender : 
A Buske as blacke as leat, 
to keepe your bellies vnder 
that are great. 

14 And if you please to weare, 

a Bodkin of pure Siluer: 
To thrust into your hayre, 
it comforteth the Liuer 
without feare. 

1 5 Rebatoes, Tyres, and Rings, 

Sissers and a Thimble: 
And many pretty thinges, 

to keepe your fingers nimble, 
weauing stringes. 

^ Torn. 

®i)[e ^ec]onl>^ part 

1 6 O likes of any hew, 

Vv3 and Spanish needles plenty: 
Thred both white and blew, 

like me not one 'mongst twenty, 
can fit you. 

1 7 Balles of Camphyre made, 

to keepe your face from pimples: 
An Unguent that's alayd, 

you neuer shall haue wrinckles, 
if a Mayde. 

1 8 Spunges for your face, 

or Sope that came from Turkey: 
Your fauour it will grace, 
if that you be not durty, 
in no place. 

19 Rich imbroydered Gloues, 

to draw vpon your white hand: 
Or to giue your Loues, 
a Ruffe or falling band, 
my pretty Doues. 

20 Scarfes that came from Cales^ 

or points and Laces lacke you : 
Inckle made in Wales, 

I finely can beknacke you: 
tell no tales. 

2 1 Bone lace who will buy, 

that came from Flaunders lately : 
Pray doe not thinke I lye, 

but I will serue you straightly, 
by and by. 

1 Torn. 


22 Pinnes both white and red, 

of all sortes and all sizes; 
Plumbes and Ginger bread, 
my Wares of diuers prizes, 
Bookes to read. 

23 Venice Glasses fine, 

were newly made in London : 
To drinke your Beere or Wine, 
come now my Pack's vndone, 
speake betime. 

24 Lawne and Cambricke pure, 

as good as e're was worne: 
Like yron it will dure, 
vntill that it be torne, 
be you sure. 

25 Heer's many other thinges, 

as lewes trumps, pipes & Babies: 
St. Martins Beades and Ringes, 
and other toyes for Ladyes, 
knots and stringes. 

26 All you that want my Ware, 

approach vnto my Standing: 
Where I will vse you faire, 
without deceit or cunning, 
to a hayre. 

27 And as my Ware doth proue, 

so let me take your mony: 
My pretty Turtle Doue, 
that sweeter is then hony, 
which is Loue. 


Printed at London by E.A. 


T'he lamenting lady 

Pepys, I, 44, B.L., two woodcuts (both of which are here reproduced), 
five columns. 

F. J. Child {English and Scottish Popular Ballads, ii, 68; cf. p. 511) 
thought that the probable source of this ballad was a sixteenth century 
ballad of Juan de Timoneda. I have not been able to see Timoneda's 
ballad, but in any case the source of "The Lamenting Lady" is undoubt- 
edly one of the two early English accounts of the story — preferably Thomas 
Coryate's — given below. 

Probably the first occurrence of the story in English is that in Edward 
Grimeston's A Generall Historic of the Netherlands, 1608 (pp. 51—52), a 
work translated from Jean Francois Le Petit's Grande Chronique Ancienne 
et moderne, de Ho I I an de, Z^lande, West Frise, etc. j usque s a la Jin de I' an 
1600 (2 vols., Dordrecht, 1601), where the "Lamenting Lady" story is 
printed in volume i, pp. 229-30. As this French history was published at 
Dordrecht, or Dort, where the marvel happened, Grimeston, Coryate, and 
the ballad-writer — none of whom had visited that city — may readily be 
pardoned for believing the astonishing tale of Countess Marguerite of 

Grimeston's version follows, and I have indicated in foot-notes every 
important instance in which his Latin diifers from that of Jean Francois 
Le Petit: 

Floris the fourth of that name. . .was the seuenteenth Earle of Holland and 
Zealand. . .and. . .had to wife Mathilda, daughter to Henry duke of Lothier 
and Brabant, by whom he had. . .Marguerite wife to Herman earle of Henne- 
berg, who had that great number of children, whereof we shall speake by and 

We haue formerly said, that this Cont Floris had among his other children, 
one daughter called Mathilde (some say Marguerite) married to Cont Herman 
of Henneberg; William King of the Romanes and Earle of Holland was her 
brother, Otto bishop of Vtrecht her vncle by the father, & Henry duke of Brabant 
her vncle by the mothers side, Alix Contesse of Henault her aunt. Otto earle of 
Geldres, and Henry bishop of Liege, her cousins. To describe the monstrous 
child-birth or deliuerie of this Lady, you must vnderstand, that on a time this 
Contesse of Henneberg did see a poore widow woman begging her bread for 
Gods sake, hauing in eyther arme a child, both which she had had at one birth: 
This poore woman crauing her almes, the Contesse reiected her with reprochfull 
words: whereupon this poore woman, hauing her heart full of discontent, for 
her bitter speeches, lifted vp her eyes to heauen, and said: O great and mightie 



God, I beseech thee for a testimonie of mine innocencie, that it will please thee 
to send vnto this Lady as many children as there be daies in the yeare. A while 
after this Contesse was big with child by her husband; and for her lying in, 
she went into Holland to see the Earle of Holland her nephew, lodging in the 
Abbey of religious women of Losdunen: whereas she grew so exceeding great, 
as the like was neuer seene. Her time being come, the friday before Palme- 
sunday [i.e. on March 29], in the yeare 1276. she was deliuered of three hundred 
sixtie and fiue children, halfe sonnes and halfe daughters, the odde one being 
found a Hermaphrodite, all complete and well fashioned with their little mem- 
bers: the which were layed in two basins and baptized by Guidon, Suffragan to 
the bishop of Vtrecht, who named the sonnes loAn and the daughters Elizabeth. 
As soone as they had been baptized, they died all, and their mother with them. 
The two basins are yet to be seene in the said church of Losdunen, with their 
Epitaph both in Latine and Dutch: the Latine was^ as followeth: 

Margareta^ Comitis Hennebergae vxor, & Florentii Comitis Hollandiae & 
2Jcelandiae filia; cuius mater fuit Mathilda,-' filia Henrici Ducis Brabantiae, 
fratrem quoq; habuit* Allemaniae regem. Haec praefata domina Margareta, 
Anno salutis 1276. ipso die Parasceues hora nona ante meridiem, peperit 
infantes viuos promiscui sexus numero trecentos, sexaginta quinque: qui 
postquam per venerabilem Dom. Guidonem, Suffragan* Episcopi Traiec- 
tensis, praesentibus nonnullis proceribus & magnatibus, in peluibus duabus 
ex aere, baptismum percepissent, & masculis lohannes, foemellis vero Elizabeth 
nomina imposita fuissent, simul omnes cum matre vno eodemq; die satis 
concesserunt, in hoc Lodunensi templo^ iacent. Quod quidem accidit ob 
pauperculam quandam foeminam, quae ex uno partu gemellos in vlnis 
gestabat pueros: quam rem admirans ipsa Comitissa dicebat, id per vnicum^ 
virum fieri non posse, ipsamq; contumeliose reiecit: vnde haec paupercula 
animo turbata* & perculsa, prolium tantum numerum ac multitudinem ex 
uno partu ei® imprecabatur, quod vel totius anni dies numerentur.^" Quod 
quidem praeter naturae cursum, obstupenda quadam ratione ita factum est, 
sicut in hac tabula in perpetuam rei memoriam, ex vetustis turn manuscriptis, 
quam typis excusis Chronicis, breuiter posituw & narratum est. Deus ille ter 
maximus hac de re suspiciendus, honorandus, & laudibus extollendus in 
sempitema saecula. Amen. 

And vnderneath it were these two verses: 

En tibi monstrosum & memorabile factum. 
Quale nee a mundi conditione datum. 

The account in Coryat's Crudities, 161 1 (1776 reprint, in, 81-83), 
which is probably the immediate source of the ballad, was brought to my 
attention by my colleague. Professor A. L. Bouton. It runs as follows: 

There is a Monument extant in a certain Monastery called Laudun neere the 
famous vniuersity of Leyden in Holland, where a certaine Countesse called 
Margarite was buried, who was the wife of one Hermannus Earle of Henneberg, 
the daughter of Florentius the fourth of that name, Earle of Holland and Zeland, 
and the sister of William King of the Romanes. This Countesse hapned to be 
deliuered of three hundred sixty fiue children at one burden, about three hundred 

1 est. 2 Margareta Hermani. ^ Mathildis. 

* habuit Guillelmum. ^ Suffraganeum. ® templo sepulti. 

' unum. ^ perturbata. ^ ipsi. ^° numerantur. 



and fourteene yeares since, euen iust as many as there are daies in the yeare. All 
which, after they were baptized by one Guido Suffragan of Vtrecht, the males 
by the names of lohns, and the females by the names of Elizabeths, died that 
very day that they came into the world: and were buried all together in one 
monument in the Church of the foresaid Monastery of Laudun, which is to 
this day shewed (as I haue heard many worthy trauellers report that were the 
eie witnesses of the matter) with a most memorable Latine inscription vpon it, 
together with two brasen basons wherin all those infants were baptized. This 
strange history will seeme incredible (I suppose) to al readers. But it is so abso- 
lutely and vndoubtedly true as nothing in the world more. The occasion of 
which miraculous and stupendious accident I will here set downe (seeing I haue 
proceeded thus farre in the narration of a thing I haue not scene) because it may 
confirme the stronger belief in the reader. It hapned that a poore woman came 
a begging to the foresaid Countesse Margarite, bearing a twinne of young babes 
in her armes. But the Countesse was so farre from hauing any commiseration 
vpon her, that she rather scornefuUy reiected her, affirming that it was not 
possible shee should haue those two children bv one man. The poore soule being 
much vexed in spirit through these iniurious words of the Lady, pronounced 
such a bitter imprecation vpon her, that she wished that God would shew a 
miracle vpon the Lady, as well for a due reuenge vpon her that had so slandered 
her, as for the testifying of her vnspotted honesty and chastity; she wished, I 
say, that God would shew this miracle, that the Lady might bring forth as 
many children at one burden, as there are daies in the yeere; which indeed came 
to passe, according as I haue before mentioned. For the Ladie in the fortieth 
yeare of her age was deliuered of iust so many vpon a Saturday, about nine of the 
clocke in the morning, in the yeare of our Lord 1276. The truth of this most 
portentous miracle is confirmed not so much by that inscription written in a 
certaine table vpon her tombe, as by sundry ancient Chronicles of infallible 
certainty, both manuscript and printed. 

The story is also referred to in J certaine Relation of the Hog-faced 
Gentlewoman (cf. No. 79), 1640, sig. A 3^ (E. W. Ashbee's Occasional 
Fac-Simile Reprints, vol. 11) : 

In the Bishopricke of Colen a woman, some thinke a Witches Curse, some 
otherwise, brought forth into the World at one birth one [we] hundred three- 
score and five children: all which though they were of wondrous small stature, 
yet they were borne with life, and christned, and a monument remaynes for 
them to this day, her prayer or curse being, that shee might have as many 
children at one birth, as there were dayes in the yeere. 

A similar situation, so far as concerns an insult offered to a mother of 
twins, occurs in Marie de France's Le Fraisne {Lais, ed. R. Kohler, p. 
Ixiv ff.). Professor Kittredge has given me these additional references: 
Chevalier Assigne, ed. Gibbs, verses 29-31, 41-42; Helyas, in W. J. 
Thoms's Early English Prose Romances, 2nd ed., iii, 33, 41; Harris's 
Voyages, 1764, 11, 1019; Elphinstone Dayrell, Folk Stories from Southern 
Nigeria, 19 10, p. 133; Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxvii, 480; 
Mary H. Kingsley's Travels in West Africa, 1897, p. 473; Baldwin 
Spencer and F. J. Gillen's Native Tribes of Central Australia, p. 52; 
Report on the Work of the Horn Scientific Expedition, ed. Baldwin Spencer, 
1896, Pt. IV, p. 129. A curiously decayed form of the story. Professor 



Kittredge adds, is given in Sarah Hewett's Nummits and Crummits, Devon- 
shire Customs, 1900, p. 19, and a better form in Bechstein's Volkssagen und 
Legenden des Kaiserstaates Oesterreic/i, 1841, No. 10, p. 121, and in Karl 
Reiser's Sagen, Gebrduche und Sprichwbrter des Allgdus, \, 409-411. 

Possibly there is a faint reference to the lamenting lady in King Lear, 
II, iv, 54, where the Fool says: "Thou shalt have as many dolours for thy 
daughters as thou canst tell in a year." Compare also the remark of Robert 
Waring, in verses "To the Memory of his deceased Friend, Mr William 
Cartwright," prefixed to the 165 1 edition of Cartwright's Comedies: 

As the Dutch Lady, who at once did bear 
Numbers, not Births, to date each day i' th' year. 
Grew barren by Encrease; and after all, 
None could Her, Mother, or them Children, call. 
So whilst All write. None judge, we multiply 
So many Poems, and no Poetry. 

Samuel Pepys himself was one of the Englishmen who had seen the 
basins and the inscription. In his Diary for May 19, 1660, Pepys 
notes that he went "by waggon to Lausdune, where the 365 children 
were born. We saw the hill where they say the house stood wherein the 
children were born. The basins wherein the male and female children 
were baptized do stand over a large table that hangs upon a wall, with the 
whole story of the thing in Dutch and Latin, beginning, 'Margarita 
Herman Comitissa,' &c. The thing was done about 200 years ago." See 
further Notes and (Queries, 2nd S., vii, 260. 

For the tune see Chappell's Popular Music, i, 196. The date of the 
ballad may be assumed to be 1620. 

Cije Hamenting Habp, 
^to tor tfje torongs! bone bp ijer to^ a poore tooman, 
for fjauing ttDO cfjilbren at one tjurtten, toas; tip tlie 
fjanb of (Jlob mosit sitrangelp punisiijeti, bp sienbing 
fjer asi manp cljilbren at one birtb, a£f tbere are baiesi 
in tbe peare, in remembrance tobereof, tbere is! noto 
a monument builbeb in tbe Cittp of Lowdon^ asi manp 
Cnglisib nten noto lining in Lowdon, can truelp tesitifie 
tbe game anb batb sieene it. 

To the tune oi the Ladies falL 

^ by her to: text to her by. 



REgard my griefe kinde Ladies all, 
my heart now bleeding dyes, 
And shewers of siluer pearled teares 

falls from my weeping eyes: 
I once was louely, faire, and young, 

by nature sweet and kinde. 
And had those ioyes that might content 
a gallant Ladies minde. 



But barren grew my wished hopes, 

no children I could haue, 
Which twixt my wedded Lord and me 

much cause of sorrowes gaue : 
My tender body pure and faire, 

and of a princely frame 
Could not abstaine these sugred ioyes 

that came by Cupids game. 

Yet beggers borne of low degree 

such blessings did possesse, 
Which when I saw my heart grew full 

of woes and heauinesse: 

why should people poore (quoth I) 
those happy ioyes obtaine 

When I that am a Lady braue 
should barren thus remaine? 

1 feed on sweet delicious meates, 

and drinke of purest wine, 
Yet are there homely bodies still 

as faire and cleere as mine, 
and haue more sweetfac'd smiling babes 

then Ladies of degree. 
And of as tender flesh and bloud 

as can be shewed by me. 

In griefe of heart complaining thus, 

by chance a woman poore 
With two sweet children in her armes 

came begging to my doore: 
Poore pretty babes they smiled sweete, 

whereat I needs must know 
If those two smiling children were 

the womans owne or no? 

They are (sweet Madam) both (said she) 
and both borne at one birth. 

The which are now my chiefest wealth 
and blessings on the earth: 



Can Beggers haue what Ladies want 

in anger I repli'd, 
And can thy wombe be fruitfull made 

when mine is still deni'd? 

7 I goe attyr'd in garments rich 

bedeck'd with burnish'd gold, 
And waited on with worldly pompe, 

and pleasures manifold, 
Whilst thou in rags all rent and torne 

for thy reliefe dost craue, 
And with two children blest at once, 

when I not one can haue. 

8 Thou art some Strumpet^ sure I know, 

and spend'st thy dayes in shame. 
And stained sure thy marriage bed 

with spots of black defame: 
Else vnto these two louely babes 

thou canst no mother be. 
When I that Hue in greatest grace 

no such content can see. 

9 A hundreth such like taunting tearmes 

I gaue this woman poore 
Whilst she for pitty and reliefe 

stood begging at the doore: 
Reuiling her most spightfully 

with harlots hatefull name. 
Dissembling with a shamelesse face 

to couer vp her shame. 

lo Her heart hereat with inward griefes 
did feele such mortall paine, 
And as it were before my face 
did seeme to breake in twaine: 

^ Text Strumpt. 


Her pretty babes which at her breasts 

did sweetly sucking lye 
To see their mothers bitter moane 

did sadly sob and crye. 

1 1 Whereat, halfe kild with woe alas, 

I wish my wrongs (quoth she) 
That these my babes may be reueng'd 

proud Lady, vpon thee: 
And as I am both true and iust 

vnto my marriage bed 
so let Gods wondrous works be shown^ 

on thee when I am dead. 

12 And for these children two of mine 

heauen send thee such a number 
At once, as dayes be in the yeare, 

to make the world to wonder. 
For I as true a wife haue beene, 

vnto my husbands loue: 
As any Lady on the earth, 

vnto her Lord can proue. 

1 3 Hereat relenting I began, 

to mourne for this misdeed : 
And houre by houre in griefe thereof, 

my sorrowing hart doth bleed.^ 
At last a heauie hand of heauen, 

reuengd this womans woes: 
And on my bodies pampred pride, 

a fearefull Judgement shoes. 

14 My cheekes that were so louely red, 

of natures choycest dye : 
Grew blacke and vgly to behould, 
to euery weeping eye. 

^ Text show. 2 No period in the text. 



And in my wombe distempered griefes, 

so vext me day and night: 
I sweld so big that I appeard, 

a strange and monstrous wight. 

15 Remembring then the womans words 

she grieuing did impart, 
A thousand strange misdoubting feares 

incompast round my heart. 
And then me thought I sawe her come, 

in person vnto me, 
With her two children in her armes, 

my sodaine shame to see. 

tS^t Uttonh part. 




1 6 AT which affright my bigg sweld wombe 
-Ta. deHuered forth in feare 

As many children at one time 

as daies were in the yeare: 
In bignesse all like newbred mice, 

yet each one shap'd aright, 
And euery male from female knowne, 

by Gods great power and might. 

17 My husband hereat grieued much, 

with inward cares and woe, 
And knew not in what place he should 

these pretty ympes bestowe: 
The strange report of this rare birth 

made people much admire, 
And of the truth thereof to know 

the neighbours did desire. 

1 8 Which caus'd my sorrowes still increase 

being made my Countryes scorne, 
I wish'd I had in child-bed dyed 

before they had beene borne: 
Then had this shame vnto my friends 

beene neuer seene nor knowne, 
Nor I in Countries farre and neere 

a wonder thus be^ showne. 

1 9 But marke faire women of the world 

how Heauen did pitty me, 
When I made sorrowe for my sinnes, 

and in extremity: 
God tooke from hence my cause of shame 

my children, weake and small: 
The which poore creatures in one graue 

were strangely buried all. 

^ Read been. 


20 And on the graue where now they lye 

a monument still stands 
To shew this wondrous hap of mine 

vnto all Christian lands, 
That such as be of high degree 

may beare a meeker minde, 
Least they despising of the poore 

the like misfortune finde. 

21 The Lord we see his blessings sends 

to many women poore 
As well as to the noble sort, 

that haue aboundant store: 
Therefore let none desire to haue 

the ioyes of worldly things 
Except it be his sacred will 

that is the King of Kings. 


Printed at London for Henry Gosson, 

and are to be sold at his shop on 

London Bridge. 




A country new jig 

Pepys, I, 260, 278, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. 

Another splendid example of a dramatic jig, dating perhaps about 
1620. There are four dramatis personae, a fair plot, and considerable op- 
portunities for effective singing and dancing. This jig no doubt made a 
satisfactory conclusion to a play. Neither of the tunes is given in Chappell's 
Popular Music. The first is derived from "A Maiden's Lamentation for a 
Bedfellow. Or, I can, nor will no longer lye alone. As it hath often been 
sung at the Court. To the tune of/ will give thee kisses, one, two, or three^^ 
and is used also in No. 13. A ballad of "The Northamptonshire Lover," 
printed early in the seventeenth century by Henry Gosson, is to the tune 
oiFalero lero lo (Pepys, i, 324). 

In stanza 16 the curious notion that women who died maids were 
doomed to "lead apes in hell" is referred to. There are innumerable 
statements of this queer idea in the English dramatists from Peele and 
Shakespeare to Cibber (cf. The Double Gallant, ed. 1749, P- ^3)- That 
the idea has not entirely been lost seems to be shown in a remark made 
by the heroine of Mary Hastings Bradley's short story, "The Fairest Sex," 
in the Metropolitan Magazine for March, 1 919 (p. 32): "I told him that 
rather 'n kiss him I'd lead apes through hell a thousand years." Professor 
Kittredge thinks that the phrase is still in common use. He refers me to 
No. 21 A in F. J. Child's English and Scottish Popular Ballads, where 
leading apes in hell for seven years is mentioned as a punishment or pen- 
ance; to discussions in Germania, xxxiii, 245, and the Modern Language 
Quarterly, vii, 16; and to a comparatively recent use of the expression in 
Allan Ramsay's Poems (1800), n, 259. 



^ Countrp netD Sigge bettoeene Simon anb Susan^ 
to be Slung in merr[p]i pasftime [tjp]^ Pacljelors; anb 


To the tune oi I can nor will no longer lie alone. Or, Falero lero lo. 



OMine owne sweet heart, 
and when wilt thou be true: 
Or when will the time come, 

that I shall marry you, 
That I may giue you kisses, 

one, two or three, 
More sweeter then the hunny, 
that comes from the Bee. 


My Father is vnwilling 

that I should marrv thee, 
Yet I could wish in heart, 

that so the same might be: 
For now me thinks thou seemest, 

more louely vnto me : 
And fresher then the Blossomes, 

that bloomes on the tree. 


Thy mother is most willing, 
and will consent I know. 

Then let vs to thy Father 
now both together goe: 

1 Cutoff. 2 Blurred. 


Where if he giue vs his good will, 

and to our match agree: 
Twill be sweeter then the hunny 

that comes from the Bee. 


4 Come goe, for I am willing, 

good fortune be our guide: 
From that which I haue promised, 

deare heart, He neuer slide: 
If that he doe but smile, 

and I the same may see, 
Tis better then the blossomes, 

that bloomes vpon the tree. 


5 But stay heere comes my^ Mother, 

weele talke with her a word: 
I doubt not but some comfort, 

to vs she may afford : 
If comfort she will give vs, 

that we the same may see, 
Twill be sweeter then the hunny, 

that comes from the Bee. 


6 O Mother we are going 

my Father for to pray. 
That he will giue me his good will, 

for long I cannot stay. 
A young man I haue chosen 

a fitting match for me. 
More fayrer then the blossomes 

that bloomes on the tree. 

1 Perhaps the text should read tAy, though (as later stanzas show) 
"mother" and "father" were "very common forms of address from a 
betrothed person to the father and mother of the other party to the en- 
gagement" (Professor Kittredge). 



Daughter thou art old enough 

to be a wedded wife, 
You maydens are desirous 

to lead a marryed life. 
Then my consent good daughter 

shall to thy wishes be, 
For young thou art as blossomes 

that bloome vpon the tree. 


Then mother you are willing 

your daughter I shall haue: 
And Susan thou art welcome 

He keepe thee fine and braue. 
And haue those wished blessings 

bestowed vpon thee. 
More sweeter then the honey 

that comes from the Bee. 


Yet Simon I am minded 

to lead a merry life, 
And be as well maintained 

as any Citie wife: 
And Hue a gallant mistresse 

of maidens that shall be 
More fayrer then the blossomes 

that bloome vpon the tree. 


Wbt ^econb part. Co tfje siame tune. 


10 'T^Hou shalt haue thy Caudles, 

1 before thou dost arise: 
For churlishnesse breeds sicknesse 

and danger therein lies. 
Young lasses must be cherisht 

with sweets that dainty be, 
Farre sweeter then the honey 

that commeth from the Bee. 


1 1 Well said good Son and Daughter, 

this is the onely dyet 
To please a dainty young wife, 

and keepe the house in quiet. 
But stay, here comes your father, 

his words I hope will be 
More sweeter then the blossomes 

that bloome vpon the tree. 


1 2 Why how now daughter Susan 

doe you intend to marry? 
Maydens in the old time 

did twenty winters tarry. 
Now in the teenes no sooner 

but you a wife will be 
And loose the sweetest blossome 

that bloomes vpon thy tree. 


13 It is for my preferment 

good father say not nay. 
For I haue found a husband kinde 

and louing euery way: 
That still vnto my fancy 

will euermore agree. 
Which is more sweet then honey 

that comes from the Bee. 




14 Hinder not your daughter, 

good husband, lest you bring 
Her loues consuming sicknesse, 

or else a worser thing. 
Maydens youngly married 

louing wiues will be 
And sweet as is the honey 

which comes from the Bee. 



1 5 Good father be not cruell, 

your daughter is mine owne: 
Her mother hath consented 

and is to liking growne. 
And if your selfe will giue then, 

her gentle hand to me, 
Twill sweeter be then honey 

that comes from the Bee. 


1 6 God giue thee ioy deare Daughter, 

there is no reason I 
Should hinder thy proceeding, 

and thou a mayden die: 
And after to lead Apes in hell, 

as maidens doomed be: 
That fairer are then blossomes 

that bloome vpon the tree. 


1 7 Then let's vnto the Parson 

and Gierke to say Amen: 




With all my heart good Simon^ 
we are concluded then, 

My father and my mother both 
doe willingly agree 

My Simon s sweet as honey 
that comes from the Bee. 

All together sing, 

1 8 You Maidens and Bachelors 

we hope will lose no time, 
Which learne it by experience 

that youth is in the prime. 
And dally in their hearts desire 

young married folkes to be 
More sweeter then the blossomes 

that bloome vpon the tree. 


Imprinted at London for H. Gosson. 



I'he post ofJV^are 

Pepys, I, 212, B.L., three woodcuts, four columns. 

The Post, perhaps as a burlesque on the "Currants of News" that were 
just being introduced into England, begins with some references to affairs 
on the Continent, but soon degenerates into satirical comments about the 
general state of England and its trades and professions. The Post-Boy is 
directed to ride from London twenty-two miles to Ware (the first important 
town, in Hertfordshire, on the road north from London), spreading his 
news in every village through which he passes. From the references to 
Spinola (i 569-1630) and the imminence of another war between Spain 
and the Netherlands, it is evident that the ballad was printed in or slightly 
before 1621, when the war actually was renewed. In the third stanza of 
Part Two Paul's steeple is mentioned. It had been destroyed by lightning 
on June 4, i 561, but was never reconstructed. 



^f)e ^osit of l^are : 

Wi^ a ^acfeet full of sitrangc j^etoetf out of 

tiiuers! Countries!. 

To a pleasant new Tune. 

AWay, Away; make no delay, 
't\ this Newes requireth hast; 
Boy, mount thy Mare, post hence to fFare, 

thou canst not ride too fast; 
And as thou rid'st through euery Towne, 

blow forth this liuely blast: 
All Cittizens Wiues 

Are grown constant and sound. 
And say. That Truth doth abound. 
In euery Taylors 

Shop to bee found. 



I'th Street of Ware^ good Boy, declare, 

we shall haue money store. 
The Hollanders heere did tast our Beere, 

while they could drinke no more; 
Some lost their gold, which struck the cold 

though they were hot before: 
And vexing for anger, 

their money to leese. 
They dranke old Sacke Vpse-freeze\ 
And lustily eate vp 

their red-coted Cheese. 

Relate againe, this Newes from Spaine^ 

that they are wondrous rich. 
The Fleet of late, hath helpt their State, 

by bringing home so much; 
The States and Spaine, will too 't againe; 

the Wars were nere none such. 
And Spinola vowes, 

he no longer will stay. 
But raise his men by breake of day: 
Heele burne vp their Forts, 

and goe marching away. 

Say, France with peace hath great increase 

from euery Country neere. 
The Boores betimes renew their Vines, 

which lately spoyled were, 
And some suppose, while Vinyards grows 

they make a shift with Beere : 
And tell them the next time 

thou comst thither Post, 
Thou shalt bring news fro Englands Coast 
For that is the Newes, 

that concernes vs all most. 

Away againe. Post hence amaine, 

and stranger Newes declare. 
To euery Towne, both wise and Clowne, 

that hath abiding there, 



For certaine tell, that all is well, 

and bid them banish feare; 
Say, Courtiers are honest, 

they lead vertuous Hues, 
The one by the other louingly thriues, 
And all haue gi'n ore 

to wrong Citizens Wiues. 

^fje ^econb ^art. tlTo tfje game tKune. 

6 ^ I ^He Country large, maintain their charge 

L and good Hospitality vse, 
The Farmers bate of their hie rate, 

and do great Measures choose; 
The Land-lords they, at Quarter day 

doe Fines or Bribes refuse; 
The poore well are clothed, 

and victuals haue store, 
The trades ar increasd which late did deplore. 
And Constables scorne 

for to fauour a Whore. 

7 A Soldier true, come ouer new, 

may quietly to his friends passe, 
Without being staid, no wayes are laid, 

by any inquisitiue Asse, 
And Carriers sing, they'l neuer bring 

London a broken Glasse; 
The Knights and the Gentry, 

each keeps his house, 
The neighbors welcome to Brawn & Souse, 
And Beggers so proud, 

that they all hate a Louse. 

8 All Citty Dames maintaine their fames, 

their pride they doe impayre. 
The rich each day their money lay, 
Pau/s Steeple vp to reare; 



Each Prisoners Fee discharg'd shall be, 

to quit them from their care; 
The Bride-wells are alter'd, 

and Hospitalls made, 
And maymed Soldiers therein laid. 
And euery Batchelor 

marries a Mayd. 

9 By Merchants rich is giuen much, 

to Bankrupts newly decay'd. 
The Merchants store, shall help the poore, 

that want, to set vp their Trade; 
From hud-gate stones none shal heare mones 

which haue so long beene made; 
The Usurers, fiue 

in the hundred will take, 
Promoters^ all shall Soldiers make. 
And Whores are turnd honest, 

for conscience sake. 

lo More mightst thou say my fine-tongu'd Boy, 

of this our happy Newes, 
If any grieue for to beleeue, 

I prethee bid them choose; 
And those that will to London still 

these obiects come and peruse; 
Where you shall find honestly 

all that I say, 
Prouide, make hast, vse no delay: 
For all this shall be 

betwixt this and Doomes-day. 

Jf inijf. The Post. 

Printed at London for /. Trundle. 
^ Text Promooter. 



T'he downfall of a corrupted 

Pepys, I, 142, B.L., two woodcuts, four columns. 

Sir Francis Michell — Justice of the Peace of Middlesex and commis- 
sioner for enforcing monopolies — is a pathetic figure. On October 20, 
1 61 8, he was appointed, along with Sir Giles Mompesson (the Sir Giles 
Overreach of Massinger's New Way to Pay Old Debts), on a commission 
charged with enforcing a monopoly of gold and silver thread. In this 
capacity for two years he exercised his powers corruptly and harshly. He 
was knighted in December, 1620. In the following February, however, 
he was committed for contempt to the Tower by the House of Commons. 
Examined by the Commons on March 6, 162 1, he was tried, on April 26, 
at the bar of the House of Lords, where the chief accusation was that he 
had erected an office, kept a court, and exacted bonds, and that he had 
taken money in a suit to compound the same. On May 4 he was sentenced 
by the Lord Chief Justice to degradation from knighthood, fined ;^iooo, 
debarred from holding office in the future, and ordered to be imprisoned 
during the King's pleasure. On June 30, 1621, Michell petitioned for 
release "from the rest of his censure, being old and sickly," and the petition 
was granted (Calendar of State Papers, Domestic, 1619-23, p. 269). A 
sentence similar to Michell's had been passed on Mompesson, who was 
exceptionally unpopular because of his patent on inns and alehouses; but 
he escaped to the Continent. 

In his Chronicle of England Sir Richard Baker simply remarks that 
Michell was "made to ride with his Face to the Horse's Tail through the 
City of London." The ballad, which has remained unknoviTi to Michell's 
biographers, is a far more valuable and picturesque account of the public 
degradation inflicted on him by the Earl Marshal's Commissioners at the 
King's Bench, Westminster Hall, on June 20, 1621. Equally unknowTi is 
the splendid "good-night" preserved in Bodley's Library (MS. Tanner 
306, fols. 247—248^) under the title of "A lamentable newe Ballade ex- 
pressing the Complaynte of S^ Fraunces Michell, Knighte, DweKinge in 
Pickt hatche, lateley Justice of Peace. To a scuruey tune." It begins: 

You Justices & men of myghte. 
You Constables that walke by nyghte, 
And all you officers more lowe, 
But marke my sudden overthrowe. 



The tune is not known to me. The printer's initials are those of George 
Elde or George Edwards. 

CJje tresierueb botonfaU of a corrupteb conscience, 
begrabetr from all ^utfjoritp anb titles; of ilnigf)tf)oob, 
censiureb in tfje fjist) Court of parliament, anb ex= 
ecuteb at tfje Icings; pencfj barre bpon tfje 20. bap 
of 3une lasit, 1621. in t^e presence of foure great 
^eereg of tfjisJ Eingbome. 

To the tune of, The humming of the Drove. 

1 T T was my chance of late 
A in Westminster to be, 

Whereas in gallant state 
great numbers I did see, 

attending all 

in that great Hall, 
Where Justice is decreed, 

and people store 

came more and more, 
Which did amazement breed. 

2 At last, my longing eyes 

(expecting some strange thing) 
Knight Marshals men espies, 
with Harrolds of our King, 
awaiting there 
as duties were. 
To haue some action done, 
where presently 
I heard a cry, 
[Mak]e^ roome, for now they come. 

3 It seem'd he was a Knight, 

and lustice by degree, 

^ Torn. Only a few words of the stanza that followed this remain. 
R.p.G. I4r K 


By wrongs in stead of right, 
great benefits gain'd he: 
by wrested Lawes 
much wealth he drawes 
From many a poore mans state, 
for which it seem'd, 
he thus was deem'd 
t A bribed Magistrate. 

4 Unto the Barre thus brought, 

foure Nobles of our Land, 
By wisedome fittest thought, 
did in Commission stand, 
to take away 
his titles gay 
Of Knighthood and renowne, 
and that high grace 
of Justice place. 
In open Court lay downe. 

5 In that the King him gaue 

these honors by his loue. 
So likewise must they haue 
an order of remoue, 
by noble States 
and Magistrates 
Of great account and place: 
and thus was he 
from dignity, 
Made seruile, meane, and base. 

6 Before high lustice seat, 

the Harrolds there him set. 
And did at full repeat 
his knightly titles great, 

and him attir'd 

as place requir'd, 



In robes of Knighthood braue, 

with spurs and sword, 

as did accord 
What grace his Highnesse gaue. 

7 All which was taken quite, 
by order and command. 
From this degraded Knight, 
by a Marshals seruants hand, 
in open Court, 
before a sort 
Of Barons, Lords and Knights: 
to his disgrace, 
euen in that place 
Where lustice pleadeth rights. 

Cfie sieconb ^art. Co tfje siame Cune. 

His Sword of Knighthood, first 
was cut from off his side. 
And ouer his head there burst, 
that should haue beene his pride, 
and Knighthoods grace, 
in courtly place 




But he the same hath wrong'd, 

and now cast downe 

the faire renowne 
To his knighthood that belong'd.^ 

9 His spurs of Knighthood then, 

was from his heeles there hewen, 
And by the Marshals men 
in high disgraces throwne 
into the Hall, 
amongst them all 
That stood with gazing eyes, 
to marke and see 
in what degree 
Degraded Knighthood lies. 

10 His sword, his spurres, his name, 

his titles, and his state, 
His knighthood and his fame, 
which he possest so late 
thus all disgrac't 
and cleane defac't 
For euer claiming more, 

and chang'd him quite 
from being Knight 
And what he had before. 

1 1 This Censure by command, 

vpon him then was layd. 
That no where in this Land, 
of him be iustly said, 
or nam'd to be 
in his degree 
A iust and honest man, 
but one whose vaine, 
for greedy gaine. 
To shamelesse dealing ran. 

^ No period in text. 


12 And so with vile reproach 

he was from thence sent backe, 
And hurried in a Coach 

where did no wondring lacke, 
of cries and shouts 
with mocking flouts, 
Untill he came where he 
should lye againe, 
and there remaine, 
A prisoner close to be.^ 

1 3 No Knight nor Justice now, 

nor of no other stile, 
Our Land will him allow, 

but that which makes me smile, 
for what I heard 
I am afeard 
To adde vnto his name, 
but let that rest 
within my brest. 
And so be free from blame. 

14 But thus much I will say, 

true iustice here was done, 
To him that many a day 
did to Much euill run : 
much good thereby, 
Now comes vnto our Land,^ 
in driuing hence, 
this plague of pence. 
That stood with open hand. 

Printed at London by G. E. 
1 Text has a comma. ^ Text has a period. 


A battle of birds 

Pepys, I, 70, B.L., three woodcuts, four columns. 

A more complete account of this marvel in Ireland is given, with some 
variations in dates and minor details, in a nine-page pamphlet called ''''The 
Wonderfvll Battell of Stare lings: Fought at the Citie of Corke in Ireland, 
the 12. and i\. of October last past. 1621. Js it hath been credibly enformed 
by diuers Noble-men, and others of the said Kingdome, l^c. London, 
Printed for N. B[ourne]. 1622" (British Museum, C. 32. e. 7). The 
preface, referring to this ballad and others now lost, complains "that so 
many poeticall fictions haue of late passed the print, that they [i.e. readers] 
haue some cause to suspect almost euery extraordinary report that is 
printed"; but says that the facts in the pamphlet are confirmed by "Letters, 
from Right Honorable persons in Ireland where the accident fell out, to 
Right Honourable persons at Court, and diuers in London at this present: 
as also by the testimony of Right Honourable and WorshipfuU persons, & 
others of good reputation now in London, who were eye-witnesses." It 
also adds that "these strange newes out of Ireland had beene printed 
before this time, but that it hath beene stayed till the truth were fully 
certified and examined." 

To summarize the body of the pamphlet: "About the seuenth of October 
last, Jnno 1621. there gathered together by degrees, an vnusual multitude 
of birds called Stares, in some Countries knowne by the name of Starlings"; 
"they mustered together at this aboue-named Citie oi Corke some foure or 
fiue dales, before they fought their battels, euery day more and more 
encreasing their armies with greater supplies, some came from the East, 
others from the West, and so accordingly they placed themselues"; "some 
twenty or thirty in a company, would passe from the one side to the other, 
as it should seem imployed in embassages." On October 12, Saturday, at 
nine a.m., the battle began. It continued "till a little before night, at 
which time they seemed to vanish." On Sunday they were seen fighting 
"betwixt Grauesend and Wolzoigge" but on Monday they returned to 
Cork for a further battle. There is a contemporary copy (1621) of most 
of this pamphlet in Richard Shanne's diary (Additional MS. 38,599, fols. 
53-54), and the battle of birds is commented on, also, in the Diary of 
Walter Tonge for September, 162 1 (ed. George Roberts, p. 45). 

A similar prodigy, and one of equally dire import, happened "Neere 
Troppaw in Silesia, in the Moneth of February, Jnno. 1625. [where] a 


great multitude of little Crowes {Corniculae) appeared in the Ayre, which 
fought as it were in a set Battaile, and skirmished so eagerly, killing many 
amongst themselves, that the Boores gathered some sacks full of them dead, 
and transported them unto the City. The yeere after, Anno. 1626. fell out 
a hard and sharpe fight, betwixt the Imperialists, and the Weinmarlsh 
Forces in this place" (L. Brinckmair, The Warnings of German'^, 1638, 
p. 25). Compare also No. 26, which deals with a much later battle of 
birds in France, and No. 25, in which the burning of Cork in 1622 is 
taken to be the calamity predicted in the ballad. 

For another contemporary reference to the battle of the birds see the 
Court and Times of James I, 11, 302. 

For the tune of Shore's Wife see Chappell's Popular Music, 1, 2 1 5 ; for 
Bonny Nell, see the same work, 11, 502. 

^ tiattell of iiirti£{ 
iHosit sitranglp fougtjt in Srelanb, bpon tfje eigfit bap 
of ^eptemtier lasit, 1621. toftere neere bnto tije Cittp 
of Corfee, tip tfje riuer Hee, toeare gatfjereb together 
gucf) a muUptube of Stared, or Starlings!, ag tfje lifee 
for number, toafif neuer fifeene in anp age. 

To the tune of Shores wife. Or to the tune of Bonny Nell. 

1 A yJArke well, Gods wonderous workes, and see, 
IVX what things therein declared be, 

Such things as may with trembling feare, 
fright all the world, the same to heare: 
for like to these, which heere I tell, 
no man aliue remembreth well. 

2 The eight day of September last, 

which made all Ireland much agast: 
Were seene (neere Corke) such flights of Birds, 

whose numbers, cannot well by words, 
acounted be: for greater store, 
was neuer seene, nor knowne before. 

3 The flights, so many legions seem'd, 

as thousand thousands they were deem'd. 


All soaring vp, along the skye, 
as if the battle were on hie: 

in multytudes, without compare, 

which like black clowds, made dim the are. 

4 First from the easterne skyes apeared, 

a flight of Stares, which greatly feared, 
The people there, the same to see, 

as like could not remembred be: 
for they in warlike squadrons flew, 
as if they others would persue. 

5 And as this flight, thus houering lay, 

prepared all in battle ray: 
From out the west, another came, 

as great in number as the same, 

and there oppos'd in warlike might, 
themselues against the other flight. 

6 Whereas these Stares, or starling Birds, 

for want of Helmetts, Glaues and Swords, 
They vsed their Tallents, Bills, and Beakes,i 

and such a battle vndertakes : 

that trembling feare and terror brought, 
to all which saw this battle fought. 

7 For first, the Easterne flight sat downe, 

with chattering noyes vpon the ground. 
As if they challenged, all the rest, 

to meete and fight euen brest to brest, 
where presently was heard from farre, 
the same like chattering sound of warre. 

8 And therevpon the westerne flight, 

downe by the easterne Birds did light. 
Where after they a while had sat, 
together in their Birdlike chat, 
they all vpon a sudaine rose, 
and each the other did oppose. 
^ Text Bekaes. 


Wbt sfeconti part, to tfje siame tune. 

9 ANd filling thus the Azure skie 

•t\ with these their troupes vp mounted hie, 
They seem'd more thick, then moats ith Sunne, 
a dreadfull battle there begun : 

and in their kind more strongly fought, 
then can immagen'd be by thought. 

10 Thousands of thousands, on a heape, 

vpon the others backes did leape. 
With all their forced strengths and might, 

to put their Bird-like foes to flight: 
and as it were in battle ray, 
long time they kept them, thus in play. 

1 1 To fight this battle in the ayre, 

their bills and beakes their weapons were. 
Which they performed in such a sort, 
as makes me doubtfull to report: 
that silly Birds should thus arise, 
and fight so fircely in the skyes. 

12 But so it was and strange withall,^ 

that Birds should thus at discord fall. 
And neuer cease, till they had slaine, 

thousands, starke dead vpon the plaine: 
where people tooke them vp in feare, 
a thing most strange to see and heare. 

1 3 With broken wings, some fell to ground, 

and some poore silly Birds were found, 
With eyes pickt out, struck downe halfe dead, 

and some no braines left in their head; 
but battered forth, and kil'd outright, 
most strangly in this ayery fight. 

^ Text has a period. 



14 Yet long with loud and chattering cryes, 

each company gainst other flyes: 
With bloody beakes, remorselesse still, 
their fethered foes to maine or kill, 
where whilst this battle did remaine 
their bodies fell like dropes of raine. 

1 5 Thousands were to the Citty borne, 

with wounded limbes, and bodies torne: 
For all the fields were ouerspread, 

with mangled starlings that lay dead,^ 
in bloud and feathers Strang to se, 
which men tooke vp aboundantly. 

1 6 It was a wonder to explaine, 

the number of them hurt and slaine, 
And being a wonder let it rest, 

the Lord aboue he knoweth best: 

what these poore creatures did intend, 
when thus to battle they did bend. 

1 7 But such a battle nere was fought, 

by silly Birds which haue no thought: 
In doing ill, nor any mind, 

to worke contrary to their kind, 
but yet as nature gaue them life, 
so here they strangly fell at strife. 

1 8 What now for trueth is publisht forth 

esteeme it as a newes of worth : 
And by the wonder of these dayes, 

learne to leaue off all wicked wayes, 
for sure it is that God it sent, 
that of our sinnes we should repent. 


Printed at London by W.I. 
^ Text has a period. 





T'he lamentable burning of Cork 

Pepys, I, 68, B.L., three woodcuts, four columns. 

By a strange coincidence a disastrous fire swept the city of Cork (see 
Caulfield's Council Book of Cork, p. 102) shortly after the battle of the 
birds there (cf. No. 24); and in this coincidence ballad-writers and 
Jacobean journalists naturally exulted. At the conclusion of the ballad the 
author, or more probably the printer, invites his readers to go to "the full 
Relation at large in the Booke newly Printed," an invitation that we shall 
accept, as the "book," of nine pages, is preserved in the British Museum 
(C. 32. 3. 6)1. It is entitled: 

A Relation Of The Most lamentable Burning of the Cittie of Corke, in the ivest of 
Ireland, in the Pro'vince of Monster, by Thunder and Lightning. With other most 
doLefull and miserable accidents, luhich fell out the last of May 1622 after the 
prodigious battell of the birds called Stares, 'which fought strangely oijer and neare 
that Citie the 12. & 14. of May 1621. As it hath beene Reported to divers Right 
Honourable Persons. [Cut] Printed this 20. of lune. 1622. London Printed by 
I.D. for Nicholas Bourne, and Thomas Archer, 1622. 

In the preface, mention is made of the earlier book that Nathaniel Bourne 
had printed on the battle of the birds: "This report being so strange, was 
of some censured as an vntrue and idle invention; Of others, which 
vnderstood, and by enquirie were resolved of the truth, it was imagined to 
prognosticate some strange and dreadfull accident to follow. . .the Omni- 
potent Maiestie of heaven hath not onely reprooved their vanitie, who 
would not beleeue so strange a Relation, but hath further by a most dread- 
full and lamentable demonstration of his power and Justice, resolved what 
that battell of Birds might or did prognosticate." 

The writer then proceeds to show that, like Sodom and Gomorrah, 
Cork was first warned and next destroyed for her sins: "The Citizens, 
and Inhabitants of Corke, haue beene taxed and noted for Fsury, (the 
chiefest Daughter of Covetousnesse) to exceed any Cittie in the Kings 
Dominions, except some Citties in England.'''' Of the actual burning of the 
city, on Friday, May 31, 1622, between eleven and twelve a.m., the 
pamphleteer adds nothing to the balladist's account. He concludes by re- 
minding his readers: "These inhabitants of the Cittie oi Corke, were not 
the onely and greatest sinners, aboue all other Citties in England or Ire- 
land''^: they were merely chosen as an example of God's punishment be- 
cause they disregarded the warning given by the birds. 

^ It was licensed for publication on June 19, 1622. 


More interesting than the pamphlet is the brief personal note in Richard 
Shanne's diary (Additional MS. 38,599, fol. 54^): 

The 30 daie of may was the Cittie of Corke in Ireland Burned with fyre from 
heaven, over which Cittie the yeare befor, the great battell of Shepsternells was 
fought, as ye may reed in the yeare An. Do. 162 1 [i.e. on fol. 53 of his own 
diary] . There was verie manie pore people of Ireland came into this Cuntrie A 
begginge, which was vtterlie vndune by reasone of the said fyre. I my owne 
selfe did talke with divers of those people that dwelled in the Cittie of Corke, 
and did enquire of them whether of A trueth there was such A battell of Shep- 
starnell as reporte went, and whether the Cittie was burned as is afForesaid. 
A[nd] they ail agreed and tould me that there was whole Cart-lodes taken vp 
of those Shepstares that was slayne in the fight. 

The tune is given in Chappell's Popular Music, i, 162. 

Ws^t lamentable Purning of tfie Cittp of Corke (in tfie 
^rowince of Munster in Ireland) tip Higtlning: 
tofjicfi ijappenetr tfje Hasit of iHap, 1622. ^fter tfje 
probigioug Pattell of tije Stares^ tnfjicf) Jf ougbt mosit 
gtrangelp ouer anti neere tijat Cittp, tfje 12. anlJ 14. 

of ilap. 1621. 

To the tune of Fortune my foe. 

1 AT 7" Ho please to heare such newes as are most true, 

V V Such newes to make a Christians hart to rue : 
Such Newes as may make stoutest hearts to shake, 
And Sinners iustly to tremble and to quake. 

2 Reade this, and they shall haue iust cause to feare, 
Gods heauy hand on sinne reported heere: 

Twas lately heard that Birds all of a feather. 

Did strangely meete, and strangely fought together. 

3 At Corke., in Ireland., where with might and maine. 
They fought together till store of them were slaine: 
Their Fight began and ended with such hate, 
Some strange euent it did Prognosticate. 

4 What was presag'd fell out this last of May^ 
Which was at Corke an heauy dismall day: 
This last of May the Morning was most faire. 
Towards xij. a clocke, Cloudes gathered in the Ayre. 



5 Which Cloudes obscur'd, and darkened so the light, 
That Midday almost was as darke as Night : 
Whilest at such darknes Cittizens did wonder, 
Forthwith they heard a dreadfull clap of Thunder. 

6 And with the Thunder, presently there came 

Such Lightning forth the Clouds did seeme to flame : 
But heere obserue, this Citty towards the East, 
Stands high, but falleth lowe towards the West. 

7 As at the East the Stares began their Fight, 

And there fell downe the Birds first, kild outright: 

So at the East began the Fire to flame. 

Those at the West did soone beholde the same. 

8 And towards the East, to see and helpe they ranne, 
Before halfe way, a wofull Cry began : 

Behinde them, seeing the West end was on Fire, 
They so recalld, began for to retire. 

9 As from the East, towards the West they turne. 
They saw the middest of the Citty burne: 

So at an instant all was on a flame. 

There was no meanes to helpe to quench the same. 

10 Although great store of Water was in place, 
W^ater could not helpe there in such a case: 

For why that Fire which from the Skyes doth fall, 
Is not with Water to be quencht at all. 

1 1 Now were the Cittizens ouerwhelm'd with woe. 
For no man knew, which way to runne or goe : 
For in the Citty no man could abide. 

The Fire raged so on euery side. 

1 2 Some were enclosed with Fire, they for their safety 
Fled to the Churches, which were in the Citty: 
Some to an Hand, and the Fields hard by. 

To saue their Hues, with grieued hearts did flye. 


1 3 Who was not then tormented in his minde, 
To flye and leaue all that he had behinde? 
When that the Husband, for to saue his life, 
Might not make stay to bring away his Wife, 


Or saue his Children : in like case the Mother, 
Fled from her Children, Sister fled from Brother: 
All were amazed in this wofull Day, 
Not knowing where to flye nor where to stay: 

1 5 Nor where to seeke or after Friends enquire, 

They knew not who was sau'd, who burnt by Fire; 
A dolefull thing it was men might not tarry, 
Out of the flames, their dearest Friends to carry. 

Kf^t ^econb part. Ko ti)e siame tune. 

1 6 /^ That this wofull chance of Corke might rent, 
V^y The hearts of men and cause them to repent 
Their wicked Hues for to escape the Rod, 
Which they haue cause to feare, will fall from God. 



1 7 Corke to all Citties, may example bee, 

To know they are not from Gods Justice free: 
For being Sinners they may feare the like, 
As fell to Corke ^ God in his wrath will strike. 

1 8 But they will say, God's mercifull, 'tis true, 
But in this case, let them giue God his due: 
Let them not so vnto his mercy trust. 

But let them know that God is also lust. 

19 God's mercifull to Sinners which repent, 
His Justice is towards lingring sinners bent: 
Who will take holde of mercy and of Grace, 

Let them repent whilest they haue time and space. 

20 Repentance onely pacifies Gods Ire, 
Preserues from sodaine, and Eternall Fire: 
This word Repentance, is a wicked thing, 
To wicked Liuers, 'tis a Serpents sting. 

2 1 Why should Repentance be so bitter, when 
Tis the onely salue to Cure sinfull men } 
And furthermore when as we are most sure. 
That dye we must wee cannot long endure. 

22 When we are sure, we from this world must goe. 
But by what kinde of Death, we doe not know: 
No more then Corke did when that God did powre 
The Fire vpon them in a dreadfull houre. 

23 Why should not we be well prouided then. 
Against a certaine Death, but know not when : 
Nor by what kinde of death. Death will vs take, 
Then let Repentance our attonement make. 

24 If men Repentance in this life doe stay. 
Let them consider of the ludgement day: 
When God to Sinners, shall say in his Ire: 
Goe hence yee Cursed to Eternall Fire. 



25 But who in Life did faithfully Repent, 

When they shall come to appeare at that Judgement 
The ludge will say : Goe Children of all Blisse^ 
Enter the Kingdome^ for you -prepared is. 

26 The God of Heauen graunt, that all Sinners take, 
That course which may them blessed creatures make, 
That come yee Blessed^ with a ioyfull eare, 

They from the ludge at that maine day may heare. 

Printed at London by E.A. 

Tou shall see the full Relation at large in the Booke 

newly printed. 



T'he Frenchmen^ s wonder 

4*0 Rawlinson 566, fol. 78; Wood E. 25 (64), B.L., two woodcuts, four 

The ballad is summarized from a book called A Trve Relation of The 
Prodigious Battle Of Birds, Fought in the lower Region of the Air, Between 
the Cities of Dole and Salines, The 26th of February last 167I. According 
to the Letters from Besancon, of the First of this Instant March, 1 676 (Wood 
D. 28 (22)). In the opinion of the authors of both tract and ballad "the 
like of this marvel hath never been." But to say nothing of the earlier 
prodigy at Cork (No. 24), more startling still must have been the sight 
seen in the air in Austria, 1621, as reported in Richard Shanne's diary 
(Additional MS. 38,599, fol. 53) from "the historie of Gallobelgicus": 

In the moneth of August there was both seene and hearde in the higher 
Austria, A most straunge wonder, that is to sale: of two great Armies in the 
Ayre, fightinge one against an other, and thundringe of, and discharginge 
greate Ordinance, with A hidious clamore. 

Hone's Every-Day Book (1889, 11, 570) reports that in August, 1736, 
near Preston two large flocks of birds met "with such rapidity, that one 
hundred and eighty of them fell to the ground," and that the carcasses were 
picked up and sold. 

The enormously long title gives quite as much information as the text 
of the ballad itself. The reason for this was that the printers wished to use 
the title, torn from the remainder of the broadside, as advertising matter 
to be pasted on walls or posts. Salins and Dole are towns on the eastern 
frontier of France, in the department of Jura. 

The music for In summer time as given in Chappell's Popular Music, 11, 
392, 542, does not fit this ballad. That music is written for iambic septenary 
couplets, while the present ballad (like those, for example, in the Roxburghe 
Ballads, VI, 567, 789; vii, 702) is in iambic tetrameter quatrains. Few- 
tunes are more frequently cited than the Summer time written for the latter 
measure. It is named as an alternative tune to Callino in J. P. Collier's 
Book of Roxburghe Ballads, p. 64; to Flora farewell a.r\d Love's Tide in the 
Roxburghe Ballads, vi, 567. Frequently it is given as equivalent to My 
bleeding heart or Sir Andrew Barton {Roxburghe Ballads, i, 9; iii, 23), 
neither of which is known. I have seen, however, in the Manchester Free 
Reference Library a ballad of "The Great Turk's Terrible Challenge" to 

R.P.G. 161 L 


the tune of My bleeding heart or Let' s to the tears again. The latter is 
equivalent (cf. No. 73) to Maying Time (for which see Chappell's Popular 
Music, I, 377), and to Maying Time the present ballad can readily be sung. 

tKije Frenchmens ^^T^onber ; 
Cte pattle ot tiie Pirbs: 

Relating that on the 16th. of Feb. last, about 9 in the 
morning were seen between Dole and Salins in France., a 
most incredible number of Birds, who by their multitude 
darkened the Sky; after having for some time, as it were 
skirmished together in great confusion, they seperated 
into two bodies; and after most horrible cries, they en- 
gaged against each other with such fury, that several 
thousands were fain dead to the Earth; some smothered 
with most of their feathers off, and others all bloody and 
torn; These Birds were of a hundred several sorts, of 
several sizes, and several colours. Those which were most 
Numerous weighed four or five pounds a piece; their 
claws were like those of Indian Hens, Nibs crooked like 
Parrots, and their feathers of an Ash colour; about 500 
Paces of Ground were covered with these dead carkasses 
to a mans height. Besides several Thousands that were 
found dispersed here and there: Insomuch that it being 
feared that the Air might be infected by them. Pioneers 
were sent from Dole to bury them. 

WM^ ailotoance, a^ogcr E'Csftrange. 

To the tune of. In Summer time. 

1 /~^Ome give attention young and old, 
v»-/ whilst in my story I proceed. 
Strange wonders dayly we behold, 

yet pass them over without heed. 

2 From places strange, by Sea and Land, 

and from all parts beneath the Sun; 
Of wonders great we understand, 

which by the Lord on high are done. 



3 Yet few doth lay it unto heart, 

nor to themselves the same apply, 
Or from their sins strive to depart, 

though threatn'd judgements are so nigh. 

4 But at the same they make a scofF, 

which are for warnings dayly sent, 
To tell them they shall be cut off, 
except they of their sins repent. 

5 'Tis known that pride, and drunkeness, 

and swearing, doth so much abound. 
Men are so bent to wickedness, 
that soul and body they confound. 

6 Which makes the Lord above to send 

such signs our spirits to abate; 

That we our lives may all amend, 

by what hath happened of late. 

7 Near unto Dole in firtile France^ 

a wonder strange was lately seen, 
Which doth fames Trumpet so advance, 
because the like hath never been. 

8 Great multitudes of Birds appear'd, 

one morning being clear and fair. 
The like whereof was never heard, 
for why they darkned all the ayr. 

Cfje geconli ^art, to tfje game l^une. 

9 " I ^He people stood amaz'd to see, 

-L that wondrous sight which did appear. 
Or what the sad event might be, 

why such strange Fowls was gathered there. 

lo For sometimes they were seen to fight, 
and skirmish in confused wise, 
To tug and pull, to claw and bite, 

sometimes to fall, and sometimes rise. 

163 L2 


11 At length as It were by consent, 

into two parties they devide; 
As if it were two Armies bent, 
to fight it out on either side. 

12 And then with fearful hideous cries, 

each party did the other dare, 
The like was never seen with eyes, 
how they proclaimed open war. 

1 3 At last each other did engage, 

with fury great on either side, 
Both parties being in a rage, 

like two brave armies in their pride. 

14 Most fiercely they did fight it out, 

whilst thousands to the ground did fall; 
They were so furious and so stout, 
they freely ventured life and all. 

1 5 Their bodies mangled, rent, and torn, 

upon the earth most thick did lye, 
So that the child that's yet unborn; 
may wonder at this prodigy. 

1 6 At length their forces being spent, 

those that were left, away did flie. 
But whence they came, or whither went, 
there's no one ever could descry. 

1 7 These birds which did the battle fight, 

were of a hundred sundry sorts, 
Of several colours and of shape, 
as doth appear by all reports. 

1 8 The greatest of their bodies were, 

of four or five pounds weight each one; 
As to the people did appear, 

which view'd them over as 'tis known. 




1 9 Their claws like those of Indian hens, 

their crooked nibs, like Parrots just; 
Their feathers of an Ash colour, 
if we may the relation trust. 

20 Five hundred paces, as 'tis said, 

of ground were covered with the dead, 
Unto the height of any man, 

besides some thousands scattered. 

2 1 The people being sore afraid, 

their bodies should infect the air, 
Sent Pioneers to bury them, 

which is a thing most strange and rare. 

22 Thus was this bloody combate past, 

within the sight of many a one; 
Who at the wonder stood agast, 

for to behold what there was shown. 

23 What is the meaning of the same, 

there's none doth know but God above, 
Then let us fear his holy name, 

and live in concord, peace and love. 

24 For cruel wars, and bloody strife, 

doth cause great ruine at the last: 
Then let us ad a holv life, 

and pardon crave^ for what is past. 

Printed for F. Coles, T. Fere, J. Wright, and J. Clarke. 

1 Text rave. 


T'he back's complaint 

Pepys, I, 446, B.L., five woodcuts, four columns. 

"The backes complaint for the bellyes wronge" was licensed to Cuth- 
bert Wright on July 10, 1622, and, again, on July 18, 1623 (Arber's 
Transcript, iv, 74, loi). Edward Culter appears to be unknown save by 
this one production. Professor Kittredge suggests a comparison with "The 
Back and the Belly" in Songs. By Thomas Hudson, London, 1820, pp. 
9-ro (Second Collection), which begins: 

A story I'm going to tell ye, 
Which if you'll attend to, you'll hear in a crack; 

'Tis about a man's hungry belly 
Conversing along with his back. 

^ pleasant neto ^ong, 

^t tfjc bacfees complaint, for bellies! tnrong : 

(J^r a fartoell to goob fellotosibip. 

To the tune of A, B, C. 

I /^"^ Ood fellowes all to you I send, 
Vji" These verses which in loue I pend: 
Desiring you will compasse keepe, 
and bid farwell good fellowship. 

1 I once did beare a good fellowes name, 
And still am counted for the same: 
But now my vow is ingaged deepe, 
to bid farwell good fellowship. 

3 I haue beene of that sett so long, 

Till backe complaines of bellies wrong: 
With great exclaimes in euery street, 
to make me leaue good fellowship. 



4 Me thinkes I oft doe heare it say, 
Mongst drunkards thou consum'd away: 
Thy monny memory and witt, 

all wasted by good fellow shi-p, 

5 Of me thou takest but little care, 
Though bellies full yet backe is bare: 
And frostie winter will thee nipe, 

vnles thou leaue good fellowship. 

6 Thou thinkest good fellowes be thy friends 
And what thou hast on them thou spends : 
What thou by worke gainst all ye weeke, 

comsumeth by good fellowship. 

7 But when that all thy money is gone, 
And score nor credit thou hast none: 
These friends from thee away will slipe, 

and farewell all good fellowship. 

8 When being gon, at thee they'l laugh, 
Tis bad to trust a broaken staffe: 
For feare thou fall in danger deepe, 

giue ouer in time good fellowship. 

9 For dayly doth attend the same, 
Too sisters, call'd begery, and shame: 
Whose hands & hearts full fast are knit, 

and ioyned to good fellowship. 

10 Besides deseases that doth flow. 
From drunkennes as many know: 
Who to their smart, haue felt the whipe 

that followeth good fellowship. 

1 1 Surfetes, dropsies, and diuers paines, 
Ach of the head, breach of the braines: 
Like festred fistolles, foule and deepe, 

attendeth on good fellowship. 



12 Ten thousand misseries alacke, « 

Fall's both on bodie and on backe: 
As ancient writters, large haue write, 
to warne vs from good fellowship, 

Cfje Seconti part, tajfj^rein is! beclareli, 

Cfje tiacfeesi complaint, fjatf) tfje bellie reformeb : 

Co bib fartnell goob feUotas^tlip- t^o tiie siame tune. 


THis sad complaint when I did heare i 

Vewing my back, I see it was beare; 1 

And cheifest cause I knew of it, 
was, keeping oi good fellowship. 

14 Being much moued at the same, 
A solemne oath then did I frame: 
This hainious wrong, for to aquite, 

to bid farwell good fellowship, 

1 5 And therefore here I bid farwell. 
To that which once I lou'd to well : 
Henceforth I will in compasse keepe, 

therefore farwell good fellowship. 

16 Farwell all such as take delight, 

To drinke and gousell day and night: 
Their sole sicke healths, & healthles whiff 
and causes the same good fellowship . 

1 7 Farwell all such that dayly vse, 
Themselues and others to abuse: 
Intising all that they do meete, 

with them to keepe good fellowship. 

1 8 Farwell all such that well are knowne. 
To haue a charge to keepe at home: 
As wife, and child, yet from them flitt 

and fly out to good fellowship, 



19 Farwell good fellowes more and lesse, 
No tongue is able to expresse, 

The wofull wants that dayly hitte, 
on them that keepe good fellowship. 

20 Some that were famous throw all parts, 
For workmanship and skill in Arts: 
Hath beggery cought vpon the hippe, 

for keeping o{ good fellowship. 

2 1 Some that haue had possessions store, 
Lands, goods, and cattell, few had more: 
But lands, & goods, oxe, horse, and sheepe, 

were wasted by good fellowship. 

11 Many examples are daylv seene. 

Of such that haue good fellowes beene, 
Bacchus braue souldiers, stout and stiffe, 
which now lament good fellowship. 

23 And to conclud the sin is such. 

The wise man sayes, none shall be ritch 
Except he shun that bitter sweete, 
which drunkards call, good fellowship. 

24 Then learne this vice for to refraine, 
The onely cause of griefe and paine: 
Least yee like me in sorrow sit, 

lamenting oi good fellowship. 


Per me Edward Culter. 
Printed at London by W.I. 



A new-year* s gift for the Pope 

Pepys, I, 62. Only half of the sheet, containing Part I of the ballad, is 
preserved. This half itself is badly mutilated. There is, accordingly, no 
way of determining the author's or the printer's name. The first part is in 
B.L. It has two columns and one very large woodcut, the "emblem" re- 
ferred to in stanza i. The date of the ballad is perhaps after May 6, 1624, 
when James I issued his last proclamation against Jesuits and seminary 
priests. For this proclamation and for two other ballads (one the work of 
Martin Parker) in which it is celebrated, see my Old English Ballads 
(Cambridge University Press, 1920), pp. 1 84-195. The music for Thomas, 
you cannot is given in Chappell's Popular Music, i, 337, and the words are 
printed in Bishop Percy's Folio Manuscript. Loose and Humorous Songs, 
p. 116. 

^ iOieto=j>eeresi=sift for tije ^ope. 

Come gee tfje bifference plainlp trecibetr, bettoeene 

Eruttj anti Jfalsiijooin. 

i0ot all tije ^opes; ^rinfeetg, tDfjict) ^ttxt are brougfjt fortlj. 
Can tiallance tfje illible for tDeigfjt, anti true toortf) : 
gour Pells;, Peati£( anti Crosigesi, pou siee toill not boo't, 
0x pull botone pour ^cale, tDiti) tf)e Btuell to boot. 

To the Tune of, Thomas, you cannot, l^c. 

I ALl you that desirous are to behold 

■l\. the difference twixt falshood and faith, 
Marke well this Emblem, one piece of pure gold, 

a Cart-load of false Coyne outwayeth. 
Then wisely consider and beare in your mind. 
Though Sathans Instruments true faith to blind, 
A thousand deuises dayly doe find: 

Tet all is in vaine, they cannot.^ they cannot^ 

Tet all is in vaine they cannot. 



The [diffjerence 'twixt Papist and Protestant here, 

you [h]aue in a moment debated, 
The o[n]e loues the Gospell that shineth still cleare, 

the other is more subtile-pated, 
He will not be ruld by the Scriptures large scope, 
But trusts in Traditions deriu'd from the Pope, 
By which to be sau'd he doth constantly hope: 

Fond fooles, y are decerned^ you cannot^ ^c. 

3 True Justice, 'gainst whom no falshood preuailes, 

the case for both Parties decideth 
[An]d here she doth hold vp her vnpartiall Scales, 

no fictions nor lyes she abideth: 
The Pope like a Martialist hardy and stout, 
[CJomes marching in pompe with all his braue rout, 
[To] win by his multitude he makes no doubt: 

but alas father Pope you cannot^ ifj'c. 

4 Thus are these two opposites come to the place, 

where truth must be proued by tryall. 
The Pope thinks with greatnesse to carry the grace, 

but lustice hath eyes to descry all : 
The Scales are made euen, the Bible's in one. 
Which is the true meanes of Saluation alone, 
They striuing to passe it, doe striue till they grone : 

Tet all is in vaine, they cannot^ ^c. 

5 The Pope seeing he must be tride by the Bible, 

did seeke to orecome it by might. 
He tride by all meanes that for him was possible; 

but all he could bring was too light: 
Their Masses and Dirges, with such superstitions. 
Decrees and Decretals, with other Traditions, 
The golden Legend with late new additions: 

Yet all is in vaine^ they cannot^ i^c. 



6 Thus stil the pure Gospell gainst falshood preuailes, 

which when the proud Prelate did see, 
A Cart-load of Trinkets he puts in the Scales, 

and thrust it as full as might be, 
With great wooden Crosses and many great babies, 
The Pictures and Saints of a bevy^ of Ladies, 
Who dayly are worshipped by these grand Rabbles: 

Tet still father Pope you cannot^ &'c. 

Yet still father Pope \f^c?^ | 

1 Text bemy. Perhaps the line should read With Pictures of Saints and 
a bev)' of Ladies. 



T'he soldier* s farewell 

Pepys, IV, 42. There is a printed copy also in the collection of the Earl 
of Crawford {Catalogue of English Ballads, No. 793)- B.L., one woodcut, 
two columns. The Pepys copy of this jig is printed on a broadside with 
another ballad called "A Pleasant Song Made by a Soldier," beginning 
"In summer time when Phoebus' rays" and included in the Roxburghe 
Ballads, VI, 284. Both ballads were registered at Stationers' Hall on 
December 14, 1624, as "Margarett, my sweetest" and "In summer time" 
(Arber's Transcript, iv, 131), though the latter was originally licensed on 
April 24, 1588 {ibid. 11, 488). There is another copy of "The Soldier's 
Farewell," preserved under the significant title of "A ligge," in the Perc^ 
Folio Manuscript (ed. Hales and Furnivall, 11, 355). That copy was evi- 
dently made from memory: it has hardly a line in which verbal changes, 
all without significance, are not made, and is inferior in every way to the 
printed sheet. 

Ballads on this theme — the cruel trials to which a young woman's love 
is put — are common: see the traditional ballad of "Child Waters," No. 
63, in F. J. Child's English and Scottish Popular Ballads and the notes 
there. Perhaps the author of "The Soldier's Farewell" was influenced 
directly by the beautiful lyric of "The Nut-Browm Maid." 

Cfjc ^oultiiersf jFaretoel to W lobe. 
Peing a dialogue bettoixt Thomas ant> Margaret. 

To a pleasant new Tune. 


I TV /r Argaret my sweetest, Margaret I must go.^ 

■^^ Margaret. 

Most dear to me, that never may be so : 

T. Ah, Fortune wills it, I cannot it deny.^ 

M. then know my love your Margaret must dye. 

1 Text has a comma. 


2 T. Not for the gold my Love that Croesus had, 
Would I once see thy sweetest looks so sad.^ 
M. Nor for all that the which my eye did see, 
Would I depart my sweetest Love from thee. 

3 T. The King commands, & I must to the wars.^ 
M. Ther's others more enough may end the jars.^ 
T. But I for one commanded am to go, 

And for my life I dare not once say no. 

4 M. Ah marry me, and you shall stay at home, 
Full thirty weeks you know that I have gone.^ 
T. There's time enough another for to take 
He'P love thee well, and not thy child forsake. 

5 M. And have I doted on thy sweetest face ? 

and dost infringe that which thou suedst in chase.^ 
Thy faith I mean but I will wend with thee.^ 
T. It is too far for Peg to go with me. 

6 M. rie go with thee my Love both night and day.^ 
rie bear thy sword, i'le run and lead the way. 

T. But we must ride, how will you follow then. 
Amongst a Troop of us thats Armed men } 

7 M. He bear the Lance, ile guide thy stirrop too. 
He rub the horse, and more then that ile do.^ 

T. But Margarets fingers they are all too fine. 
To wait on me when she doth see me dine. 


8 Ile see you dine, ile wait still at your back, 
Ile give you wine, or any thing you lack. 


But youl repine when you shall see me have 
A dainty wench that is both fine and brave. 

1 Text has a comma. ^ No period in the text. ^ Text He 1. 



9 M. He love your wench, my sweetest, I do vow, 
rie watch time when she may pleasure you. 
T. But you will grieve to see me sleep in bed, 
And you must wait still in anothers stead. 

10 M. rie watch my love to see you sleep in rest. 
And when you sleep then I shall think me blest. 
T. The time will come you must delivered be, 
If in the Camp it will discredit me. 

11 M. He go from you before the time shall be, 
When all is well my love againe ile see. 

T. All will not serve for Margaret must not go, 
Then do resolve my Love, what else to do. 

1 2 M. If nought wil serve why then sweet love adieu. ^ 
I needs must die, and yet in dying true. 

T. Nay stay my love, for I love Margaret well, 
And here I vow with Margaret to dwell. 

13 M. Give me your hand, your Margaret livs again. ^ 
T. Here is my hand, ile never breed thy pain. 

M. rie kiss my Love in token it is so. 

r. We will be wed, come Margaret let us go. 


London, Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and J. Wright. 
1 No period in the text. 




A dream of a sinner 

Pepys, I, 39; 11, 7, B.L., one woodcut, two columns. There is also a 
copy in the Douce Collection (11, 200'^), at the Bodleian, on the same 
sheet with Sir Edward Dyer's "My mind to me a kingdom is." "In 
slumberinge sleepe" was licensed for publication on December 14, 1624 
(Arber's Transcript, iv, 131). A similar production is the ballad of "Even 
in the twinkling of an eye" {Roxburgke Ballads, vii, 783). 

Rogero is given in Chappell's Popular Music, i, 93, but has a different 
movement from that of this ballad. Nor does the Pepysian ballad of "John 
Spenser" (No. 45) or "The Poor Man Pays for All. To the Tune oi In 
slumbering sleep I lay'" {Roxburgke Ballads, 11, 334) agree with it in metre 
or stanza form. To a still different measure is a ballad to the tune oi Rogero 
in the Roxburgke Ballads, in, 87. 

^ comfortable neto iBIallab of a Breame of a dinner, 
being ijerp Sore troubleb toiti) tfje assfawlts! of ^atban. 

To the tune of Rogero. 

1 T N slumbring sleepe I lay 
JL all night alone in bed, 

A vision very strange 

there came into my head.^ 

2 Me thought the day of doome 

vndoubtedly was come, 
And Christ himselfe was there 
to iudge both all and some. 

3 My selfe was sent for there 

with sound of Trumpet shrill. 
Which said. All soules come heare 
your sentence good or ill. 
1 Text has a comma. 





4 I sate in minde amaz'd, 

at that same sudden voyce, 
For in mine owne good life 
no whit I could reioyce. 

5 With panting brest I paus'd 

at that same sudden sight, 
Not trusting to my selfe, 

but to Christs mercies great. 

6 I was no sooner meant, 

but Sathan came, me thought^ 
With him a role full large 
of all my life he brought. 

7 And laid before the Lord 

how that I was his owne, 
And would haue had me then, 
my sinnes so great were growne. 

8 I quaking lay with feare, 

and wist not what to doe, 
But in the blood of Christ 
I trusted still vnto, 

9 Then said our Sauiour Christ, 

foule Sathan end thy strife, 
Looke if the sinners name 
be in the booke of life, 

10 If he be entred there, 

then must he needes be blest. 
His sinnes be washt away, 
his soule with me shall rest. 

1 1 Then Sathan tooke the booke, 

did leafe bv leafe vnfold. 
And there he found my name 
in letters limb'd with gold. 

177 M 


12 Then Sathan sorrowed much 

at that same sudden sight. 
And said vnto the Lord, 

thy ludgements are not right. 

13 And thus our Sauiour sweet 

said to him by and by, 
Thou, Sathan, know'st full well 
that I for sinne did dye. 

14 Redeeming all the world, 

once ouerthrowne by thee. 
And so will saue all such 
as truly trust in mee. 

1 5 My mortall foe was wroth, 

that he had lost his prey, 
Extreamely vexed was, 
and vanisht quite away. 

16 But I that thus was bill'd 

within that blessed booke. 
Out of my slumbring sleepe 
so ioyfully awoke. 

1 7 Still praying to the Lord, 

that alwayes sinners may 
From Sathan be set free, 
at the last dreadfull day. 

1 8 That after earthly toyles, 

we may heauen ioyes attaine. 
Here learne to Hue to dye, 
that we may Hue againe. 

19 Our noble royall King, 

God grant him long to raigne. 
To Hue in ioy and peace, 
the Gospell to maintaine. 


London Printed for E. Wright. 


Collins' conceit 

Pepys, I, 45 5, B.L., no woodcuts, three columns. 

"Coullins Conceits" was registered for publication on December 14, 
1624 (Arber's Transcript, iv, 132). One Collins was evidently the author 
of the ballad: he enumerates a great number of "ifs," the observance of 
which should, and would, result in pious, godly living. Perhaps he was 
also the author of "Collins and the Devil," a ballad registered by Edward 
Blackmore on December 14, 1632 {ibid. p. 289), and, though now lost, 
known to Ditty, the ballad-singer in the London Chanticleers, 1659 (Dods- 
ley-Hazlitt's Old Plays, xii, 329), who cried it among his wares. Wigmore's 
Galliard is given in Chappell's Popular Music, i, 242. 

^ mosit excellent Bittp, calleti Coilim Conceit. 

To the tune of Wigmores Gallard. 

1 /^"^Onceits of sundry sorts there are, 
V-/ but this Conceit of mine, 

Doth wish all men to haue a care, 

to Hue by wisedomes line. 
In my conceit if men would looke, 

where sacred vertues dwell,'^ 
And Hue according to Gods Booke, 

then all things should be well. 

2 If wisedome were once made our guide, 

she would direct vs right. 
Where now we daily slip aside, 

for want of wisdomes light. 
If we had faith, we need not feare 

the Deuill nor powers of Hell : 
If godly faith our Anchor^ were, 

then all things should be well. 
^ Text has a period. - Text Auchor. 

179 M2 


3 If we could learne to loue the Lord, 

with an vnfayned loue, 
And willingly obey his Word, 

as duty doth vs moue: 
If we would leaue our wickednesse, 

wherein we doe excell, 
And giue our mindes to godlines, 

then all things should be well. 

4 If people did not goe to Church, 

onely for fashion sake: 
If one would not another lurch, 

nor yet bad courses take: 
If all those that seeme so pure, 

would not by false weights sell, 
But iustly deale, we might be sure 

that all things should be well. 

5 If men would not, to purchase gain, 

falsly themselues forsweare, 
Nor take the name of God in vaine, 

but Hue in dread and feare: 
If all hypocrisie were left, 

which daily doth excell : 
If we were not of zeale bereft, 

then all things should be well. 

6 If conscience were not ouerstrain'd, 

for to oppresse the weake : 
If subtill mates were not maintain'd, 

if none would promise breake: 
If spitefull men did not delight, 

in wrangling suites to dwell : 
If one kept not anothers wife, 

then all things should be well. 

7 If no man would false witnesse bear 

for lucre or for loue: 
If no contentious people were 
disquiet for to moue: 



If none would hurt the innocent, 

nor yet for money sell 
Anothers life, twere time well spent, 

then all things should be well. 

8 If bloody murthering would cease, 

which doth for vengeance cry : 
If euery man would seeke for peace, 

and Hue contentedly: 
If drunkennesse and gluttony, 

that doth so much excell : 
If none would practise cruelty, 

then all things should be well. 

9 If Parents would instruction vse, 

and youth in time correct: 
Would youth good counsell not refuse ,i 

but thereto haue respect: 
If seruants were obedient 

to those with whome they dwell, ^ 
If they were quicke and diligent, 

then all things should be well. 

10 If fornication were not vs'd, 

nor foule adultery: 
In euery place were bribes refus'd, 

and partiality: 
If no man would his neighbour wrong 

which far or neere him dwell. 
Nor stain their credits with his toug, 

then all things should be well. 

11 If scolding queanes were punished, 

did witches hang or burne: 
If bawds and whores not suffered, 
some had a blessed turne: 

^ Text note rfuse. ^ No comma in the text. 



If we did not delight to sit 

in sins darke shadow Cell : 
If godly wisedome gouernd wit, 

then all things should be well. 

12 If crafty heads wold once grow scant, 

which scrape and claw for gaine. 
The poore and needy soules that want 

would not so much complaine. 
If trust might lye safe in his bed, 

if truth might buy and sell. 
If double dealing once were dead, 

then all things should be well. 

1 3 If cunning Cutpurses and Theeues, 

were cleane out of the way. 
Then some false knaues that true men grieue 

should not remaine this day. 
If swearing were once out of vre, 

that none of oathes could tell : 
If lyes were left, we might be sure, 

that all things would be well. 

14 If carry-tales, that breed debate, 

were hid from Man and Wife: 
Then surely each man with his mate, 

might lead a quiet life: 
If neighbors would like friends agree 

and loue among vs dwell : 
If pride might once expelled be, 

then all things should be well. 

15 If Landlords would leaue racking rent, 

if vsurie would cease: 
If we had not great male-content, 

this Land might Hue in peace. 
If Justice would not swerue at all, 

if malice would not swell: 
Might high aspiring climbers fall, 

then all things should be well. 



1 6 If rash and hasty people would 

to patience giue place: 
If wrath were left, a number would 

not be so void of grace : 
If hatred were abandoned, 

were enuie driuen to Hell : 
If Idlenesse were punished, 

then all things should be well. 

17 If deedes of charity were vs'd,^ 

if poore men were not proud, 
If Officers were not abus'd, 

if dice were not allow'd: 
If Lawyers would not suits prolong, 

but to their Clients tell 
How cases stand, if right or wrong, 

then all things should be well. 

18 If flattering pick-thanks were expeld 

out of the Common-wealth : 
If men a moderate dyet held, 

they might Hue long in health: 
If hel-bred couetousnesse and pride 

did not amongst vs dwell : 
If rich men were not mercilesse, 

then all things should be well. 

19 If poore mens states were pittied, 

which doe in prison lye: 
If sick folke were much comforted, 

in their necessitie: 
If Trades-men did not vse deceit, 

if fraud did not excell : 
Did wicked men practise no sleights, 

then all things should be well. 

1 Text has a period. 


20 If these false traitors were found out, 

which would this Realme betray, 
Then should all England round about, 

stand at a better stay. 
That wicked vices may decay, 

and vertue beare the bell, 
To God let vs most humbly pray, 

and so we shall doe well. 

Printed at London for H. Gosson. 


A passing bell tolling 

Wood 276 B (103), B.L., two woodcuts, four columns. The sheet is 
badly mutilated, five stanzas being, in whole or in part, torn off. Mutilated 
words and lines are filled in as far as possible between square brackets. 

The ballad, doleful as it is, is worth reprinting, for it is a copy, appar- 
ently unique, of the ballads called "A passinge bell to call us to minde 
&c," registered by John Allde on October 30, 1582, and "Harke man 
what I thi God," registered by Francis Coles and others on December 14, 
1624 (Arber's Transcript, 11, 416; iv, 131). Neither of these entries has 
hitherto been identified. Wood's copy is probably from the 1624 edition. 
On the tune see Chappell's Popular Music, i, 229; 11, 775. 

in pafisiins ?^eU totolms to call us; to mintj, 
d^ur time ebill sipenbins, a plague noto toe finti : 
OTiijicf) plague if it cease not is! for our siin, 
%\stxt\syct to repent notu let usf begin. 

To the tune of Triumph and loy. 

1 T TArk man what I thy God shal speak, 
1 1 My Laws thou daily seem'st to break 

What though the flesh of man be weake, 

yet I thy God will love thee: 
Give eare I say to leremie^ 
And learne with him to live and die, 
The Scriptures they doe testifie, 

that I God doe love thee. 

2 First I thee fram'd of earth and clay, 
And made all things thee to obey, 

The Sun, the Moone, the Night and day, 
because that I doe love thee: 



I gave thee strength to terrlfie 
The beasts and foules that multiply, 
Yet this will not thee satisfie, 

but thou wilt seeme to move me. 

3 I made the^ King of Sea and Land, 
I made each subject to thy hand, 

The Heaven, the Ayre, the Earth & Sand, 

because that I did love thee : 
I made thee like to Christ my Son, 
In hope thy love for to have won, 
I charg'd thee Satans wyles to shun, 

yet thou dost daily move me. 

4 I gave thee wit, with wisedome rife. 
To rule aright while thou hast life, 

I gave thee Evah to thy wife, 

because that I did love thee: 
I placed thee in Paradice^, 
Yet fleshly pride did thee entice, 
Thou would not follow my advice, 

but thou didst daily move me. 

5 Yet mercy did I take on thee. 
My Son I sent to set thee free,^ 

because that I did love [thee.] 
I lent thee earth wherein to joy, 
The fruits of all things to imploy, 
I fostred thee from all annoy, 

yet daily thou dost move me. 

6 Remember man why Christ was borne. 
He scourged was and laught to scorne, 
To save thee man that was forlorne, 

because that I did love thee: 
He taught you how to fast and pray. 
That Satan might be driven away, 
I meane you belly-gods I say, 

for you doe daily move me. 
^ I.e. thee. ^ Text Pardaice. ^ The printer omitted a line here. 



7 Christ fasted forty daies we know, 
All fleshly lusts to overthrow, 
Though you be weak, your good will show 

so shall I say you love me : 
But if you doe not fast and pray. 
The wiles of Satan will lead you away, 
To desolation for ever and aye, 

where you no more shall move me. 

8 There shall you languish still and cry. 
Because the truth you doe defie, 
For ever living and never die, 

because you doe not love me : 
Take heed therefore of Bacchus cheare, 
Let Dives fall put thee in feare. 
Else shall you die when I appeare, 

where you no more shall move me.^ 

W^t fieconb part, Co tfje sfame tune. 

9 T3Emember if thou Heaven wilt win, 
XV How Sodom I did sinke for sinne 
All saving a few that were therein, 

because they still did move me: 
I drown'd the world also before, 
I promised then to doe no more. 
If that your sins you will deplore, 

and turne anew to love me. 

lo But if you daily me provoke. 

And draw a worse plague to your yoke, 
Your sins deserve a greater stroke, 

because you daily move me. 
For if that Sodome ever was, 
A greater Sodome now doth passe. 
All Christian hearts may cry alas, 

if that thou [still doth move me.]^ 

^ Only a few words of the stanza that followed this now remain. 
^ Two entire stanzas are here torn away. 



1 1 Thinke on the fall of Ninivie 
And how the Israelites went awry. 
For usurie Jesus did defie 

the Jewes, because they move me : 
For in ludah none was righteous found 
But now in usury you abound, 
My plagues shall beat you to the ground,^ 

because you doe not love me: 

12 Therefore give eare, and marke me well, 
The Scriptures they doe plainely tell, 
That greedy Carles will burne in hell, 

because they still doe move me: 
For banqueting and belly cheare, 
Doth make thee man to live in feare. 
The poore they pinch, as doth appeare, 

and yet you say you love me. 

13 The Scriptures read and understand, 
That Christ^ did sell no lease of Land, 
But greedy Satan breakes the band: 

that brotherlie love should move ye: 
Thinke well what will become of you. 
When you despise my Gospell true. 
You passe the Ninivite, Turke and Jew; 

and yet you say you love me. 

14 Read over leremy Once againe, 
Then shall you see these vices plaine. 
Your Heathenish customes are but vaine 

in which you daily move me. 
You cog, you sweare, you foist forth lies. 
Against the which my Preachers cries. 
Amend, repent, lift up your eyes 

and turne anew to love me. 

15 So shall I blot out all thy sin. 

If to repent you doe b[egin]. . .^ 

1 Text has a period. ^ Text Chist. 

* Two stanzas and the colophon are here torn away. 



A Statute for swearers 

Pepys, I, 214, B.L., two woodcuts, four columns. 
The date of this interesting ballad is 1624. By an Act of 3 James I 
profane or jesting use of the name of the Deity in stage-plays had been 
prohibited under penalty of a fine of ;^io. The Act of 21 James I, ch. 
20, referred to in the ballad, enacted "by the authority of this present Par- 
liament, That no person or persons shall from henceforth profanely Swear 
or Curse" under penalty of a fine of \zd. (For striking illustrations of the 
high value set on a shilling by Jacobeans see Nos. 13, 60, 66, 73.) Fines 
incurred under this Act were to be used for the relief of the poor. The Act 
provided, further, that if the fine were not paid, the offender was, if over 
twelve years of age, to be set m the stocks for three hours; if under twelve, 
to be whipped by the Constable, his Master, or his parents. It was to 
continue "until the end of the first session of the next Parhament, and no 
longer." In Ben Jonson's Masque of Owls (1624), the Sixth Owl is de- 
scribed as a bird 

Who since the Act against Swearing 

(The tale's worth your hearing) 

In this short time's growth. 

Hath at twelve-pence an oath, 

For that, I take it, is the rate. 

Sworn himself out of his estate. 

In 1645 Oliver Cromwell wrote with pride of his regiment of Ironsides: 
"Not a man swears but he pays his twelve pence." The ballad refers also 
to the Act for the Repressing of Drunkenness of 2 1 James I, ch. 8, according 
to the provisions of which any person proved to have tippled "in any Inne 
Ale house or Victualling house" was to be fined five shillings. 

The tune (used also in No. 70) comes from the refrain of a ballad 
(beginning "Brave Mars begins to rouse"), the words and music of which 
are preserved only in John Forbes's Cantus, Songs and Fancies (1661, 
Song XXXVII). In James Shirley's Love Tricks, 1625, 11, i, Bubulcus 
replies to the statement that ballads are "whipping-post, tinkerly stuff": 
"For all that, I have read good stuff sometimes, especially in your fighting 
ballads: When cannons are roaring and bullets are flying, Is'c." This quota- 
tion has not hitherto been explained. 



^ Statute for ^toearersi anti IBvunkavhsi, 

Jforsiafee noto pour foUiesi, pour tioofee cannot fiaue j»ou, 
jfor if pou sitoeare anli ht brunfee, tlje ^tocke£S toiU fjaue 


To the tune of When Canons are roaring. 

I X/'Ou that in wicked wayes 
A long time haue ranged; 
Now must be with the times; 

turned and changed. 
The Realmes carefull keepers 

such Lawes haue ordained, 
By which from your vices base, 

you must be weaned. 
Let high and low, rich and poore, 

striue for to mend all; 




And forbeare for to sweare, 
curse, drinke, and spend all: 

Forsake now your follies^ 
your booke^ cannot saue you: 

For if you sweare and be drunke^ 
the Stockes will haue you. 

1 You that doe swim in silkes, 

in gold and brauery; 
Thinke not, your gawdy clothes 

can hide your knauery: 
You that consume your states, 

by debosht courses; 
Riding the Turnbole lades, 

like hackney horses: 
Banish your new base trickes, 

your drinking and drabbing, 
Your cursing, your swearing, 

your roring and stabbing: 
Forsake now your follies., 

your booke cannot saue you: 
For if you sweare and be drunke^ 

the Stockes will haue you. 

You that thinke, he's no man 

of reputation. 
That cannot sweare and be drunke, 

and do't in fashion; 
You that doe thinke your selues 

ne're better graced; 
Then when 'mongst drunkards you 

are set and placed: 
You that do brag, and say, 

your braines are stronger, 

1 An allusion to "benefit of clergy." 


Then shallow pates, who at pots 

cannot hold longer. 
Forsake now your jollies 

your booke cannot saue you: 
For if you sweare and be drunke, 

the stockes will haue you. 

4 You that cry, Kergo, boyes, 

hang vp all sorrowe; 
Drinke stiffe, our Landlord shall 

stay till to morrow: 
Then reeling out of dores 

into the kennell; 
Yet sweare, you sweeter smell 

then does the Fennell: 
You that lie bathing 

from morning till twilight, 
In Tauerne and Tipling house, 

to cleare the eye-sight. 
Forsake now your follies, 

your booke cannot saue you: 
For if you sweare and be drunke, 

the Stockes will haue you, 

5 You that will whoot at him, 

as at some wonder. 
That will not rap out othes 

lowd as the Thunder; 
You that familiarly 

vse in your talking, 
Prophanely for to sweare, 

sitting or walking: 
And you that deeme them not 

men of good fashion; 
That has not learnt the rules 

of Prophanation. 
Forsake now your follies, 

your booke cannot saue you, 
For if you sweare and be drunke, 

the Stockes will haue you. 


^fje attonh S^avt Co rtje game tune. 

Be warned by me you Swearers and Drunkards for 
I first broke the Statute. 


YOu that sweale out your life 
in beastly drinking; 
Vntill your bodies 

and breaths be stinking: 
You that sit sucking still 

at the strong barrell, 
Till into tatters rent 

turnes your apparell: 
You that by guzling 

transforme your best features, 
Changing your selues from men, 

to swinish creatures: 
Forsake now your jollies^ 

your booke cannot saue you: 
For ij you sweare and be drunke, 

the stockes will haue you. 



7 You that doe scorne abroad 

for to be scanting, 
Though to your wife at home, 

bread may be wanting. 
And your poore children eke 

Hkely to perish: 
Whilst you with Taplash strong 

your corps doe cherish: 
Crying still, let them starue, 

tush, 'tis no matter. 
With drinke ile stuffe my guts, 

let them drinke water. 
Forsake now your follies^ 

your booke cannot saue you: 
For if you s we are and be drunke, 

the Stockes will haue you. 

8 You that at midnight can 

outsweare the watchmen; 
And braue a Constable, 

that stands to catch men. 
You that with giddie braines 

by the wall holdeth. 
And ith' darke euery post 

in his armes foldeth. 
And you that in the durt, 

thrust deepe your noses; 
There sleeping sweetly as 

in beds of Roses : 
Forsake now your follies^ 

your booke cannot saue you: 
For if you sweare and be drunke^ 

the Stockes will haue you. 

9 You that in dregs of drinke 

so drowne your reason; 
That you are loth to leaue 
in timely season: 



But drinke still following, 

neglect your vocation; 
Till you haue nor meanes left, 

nor habitation, 
You that will spend as much, 

iust at one sitting; 
As would a weeke yours keepe 

with victuals fitting, 
Forsake now your jollie^ 

your booke cannot saue you: 
For if you sweare and be drunke^ 

the Stockes will haue you. 

lo You that desire to dwell 

in heauen hereafter, 
Must not of this deuice 

make iest or laughter : 
But must shake off these crimes, 

with much discasting. 
If you hope to enioy 

life euerlasting. 
To honest men let this be 

sound admonition, 
To bewaile their past sinnes 

with sad contrition. 
Forsake now your jollies^ 

your booke cannot saue you: 
For if you sweare and be drunke^ 

the Stockes zvill haue you. 

Printed at London ^ for J.T. and are to be sold at his shop 

in Smithfield. 

^ Texi Londondon. 


N Z 


A merry new catch of all trades 

Pepys, I, 164, B.L., two woodcuts, four columns. The fourth line is to 
be repeated at the end of each stanza as a refrain. Since the ballad was 
printed by John Trundle it may date about 1624. The tune is given in 
Chappell's Popular Music, 11, 425. 

^ merrp neljb catct of all tlTrabes;. 

To the tune of The cleane Contrary zvay. 

1 A-'-"-^ Trades are not alike in show, 
■l\. All Arts doe not agree: 

All Occupations gaines are small,i 
As heere they all shall see, 
As heere they all shall see. 

2 The Courtier woes, his seruant does, 
Farre more then he can answer, 

The Baker weighes with false essayes, 

The Cuckold's turn'd a Monster. The Cuck. &c. 

3 The Taylor sowes, the Smith he blowes, 
The Tinker beates his pan: 

The Pewterer ranke, cries tinke a tanke tanke, 
The Apothecary ranta tan tan. The Apoth: &c. 

4 The Bricklayer high doth rise to flye, 
The Plummer oft doth melt, 

The Carpenter doth loue his rule. 

And the Hatmakar loues his felt. And the, &c. 

^ Text has a period, 


5 The Weauer thumps, his olde wife mumps, 
The Barber goes snip snap, 

The Butcher prickes, the Tapster nickes, 
The Farmer stops ap ap. The Farmer, &c. 

6 The Curryer toyles, and deales in oyles, 
The Cobler Hues by his peece: 

The Chamberlaine cheates with musty meates, 
And doth the Countrey fleece. And doth, &c. 

7 The Carter whips, the Begger skips, 
The Beadle Hues by blowes. 

Yet whores wil be whores at honest mens doores 
Disphight a'th Beadles nose. Dispight a'th, &c. 

8 The Broome-man cryes, mayd seruants buyes, 
And swaps with him for wares. 

The Countrey asse doth to the Cosse, 
Sell Orchards full of Peares. Sell, &c. 

9 Some Schoole-masters teach beyond their reach. 
The Mason deales with his square, 

The Fletcher doth nock, and workes by the clock, 
The Beareward Hues by his Beare. The, &c. 

10 The Grosers pates 'bout thinges of weight. 
Is often troubled sore. 

The Taylors yard is seldome marde, 
Tho it measure many a score. 
Tho it measure many a score. 

tlTiie ^ttonh part. Co tte siame Cune. 

1 1 " I "He Iron-monger hardly deales, 

-1- All Fruterers loose by th'rot: 
The Hagler buyes and Hues by lyes, 
The Drunkard plyes the pot, 
The Drunkard plyes the pot. 



12 The Collier sweares heele loose his eares, 
But he will falsly dealer 

And such are glad as mand the Pad, 
For trifles for to steale. For trifles, &c. 

1 3 The Budget maker oftentimes. 
Doe deale in brasen nayles: 

And Tradesmen store, turne Porters poore,^ 
When other trading failes. When other, &c. 

14 The Water-man will carry Nan^ 
For two-pence crosse the Riuer: 
Yet this heele say, if she cannot pay, 

Her passage free heele giue her. Her passage, &c. 

1 5 The Glouer pokes, the Gallant smoakes, 
Yet Hues in Tradesmen debts. 

The Drawer thriues by honest wiues. 

The Cheater Hues by bets. The Cheater, &c. 

16 The Cooke doth broyle, the Fencer foyle. 
The footman he doth sweat : 

And Apple-Iohn doth vsher Nan, 

And she giues him a heate. And she, &c. 

17 The Ostler rubs, the Cutler scrubs. 
The Semsters deale in Ruffes : 

The smoakie man with his small cole pan, 
Maintained is by puffes. Maintained is, &c. 

1 8 The Chandelors deeds great pennance needs. 
And Faggots they doe beare: 

The Vintner drawes, yet makes no frayes, 
The Begger is voyde of care. The Begger, &. 

19 The Morris dance doth brauely prance, | 
And about the Countrey goes : 

And May-poles hie shall mount to th' skie, 
Despight of the Hobby horsenose. Despight, &c. 

1 Cf. Parker's ballad on Porters (No. 64). 


20 Dissentions feede, the Parators neede, 
And Scoulds him money giue: 

And if there were no swaggering Whore, 
The Pander could not Hue. The Pander, &c. 

2 1 Thus all arise by contraries, 
Heauen send them crosses ten : 
Unlesse they all both great and small, 
Doe Hue and dye honest men,i 

Doe Hue and dye honest men. 


Printed at London for I. Trundle. 
1 Text has a period. 



News out of East India 

Pepys, I, 94, B.L., one woodcut (which is reproduced here), four 

English colonists founded a small settlement at Cambello in the island 
of Amboyna, Dutch East Indies, about 1615. It was destroyed by the 
Dutch in the massacre of February, 1623. Many pamphlets, both in 
Dutch and English, were written on the massacre; for example, Waerack- 
tick Verkael Vande Tidinghen ghecomen wt de Oost-Indien, met the lacht 
ghenaemt de Haze, in lunio 1624. in Texel aenghelandt . . .Gkedruckt int 
laer 1624, and A Trve Relation of the Vnivst, Crvell, And Barbarovs 
Proceedings against the English at Amboyna In the East-Indies, by the 
Neatherlandish Governor and Covncell there, 1624 (British Museum, 106. 
a. 58 and 802. k. i). From these pamphlets the ballad was summarized, 
and from them it borrowed its lugubrious woodcut. 

A play dealing with the massacre was "ready to be acted" in 1625, but 
was suppressed by the Privy Council {Court and Times of James I, 11, 
500; C. H. Firth, Royal Historical Society Transactions, Third Series, v, 
49). Jacobean playwrights frequently allude to the Amboyna aiFair; for 
example, in Fletcher's Fair Maid of the Inn, iv, ii, this passage occurs: 

Forobosco. Thence to Amboyna i' th' East Indies, 

for pepper to bake it. 
Clo'wn. To Amboyna.'' so I might be pepper'd. 

In 1630 (according to H. Lestrange's Reign of King Charles I, 1656, 
p. 117) two English captains who were serving in Germany waylaid with 
a troop of horse, near Frankfort, "Eighteen Hollanders (whereof three 
had been actours in the English Tragedy at Amboyna)," hanged seventeen 
of them, including ''''Johnson the chief of the Amboinists," and sent "the 
odde man home" to tell the story; in 1654 Cromwell extorted ^^300,000 
and a small island from Holland to compensate the descendants of the 
victims of the massacre; and in 1673 Dryden produced his tragedy of 
Amboyna, or the Cruelties of the Dutch to the English Merchants. See 
further F. S. Boas, "The Amboyna Outrage," Times Literary Supplement, 
December 14, 1917, p. 614. 

On the tune see No. 49. 



i^eljbes; out of €as;t Snliia : 
0t rtje crueU anb tiloobi' bsfage of our Cngligf) iHercfjantsi 
antr otters; at Amboyna^ bj> tfje i^etfjerlantiifit) #ouemour 

anb Councell tfjere. 

To the tune of Braggendary. 



FRom India Land such newes I haue, 
of death and deadly dole, 
As may inforce a deepe remorse, 
to each good Christian soule,^ 
To thinke what English blood was shed, 
Upon a small occasion bred. 
Oh heauen looke downe^ 
vpon poore innocent soules, 

Betweene the English and the Dutch, 

hath beene a long debate: 
And mischiefes many hath beene wrought, 

against our Merchants state. 
Where Merchant-men haue lost their Hues, 
Their goods, their children, and their wiues; 
Oh heauen looke downe^ 
vpon poore innocent soules. 

A towne there stands Amboyna call'd,! 

a Castle in the same: 
Made rich by these Low-Country States, 

and Merchants of great name: 
Who on a time a plot deuiz'd. 
To haue our Englishmen surpriz'd. 
Oh heauen looke downe^ &c. 

They gaue out words our Englishmen, 

by secret treason wrought. 
The towne and Castle to blow vp, 

and so in question brought. 
Our English Merchants dwelling there. 
With all that held our Country deare. 
Oh heauen looke downe^ &'c. 

Their Gouernor a Councell cal'd, 

and yet no reason why. 
That twenty of our Englishmen 

should there their causes try: 

^ Text has a period. 


And answer for a thing not done, 
Nor any way there thought vpon. 
Oh heauen looke downe^ &'c. 

6 To cruell tortures day by day, 

our English thus were brought: 
Where strange tormenting instruments 

vpon their bodies wrought: 
To make them all confesse and say. 
They sought Amboyna to betray. 
Oh heauen looke downe^ ^. 

7 The first they laid vpon a Racke, 

with armes and legs abroad, 
And spred him, till he did confesse 

and most vntruly show'd, 
How that our Englishmen conspir'd, 
To haue the town and castle fier'd. 
Oh heauen looke downe^ 
vpon poore innocent soules. 

Wi^t sietonb ^art, tlTo rtje ssame tune. 

8 ' I "He second ofthese wofull men, 

-L they bound vnto a stake: 
And throtle him about the necke, 

till he could hardly speake. 
Which cruell torments to auoyd, 
Said that the towne should be destroyd. 
Oh heauen looke downe^ is'c. 

9 The third they bound in Iron chaines, 

which griped him so sore. 
That all his body round about, 

did gush out bloody gore: 
From which to find some ease he sayd, 
Amboyna should haue beene betrayd. 
Oh heauen looke downe^ ^c. 



10 They whipt the fourth man at a post, 

vniustly without fault: 
And washt his bloody body ore, 

with vinegar and salt. 
And to the fifth like punishment, 
Though to no ill he gaue consent. 
Oh heauen looke downe^ i^c. 

1 1 With water they stuft vp the sixth, 

vntill his body swel'd: 
The seuenth likewise with twisted coard, 

most barbarously compeld, 
To say our English friends were those. 
That were the townesmens greatest foes. 
Oh heauen looke downe^ \f^^'~\ ^ 

12 The eighth 2 with burning pincers pul'd, 

made challenge of the rest : 
Though most vntrue, to ease himselfe, 

and so false things confest.' 
So did the nynth by their pretence, 
Bring in most wrongfull euidence. 
Oh heauen looke downe^ &'c. 

1 3 The tenth they hung vp by the armes 

two foot aboue the ground: 
And so with scorching candles burn'd 

his back and body round : 
With all the other parts about. 
Till drops of fat the lights put out. 
Oh heauen looke downe, &'c. 

14 The rest of these distressed soules, 

were vsed in like sort: 
At which the cruell Gouernor, 
made his tormenting sport. 
Till nyneteene of our Englishmen, 
Felt more then common tortures then. 
Oh heauen looke downe^ 
vpon poore innocent soules. 
^ Text omits. ^ Text eight. 




1 5 Then Captaine Towerson came in place, 

to answer with the rest: 
To whom was told the treason was 

by those before confest. 
Though all as false as God was true, 
Yet they affirme, the same he knew. 
Oh heauen looke downe^ &'c. 

1 6 For which his goods were seized on, 

which all our English had: 
And so vnto the ludgement seat, 

as traitors they were led. 
And there vniustly iudg'd to dye. 
Which was performed immediately. 
Oh heauen^ looke downe^ i^c. 

1 7 Ten of our men they hang'd forthwith, 

the other ten went free: 
Which was a wrongfull ludgement giuen, 

and full of griefe to see,i 
That after all those torments past. 
They thus should suffer death at last. 
Oh heauen looke downe^ ^c. 


1 8 But on the execution day, 

as God did so dispose, 
A sudden darkenesse and a gust 

of violent winds arose,^ 
Which cast two of their ships away. 
As they at road in harbour lay. 

Thus heauen lookes downe^ &'c. 

1 9 Yea here to make Gods vengeance more, 

the chiefest of that plot,* 
In this tormenting of our friends, 

as then escaped not. 
But felt Gods heauy Iron hand. 
And could no way the same withstand. 
Thus Heauen lookes downe i^c. 
^ Text has a period. 



20 For comming to the graues whereas 

the murthered bodies lay: 
He fell Starke mad, and would not thence, 

with life depart away. 
But dyed most strangely in that place, 
Euen as a wretch bereft of grace : 
Thus heauen lookes dovjne^ &^c. 

2 1 Thus haue you heard what bloody deeds, 

were late in India done: 
To make vs all in England heere, 

with sorrow to thinke vpon. 
What sad misfortune should be hap. 
To take our friends in such a trap. 
Tet heauen lookes downe^ 
Vpon poore innocent soules. 

Cte namesf of ttosie 

®fie namesf of tfjosie 



I Cap tain e Gabriel Tower son. 

I lohn Beomont. 

1 Samuel Colson Factor. 

1 Edward Collins. 

3 Emanuel Tomson Assistant. 

3 William Webber. 

4 Timothy lohnson Assistant. 

4 Ephraim Ramsey. 

5 lohn Wether all Factor. 

5 George Sharocke. 

6 lohn Clarke Assistant. 

6 lohn Sadler. 

7 William Griggs Factor. 

7 lohn Powell. 

8 Abel Price Chyrurgian. 

8 Thomas Ladbrooke. 

9 Robert Browne Taylor. 

9 A Portingall. 

10 lohn Far do steward of the 

You may read more of 

English house. 

this bloody Tragedy in 

As also nyne natiue Indians suf- 

a booke printed by au- 

fered together with them. 

thority} 1624. 

Printed at London for F. Coules, 
dwelling at the vpper end of the Old-Baily. 

^ Text author^. 



Apleasant new ballad 

Pepys, I, 376, B.L., five woodcuts, four columns. There is a coarse 
refacimento of the ballad in Westminster Drollery, Part I, 1671 (ed. 
J. W. Ebsworth, pp. 44—47), called "The kind Husband, but imperious 
Wife. The first part of the Tune his, and the latter part her's." It is almost 
identical with the version called "The Patient Man, and the Scolding 
Wife" in Grammatical Drollery, 1682, pp. 109-110, by W.H. {i.e. 
Captain William Hicks). 

Coarse as the language is, there is a boisterous mirth about this jig that 
must have given it great appeal in the theatre. With good actors and 
singers in the roles of Husband and Wife and with emphasis on stage 
business — which is suggested but not expressed — even to-day the jig would 
be more comic than are many vaudeville performances. Shrewish wives 
were often chastened by being forced to light the wrong ends of candles 
and by "pinning the basket." Those who are interested in the latter pro- 
cedure may enjoy reading an early Elizabethan ballad by T. Rider, "A 
merie newe Ballad intituled, the Pinnyng of the Basket" (y/ Collection of 
Seventy-Nine Black-Letter Ballads and Broadsides, London, 1867, p. 105), 
one stanza of which runs: 

Her housebande, sore insenste, did sweare 

By stockes and stones. 
She should, or els he would prepare 

To baste her bones, — 
Tantara, tara, tantara; — 

Quoth he, lie tame your tongue. 
And make you pinne the basket to, 

Doubt not, ere it be long. 

The tune of Hozv shall we, good husband, live comes from the first line 
of a ballad (for which no tune is indicated) registered under that title on 
December 14, 1624 (Arber's Transcript, iv, 131; Roxburghe Ballads, \, 
122). The jig, then, dates about 1625. 



^ pleasiant neto Pallab, bott merrp anti taittp, 
tKfjat gfjttoetij tfje fjumourjs, of tije toiuesJ in tfje €ity. 

To the tune of, Hozv shall a good Husband. 


I "X ^ 7 Ife, prethee come hither & sit thee down by me, 
V V For I am best pleased when y art most nie me. 


1 I scorne to sit by such a blockheaded Clowne, 

No thou shalt not touch the worst hem of my Gowne, 
For I could haue had men both proper and good, 
That would haue maintaind me euen as I wood. 


3 Wife pray you forgiue me if I haue offended, 

Let me know my fault Loue, and all shall be mended. 


4 Away you base Rascall, get out of my sight, 
Thou shalt not come neere me by day nor by night. 
For dost thou not see it, euen to my disgrace, 

My neighbours exceed me in dressings and Lace. 


5 If that be the matter wife, let it not moue thee. 

Thou shalt haue as good as they; come kisse & loue ii 
me. ' 


6 I will haue a silke Gowne, a Maske and a Fanne, 
I will neuer walke abroad without my man, 
And he shall be handsome to, with a good face. 
Not such a Clowne as You, me to disgrace. 




7 Wife I will attend thee if that may suffice, 
And lay all things ready against you doe rise, 
And then if you please to walke and take the ayre. 
Wife I will waite on thee, be it foule or faire.^ 


8 Nay, thou art not worthy to carry my Fan, 
I will be supplied by a propperer man : 

And wee'l haue our Coach and horse to ride at pleasure 
And thou shalt run by on foot, and wait our leisure. 


9 Wife thou shall haue horses and Coach, and a man 
To driue for thy pleasure through Cheapside & 

And I will goe with thee, and alwayes attend thee, 
My care shall be such Loue, as none shall offend thee. 


10 lie not be attended by any such Foole. 

No, thou art not worthy, to empty my close stoole, 
For thou hast no complement. Courtship, nor wit. 
And therefore not worthy to kisse where I sit. 

tKte seconti part : Co tfje siame tune. 


1 1 /~^Ome Dame I will tell you, for I cannot hold 
^^^ No longer, but tell thee that thou art turn'd 

For I haue borne long with your blockhead and foole. 
Not worthy you say, for to empty your stoole. 


1 2 Why so I say still, if you mend not your manners. 
It were better you liued among Brewers or Tanners. 

^ Text has a comma. 

R. P.G. 

209 o 



1 3 Come Huswife He teach you to vse your tongue better 
Or else I will tye it vp with such a fetter; 

Shalt cause you to wish you neuer had vsed it, 
With such ill-be-fitting tearmes and so abusing it. 


14 Why what haue I said now you take in such dudgeon, 
Which makes you to grumble so like a Curmudgeon, 


15 Dame He make you know how that I am your head, 
And you shall be ready at board, or in bed. 

To giue me content, or else be sure of this. 
Both gowne and lace, horse & Coach all you shall 


16 Alas Sir, you wrong me, to vse me so ill. 
In not giuing way to my humour and will: 
For tis for your credit man, all this I craue. 
And you are esteemed for my going braue. 


17 I like no such credit Dame, let them that will, 
Retaine it and hold it, twill giue them their fill, 
But as for your selfe Wife, He cause you to know. 
What duty and seruice to me you doe owe. 


18 I pray you be quiet, if I haue offended, 

Forgiue me my fault Loue, and all shall be mended : 
And here I doe promise and giue my consent. 
To doe whatsoeuer may giue you content. 




19 Well, that I will try ere you part from my sight, 
Fetch vp all the Candles, and see you doe light 
Euery one of them, euen at the wrong ends. 
And then pinne the basket, and so we are friends. 


20 All this am I willing, and more I will doe, 

To shew my respect, thus I stoope to your shooe. 


1 1 Why that's a good Wrench, now come kisse & be 
Put out all the Candles He make thee amends. 

Printed at London for H.G. 

211 02 


T'wo W^ehh lovers 

Pepys, I, 270, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. The last stanza and 
the colophon are badly mutilated: the gaps have been filled in by guess. 
There can, however, be no doubt that the torn signature was that of Martin 
Parker, though the ballad has not before been given in any list of his works. 
The date is after December 14, 1624, when the ballad of "The Blazing 
Torch" {Roxburghe Ballads, i, 418), for which the tune is named, first 
appears in the Stationers' Register (Arber's Transcript, iv, 131). 

Due gwin, so Professor F. N. Robinson, of Harvard, kindly informs me, 
is the Welsh exclamation Dutv gwyn, equivalent to "Good Lord" or 
"Good God." The ballad may be quoted in Fletcher's Monsieur Thomas, 
IV, iv, where Lancelot says: "Oh, Deu guin! Can you deny you beat a 
constable Last night.^"^ There is in the Pepys Collection (i, 451) a ballad 
written in Welsh — "Byd Y bigail [i.e. "Byd y bugail" = "The Shepherd's 
World".^]. . .to a daintie new tune. . .Terfyn R.H. Printed by A.M. for 
H. G[osson]." 

TOe ttoo ^^elsf) Houersf, 

Cte Pritisif) i^pmpfj tijat long toag in fjer life, 
^ cfjangins iWailJ, but a recanting Wiiit, 
?let euerp man tfjat tooulb toin a ifHailJjf fauour, 
^t Ijome feeepe toitfj ijer, if Ije meane to Ijaue \^tx. 

To the tune of the Blazing Torch. 

I AS late I walkt the Meades along, 
-LX. where Seuerns streames did glide; 
I heard a mournfull Shepherds tong, 
and him at last espide. 

1 The date of Monsieur Thomas is uncertain. It was first printed in 
1639. The appearance of Due gwin here may indicate merely that that 
phrase was in Elizabethan slang use. 



He wrung his hands and wept apace, 

to mourne he did not lin : 
Riuers of teares ran downe his face, 

and still he cride Due gwin. 

I drew me neere vnto the Swaine, 

and prayd him tell the cause, 
Why he so sadly did complaine, 

he silent made a pause. 
At length he raisd himselfe to speake, 

yet e're he could begin; 
He sigh'd as if his heart would breake, 

and cryde alas Due gwin. 

Quoth he. Among yon Brittish hills, 

where Zephirus doth breathe: 
Where flowers sweet the Meadows fills, 

and valleys vnderneathe, 
And neere vnto that fountaine head, 

where Dee comes flowing in: 
Ah me, that fatall Nymph was bred, 

for whom I cryde Due gwin. 

I loued her once, but now I rue, 

that I was such an Asse: 
For she did proue the most vntrue, 

that euer woman was. 
Faire was her face, great was her fame, 

had she still constant bin: 
But, Oh, her heart was not the same: 

which makes me cry Due gwin. 

Once had I power, till her command 

forbad that power to rise, 
Further then touching of her hand, 

or looking on her eyes. 
I feard to contradict her will, 

as though it were a sinne: 
Yet she rewards my good with ill, 

which makes me cry Due gwin, 



6 I thought I had her free consent, 

but it prou'd quite contrarie: 
For while I on a iourney went, 

another she did marrie. 
Cause I was absent for a space, 

and thought no hurt therein : 
Another did possesse my place, 

which made me cry Due gwin. 

7 When I returned home againe, 

I thought with her to wed : 
But there I found my labour vaine, 

for she before was sped. 
Which when I saw, I sigh'd and sobd, 

and made a pitious din : 
Wishing him hang'd that had me robd, 

a>jd made me cry Due gwin. 

8 It seemes by this, 'tis hard to finde 

a woman true in heart : 
Beleeue them not, though they seeme kind, 

they can deceiue by art. 
We men may woe and vse the meanes, 

at vs they laugh and grin : 
Thus we are crost by faithlesse queanes, 

which makes vs cry Due gwin. 

Clje sieconb ^art. Co tfje jsame tune. 
OTiirt) tije itpmpljs; ^Recantation. 

9 "XT Ow when the Nymph did see y^ swain 
1 ^ was safe returned at last : 

Most petuously she did complaine, 

to thinke of what was past. 
The sting of conscience did her pricke, 

calling to minde her sinne: 
Immediatly she fell sore sicke, 

and cryde alas Due gwin. 




10 No comfort could she take at all, 

to cure her inward smart: 
She thought it bootlesse to recall 

the folly of her heart. 
It might haue greeu'd a man to see, 

the case that she was in: 
My fond mistrust of him, quoth she, 

thus makes me cry Due gwin. 

1 1 Oh had I neuer seene mans face, 

since my deere shepheard went: 
Then had I neuer knowne disgrace, 

but liu'd still continent. 
Or if within some sacred cell, 

I had included bin: 
I had remained constant still, 

but now I cry Due gwin. 

11 Thus hauing wept for her offence, 

she sent vnto her swaine: 
Desiring that without offence, 

she might his sight obtaine. 
At her request he went apace, 

her husband not within: 
As soone as e're she saw his face, 

she weft and cryde Due gwin, 

1 3 What speeches past betweene these twaine 

were needlesse here to tell : 
The Nymph imbrac'd and kist her Swain, 

and all was wondrous well. 
He needs no elegance of phrase, 

her fauour now to win. 
Her griefe was turn'd to fond loue plaies, 

she cryde no more Due gwin. 

14 Deare loue, quoth she, what's done & past, 

I cannot now recant: 
Yet what I haue, while life doth last, 
my shepheard shall not want. 



What though my husbands forehead ake, 

I weigh it not a pin : 
Yet if by chance he should vs take, 

we both must cry Due gwin. 

15 Thus were the louers perfect friends, 

the Nymph, as best became her, 
Did make her shepheard such amend,^ 

he knew not how to blame her. 
Yet let all young men keepe [at home] 

if they their loues w[ould win,] 
If they be lost while [they are gone,] 

then they may cry [Due gwin.'] 

By Martin [Parker]. 

London Printed for IoA[n Wright and are] 

to be sold at his shop [near the Hospijtall 

gate in S[mithfield.] 

^ ^<»<7^ amends. 





News good and new 

Pepys, I, 2IO, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. 

The date of the ballad is not later than 1625. This is a jig without a 
dramatic plot. There are only two characters, but the lines afford ample 
opportunity for humorous action, and in the mouths of clever actors and 
dancers can easily have furnished a comic and enjoyable entertainment. 
I can find no trace of the tune. 

^elji)e£f gootn anlr nebb Coo goob to be true. 

To the tune of Twenty pound a yeere. 

lohn "XT Ow welcome neighbour Rowland^ 

1 ^ From London welcome home, 
What newes is there I pray you ? 

From thence I heare you come. 
Row. The best that ere you heard, 

Youle say't when I you shew. 
lohn. I hardly can beleeue it, 

Tis too good to be true. 

Row. The Lawyer in his pleading 

to gaine giues no respect. 
Though Clients haue no mony, 

he doth not them neglect: 
But truly pleades their cause, 

of these there be not few. 
lohn. I neuer will beleeue it, 

Tis too good to be true. 



1 In^ Lords there's no ambition, 

in Ladies theres no pride, 
The Clergie loues no monie, 

no woman's wanton-eyde, 
Each one that wicked Hu'd, 

doth striue to Hue anew. 
lohn. I neuer will beleeue it, 

Tis too good to be true. 

. Row. I there did know an Usurer, 

ith hundred tooke threescore: 
But he is now repented, 

and gaue all to the poore. 
And daily fasts and prayes, 

and hates that damned Crew.^ 
lohn. I neuer will beleeue it, 

Tis too good to be true. 

;■ Row. Your Tradesmen hate short measures 

false lights, and falser waights: 
Nor will they in their bargaines, 

vse oathes as cunning baites. 
To fetch the simple ore, 

theres no such cunning lew. 
lohn. I neuer will beleeue it, 

Tis too good to be true. 

3 Row. No Vintner there doth mingle, „ 

his wine with water pure: I 

And then doth sweare tis neatest : 1 

in London's no such Brewer. 
Of that they all are cleare, I 

they can, but will not brew. 
lohn. I neuer will beleeue it. 

Tis too good to be true. 

^ Supply Row. 2 Text has a comma. 



7 Row. No Ostler there will rob you, 

of either oates or hay : 
No Tapster nickes the pot there, 

but fils it as he may: 
No hoast will there be drunke, 

no hostesse proues vntrue. 
lohn. I neuer will beleeue it, 

Tis too good to be true. 

8 Row. Your Brokers there are honest 

and are not ranckt with knaues. 
They lend their coine for conscience, 

which makes them ore their graues 
To haue their good deeds writ, 

whose number is but few. 
lohn. I neuer will beleeue it, 

Tis too good to be true. 

9 Row. A Sergeant late turn'd honest, 
.t\. and not abus'd his place: 
A Baily became pitifull, 

and wail'd his prisoners case: 
And both to goodnesse fram'd 

their former course anew. 
lohn. I neuer will beleeue this, 
Tis too good to be true. 

lo Row. The Landlords there are pitiful 

and racke not poore mens rents. 
The tenant there is dutifull, 

and payes what he indents. 
The rich the poore doe loue: 

of these there are but few. 
lohn. I neuer will beleeue this, 

Tis too good to be true. 



1 1 Row. lailors are tender hearted, 

that doe their prisons keepe: 
To thinke on poore mens miseries, 

their yron hearts doe weepe : 
The poore men they relieue, 

and giue the rich their due. 
lohn. I neuer will beleeue this, 

tis too good to be true. 

12 Ro. You there shall see no drunkards, 

in walking through the street: 
The stockes stand euer emptie, 

all's sober that you meet. 
He's hated that's but seene, 

amidst a drunken crew. 
lohn. I neuer will beleeue this, 

Tis too good to be true. 

13 Row. Picthatch, and garden Allies, 

Turnebull, and Mutton lane, 
Of truth are now turn'd honest, 

and hate vnlawfull gaine. 
Bridewell did them conuert, 

and clad their backes in blew.^ 
lohn, I neuer will beleeue this, 

tis too good to be true. 

14 Row. Fleetstreet has^ nere a cheater, 

White-fryers ne're a whore : 
Tiburne is now deliuered, 

and beareth theeues no more. 
^ And Smithfield now is rid, 

of those horse-cheating crew. 
lohn. I neuer will beleeue this, 

tis too good to be true. 

1 Cf. No. 6, above. 2 Text ha's. 




15 Row. Ludgate has^ nere a bankrupt 

that can, but will not pay: 
The Counter nere a Prodigall, 

that turnes the night to day, 
By vile disordered life, 

which age doth after rue. 
lohn. I neuer will beleeue this, 

tis too good to be true. 

16 This newes doth much amaze me, 

the which you haue me told, 
And truely to beleeue it, 

I dare not be too bold. 
I would that true it were, 

as it to me is new. 
But I will not beleeue it, 

tis too good to be true. 

Printed for I. Trundle. 
1 Text ha^s. 



The cries of the dead 

Pepys, I, ii6, B.L., three woodcuts, four columns. 

Richard Price, weaver, was a genuine monster if our ballad can be trusted 
— such a monster that only Dickens, perhaps, could have painted him in 
true colours. The ballad is decidedly unpleasant but has some sociological 
value. If it had a large contemporary circulation. Price may well have found 
a partizan jury and a hostile audience when he appeared for trial. Un- 
happily official documents, like those printed in JeafFreson's Middlesex 
County Records, prove that barbarous treatment of apprentices was only 
too common. For example (o/i. (t//., iii, 239), on October 8, 1655, Mathew 
Nicholas was discharged from his apprenticeship to an Uxbridge tool- 
maker, William Lovejoy, because it was proved that Lovejoy had grossly- 
mistreated the boy, "tyinge and fetteringe him to the shoppe, and that 
the said master his wife and mother did most cruelly and inhumanely 
beate his said apprentice, and also whip'd him until he was very blooddy 
and his flesh rawe over a great part of his body, and then salted him, and 
held him naked to the fyre, beinge soe salted to add to his paine." 

"Ned Smith," a ballad, was entered at Stationers' Hall for transfer on 
December 14, 1624 (Arber's Transcript, iv, 131; Roxburghe Ballads, 11, 
465). It is to be sung to the oft-mentioned tune of Dainty, come thou to 
me (cf Chappell's Popular Music, 11, 517). The date of the present ballad 
is perhaps about 1625. 



Cfie crpcjf of tf}E Bcalj. 
0v tfje late iHurttcr in ^outfjtoarfee, committeb tjp 
one i^icljarb ^rice OTieauer, tofjo mofit bnfjumapnlp 
tormented to treatfj a bop of tfjirteene pearesi olb, toitf) 
ttDO otfjersi before, tofjict fte brought to bntimelp enb£f, 
for tofjicf) t)e Ipetfj noto imprisisioneb in tfie ?B(Hf)ite= 
XponS till tije time of ijisi triall. 

To the tune oi Ned Smith. 

MEe thinkes I heare a jSfrone, 
of death and deadly dole, 
Assending from the graue 

of a poore silly soule: 
Of a poore silly soule, 

vntimely made away. 
Come then and sing with me, 
sobbs of sad welladay. 
1 The common prison of Surrey. 


1 One Price^ in South-warke dwelt 

a Weauer by his trayde, 
But a more graceles man 

I thinke was neuer made : 
All his life wicked was, 

and his minde bent to blood, 
Nothing but cruelty 

did his heart any good. 

3 Many poore Prentisses 

to himselfe did he bind, 
Sweete gentle children all 

of a most willing mind: 
Seruing him carefully 

in this his weauing Art, 
Whome he requited still, 

with a most cruel heart. 

4 LawfuU corrections, he 

from his mind cast aside. 
Beating them cruelly 

for no cause, tel they dyed : 
Spurning and kicking them, 

as if dogs they had beene, 
Careles in cruelty, 

was this wretch euer scene. 

5 Neuer went they without 

brused and broken eyes. 
Head and face blacke and blew, 

such was their miseries: 
What so came next his hand, 

tongs or forke from the fier 
Would he still lay on them, 

in his madd moody ire. 

6 Parents come bend your eares, 

listen what followed on, 




Masters come shed your teares, 
mothers come make your moane, 

Seruants with sad laments, 
rue the calamity, 

Those gentle children had; 
liuing in missery. 

7 The first a pretty boy, 

had with a suddaine spurne, 
One of his eares strooke off, 

woefully rent and torne : 
Where vnder surgeons hands, 

he liued long in woe. 
By this same grieuous wound, 

this vilaine gaue him so. 

8 Most heauv was his hand, 

and his heart full of strif, 
Ungodly all the dayes 

of this his passed life. 
Who so perswading him 

to patient Charity, 
Was still abussed much, 

by this wretch wilfully. 

9 Witness this harmles child, 

that he misused sore, 
Scourging him day by day, 

not knowing cause wherefore, 
Unlawfull gouernment 

brings him vnto his end. 
From such like cruelty 

all seruants God defend. 

tlTlje sfeconli part, Co tfje siame tune. 

lo ^ I ^His his deeds was not known 
A which he kept secretly 
Nor to light, many a day 
came this vile villany 



Till that his heart did thirst, 
more humain blood to shed, 

Which in the same full sone 
crewell conditions bred. 

1 1 No sparke of gentlenes, 

but flames of cruelty, 
Burned within his brest 

mischiefes blacke treasury, 
So that to further ills, 

and to more bloody deeds 
Wanting grace, wilfully 

to the same he proceeds. 

12 A poore mans child he had 

whome he beat backe and syde 
Continuing it day and hower 

till this poore prentis dyed. 
For which he was arraigned 

and by Law had beene cast, 
But mercy quitted him 

for those offences past. 

1 3 Yet those faire warnings here 

wrought in him little good, 
But rather drew him on 

For to shed further blood: 
And being blinded thus 

with a persewing ill, 
Another poore harmles child 

he did by beating kill. 

14 Harmelesse indeed was he, 

and a poore neighbours sonne 
Whom he did beat and bruze 

ere since this frost begun : 
Onely because that hee 

could not worke in the cold 
Nor performe such a taske 

as he by custome should. 




15 Wherefore this cruell wretch, 

whipt him from top to toe, 
With a coard full of knotts, 

of leather yet to show, 
Wherby his tender limbes, 

from his foote to the head, 
Are with wounds blacke & blew, 

couered ore all and spred. 

16 Oh cursed cruelties, 

this did not him suffice. 
But kept him lokt vp closse, 

from sight of neighbors eyes. 
And from his parents deare, 

when they came him to see. 
Little misdouting this, 

their sonnes extremetye. 

1 7 Thus weary woefull dayes, 

did this poore child abide. 
Where he lay languishing, 

till the hower that he dyed, 
Where his poore mangled corpes, 

By neighbors there was found, 
bruzed and beaten sore, 

with many a deadly wound. 

1 8 His braines ny broaken forth, 

and his neck burst in twaine. 
On his Limbs ouer all, 

spotts of blood did remaine. 
And the rim of his wombe, 

spurned in peeces is, 
Neuer such Marterdome, 

of a poore child like this.^ 

^ Text has a comma. 



1 9 (Oh Price,) deare is the price 

for this blood thou must pay, 
Life for life, bloud for bloud, 

on thy domes dying day, 
Pray thou for mercy there, 

to saue thy sinfull soule. 
For me thinks I doe heare, 

thy pasing Bell doth toule. 

Printed at London for T.L. 




A proverb old ^ yet ne'^er forgot 

Pepys, I, 386, B.L., three woodcuts, four columns. This is an admirably 
printed and illustrated sheet, of which Francis Grove could justly have 
been proud. 

A number of other ballads by Martin Parker are written on proverbs — 
"Faint heart never won fair lady," "The proof of the pudding is all in 
the eating," and the like. "Strike while the iron is hot" is a proverb that 
occurs in Chaucer's Melibeus (line 70) and his Troilus and Criseyde (11, 
1275), in John Heywood's Proverbs {Works, 1562, ed. J. S. Farmer, 
pp. 8, 221), in 3 Henry VI, v, i, 49, in Webster's Northward Ho, 11, ii, 
and in many other places. Here Parker advises young men to marry widows, 
though in "The Wiving Age" (No. 41) he scoffs at this practice. 

The tune is given in Chappell's Popular Music, i, 143. 

% ^rouerbe olb, pet nere forgot, 

tS^t£f goob to sitrike tattle ttie 3lron£( t)ott. 

Coungell to all |9oung men tfjat are poore, 

Co iHarrp toitf) OTitrofcoes noto tot)ile tfjere is! sitore. 

To the Tune of, Dulcina. 

I ALl you Young-men who would Marry, 
■Lx. and enioy your hearts content, 
In your mindes this Counsell carry, 
then you shall no whitt repent: 

now is the time 

that Men may clime 
Unto promotion by good lot, 

this Prouerbe old 

hath oft bene told, 
Tis good to strike while the Iron's hott. 



2 Wealthy Widowes now are plenty, 

where you come in any place, 
For one Man thers Women twenty, 
this time lasts but for a space : 
She^ will be wrought, 
though it be for nought, 
But wealth which their first Husband got, 
let Young-men poore 
make hast therefore, 
Tis good to strike while the Irons hott.^ 

3 Now is the Wooing time or neuer, 

Widowes now will loue Young-men, 
Death them from their Mates did seuer, 
now they long to match agen, 
they will not stand 
for House or Land, 
Although thou be'st not worth a groat, 
set foorth thy selfe, 
thou shalt haue Pelfe, 
If thou wilt strike while the Irons hott. 

4 Doe not dote on Maydens features, 

Widowes are the only ware, 
It is many Young-mens natures 
to loue Maydens young and fayre, 
tis Cupids wile 
thus to beguile 
Young Louers, therefore trust him not, 
get one with Gold, 
though nere so old, 
Tis good to strike while the Irons hott. 

5 Lads and Lasses often marry, 

ritch in nothing but in Loue, 

^ Read They. ^ Text has a comma. 



Want of meanes will make them vary, 
as we often times doe prooue, 

how ere they fare, 

they must take care 
To kepe their Children when they are got: 

of this take hede, 

and learne with speed 
To strike the Iron while tis hott. 

6 Let not such a time oreslip thee, 

rayse thy fortunes while thou mayst, 
Maydens can but coll and clip thee, 
so will Widowes when they tast 
a Young mans loue, 
most kind theyle prooue, 
The youngest best that can be got, 
sith this is so, 
then be not slow. 
But strike the Iron while tis hott. 

tlTfte jaieconb ^art, to tfje same tKune. 

7 ALl waies take this for a maxime, 
/^ that old Widowes loue young men, 
Oh then doe not spare for asking, 

though she's old, shele toot agen : 

she scornes to take 

for Ritches sake. 
Thy Money she regardeth not, 

with loue her winne, 

together ioyne. 
And strike the Iron while tis hott. 

8 Some perhaps may make obiection 

that Old-women ielous are, 
Let not that change thy affection, 
though they be doe thou not care 
if thou be true, 
and give her due, 




Shele nere mistrust thee feare it not, 

shele loue thee deere, 

then doe not feare, 
But strike the Iron while tis hott. 

9 Maydens loues are coy and fickle, 
they too much their equalls looke. 
If of wealth thou hast but little, 
fye away you^ are mistooke, 
replyeth she, 
come not to me : 
Then art thou daunted soone God wot, 
then woe an old, 
feare not, be bold. 
And strike the Iron while tis hott. 

10 And besides thers many Lasses, 

dares not marry when they list, 
Cause her Portion ere she passes 
must come from her Fathers fist: 
but still you see 
a Widowes free, 
For friend or foe she careth not, 
then who would misse 
such time as this, 
Tis good to strike while the Irons hott. 

1 1 Many Matches haue bene broken, 

though both Parties were content. 
When the Maides good-will is gotten, 
then her Friends will not consent: 
would it not vexe 
a Man, to fixe 
His mind on whats an others lot? 
then he thats poore 
to mend his store. 
Must strike the Iron while tis hott. 

^ Tex I your. 


12 If a poore Young-man be matched 

with a Widdow stord with gold, 
And thereby be much inritched, 
though hes young and she is old, 
twill be no shame 
vnto his Name, 
If he haue what his Friends haue not, 
but every Friend 
will him commend 
For striking the Iron while twas hott. 

1 3 Young-men all who heare^ this Ditty, 

in your memories kepe it well, 
Chiefely you in London City, 
where so many Widowes dwell, 
the Season now 
doth well alow 
Your practise, therefore loose it not, 
fall toot apace, 
while you haue space. 
And strike the Iron while tis hott. 


Martin Parker. 

Printed at London for Francis Groue, and 
are to be sold at his Shop on Snow-Hill. 

1 Text hreae. 



T'he wiving age 

Pepys, I, 384, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. 

The ballad dates at least as early as 1625, as appears from the fact that 
the ballad next following (No. 42), which is an answer to it, came from 
the press of John Trundle. Perhaps another limit to the date is to be in- 
ferred from the fact that "The siluer Age, or, The World turned back- 
ward. To a pleasant new Court tune" (Pepys, i, i 54), which is apparently 
the first of the popular "Age" ballads, was licensed on November 16, 1621 
(Arber's Transcript, iv, 61). On that same day "the brasen age" (now 
lost) was registered by Henry Gosson, and it may have been followed by 
an "Iron Age," since a ballad of that title is mentioned in Fletcher's 
Coxcomb, II, ii. Possibly the popularity of Thomas Heywood's dramas on 
the various ages had something to do with suggesting these ballads, though 
the subject-matter of the dramas and the ballads is widely different. 

Parker delighted in writing satirical ballads of this nature. Here he 
ridicules the marriage of young men with widows, while in "A Proverb 
Old" (No. 40) he strongly urges the wisdom of such a procedure. By fol- 
lowing this method consistently, Parker hoped to placate and amuse every 
class of his hearers: those whom he attacked in one ballad could be sure 
that in another he would soon defend them or satirize their rivals. 

The tune comes from a ballad in the Pepys Collection, i, 152, called 
"The Golden Age; or. An Age of plaine-dealing. To a pleasant new 
Court tune: Or, Whoope, doe me no harme, good man" To the latter tune, 
which is given in Chappell's Popular Music, i, 208, T/ie Go/den Age is, of 
course, equivalent. 



CJje bJiuing age. 


^ great Complaint of tfie iHailiens; of Honbon, 
WBfio noto for lacfee of goob ^usibanljg are bnbone, 
Jfor noto man? OTitiotoes! tf)ougf) neuer go olb, 
iSre caugtit bp tp poung men for lucre of goltr. 

To the tune of l^e Go/ Jen age. 

THe Maidens of London are now in despaire, 
How they shall get husbands, it is all their care, 
Though maidens be neuer so vertuous and faire, 
Yet old wealthy widowes, are yong mens chiefe ware. 
Oh this is a wiuing age. 
Oh this is a wiuing age. 

A yong man need neuer take thought how to wiue, 
For widowes and maidens for husbands doe striue, 
Heres scant men enough for them all left aliue, 
They flocke to the Church, like Bees to the Hiue. 

Oh this is a wiuing age, 

Oh this is a wiuing age. 

Twixt widowes and maids there is a great strife, 
And either of them would faine be a wife. 
They all doe cry out on this fond single life, 
And long to dance after a Taber and Fife. 

Oh this is a wiuing age. 

Oh this is a wiuing age. 

The maidens I doubt will be put to the worst, 
And widowes though old, will be maried all first. 
To drinke the bride Posset good Lord how they thirst, 
Though they haue foule faces the're beautifull purst. 

Oh this is a wiuing age. 

Oh this is a wiuing age. 


5 Most Widowes are impudent, they cannot blush, 
For speech of the people they care not a rush: 
They are very free and their money is flush, 

They will haue a young-man their aprons to brush.^ 
Oh this is a wiuing age. 
Oh this is a wiuing age? 

6 Yong maidens are bashfull, but widowes are bold, 
They tempt poore yong men with their siluer and gold. 
For loue now a dales for money is sold. 

If she be worth treasure no matter how old. 
Oh this is a wiuing age. 
Oh this is a wiuing age. 

7 For one maid now maried theres widowes a score, 
Their husbands scant dead a whole fortnight^ before. 
They cannot Hue single they'le mary therefore. 
With any yong man though hees neuer so poore. 

Oh this is a wiuing age. 
Oh this is a wiuing age. 

8 Oh is not this a pitifull case, 

That many a delicate beautifull lasse. 

Should thus by old widowes be put to disgrace. 

For euery yong lad has his widow in chase. 

Oh this is a wiuing age. 

Oh this is a wiuing age. 

Wsst sieconb part, to tfie sfame tune. 

9 T Et Maidens be patient, and neuer take thought, 
i— ' But stay vntill all the old widowes be caught. 
For now like to horses for coyne they are bought. 
They say that in Smithfield \}[v^y v cry'd twelue a groat. 

Oh this is a wiuing age. 
Oh this is a wiuing age. 

^ No period in the text. ^ Text has a comma. 

^ Text fornight. 



10 Yet some of these widowes that marry so fast, 

I doubt will haue cause to repent of their haste: 
If they marry yong men their shoulders to bast, 
Oh then they will whine when the remedy is past. 

And curse such a wiuing age. 

And curse ^ ^c. 

1 1 Likewise many yongmen perhaps may repent. 
When all the old Angels are wasted and spent, 
Theyle wish the tongue out, that gaue first consent, 
Theyle say then I muse what a deuill I meant 

To match in that wiuing age. 
To match in that wiuing age. 

12 A young man that marries a widow for wealth, 
Does euen much dammage vnto his soules health, 
For he will be toying and playing by stealth, 
Shee's iealous though neuer so iustly he dealth. 

Take heed of this wiuing age. 
Take heed^ is'c. 

13 When young Lads and Lasses as them doth behoue, 
Doe lawfully marry together in loue, 

God poures downe his blessings on them from aboue. 
But youth and old dotage contrary doe proue. 

As tis in this wiuing age. 

As tis, &c. 

14 It may be accounted a wonder to see 

An old crasse croane with a young man agree: 

Tis onely for wealth that they married be, 

Then take them who list, a young maid is for me. 

Oh this is a wiuing age, 

Oh this is a wiuing age. 

15 Then let no yong maidens be displeased in minde, 
Though widowes are maried, and they left behinde: 
Those yong men who are thus contrary to kinde. 
You were better lose, then euer to finde, 

Leaue them to this wiuing age. 
Leaue them, ^c. 


1 6 Yet must I confesse many widowes there be 
Who from all libidinous thoughts are so free, 
They wed not for lust, but for loue as we see, 
Finde me such a one, and He quickly agree, 

To match in this wiuing age. 
To match in this wiuing age, 

1 7 Of all sorts and sexes theres some good some bad, 
Theres choyce of both widowes and maids to be had; 
He that happens well hath cause to be glad. 

And therefore let euery honest young Lad 
Make choyce in this wiuing age, 
Make choyce, if^c. 

1 8 My song vnto Virgins is chiefly directed, 
Who now in this age are little respected. 
Though widowes be chosen and maids be reiected, 
They will be esteemed, though now they'r neglected, 

Tet not in this wiuing age, 
Yet not in this wiuing age. 

Jfinis!. M.P. 

Printed for Francis Coules at the vpper end of the 
old Baily neere Newgate. 



T'he cunning age 

Pepys, I, 412, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. 

As John Trundle printed this ballad, it cannot have appeared later than 
1626. Perhaps, as is pointed out in the introduction to the ballad imme- 
diately preceding, it as well as No. 41 was printed a year or two earlier. It 
was registered at Stationers' Hall by John Wright and his five partners on 
June I, 1629, under the title of "The Conning cosening age" (Arber's 
Transcript, iv, 213). 

The song was written as a direct answer to Martin Parker's "Wiving 
Age" (No. 41). The author, John Cart, represents an irate widow as 
bitterly denying the truth of Parker's attack on her sisterhood, as scoffing 
at the thought of remarrying, and as anxious to get her clutches on Parker. 
J. C, probably Cart, was the author of "A Lesson for all True Christians" 
\Roxburgke Ballads, vii, 814); a later ballad entitled "A Warning for 
Swearers" {ibid, viii, 76), though signed J. C, can hardly have been his 

The tune is equivalent to Whoop, do me no harm, good man (cf. No. 41). 

tlTfje cunning ^ge. 

^ remarrietr ?B8!loman repenting fjer iHarriage, 
iSvefjearsiing fjer ?|u£;tianbs; bisffjonesit carriage. 

Joeing a pleasfant dialogue tjettneen a remarrieti OToman, 
a OTliiitiottJ, anb a poung ^ife. 

To the Tune of The Wiuing Age. 
I r^ Ood morrow, kind Gossip, why whither so fast.'' 
V_T I pray stay a while, I know ther's no haste, 
And let's chat a while of some things that are past; 
I heare say y' are married since I saw you last; 
O this is a hasty Age., 
O this is a hasty Age. 



Mar. Woman, j 

2 'Tis true, I am marry'd, which hath beene my bane, 

But if that I were now a Widdow againe, • 

I so would continue; but griefe is in vaine, ' 

I must be contented to sing this sad straine, 

Oh fie on this coozening Age, 

Oh fie on this &c. 


3 Oh, doe you so quickly your bargaine repent, 
And yet you thought long e're about it you went ? 
If marriage bring trouble, in time He preuent 

All future vnquietnesse, and be content 
To shun such a coozening Age, 
To shun ^c. 

Mar. Wo. 

4 Oh, woe is me, Gossip, that e're I was borne, 
I marry'd a Boy, that now holds me in scorne. 
He comes among Whoores both euening and morne, 
While I sit at home, like a creature forlorne. 

Oh, this is a coozening Age, 
Oh, &c. 


5 Oh, who would imagine that such a young Lad, 
That scarce was worth twelue pence with al that he had, 
Should wed a rich woman, and vse her so bad ? 
I trust I shall neuer be so doting mad. 

To match in this coozening Age, ^c. 

Mar. Wo. 

6 The griefe that I suffer can hardly be told, 
Among Whores and Knaues he consumeth my gold, 
And if I reprooue him, he tels me I scold, 
I dare not dispose of mine owne as I would. 

Oh fie on this doting Age, 
Oh fie on this doting Age. 




7 Well, by your example I warning will take, 
With no Skip-iacke boy a match I will make; 
Two Sutors I haue, but I both will forsake, 

For some that are fond, as they brew let them bake; 
rie take heed of this cunning Age^ 
rie take heed of this cunning Age. 

Mar. Wo. 

8 Well, doe so, good Gossip; and^ so Fare you well, 
My goodly new husband will curse me to hell : 

Old lohn^ (God be with him) my neighbours can tell. 
Did neuer in 's life giue me mouthfull of ill. 

Oh fie on this doting Age, 

Oh fie on this doting Age. 

9 There is an old Prouerbe, that oft hath bin try'd. 
Set a Beggar on horse-back, to tK Gallowes heel ride; 
So, wed a young Boy, hee's so puft vp with pride, 
They'l marry rich Widdowes, to scoffe and deride. 

Oh this is a coozening Age, 
O this is a coozening Age. 


John Cart. 

Wi)t ^econb ^art. tlTo tije siame l^une. 

Married Woman. 

I o T) Ut stay, who comes yonder ? 'tis well yt I tarry'd : 

-L' My kinswoman Katherin, she lately was mary'd, 
Shee had better gone to the Church to be bury'd. 
With her now, I doubt, things are otherwise carryd. 

She curseth this coozening Age, 

She curseth this coozening Age. 

Young Wife. 

I I What Cousin and neighbour, are you met together? 
'Tis well that I hapned so luckily hither, 

1 Textzo^. 

R.p.G. 241 Q 


I long haue desired to talke with you either; 

Come, stand not i'th street, let's go trauel somwhither.^ 

Oh fie on this coozening Age, 

Oh fie on this ^c. 

Both to the young Wife. 

12 Well, how dost thou like of thy Husband, good Kate? 
We heare of a certaine th' art marry'd of late 

With a wealthy old widdower, to better thy state, 
Who loues thee as deare as the Turtle his mate: 

That's rare in this coozening Age, 

That's rare &'c. 

Tong Wife. 

13 Oh woe is me. Cousin, that euer 'twas done, 
A beggarly slaue my affection hath wonne; 
He brag'd of his riches, whereof he had none, 
But fiue little Children, foure Girles, and a Sonne, 

Oh fie on this coozening^ Age, 
Oh fie on this ^c. 

14 When he came a wooing, he borrow'd a Cloake, 
And Rings to his fingers, my loue to prouoke; 
The diuell a word of his Children he spoke, 
But now we are marry'd, I find that hee's broke. 

Oh fie on this coozening Age, 
Oh fie on this &'c. 

1 5 Besides, hee's so ielous, that if I but looke 

On any Yong-man, hee'l be sworne on a booke, 1 
That I make him Cuckold by hooke or by crooke; 
This doting suspition no woman can brooke. 
Oh fie on this doting Age, ^c. 

Mar. Worn. 

16 It seemes then, good Kate, we are both alike sped. 
Ill fortune had we, with such Husbands to wed: 
For if all be true that heere thou hast sed, 

I would either we, or our Husbands were dead. 
Oh fie on this coozening Age, 
Oh fie on this coozening Age. 
1 No period in the text. ^ Text coozennig. 




17 Your speeches will make me still willing to tarry, 
Sith VViddowes and Batchelors both doe miscarry; 
Yet 'tis said in London^ that when we doe bury 
Our Husbands, next moneth we are ready to marry; 

Oh this is a lying Age^ 
Oh this is ^c. 

1 8 Nay more, to abash vs, the Poets o'th times. 
Doe blazon vs forth in their Ballads and Rimes, 
With bitter inuectiue satvricall lines. 

As though we had done some notorious crimes. 
Oh this is a scandalous Age.^ 
Oh this is &'c. 

19 I would I the Poet could get in my clutches. 

He were better write ballads against ye Arch-dutches : 
There is one mad ballad that sorely vs touches. 
The hetroclite Singer, that goes vpon Crutches, 

Doth roare out the Wiuing Age, 

Doth roare out ^c. 

20 But 'tis no great matter, let Knaues say their worst, 
And swell with foule enuy vntill they doe burst. 

I keepe you so long, I shall make you be curst, 
I could find in heart to stay still, if you durst: 

Oh now comes the -parting Age^ 

Oh now comes the parting Age. 


Printed at London for lohn Trundle. 

243 Q2 


T'he cheating age 

Pepys, I, 158, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. 

"The Cheating Age," one of a series of "Age" ballads, was printed 
before 1626. Cf. the introductions to Nos. 41 and 42. Lincolnshire 
Leonard tells rather a stupid story, though not half bad are his descriptions 
of typical London sharpers. Presumably the Poet whom he mentions as 
being among his dubious companions was a ballad-writer. William Cooke 
is not, so far as I can find, represented by other extant ballads. The 
"pleasant new tune" to which the ballad is to be sung is equivalent to 
Whoop, do me no harm, good man (cf. No. 41). 

tlTfje Cfjeating ^ge : 
0x LEONARD of Lincolnes iournep to LONDON 

to buj> Wit 

To a pleasant new tune. 

I TIJ^Rom olde famous Lincolne that's seated so hye, 
-L Well mounted and furnisht, with gold did I flye, 
To Londons fam'd Citie some wit for to buy, 
Which cost me so deare, makes me sigh, sob, and cry. 

For this is the cheating Age^ 

For this is the cheating Age. 

1 Before I had entered Bishops wide gate, 

The Mouth made an offer as if it would prate : 
But one scrapt acquaintance vnto my hard fate. 
And made me consume there most part of my state. 
For this is the cheating Age., &c. 

3 For after a neate comly French salutation, 
His tongue he did order in such a feat fashion, 



As I for to heare him amazed did stand, 
But he in the Tauerne me pull'd by the hand. 
For this is the cheating Age^ ^c. 

4 When each one had tasted a cup two or three, 
What knowledge of Country and kindred had wee. 
How bountifull Bacchus with vs did agree, 

That ne're till this houre did each other see. 
For this is the cheating Age^ i^c. 

5 He askt my affaires ? I made him reply : 

And tolde him my comming was wit for to buy: 
(Ouoth he) rie befriend you with that presently, 
He vnlatcht a window that Westward did flye. 
For this is the cheating age^ &c. 

6 Then straight a strange whistle he to the street sends. 
Audaciously blowne from his Theeues fingers ends, 
The Drawer runs vp, sayes, there's some of your friends 
Hath call'd for some wine, and your comming attends. 

For this is the cheating Age^ ^c, 

7 He cheard me, and tolde me, for them he had sent: 
Should teach me wit gratis ere homeward I went : 
But I ne're misdoubting, the Knauery he meant, 
Haue swallow'd a baite which hath made me repent. 

For this is the cheating Age^ ^c. 

8 Up straight comes a Roarer with long shaggy lockes. 
New broke out fro Newgate, the Cage, or some Stocks 
Or else from the Spittle, halfe cur'd of the Pox, 

But rie carefull be, least he pepper my box. 
For this is the cheating Age^ &'c. 

9 This totterd grim Rascall amaz'd me to heare, 
The terrible oathes which for nothing he sware. 
With that stampt his foote, and straightway did appeare 
Such horrible faces that made me to feare. 

For this is the cheating age^ i^c. 




lo Up marches two creatures in torne totterd cases, 
With long rustie Rapiers, swolne eyes, & patcht faces 
As if that black Pluto from Limbo had sent, 
These horrid grim visions to make vs repent. 
For this is the cheating age^ ^c. 

Cije sieconb part Co tije siame tunc. 

MY former Companion straight rise from the boord, 
And courteous kinde greeting to them did afford : 
Saying, pray sir bid welcome my friends of the sword, 
That gaine credit by deeds sir, and not by their word : 
For this is the cheating age, &'c. 

1 2 First hauing saluted, we sate downe againe. 
And call'd for Tobacco, burnt Claret amaine: 
The Drawer officious to giue vs our bane, 

With cups plyde vs hard to put's out of our paine. 
For this is the cheating age, i^c. 

1 3 These chimney-nos'd Rascals did make such a smother, 
I ne're saw the like since I came from my mother: 
Such cloude of blew vapour fro their nosthrils did come, 
Had like for to choakt me and fired the roome. 

For this is the cheating age, ^c. 

14 Then vp comes a Poet with a Rooke at his taile. 
That feedes all the Winter of Toasts drown 'd in Ale, 
And in the Summer so setteth to sale, 
Inuentions of others before, his time stale. 

For this is the cheating age, i^c. 

1 5 Then straightway one calls to the barre-Boy for Dice, 
Which wrapt in a paper, was brought in a trice. 
Requesting to put off a little odde time. 

They would play for no more then a pottle of Wine. 
For this is the cheating age, &'c. 



i6 I gaue my consent, and with them did play, 

From wine for dry money, till next breake of day. 
Where vext at my losses, I set at one cast. 
Full forty good pounds to be rid of my last. 
For this is the cheating age^ i^c. 

1 7 My money being set, the cast straight was throwne, 
And he like the diuell cride. All is mine owne: 

So euery penny he from me did get. 
And bad me to Lincolne goe backe by my wit. 
For this is the cheating age^ &'c. 

1 8 They hauing my money, did all steale away, 
And left me with nothing, fiue pound for to pay : 
But my cloake lin'd with veluet, & my rapier guilt gay, 
Did make cleane the score, and all charges defray, 

For this is the cheating age^ ^c. 

1 9 A Pox of all Cheaters, and grim roaring Boyes : 
All rooking base Pandars and nitty Decoyes : 
And all that make practise to thriue by such fits, 
The three cornerd night-cap once cocker their wits. 

For this is the cheating age^ ^c. 

20 Now Leonard of Lincolne with griefe bids adiew: 
My iourney to London long time I shall rue : 

I ne're in my life met with villaines so vilde. 
To send a man home like the Prodigall Childe. 

For this is the cheating age^ 

For this is the cheating age. 

JfinisJ. By William Cooke. 

Printed at London by E.J. for lohn Wright. 



T'he life and death of Mr George 



Pepys, I, 128, B.L., two woodcuts, four columns. 

This is a fine example of a "hanging ballad," though a bit more hostile 
in tone than is customary. The hostility of the ballad-writer is certainly 
excusable, for Mr George Sandys, his father Sir George, and his mother 
Lady Susanna were notorious rotters, inveterate criminals. Abundant 
information about the three — for much of which I am indebted to Pro- 
fessor Kittredge — is available. 

On August 10, 1616, Sir George Sandys was indicted in the Middlesex 
Sessions on four counts: (i) for assaulting and robbing Anthony Culver- 
well of a cloak and a watch worth forty shillings each; (2) for assaulting 
and robbing John Foxe of personal property to the value of fifteen shillings; 
(3) for assaulting and robbing John Marston of "a blacke roned gelding 
worth ten pounds" and valuable personal property; (4) for assaulting and 
robbing Robert Wright of "a grey gelding worth seven pounds, a chest- 
nutt bay gelding worth eight pounds, three saddles worth forty shillings," 
and so on. Sir George pleaded "not guilty," and the trial resulted in his 
acquittal (Jeaffreson's Middlesex County Records, 11, 125). On August 21 
M. de Tourval wrote to Francis Windebank {Calendar of State Papers, 
Domestic, 1611-18, p. 391) that Sir George Sandys and others were 
hanged for highway robberies at Kensington "of twelve or thirteen per- 
sons in an evening." It is hardly credible that there were two highway 
robbers of the same name and title; and as our Sir George was acquitted 
by the courts sometime in August after the tenth, it seems reasonable to 
suppose that Tourval had this trial in mind and was misinformed about 
the verdict. 

On June i, 16 17 (JeafFreson, op. cit. 11, 131), "Sir George Sandes knt., 
his wife Susannah Lady Sandes, and George Sandes gentleman, all three 
of Endfield," were indicted for being absent for a whole month from 
church ! — evidence that, whatever their other faults, they were not sancti- 
monious lip-servers of religion. But in spite of these peremptory warnings, 
Sir George did not mend his ways; and, according to a letter written by 
Sir Gerard Herbert to Sir Dudley Carleton {Calendar of State Papers, 
Domestic, 1611-18, p. 527), he was hanged about March 10, 1618, "at 
Wapping for taking purses on the highway, having been formerly pardoned 
for like offences; his lady and son [are] in prison as accomplices." 



The son and mother were, as the ballad says, thoroughly depraved. 
John Chamberlain wrote to Carleton on January 23, 1619 {Calendar of 
State Papers, Domestic, 1619-23, p. 8), that "Lady Sandys, whose husband 
was hanged for robbery, has herself turned thief." Similar charges were 
soon made against George. On September 22, 16 19 (JeafFreson, op. cit. 
II, 149), he was indicted on the charge of stealing "a gray gelding worth 
five pounds of the goods and chattels of Sir Peter Temple knt.", but pleaded 
"not guilty" and was acquitted. The following passage gives an account 
of the crime which in stanza 8 Sandys is said to have committed: 

25 July, 2 Charles I. — True Bill that, at the parish of St. Pancras co. Midd. 
on the said day, George Sandes late of St. Giles's-in-the-Fields co. Midd. 
gentleman assaulted Jane Wrighte, . . .and murdered her by putting one leather 
brayded rayne round her neck, and forthwith strangling and suffocating her 
with the said rayne, so that she then and there died instantly; and that afterwards 
on the same day, knowing him to have committed the said murder, Suzan Lady 
Sandes, James Jones yoman and Edward Gent gendeman [or rather j^-ow^w], 
all three late of St. Giles's-in-the-Field, received, harboured and comforted the 
said George Sandes at the same last-named parish. 

Jeaffreson {op. cit. in, 11) remarks that over the names of the accused 
"appear the words 'po se' = he (or she) put himself (or herself) 'Not 
Guilty' on a jury of the country. No other minute [appears] on the face 
of the indictment." From the comments made by the ballad-writer it 
seems that Sandys with his companions was acquitted of this charge 
though afterwards he made an inadvertent confession of its truth to 
another woman whom he assaulted — to the Honor Rudston of the follow- 
ing indictment: 

28 August, 2 Charles I. — True Bill that, at St. Giles's-in-the-Fields co. 
Midd. on the said day, George Sandes gentleman, James Jones yoman, and 
Edward Gent yoman, all late of the said parish, assaulted Honor Rudston, . . . 
and that the said George Sandes gendeman then and there 'rapuit et carnaliter 
cognovit' the said Honor Rudston, against her will and without her consent. 

On this indictment all three men were found guilty and were sentenced to 
be hanged (Jeaffreson, op. cit. iii, 1 1). After their execution the ballad was 

From these records it appears that the author of the ballad, though 
rightly hostile to Sandys, has too much sympathy for James Jones and 
Edward Gent and that they were not the passive tools and dupes he 
describes. The valedictory poem — said to be of Jones's own composition 
— with which the ballad ends, hardly suggests that English poetry suffered 
a loss by the untimely end of Jones. In any case his claim to the authorship 
of this poem is very doubtful indeed. "Neck verses" like these were the 
stock in trade of the professional balladists, who with no compunction 
thrust them on any criminal that was available. 

The tune is given in Chappell's Popular Music, i, 198. 



^ijf life anb beat!) ot iH. Geo: Sands, tajfjo after ntanp 

enormou£f crimes! tip tint committeb, tDitf) /o/;£'j anb 

Gent tisf confeberateg, toag executeb at tKpburne on 

Zliaiebnegbap tije 6 of September, X626. 

To the tune of Flying Fame. 

COme hither yongmen and giue eare, 
and good example take, 
By this which is related here 

for admonitions sake, 
Wherein is showne the life and death, 

of Sands that noted theefe. 
The reason why he lost his breath, 
is here declar'd in briefe. 



1 That all young men from him may learne 

to Hue in better awe, 
Foule vice from vertue to discerne, 

according to the law: 
A wicked life this caitiffe led, 

reiecting vertues lore. 
The grace of God from him was fled, 

all good he did abhorre. 

3 Since first he came to any strength, 

he practis'd nought but stealing, 
Which brought a shamefull death at length 

for his vngracious dealing. 
He alwayes hath himselfe maintain'd 

by base sinister courses, 
And oftentimes hath beene araign'd 

by Law, for stealing horses. 

4 Yet still it was his lucke to scape; 

which hardned him in euill. 
From theft to murder, and to rape, 

suborned by the Deuill, 
His wicked heart so bent to sin, 

in villany tooke pride. 
There liued scarce the like of him, 

in all the Land beside. 

j" His name so infamous was growne 

to all both far and neere. 
And he tooke pride to haue it knowne, 

as by him did appeare. 
For when he was araign'd of late, 

at the Tribunall seat. 
He seemed to exhilerate, 

at his offences great. 

6 And boasted that he oftentimes 
had scap't the fatall cord. 
For stealing horses, and such crimes, 
as high wayes doe afford, 



And with a brauing impudence, 

he did the Bench outface, 
Not shewing any reuerence, 

to any in that place. 

7 The facts he was indited for, 

were three enormous^ sinnes, 
Which God and nature doth abhor, 

the least damnation winnes. 
Without the speciall grace of God, 

for which he neuer sought. 
Nor neuer seemed to be sad, 

for that which he had wrought. 

8 The Maid that on Saint lames his day, 

was found neere Holborne dead, 
Tis thought this wretch did make away, 

if all be true that's sed. 
From her he tooke away twelue pound, 

and then to make all sure, 
He strangled her, as she was found, 

his safety to procure. 

W^t fiieconb part. Co ti)e £(ame tune. 


Ut no such crimes can be conceaFd, 
old time will find them out. 
And haue them to the world reueal'd, 

and publisht all about. 
As this strange murder came to light, 

by Sands his owne confession. 
When as he sought with all his might, 
to act a foule transgression, 

lo Vpon the body of a Maid, 

whom he perforce did rauish, 
If she oppos'd his will he said, 
with speeches somewhat lauish: 
^ Text enornous. 


That if she did deny to yeeld 

to him, hee'd serue her so, 
As he did one in Holborne field 

not very long agoe, 

1 1 To this foule sin of rauishment 

he likewise did seduce 
Another youngman, whose consent 

gaue ayd to this abuse. 
For which by law he hath his doome, 

to suffer shamefully. 
Take heed young men how you do come 

into leud company. 

1 2 For if young lones had neuer seene 

this wicked Sands his face. 
He surely now had liuing beene, 

but wanting Gods good grace, 
He was allured by his meanes 

to Hue by lawlesse stealth, 
Thus to maintaine strong drink & queanes 

he robd the commonwealth. 

1 3 Some other men of good regard, 

he did to robbery draw. 
All these with him in death haue shar'd, 

according to the Law. 
But he the chiefe occasion was 

of these same youngmens ends. 
Whose deaths haue brought to wofull passe 

their parents and their friends, 

1 4 Among the rest one father lones^ 

an honest ancient man. 
With lachrimable teares bemones 

the losse of his owne son. 
But Sands hath run so vild a race, 

that few bewaile his death. 
How many flockt with ioy to th' place 

where he did lose his breath. 


15 His father named Sir George Sands^ 

when by his carelesse dealing, 
He had quite wasted goods and lands, 

did Hue long time by stealing: 
And with his wicked Lady wife, 

did rob the highway side, 
For which at length he lost his life, 

and by base hanging dyde. 

16 Thus both the father and the sonne 

did end their Hues alike, 
The Lady yet hath scapt that death, 

and sorrow doth her strike. 
God grant her life may now be such, 

that men of her may say. 
Her life was leud, yet now shee's prou'd 

a conuert at last day. 

1 7 Loe here you see a fearfull end, j. 

of Sir George Sands his sonne, I' 

Let euery one a warning take, '^ 

and better courses runne: I 

Which to effect let vs all pray ;| 

to him that gaue vs breath, ' 
That of his mercy he'll vs keepe 

from such vntimely death. 

The following lines lones writ with his owne hand, a 
little before his death. 

1 8 ^7^0 me death is no death, but life for euer. 
J- My ioy in heauen is, which endeth neuer. 
Lord thou hast promist to the penitent. 
That thou wilt saue him if he doe repent: 
And now most gratious Lord, I craue of thee^ 
Mercy for him that hath contemned thee, 

1 Text has a period. 


I am a sinner {Lord) thou knows 1 1 am. 
And full of ill, ahoue an other man, 
Tet am I free from th''^ fault for which I dye, 
But haue transgrest the Lawes most hainously. 
Oh saue my soule, O hord of thee I craue. 
Let that mount vp, though body rot in graue. 

Printed at London for F. Couls, and are to be sold 

at his shop at the vpper end of the Old Baily 

neere Newgate. 

1 Text '//^. 



yohn Spenser^ a Cheshire gallant 

Pepys, I, 114, three woodcuts, four columns. The first part is in B.L., 
the second in roman and italic type. 

Some Cheshire antiquary may know the facts of John Spenser's lewd life 
and melancholy death, but I have found nothing to add to the account 
given in the ballad. Thomas Dickerson, too, is a name unfamiliar in 
balladry: had he come earlier, his initials at the end of ballads would have 
caused confusion with those of Thomas Deloney. Dickerson, of course, 
also wrote the second part, though he foists the authorship upon John 
Spenser himself. This is a splendid ballad of its particular kind. Spenser's 
repentance is thoroughly edifying: it is a bit curious, perhaps, that a man 
so widely loved as he is said to have been should have kept this love during 
a whole life of dissipation and have lost it for "one offence but small," 
even though that small offence was murder. It is also a pity that he delayed 
so long in subscribing to the sentiments of "A Constant Wife and a Kind 
Wife, a Loving Wife and a Fine Wife, Which Gives Content unto Man's 
Life," a ballad (Pepys, i, 390; iv, 82; Lord Crawford, Catalogue of English 
Ballads, No. 1456; etc.) to which in several verses he seems to be referring. 
For Spenser the author evidently had much sympathy, and the mention 
of the two milk-white butterflies and the two milk-white doves that alighted 
on the body of the dangling corpse seems to indicate that Spenser actually 
was innocent. At least it is an unmistakable sign that Spenser's repentance 
had been so sincere as to win complete forgiveness. As John Trundle 
printed the ballad, its date may be assumed to be 1626. The tune may be 
equivalent to Rogero {Popular Music, \, 94). 



Sofjn ^pensier a €f)ti&i)ivt (gallant, i^i& life anb 
repentance, tofjo for feilling of one Banball #am : bjajf 
latelp executeb at Burford a mile from Nantwkh. 

To the tune of in Slumbr'ing Sleepe. 

1 TV^ Ind hearted men, a while geue eare 
1 V. and plainely He vnfold 

The saddest tale that euer yet, 

by mortall man was told. 
One Spenser braue, of Cheshire chiefe, 

for men of braue regarde : 
Yet hee vnto his Countries griefe, 

did good with ill reward. 

2 At Acton ^ neere Nantwkh was borne 

this man, so famde of all; 
Whose skill at each braue exercise, 

was not accounted small : 
For beating of the war-like Drumme, 

no man could him surpasse: 
For dauncing, leaping, and such like, 

in Cheshire neuer was. 

3 For shooting none durst him oppose, 

hee would ayme so faire and right; 
Yet long he shot in crooked Bowes, 

and could not hit the white: 
For striuing still more things to learne, 

the more he grew beloued; 
No Shomaker but Spenser braue, 

by women was so prooued. 

4 Those qualities did draw his minde, 

from reason quite and cleane, 
And vildly hee'd forsake his wife, 

for the loue of euery Oueane: 
By Women he maintayned was 

in parill fine and braue, 

257 R 

R.P. G 


lohn Spenser could no good thing want, 
for he could but aske, and haue. 

5 In Silkes and Sattins would he goe, 

none might with him compare; 
No fashion might deuised be, 

but his should be as faire; 
When as (God knowes) his wife at home 

should pine with hungry griefe, 
And none would pitty her hard case, 

or lend her some reliefe. 

6 Whilst hee abroad did flaunt it out 

amongst his lustfull Queanes, 
Poore soule of force she sits at home, 

without either helpe or meanes. 
Thus long he liued basely vild, 

contemd of all thats good, 
Till at the last by hard mischance, 

he did shead Giltlesse Blood. 

7 One Randall Gam being drunke, 

with Spenser out did fall : 
And he being apt to Quarilling, 

would not be rul'd at all. 
But about the Pledging of a Glasse, 

to which he would not yeeld. 
He vowed he either would be pledg'd 

or answered fayre in field. 

8 This answer Randall Gam did deny, 

which Spencer plainly found. 
And being rag'd he strucke on^ blow, 

feld Randal gam to the ground. 
Seuen weekes vpon this he lay, 

ere life from him did part : 
And at the last to earth and clay, 

his Body did conuert. 

1 I.e. one. 


9 Then Spenser was in prison cast 

his friends full farre did ly, 
For frindship in them proued cold, 

and none would come him nie. 
That man being kild, beloued was well 

of all men farre and neare. 
And some did follow Law so farre, 

did cost poore Spenser deare. 

10 For though he kild him by mischance, 

yet Law him so disdaines,^ 
That for his vnrespected blow, 

he there was hangd in Chaines. 
He that was kild, had many friends, 

the other few or none. 
Therefore the Law, on that side went, 

and the other was orethrone. 

1 1 He being dead, two Milkewhite Doues, 

did houer ouer his head, 
And would not leaue that hartlesse place, 

after he three howers was dead. 
Two milke white Butterflies did light, 

vpon his Breches there: 
And stood Confronting peoples sight, 

to their amase and feare. 

12 Though he was vildly bent in life, 

and hangd the Law to quit: 
Yet he was stolne away by his wife, 

and Buryed in the night. 
His true repentance is exprest, 

within the second part: 
With all his Gilt he hath confest, 

when troubled was his heart. 

jFiniSt. by Thomas Dickerson. 
^ Text has a period. 

259 R2 


HJofjn ^pcnsier U^ 3^tptntmtt in ^rision, 
Wivitttn tDttt W otDne tantrsi asi te la|) m €i^titev Casitle. 

^0 tfje sfame tune. 

1 3 J^Ind Toungmen all to mee giue eare^ 
-^^ obserue these lessons well; 

For vndeserued my death I tooke^ 

and sad is the tale I tell. 
I -prisond pent., I lie full fast^ 

sure Heauen hath decreed: 
That though I thriued, yet at last, 

bad fortunes should proceed. 

14 / that for practise passed all, 

in exercises strong, 
Haue heere for one offence but small, 

been pent in Prison long. 
Kind Countrymen fairs warning take, 

beeing bad, amend your Hues, 
For sure Heauen will them forsake, 

that doe forsake their wiues. 

I ^ I haue a wife, a louing wife, 

a constant, and a kind; 
Tet proud of gifts, I turnd my life, 

and fake she did me find: 
Heauen shewed his part in making me, 

proper in limbes and face. 
Yet of it I no true vse made, 

but reapt thereby disgrace. 

1 6 For being proud in dancings art, 

most womens hues I gaynd: 
By them a long time was my life 

in gallant sort maintaynd: 
No May den young, about the towne, 

but ioyfull was to see 
The face of Spenser, and would spend, 

all for to daunce with mee. 



17 / spent my time in Ryoting^ 

and proudly led my life^ 
I had my choyce of damsels fayre^ 

what card I for my wife^ 
If once she came to intreat me home^ 

Fd kick her out of doors ^ 
Indeed I would he ruld by none^ 

but by intising whores, 

18 At length being pledging of a Glasse^ 

my hopes I did confound: 
And in my rag^ If eld my friend^ 

with one blow to the ground. 
For this offence^ he being dead^ 

and I in Prison cast: 
Most voyd of hopes this rashing hand 

hath Spensers name disgrast. 

1 9 None but my wife will visit me, 

for those I loud before. 
Being in this sad extremytie, 

will visit me no more. 
No helpe I find from these false friends, 

no food to inrich my life: 
Now doe I find the difference true, 

twixt them and a constant wife. 

20 But she poore soule, by my bad meanes, 

is quit bereft of all: 
She playes the part of a Constant wife, 

although her helpes be small. 
Toung men, youngmen, take heed by me 

shun Dangers, Brawles, and Strife: 
For though he fell against my will, 

I for it loose my life. 

21 O Hue like men and not like me, 

of no good giftes be proud: 

^ I.e. rage. 


For if with you God angry he^ 

from his vengeance nought can shroud. 
Make vse of what you haue -practis' d well^ 

and not in vitious meanes^ 
If in rare gifts you do excell^ 

yet trust not Vitious Queanes. 

22 For lust doth fully fill their Vaynes^ 

and apt they be to intise: 
O therefore shunne their company^ j 

like good men still be wise. I 

Example truely take of me., 1 

all Vitious courses shunne: 
For onely by bad company., 

poore Spenser is vndone. 

jFillisS. by lohn Spenser. 
Imprinted at London for I. Trundle. 




Nobody^ s counsel to choose a wife 

Pepys, I, 382, B.L., two woodcuts, six columns. 

The printer, A.M., was probably Augustine Matthewes, whose publica- 
tions appeared during 1619-1638. The exact date of this ballad cannot be 
determined, but may be assumed to be about 1626. It is only another 
instance of the enjoyment ballad-writers derived from comparing the 
respective merits of widows and maidens as wives. Here the comparison 
is all to the advantage of widows, and the author found it convenient to 
hide his identity under the notn de guerre of Nobody. In spite of their 
merits, however, widows were, according to ballad-writers, often unlucky 
in choosing husbands: an interesting ballad in which this ill luck is pointed 
out occurs in the Pepys Collection (i, 284) — "A merry new Song of A 
rich Widdowes wooing. That married a young man to her owne vndooing." 
For comments on the tune see the introduction to No. 49. 

i^oijobp f)»s! Counsiaile to ctjusie a OTifc : 
(^r, tlTfje bifference tjettoeene OTibbotoeg anb iHapbesi. 

To the Tune of the wanton Wife of Westminster. 

Et Young men giue eare 
vnto that I reherse, 
And thinke good the subiect 

though set downe in verse: 
Nobody vnto you, 

will kindly relate: 
The difference twixt Maydens 

and Widdowes estate, 
When ere they be had, 

they both will proue bad: 



Yet he that a Widdow takes, 

most may be glad: 
For Maydens are wanton 

and often times coy: 
But Widdowes be wilfull 

and neuer say nay. 

1 That man that doth woe a mayd, 

must be compeld : 
To Hue like an honest life 

ere she will yeeld : 
He sometimes must coll her 

and often times kisse her, 
Yet may another gaine, 

he may chance misse her: 
He Hues like a slaue, 

must doe what she'le^ haue: 
He must not deny 

whatsoere she doth craue. 
For Maydens^ i^c. 

3 But take me a Widdow, 

who if you doe woe her : 
Will yeeld with the soonest, 

when ere you come to her : 
She will be as willing, 

to yeeld to a man : 
As he that doth woe her, 

make what speede he can : 
Shee'le^ giue him content, 

for what he hath spent: 
If he that doth woe her, 

to true loue be bent. 
For Maydens^ ^c. 

4 He that a Mayd marries 

is caught in the lurch, 
He must neuer let her 
goe often to Church: 

1 TVAT/shel'e. 2 2V;tr/ Sheel'e. 



Least thinking by that meanes, 

some goodnesse to teach her: 
She larne some new fashion, 

and minde not the Preacher: 
Then when she comes home, 

shee'le^ pine, and sheele mone: 
With sweete heart let me 

haue that fashion or none. 
For maydens^ &c, 

5 He that's matcht with a widdow, 

by that is a winner: 
Shee'le^ stay and heare Seruice, 

and then prouide dinner: 
Shee is twise in a Saboath, 

at Church like a Woman : 
And not to learne fashions, 

as some doe most common: 
Shee loues to goe plaine, 

let who will disdaine: 
Shee needs must goe so, 

that hath had Husbands twain : 
For Maydens^ ^c. 

6 And if a young Bell[e]2 

doe chance for to swell: 
That man that begot it, 

were as good Hue in Hell: 
For she will be calling 

for one thing or other. 
It may be shee's ioyfull 

shee shall be a Mother: 
Then the man must disburse, 

to hire a Nurse, 
With twenty things more, 

which is marryed mens curse. 
For May dens, ^c, 

1 Text Sheel'e. 2 Torn. 



7 He that deales with a Widdow, 

hath these at command : 
He takes a commodity 

broke to his hand, 
He neede not stand carking, 

for linnen nor Cradle: 
If he bestow getting, 

to keepe it shees able: 
She seldome will pray, 

her Husband to pay: 
If he bestow night worke, 

then sheele bestow day. 
For May dens are wanton 

and often times coy: 
But Widdowes he wilfully 

and neuer say nay. 

^i)t geconb part/ to tte sJame tune. 

8 A Younge Wife must haue gossips, 
^t\. were nere had before 

She scornes to haue any 

are iudgd to be poore: 
Great Banquets sheele make them, 

no cost shall be spard: 
Her poore husbands purse 

shee doth neuer regard, 
W^ith pray be not sad, 

tis the first that I had : 
My Husband and I, 

haue cause to be glad. 
For Maydens are wanton^ 

and often times coy: 
But widdowes he wilfully 

and neuer say nay. 

9 A widdow to saue all 

these charges will shift. 
^ Text has a period. 



For she can haue Gossips 

at any dead lift: 
Sheele bid them as welcome, 

to one ioynt of rost : 
As your new married Cupple, 

shall with all their cost: 
Sheele say man be wise, 

spend what may suffice: 
For Houserent and all things, 

beginneth to rise. 
For Maydens^ &'c. 

10 A young Wife is crabbed, 

and takes a delight: 
If her mayd doe but crosse her, 

to speake and then smight : 
Shee neuer is well 

but a breeding debate, 
Shee'le make her young husband, 

his prentises hate: 
No seruants will stay, 

man and mayde will away: 
By this meanes she worketh, 

her Husbands decay: 
For Maydens^ ^c. 

1 1 A Widdow will neuer 

be frov/ard to such, 
Sheele vse them as kindly, 

and then theyle doe much : 
Theyle call her kind Mistris, 

and alwayes worke faster: 
Because they Hue quiet 

with her, and their master: 
She still beares the mind, 

to vse seruants kinde: 
That she and her husband 

much profit may finde. 
For Maydens^ ^c. 



12 A young wife must allwayes, 

in house be halfe Master: 
Or else her tongue gallops, 

no Mill-clacke goes faster: 
If he doe denie her, 

a needlesse request: 
Sheed haue it by some meanes, 

or make him a beast: 
With rascal] and slaue, 

giue me what I craue: 
Or else by this light, 

thou no quiet shalt haue: 
For Maydens^ &c. 

1 3 A Widdow will alwayes, 

looke well to her home: 
Let him doe his businesse 

or let it alone, 
Sheele buy what is needfull 

to serue her owne vse: 
In words she will neuer 

her Husband abuse. 
Abroad she is kinde, 

in bed he shall finde: 
A woman that striue will, 

to pleasure his mind: 
For Maydens, ^c. 

14 A young Wife will wauer^ 

as oft as the winde. 
An old wife is fixed 

naught changeth her mind: 
A young wife once crost, 

continually doth frowne: 
But crosse once an old wife, 

her mind will reforme : 
A young wife will brawle, 

if she rule not all : 
1 Text vauer. 



A widdow will rule 

what to her doth befall: 
For MaydenSy &'c. 

1 5 Much more I could speake, 

but to tell you the troth : 
To prayse and to disprayse 

too much, I am loath: 
I would not be partiall, 

on one side nor other : 
Did they to their deserue, 

I would speake well of tother : 
My iudgements not blind, 

I speake as I find: 
None will take exceptions, 

for speaking my mind. 
For MaydenSy i^c. 

1 6 I speake not of all Maydes, 

that are to be had: 
Tis pitty mongst thousands, 

if all should be bad : 
Nay some widdowes likewise, 

may worse be then they: 
Both sortes are too wicked, 

no man will gaine say: 
With this I doe end, 

hoping none I offend: 
If I wed, with a widdow 

my dayes I will spend. 
For Maydens are wanton^ 

and oftentimes coy: 
But Widdowes be wilfully 

and neuer say nay. 

Printed at London by A.M. 


Every man*s condition 

Pepys, I, 220, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. 

Ll[ewellyn] Morg[an] is a name new to English balladry: I have found 
no further trace of his name or his ballads, unless he was the L.M. whose 
initials are signed to "An excellent Ditty, both merry and witty. Expressing 
the love of the Youthes of the City, . . . To a pleasant new tune, or the two 
lovely Lovers," printed by John Grismond (Pepys, i, 242). Similar in 
theme to "Every Man's Condition" is "A Merry Catch of All Trades" 
(No. 34). Compare also Dekker and Webster's Northward Ho, Act i: "the 
Northerne man loues white-meates, the Southery man Sallades, the Essex 
man a Calfe, the Kentishman a Wag-taile, the Lancashire man an Egg-pie, 
the Welshman Leekes and Cheese, and your Londoners rawe Mutton." 
Such characterizations enjoyed an extraordinary vogue among seventeenth- 
century Englishmen. 

The ballad dates after March 5, 1627 (Arber's Transcript, iv, 173), 
the day on which Francis Grove registered ballads called "2 slippes for a 
Teston" (whence the tune) and "3 slips for a Teston." The latter is 
extant: it is called "A Quip for a scornfuU Lasse. Or, Three slips for a 
Tester. To the tune of Two slips for a Tester" (Pepys, i, 234). 

"Three slips for a testern" \i.e. three counterfeit twopenny coins for a 
sixpence) was a more or less proverbial expression with the same meaning 
as the Elizabethan slang phrase "to give him the slip," that is, to elude, 
to get away. Thus the Faithful Post for September 7-14, 1655, in telling 
of a criminal who escaped from the gallows as the noose was being adjusted 
around his neck, ran out into the crowd, but was recaptured, says: "He 
wanted agility of body to give them three slips for a Tester." Cf. also the 
ballad of "The Forlorn Lover; Declaring How a Lass Gave Her Love 
Three Slips for a Tester" {Roxburghe Ballads, vi, 233). 



€uerj> iHanjf conbition. 
0v tntvv iHan i^ai i)ii fieuerall opinion, 
^^!)ic() rtjep boe affect as! tfjc Welchman fjifil (Z^nion. 

To X^Cit.TwTiQ. oi two Slips. 

1 ALL men are inclinde, 
±\~ To follow their minde 

although their courses be bad. 
Some men will laugh, 
And some men will quaffe, 

and some againe looke very sad. 
Other sorts there be, 
That loue flattery, 

but they are base in my opinion, 
Your swaggerers will rore. 
And your knaues run on score, 

but your Welchman he still loues an Onyon. 

2 Your Citizens fine, 
Loue a cup of neat wine, 

their wiues^ doe loue good Canary, 
Your Lawyer he, 
Well loues a large fee, 

your Courtyier he loues to be merry: 
Your Gallants and Knights, 
For their sports and delights, 

will spend out their time amongst women : 
The sparkes of our age. 
In their drinke they will rage, 

but your Welchman he still loues an Onyon. 


3 The Merchants^ likewise, 
Though they seeme precise, 

yet they couet more wealth, and more pleasure: 

^ Text wiuus. ^ Text Merchauts. 



By crossing the Sea, 
Inriched are they, 

thus still multipled is their treasure. 
So they may get gaine. 
They care not for paine, 

but they are not of my opinion : • 
Though small be my wealth, 
I pray still for health, 

but the Welchman he still loues an Onyon. 

4 The Taylor^ loues bread 
With a bottom of thred : 

his sheares, his needle and thimble: 
The sawyer his Saw, 
And the Miser loues Law, 

the Carpenter he loues his wimble: 
The Cooper his ads. 
The children their Dads, 

but this still is my chiefe opinion, 
To be merry and wise. 
And trust mine owne eyes, 

but the Welchman he still loues an Onyon. 

5 The Thrasher his flaile,^ 
The Spanyel his taile, 

the Carman his whip and his whistle: 
The Butcher his dogge, 
the Swineherd his hogge, 

the Bore delights for to brissle: 
the Rorer his wench, 
The Lecher the French, 

pray let them both packe with a winion : 
For I loue my health, 
As the Farmer loues wealth, 

or the Welchman a peece of an Onyon. 

^ Text Taylors, 2 ]\Jq comma in the text. 



Cfje gccontr part, ^o tfje Jfame tune. 

6 A/Our pure-seeming man 

X Will deceiue if he can, 

Your Papist deales all in crosses, 
The Theefe Hues by stealth 
On other mens wealth,^ 

the Traueller endures great losses. 
But time giues free scope 
For the theefe to haue a rope, 

tis fit for him in my opinion. 
If you will shunne shame 
Then loue your owne fame, 

as a Welchman his Leeke or his Onion. 

7 The Mercer loues Gloues, 
The Dutchwomen stoves, 

the Groser's a man of some reason : 
The Farmer loues corne. 
And the huntsman his home, 

the Unthrift doth spend out of season : 
The Weauer his Loome, 
The Miller his thumbe, 

thus all are of seuerall opinion, 
Giue me good old Sherry ,i 
I loue to be merry, 

as well as the Welchman his Onion. 

8 The Usurer Gold, 

Idle Knaues endure cold, 

because that they wil not labour. 

The Fiddler the^ fiddle. 

The lester his riddle,^ 

the Piper his pipe and his tabour, 

1 No comma in the text. ^ Text he. 

R.p.G. 273 


The Cobler his last, 
The Bowler his cast, 

thus men are of seuerall opinion, 
The fish loues the poole. 
And my Lady her foole, 

but the Welchman, &c. 

The Smith loues his Hammer, 
And the Captaine his Drummer, 

the Souldier^ loues a good blade, 
The Pedler his packe. 
And the Collyer his Sacke, 

and the Horse-courser he loues a lade. 
The Brazier his kettle. 
The Bell-founder mettle,^ 

addicted to seuerall opinions. 
The Broome-man loues Broome, 
And the Pope he loues Rome, 

but the Welchman, &c. 

10 The Dutchman loues Beere, i,; 
And the Beareward his Beare, I; 

the Porter his Frock and his Basket, f 

My Mamesey nose Host 'I 

Loues a pot and a toste, '■ 

and the Landresse she loues a neat Flasket, 
The hangman the Gallowes, 
and all cheating fellowes, 

deserueth in my opinion 
To end in that place, 
That Hues by disgrace, _ / 

but the Welchman he still loues an Onion. 

1 1 Let no body grudge, J; 
Nor ill of me iudge 

because I haue pend this same ditty. 

1 Text Soulder. ^ No comma in the text. ^ 



But let euery man, 
These verses well scan, 

and if he please say they are pretty. 
But yet howsoeuer 
I doe not endeauour 

to please your base ones or coy minions: 
But to end my tale, 
I loue good strong Ale 

as well as the Welchman loues Onions. 

LI. Morg. 

Printed for Fr. Coules.^ 
^ Text has a comma. 




The tragedy of Doctor Lamb 

Pepys, I, 134, B.L., two woodcuts, four columns. 

According to the pamphlet quoted below (and it is rightly followed by 
the Dictionary of National Biography), Dr Lamb was mobbed on June 1 3, 
1628, and died on June 14. In the ballad Martin Parker mistakenly gives 
the dates as June 14 and June 15^. Lamb, a minion of the Duke of Buck- 
ingham, was execrated not only because of his own "lewd life" but, also, 
because of the popular belief that he used magical powers to enable his 
patron to seduce chaste women. Buckingham exerted himself to secure 
vengeance on Lamb's assailants. At his instigation, Charles I threatened to 
withdraw the charter of London and fined the city ^6000. The Duke 
himself was assassinated a few weeks later (on August 23), and the fine 
was reduced to 1500 marks. The ballad is an historical document of real 
value, particularly interesting as showing the reaction towards Lamb of a 
man in the streets. Parker tried hard to be fair, but his feelings overcame 

For other ballads referring to Dr Lamb see Fairholt's Songs and Poems 
Relating to George Filliers, Duke of Buckingham, Vercy Society, 1850, 
pp. xiv, 58-63, 65. Contemporary references to his murder abound. 
Bulstrode Whitelocke notes in his Memorials (1732, p. 10) that "Dr 
Lambe was set upon in the Streets by the Rabble, and called Witch, Devil 
and the Duke's Conjurer, and beaten that he died; the Council wrote to 
the Lord Mayor to find out, and punish the chief Actors therein, but none 
were found." Richard Smyth, in his Obituary (Camden Society, ed. 
H. Ellis, p. 3), remarks: "March I2[, 1628]. Dr Lamb killed in the Old 
Jurie by a rude multitud, for which the City was fined." John Rous jots 
down in his diary (ed. Camden Society, pp. 17, 31): "We received newes 
that doctor Lambe (called the duke's wisard) was knocked on the heade 
on the 1 2th of June or thereabout, at 6 at night: he and his minion came 
from a play, and being houted and wondered at by prentises and water- 

^ Both pamphlet and ballad say that Dr Lamb was assaulted on Friday. 
According to Table C in H. Nicolas's Chronology of History (2nd ed., p. 5 1) 
June 13, 1628, fell on Friday. For further notes on Lamb see an article 
by Professor Kittredge in Studies in the History of Religions. Presented to 
C. H. Toy, 191 2, pp. 50-51. 



men, was at length battered with stones and otherwise, and so slaine. The 
devill is dead." In October he noted that "a booke is come forth of Doctor 
Lambe." A copy of this book is preserved in the British Museum (C. 30. 
d. 18). It is called A Briefe Description of the Notorious Life of lohn 
Lambe, otherwise called Doctor Lambe. Together with his Ignominious 
Death. [C«/.] Printed in Amsterdam, 1628. The following passage (pp. 
20-21) may be quoted: 

Vpon Friday being the 13. of lune, in the yeare of our Lord 1628. hee went 
to see a Play at the Fortune, where the boyes of the towne, and other vnruly 
people hauing obserued him present, after the Play was ended, flocked about 
him, and (after the manner of the common people, who follow a Hubbubb, 
when it is once a foote) began in a confused manner to assault him, and offer 
violence. He in affright made toward the Citie as fast as he could out of the 
fields, and hired a company of Sailors, who were there present to be his guard. 
But so great was the furie of the people, who pelted him with stones, and other 
things which came next to hand, that the Sailors (although they did their 
endeauour for him) had much adoe to bring him in safetie as farre as Moore- 
gate. The rage of the people about that place increased so much, that the Sailors 
for their owne safetie, were forced to leaue the protection of him ; and then the 
multitude pursued him through Coleman street to the old lurie, no house being 
able, nor daring to giue him protection, though hee had attempted many. 
Foure Constables were there raised to appease the tumult; who all too late for 
his safety brought him to the Counter in the Poultrey, where he was bestowed 
vppon the commaund of the Lord Maior. For before hee was brought thither, 
the people had had him downe, and with stones and cudgels, and other weapons 
had so beaten him, that his skull was broken, one of his eyes hung out of his 
head, and all partes of his body bruised and wounded so much, that no part 
was left to receiue a wound. Whereupon (although Surgeons in vaine were sent 
for) hee neuer spoke a word, but lay languishing vntill Eight a clocke the next 
morning, and then dyed. This lamentable end of life had Doctor lohn Lambe, 
who before prophecied (although hee were confident hee should escape Hanging,) 
that at last he should die a violent death. On Sunday following, hee was buried 
in the new Church-yard neere Bishops-gate. 

In a long account of Lamb's death Dr Joseph Mead {^he Court and 
Times of Charles I, i, 367 f.) informed a friend that "a ballad being 
printed of him [Lamb], both printer, and seller, and singer, are laid in 
Newgate." Beyond much doubt Mead was referring to the ballad by 
Parker here reprinted. 

The tune of Gallants, come away is used also for Richard Climsal's 
ballad of "The Essex Man Cozened" (Pepys, i, 290). It does not, so far 
as I can find, occur among the Roxburghe Collection, and the music is 
apparently unknown. 



^\)t ^ragebp of doctor Lambe, 
Wi^t great siuposfeti Coniurer, tofjo tnag toounbeb to 
beatt tip Kaplers! anb otter Hatisi, on Jfrpbap tlje 
14. of 3une, 1628. ^nb bpeb in tije ^oultrp Counter, 
neere Cfjeapgibe, on tfje ^aturbap morning following. 

To the tune of Gallants come away. 






B //ig^^^^^ 


\\\\ i-^\l 

\/j^'a^^M ^^i^L^S^ 


\ \ \ P^^^ffMJ 

\^^^^^ ^^^^^^^ 



1 I y^BEsMg^^E^^Bfii^WBM^ 






NEighbours sease to mone, 
And leaue your lamentation 
For Doctor Lambe is gone, 
The Deuill of our Nation, 
as 'tis knowne. 

A long time hath he liued. 
By cursed coniuration : 
And by inchantments thriued, 
While men of worthy fashion, 
haue coniued. 



3 The pranks that he hath played, 
(By the help o'th Deuill) 

Are wondrous: but his trade 
And all his actions euill,^ 
at one time fade. 

4 The name of Doctor Lambe^ 
Hath farre and neere beene bruted, 
The Deuill and his dame 

So cuning were not reputed, 
sure I am. 

5 But now he's gone the way 
That's fit for such a liuer; 
To Hell I dare not say, 
Some iudge so, howsoeuer: 

as well they may. 

6 For such a wicked wretch 

In England hath liu'd seldome. 
Nor neuer such a Wich, 
For his skill from Hell came,^ 
that made him rich. 

7 I neede name none on's feates. 
That are well knowne olready: 
But this my ditty treates. 

Of Doctor Lambes Tragedy, 
my muse intreates, 

8 Your patience for a space, 
Whil'st I make his narration. 
That liued voyde of grace. 
And did in desperation 

end his race. 

1 Text has a period. 



9 The fourteenth day of lune 
Which was vpon a Friday, 
In the afternoone, 
We may count it a high day, 
for what was done. 

10 This man vpon that day, 
As it is knowne for certaine, 
Went to see a play 

At the house cald Fortune: 
and going away, 

11 A crew of Sea-men bold. 
That went to see the action. 
Followed the Doctor old. 
And rose vnto a faction, 

as 'tis tolde. 

12 Ouer the fields went he. 
And after him they follow'd. 
His Deuill could not free 

Him, for they whoop'd and holowd, 
till they see. 

Cfjc geconti part. Co tfje game tunc. 

13 T Tim enter in a house, 

1 1 The Horshoe neere to More-gate, 
Where he did carouse. 
But they to him still bore hate, 
the story shewes. 

14 Assone as he had supt. 

Which was with halfe a pig there,^ 
This multitude abrupt. 
Said were a Deuill as big there, 
they'd interrupt. 

^ Text has a period. 


15 His coming by his death, 
Some Prentises did ayde them, 
To take the Doctors breath. 

No fairemeans could perswad them, 
each one hath 

16 A resolution bent. 

To kill the English Deuill, 
About which, at they went, 
Though I confesse that euill 
was their intent. 

1 7 With cudgels and with stones, 
The followd him with fury. 
To bruse and breake his bones: 
And iust in the old lury^ 

all at once 

1 8 They beate him to the ground, 
And meaning to dispatch him, 
They gaue him many a wound, 
The Deuill could not watch him, 

to keepe him sound. 

19 They broke one of his armes. 
And yet they would not leaue him, 
But did him further harmes. 

And still they bad him saue him- 
selfe by's charmes. 

20 His scull in piteous wise, 
Was battered and brused. 
They put out both his eyes, 
So cursely then they vsed 

him, who spyes 

2 1 No rescue from his Spirits, 
That vsed to attend. 

So ill had beene his merits, 
That few men to defend, 
shew'd their mights. 



22 Now breefely to conclude, 
to'th Counter he was carried 
By the multitude, 

Where all that night he tari'd, 
with blood imbrude. 

23 And then he did depart, 
In lamentable manner, 

Yet few are grieu'd at heart, 
To heare of his dishonour, 
and his smart. 

24 Thus Doctor Lambe is dead. 

That long hath wrongd our Nation, 
His times accomplished, 
And all his coniuration, 
with him is fled. 

25 As his life was lude. 
Damnable and vitious: 
So he did conclude 

His life, and none propitious, 
pitty shew'd. 



Printed at London for H.G. 



T'he unnatural wife 

Pepys, I, 122, roman and italic type, two woodcuts, five columns. The 
use of "white letter" in so early a ballad is most unusual. 

This ballad, printed by Margaret Trundle, — widow of the celebrated 
John Trundle, — supplements Coles's ballad of "A Warning for All 
Desperate Women" (No. 50), as each deals with the same crime. Accord- 
ing to an entry in Jeaffreson's Middlesex County Records (iii, 107), which 
Professor Kittredge has brought to my attention, Alice Davies was tried 
for the murder of her husband, Henry Davies, at the Middlesex Sessions 
of July 9, 1628, and found guilty. Mrs Davies made a plea of pregnancy, 
but this was disallowed because a jury of matrons found her "Not Preg- 
nant." She was then sentenced to be burned. 

The tune oi Bragandary^, though used for many ballads (cf. Nos. 3, 35, 
52, 76, 77), appears to be unknown. "The Fair Widow of Watling Street," 
in two long parts, was registered on August 17, 1597 (Arber's Transcript, 
III, 88; Roxburghe Ballads, viii, 8; Shirburn Ballads, p. i). Its first part is 
to be sung to Bragandary, the second to The Wanton Wife (perhaps The 
Wanton Wife of Westminster, a tune named from a lost ballad of that 
title registered in two parts on July 3, 1597). Ebsworth argued that The 
Wanton Wife of Westminster and Bragandary were identical tunes: his 
argument {Roxburghe Ballads, viii, 14) is fallacious, and, in any case, the 
Wanton Wife is still an undiscovered tune. There is, also, among the 
Roxburghe Ballads (viii, 14; Wood E. 25 (17)) "A Description of Wanton 
Women. To the Tune o{ Bragandary, or, Southampton." But Southampton, 
too, is unknown. It is very likely, however, that somewhere the music will 
be found under the names already mentioned or under those of O Folly, 
Desperate Folly, O Roundheads, Desperate Roundheads, and the like. 

^ A ballad "to the Tune ol Braggendarty'"'' was entered in the Stationers' 
Register on March 29, 1604 (Arber's Transcript, in, 257). 


Cije bnnaturall IMiit : 

^Ije lamentable JHurtfter, of one gooijman Dam's, 
1locfee=^miti) in t!rutle=sitreete\ tofjo toag sitabbeb to 
beatf) hp Ijis; WiiU, on ti)e 29. of 7^/;?^, 1628. Jfor 
toflicfi fact, ^fje toag ^raignetr, Conbemneb, anb 
^biubgeb, to be Purnt to Beatb in Smithjield, tije 

12. of luly 1628. 

To the tune of Bragandary. 

1 T F woefull obiects may excite, 
-1- the minde to ruth and pittie, 
Then here is one will thee affright 

in Westminsters faire Citie: 
A strange inhumane Murther there, 
To God, and Man as doth appeare: 

oh murther, 

most inhumane. 
To spill my Husbands blood. 

2 But God that rules the host of Heauen, 

did giue me ore to sinne, 
And to vild wrath my minde was giuen, 

which long I liued in; 
But now too late I doe repent. 
And for the same my heart doth rent- : 
oh murther, 
most inhumane. 
To spill my Husbands blood. 

3 Let all curst Wiues by me take heed, 

how they doe, doe the like, 
Cause not thy Husband for to bleed, 
nor lift thy hand to strike: 

^ I.e. Tothill Street. ^ 'pjjg „ jg upside down in the text. 



Lest like to me, you burne in fire, 
Because of cruell rage and ire : 

oh murther, 

most inhumane, 
To spill my Husbands blood. 

4 A Locke-Smith late in Westminster, 

my Husband was by trade. 
And well he liued by his Art, 
though oft I him vbbraide; 
And oftentimes would chide and braule. 
And many ill names would him call : 
oh murther, 
most inhumane, 
To spill my Husbands blood. 

tBi)t sJcconb part. Co tfje jfame Cune. 

5 T And my Husband foorth had bin, 
J- at Supper at that time. 

When as I did commit that sin, 

which was a bloody crime; 
And comming home he then did craue, 
A Shilling of me for to haue : 

oh murther, 

most inhumane. 
To spill my Husbands blood. 

6 I vow'd he should no Money get, 

and I my vow did keepe, 
Which then did cause him for to fret, 

but now it makes me weepe; 
And then in striuing for the same, 
I drew my knife vnto my shame : 
oh murther, 
most inhumane. 
To spill my Husbands blood. 



7 Most desperately I stab'd him then, 

with this my fatall knife, 
Which is a warning to Women, 

to take their Husbands hfe: 
Then out of doores I streight did runne, 
And sayd that I was quite vndon, 
oh murther, 
most inhumane, 
To spill my Husbands blood. 

8 My Husband I did say was slaine, 

amongst my Neighbours there. 
And to my house they straite way came, 

being possest with feare; 
And then they found him on the floore, 
Starke dead all weltring in his goore, 
oh murther, 
most inhumane, 
To spill my Husbands blood. 

9 Life faine I would haue fetcht againe, 

but now it was too late, 
I did repent I him had slaine, 

in this my heauie state; 
The Constable did beare me then 
Vnto a lustice with his men: 
oh murther, &c. 

lo Then lustice me to Newgate sent, 
vntill the Sessions came. 
For this same foule and bloody fact, 

to answere for the same: 
When at the Barre I did appeare, 
The lury found me guiltie there: 
oh murther^, &c. 

^ Text muther. 



1 1 The ludge gaue sentence thus on me, 

that backe I should returne 
To Newgate, and then at a Stake, 

my bones and flesh should burne 
To ashes, in the winde to flie, 
Vpon the Earth, and in the Skie. 
oh murther, &c. 

12 Vpon the twelfth of luely now, 

I on a Hurdle plac't, 
Vnto my Execution drawne, 

by weeping eyes I past; 
And there in Smith-field at a Stake, 
My latest breath I there did take : 
oh murther, &c. 

13 And being chayned to the Stake, 

both Reedes and Faggots then 
Close to my Body there was set, 
with Pitch, Tarre, and Rozen, 
Then to the heauenly Lord I prayd. 
That he would be my strength and ayde. 
oh murther, 
most inhumane. 
To spill my husbands blood. 

14 Let me a warning be to Wiues, 

that are of hasty kinde. 
Lord grant that all may mend their Hues, 

and beare my death in minde. 
And let me be the last I pray. 
That ere may dye by such like way. 
Oh Father 
for thy Sonnes sake, 
Forgiue my sinnes for aye. 


Printed at London for M.T. Widdow. 



A warning/or all desperate women 

Pepys, I, 1 20, B.L., two woodcuts, four columns. 

Richard Harper secured a license for this ballad on December 11, 1633 
(Arber's Transcript, iv, 310), as "A warning for all desperate weomen," 
but this was a reissue of the present sheet, which Francis Coles published 
in 1628. It is a remarkable example of a good-night written (as the ballad- 
monger would have us believe) after the guilty woman had actually been 
burned. Verisimilitude was the least of the ballad- writer's troubles. To be 
sure, he began with the idea of writing a mere conventional farewell such 
as all criminals made (or were expected to make) before their execution. 
Accordingly, with the lighting of the faggots in the second stanza from the 
end, he changes to the third person, but, forgetting realism, in the final 
stanza takes up the first person again and makes the dead woman utter a 
doleful warning. A record of Mrs Davies's trial and condemnation is cited 
in the introduction to No. 49. 

For the tune see Chappell's Popular Music, i, 196. 

^ toarning tor all bejfperate ^l^omen. 

Pj> t!)e example of Alice Dauis toljo for feilling of 

tier ijusitjanb toas! burneti in ^mtttfielb tije 12 of 

3ulp 1628. to tije terror of all tlje tieliolberss. 

To the tune oi the Ladies fall. 

I A /"Nto the world to make my moane, 
V I know it is a folly, 
Because that I have spent my time, 
which haue beene free and iolly. 
But to the Lord which rules aboue, 

I doe for mercy crie, 
To grant me pardon for the crime, 
for which on earth I dye. 



1 Hells fiery flames prepared are, 

for those that Hue in sinne, 
And now on earth I tast of some, 

but as a pricke or pin, 
To those which shall hereafter be, 

without Gods mercy great, 
Who once more calls vs to account, 

on his Tribunall Seate. 

3 Then hasty hairebraind wiues take heed, 

of me a warning take. 
Least like to me in coole of blood, 

you burn't be at a stake; 
The woman which heere last did dye, 

and was consum'd with fire. 
Puts me in minde, but all to late, 

for death I doe require. 

4 But to the story now I come, 

which to you He relate. 
Because that I haue liu'd like some, 

in good repute and state, 
In Westminster we liued there, 

well knowne by many friends. 
Which little thought that each of vs, 

should haue come to such ends. 

5 A Smith my husband was by trade, 

as many well doe know. 
And diuers merry dayes we had, 

not feeling cause of woe, 
Abroad together we had bin, 

and home at length we came, 
But then I did that fatall deede, 

which brings me to this shame. 

6 He askt what monies I had left, 

and some he needes would haue. 
But I a penny would not giue, 
though he did seeme to craue, 

289 T 



But words betwixt vs then did passe, 

as words to harsh I gaue, 
And as the Diuell would as then, 

I did both sweare and raue. 

tKte Jfeconb ^art, ^o tfje sfame tune. 

ANd then I tooke a Uttle knife, 
jt\. and stab'd him in the heart. 
Whose Soule from Body instantly, 

my bloody hand did part, 
But cursed hand, and fatall knife 

and wicked was that houre. 
When as my God did giue me ore 

vnto his hellish power. 

The deede no sooner I had don, 

But out of doores I ran, 
And to the neighbours I did cry, 

I kil'd had my goodman. 
Who straight-way flockt vnto my house, 

to see that bloody sight, 



Which when they did behold with griefe, 
it did them much affright. 

9 Then hands vpon me there was lay'd, 

And I to Prison sent, 
Where as I lay perplext in woe, 

and did that deede repent, 
When Sizes came I was arraign'd, 

by lury iust and true, 
I was found guilty of the fact, 

for which I haue my due. 

10 The lury hauing cast me then, 

to iudgment then I came. 
Which was a terrour to my heart, 

and to my friends a shame, 
To thinke vpon my husbands death, 

and of my wretched life, 
Betwixt my Spirit and my flesh, 

did cause a cruell strife. 

1 1 But then the ludge me sentence gaue 

to goe from whence I came, 
From thence, vnto a stake be bound 

to burne in fiers flame, 
Untill my flesh and bones consum'd, 

to ashes in that place, 
Which was a heauie sentence then, 

to on^ so uoyd of grace. 

12 And on the twelfth of luly now, 

I on a sledge was laid. 
To Smithfield with a guard of men 

I streight way was conueyd. 
Where I was tyed to a stake, 

with Reedes was round beset, 
And Fagots 2, Pitch, and other things 

which they for me did get. 

^ I.e. one. ^ Text Fagtos. 

291 T2 


1 3 Now great lehouah I thee pray, 

my bloudy sinnes forgiue, 
For on this earth most wretched I 

vnworthy am to Hue. 
Christ lesus vnto thee I pray, 

and vnto thee I cry. 
Thou with thy blood wilt wash my sinnes 

away, which heere must dye. 

14 Good wiues and bad, example take, 

at this my cursed fall. 
And Maidens that shall husbands haue, 

I warning am to all : 
Your Husbands are your Lords & heads, 

you ought them to obey. 
Grant loue betwixt each man and wife, 

vnto the Lord I pray. 

1 5 God and the world forgiue my sinnes, 

which are so vile and foule, 
Sweete lesus now I come to thee, 

O Lord receiue my Soule. 
Then to the Reedes they fire did put, 

which flamd vp to the skye, 
And then she shriek'd most pittifully, 

before that she did dye. 

16 The Lord preserue our King & Queene, 

and all good Subiects blesse. 
And Grant the Gospell true and free, 

amongst vs may encrease. 
Betwixt each husband and each wife, 

send loue^ and amitie. 
And grant that I may be the last, 

that such a death did dye. 


Printed for F. Coules. 

^ Text lond. 



Rochelle her yielding 

Pepys, I, 96, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. 

The failure of the expedition (June-October, 1627) which Charles I 
sent to the Island of Rhe under command of the Duke of Buckingham, and 
the fall of La Rochelle on October 28, 1628, aroused great interest in 
Protestant England, which Martin Parker's ballad faithfully reflects. 
Parker has no hostility towards King Louis XIII (the "Dolphin" of No. 4) : 
he was too firm a believer in the sanctity of Royalty and Nobility to have 
much sympathy with rebels, even though they were Protestants and their 
King a Roman Catholic. In the Great Rebellion Parker, with his loyal 
ballads and pamphlets, gave to the Royal Cause aid that was by no means 
despicable. For the tune see Chappell's Popular Music, i, 179; 11, 773. 

i^octell fjer peelbing to tfje obebience ot tfje Jfrencf) 

lling, on tfje 28. of (J^ctober 1628. alter a long sliege 

fjp 5.anb anb ^ea, in great penurp anb toant. 

To the tune of In the dayes of old. 

I X/'Ou that true Christians be 
J- assist me with your sorrow, 
While the misery 

of Rochell I relate : 
And in loue let me 

your attention borrow, 
He in breuity 

shew you their estate. 
Being besieged long 
With an Army strong, 

by land and sea inuirond close: 
France and Spaine combinde, 
To haue them all pinde, 

yet brauely they did them oppose, 



And with constant valour, 
They indur'd such dolour, 

that a heart obdure may melt. 
To heare this relation. 
And haue commiseration, 

on the wants that long they felt. 

2 While this warlike Towne 

stood in her chiefe glory, 
Still when Fate did frowne 

on the Protestants, 
Thither haue they flowne, 

while their foes were sory, 
But that old renowne 

now braue Rochell wants. 
For through want of meat, 
Famine was so great, 

that the liuing ate the dead : 
It grieues me to report, 
How that in wofull sort 

many Christians perished, 
Through the want of victuall. 
Whereof they had so little, 

that as I before did touch, 
Those who dy'd by hunger. 
Were eate by the stronger, 

their necessity was such. 

3 Horses, Dogs, and Cats, 

were esteemed dainty. 
Frogs, and Mice, and Rats, 

were meat for the best. 
Some did eate old Hats, 

to maintaine them faintly, 
Shooes and Gloues were cates 

that seru'd among the rest: 
Such is hungers power, 



Twill make one deuoure 

that which we will scarce beleeue: 
Ere a man will starue, 
Hee'le his life preserue 

with that which our smell would grieue, 
Thus this wofull City, 
Whose distresse I pitie, 

suffered most extreame famine, 
The like I scant haue read of, 
To the feare and dread of 

all that shall their case examine. 

4 About twelue thousand soules 

perished by hunger, 
While many needlesse bowles 

in England were ill spent. 
Neither fish nor fowles 

had they to keepe them longer, 
Many cryes and houles 

to the ayre were sent. 
Nor any kinde of meat 
Could they haue to eate, 

when their store was fully spent. 
The Spaniard and the French 
Put them to such a pinch, 

hauing round begirt their Towne, 
That they needs must yeeld 
What they could not weild, 

hunger brings stout stomaks down.^ 
So it hath constrained 
Them with heart vnfained 

to surrender vp their Towne. 

1 No punctuation in the text. 


tlTfje geconti part. Co tfje siame tune. 

5 I "He eight and twentieth day 
J- of the last October, 

Seeing there was no way 

but to yeeld the Towne, 
They without delay 

aduis'd by Counsell sober, 
Yeelded to obey 

the King who weares that crown 
And therewithal! they straight 
Opened the gate, 

and put the Town, their Hues and goods 
Into his Highnesse hands. 
To doe as he commands, 

who did not seek to spil their bloods.^ 
Beyond our expectation 
He had commiseration, 

on those miserable soules. 
And mildly he dispenses 
With their bold offences, 

and their cases much condoles. 

6 When they had open set 

the Gates vpon aduenture 
And that the French did get 

possession of the same. 
They freely without let 

into the streets did enter, 
The Townesmen yeelded it, 

and did all right disclaime, 
Protesting that they would 
Be euer as they should 

obsequious to his Maiesty, 
And like subiects true, 

^ No period in the text. 


Liue in obedience due, 

and he with their humility 
So graciously was pleased, 
That he then released 

them of what they had offended, 
He giues them leaue to vse 
The faith which they doe chuse, 

thus all contention shall be ended. 

7 It was a piteous thing 

that befell them after, 
For when some did bring 

victualls as was needing, 
Sent thither by the King, 

it caus'd a wofull slaughter: 
Many, surfetting, 

dy'd with too much feeding. 
So weake their stomacks were 
That they could not beare 

meat as other people can : 
Thus as some dy'd through need, 
So want of taking heed 

broght death to many a hungry man. 
God grant that we here dwelling 
May haue a fellow feeling 

of those Christians misery, 
Who haue indur'd such sorrow, 
And let vs from them borrow, 

a patterne of true constancy. 

8 God blesse our Royall King, 

who is true faiths defender. 
That he to passe may bring 

euery good designer 
Blesse also in each thing 

his Queene, and in time send her 
Power in grace to spring 

like a fruitfull Vine: 



The Nobles of this Land 
Protect with thy right hand, 

that they may fructifie in good : 
And let those Christians true 
The right way still pursue, 

oh let them stand as they haue stood, 
Let not thy flocke disturbed, | 

Be by Tyrants curbed, 

but like the Arke let it still swim, 
Among those raging billowes, 
Though with cares they fill vs, 

let's not be dismaid for them. 



Printed at London for I. Wright. 



A warning/or wives 

Pepys, I, 1 1 8, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. 

This ballad has not previously been included in any list of Martin 
Parker's works. It is an adequate news-story in verse — though hardly, as 
Parker professes, "in tragicke stile." There is a remarkable similarity 
between the murders committed by Mrs Francis, of this ballad, and Mrs 
Davies, of Nos. 49 and 50. The following account of the crime, as Professor 
Kittredge reminds me, is given in JeaiFreson's Middlesex County Records 
(ill, 26): 

8 April, 5 Charles I. True Bill that, at Cowcrosse co. Midd. on the said day, 
Katherine Francis, late the wife of Robert Francis alias Katherine Francis late 
of the said parish spinster, assaulted the said Robert then her husband, and then 
and there murdered him by stabbing him with a pair of scissors in the neck, 
so that he then and there died instantly. 

Marriage seems to have entailed many dangers to husbands of this 
period. John Rous, in his Diary for December 13, 1632 (ed. Camden 
Society, p. 76), notes that "A woman was burned in Smithfield December 
13, who in a falling-out with her husband, stabbed him in the necke with 
a knife; so that, following her doune a payer of stayers, and crying out to 
stay her, he died at the bottome of them immediatly." Richard Smyth's 
Obituary (ed. H. Ellis, Camden Society, p. 8) records that on December 
12, 1634, "A taylor's wife, for killing her husband, [was] burnt in Smith- 
field." Many other crimes of this nature are enumerated in a book called 
The Adultresses Funeral! Day: In flaming, scorching, and consuming f re : 
OR The burning dozvne to ashes of Alice Clarke late of Vxbridge in the 
County of Middlesex, in West-smithfield, on Wensday the 20. of May, 1635. 
for the unnaturall poisoning of Fortune Clarke her Husband. . .By her daily 
visiter H. G[oodcole]. in life and death (British Museum, 6495. c. 38). 

Burning was the usual mode of inflicting the death penalty on women 
who were convicted of petty treason. For. other offences, such as theft (to 
the proper amount), murder, and witchcraft, English women were freely 
hanged (cf. No. 76). Lucy Cole, for example, who poisoned her master, 
Anthony Trott, was in November, 1605, acquitted on the charge of 
[petty] treason, which would have involved burning, but convicted of 
murder and sentenced to be hanged (JeafFreson, op.cit. 11, 9). See Nos. 14, 
49 and 50, where the crimes mentioned were petty treason. Strangulation 
may sometimes have preceded the actual burning, but was not (if ballads 



and pamphlets can be trusted) the rule. All the steps involved in burning 
a woman to death are minutely described in a pamphlet printed by Henry 
Gosson in 1608 on The Araignement tff burning of Margaret Ferne-seede, 
for the Murther of her late Husband Anthon'^ Ferne-seede, found deade in 
Peckham Field neere Lambeth, hauing once before attempted to poyson him 
with broth, being executed in S. Georges-field the last of Februarie. 1608 
(British Museum, C. 21. b. 5). Mrs Ferneseed,w^ho vehemently denied her 
guilt and against whom the evidence now appears very dubious, was 
burned on Monday, February 28, at two p.m. "She was stripped of her 
ordinary wearing apparell, and vppon her owne smocke put a kirtle of 
Canuasse pitched cleane through, ouer which she did weare a white sheet, 
and so was by the keeper deliuered to the Shreue, one \i.e. on] each hand 
a woman leading her, and the Preacher going before her. Being come to 
the place of execution, both before and after her fastning to the Stake, 
with godly exhortations hee admonished her that now in that minute she 
would confesse that fact for which she was now ready to suffer, which she 
denying, the reeds were planted aboute, vnto which fier being giuen she 
was presently dead." 

The taking refrain of the ballad, characteristic of the tune oi Bragandary 
(cf. No. 49), had been used earlier, and is referred to in John Webster's 
play, The Devil's Law Case, 1623, iv, ii: 

O women, as the ballad lives to tell you. 
What will you shortly come to ! 

Parker's refrain is also given as the tune of ballads in Wit Restored, 1656, 
pp. I 57 fF., Musarum Deliciae, 1656, pp. 88 ff.. The Rump, 1661, pp. 82 fF., 
and the Roxburghe Ballads, in, 117; vii, 826. It is the tune also of "The 
Careless Curate and the Bloody Butcher" (beginning "Black Murther and 
Adultery"), 1662, in the Wood Collection (Wood 401 (187)). 

^ tuarning for toiuesf, 
i8j> tfje example of one Katherine Francis, aliasl Stoke, 
tDfio for feiUing ter fjusftianb, Robert Francis toitfi a 
paire of ^i^ersi, on tfje 8. of ^priU at nigfjt, bjasi fjurneb 
on Clarkenweil-greene, on tKue£lbap, tfje 21 of tte 

siame monettj, 1629. 

To the tune o£ Bragandary. 

I ALas what wretched bloody times 
-lX. doe we vile sinners Hue in! 
What horrid and what cruell crimes 
are done in spight of heauen ! 



What barberous murders now are done, 
none fowler since the world begun! 
Oh women, 
Murderous women, 
whereon are your minds? 

2 The Story which I now recite, 

expounds your meanings euill.^ 
Those women y^ in blood delight, 

Are ruled by the Deuill, 
Else how can th' wife her husband kill. 
Or th' Mother her owne childs blood spill, 
Oh women, 
Murderous women, &'c. 

3 At Cow-crosse, neere to Smithfield-barres, 

adiacent to the City, 
A man ands wife at houshold iarres 

long liu'd, the more's the pitty, 
Like Cat and Dog they still agree'd; 
Each small offence did anger breed : 
Oh Women, is'c, 

4 She oftentimes would beat him sore, 

and many a wound she gaue him. 
Yet hee'd not Hue from her therefore, 

to stay ill fate would haue him. 
Till she with one inhumane wound, 
Threw him (her husband) dead toth' ground. 
Oh women, ^c. 

5 Upon the 8 of Aprill last, 

betweene this man and wife. 
Some certaine words of difference past; 

and all their cause of strife, 
Was but about a trifle small, 
yet that procur'd his fatall fall. 
Oh women, ^c. 

^ No period in the text. 



This was about the houre of tenne, 

or rather more that night, 
When this was done, whereof my Pen 

in tragicke stile doth write; 
The maner of's death most strange appeares 
Being struck ith' neck with a pair of sheeres, 
Oh women, ^c. 

As many of the neighbours say, 

that thereabout doe dwell, 
This couple had most part oth' day 

beene drinking, so they tell. 
And comming home at night so late. 
She did renew her former hate. 
Oh women, &€. 


Cfje sieconli part ^o tfje game tune. 

^Nother woman that was there, 
she out oth' doores did send. 
And bad her fetch a Pot of Beere, 

oh then drew nere his end. 
For ere the woman came againe. 
This wife had her owne husband slaine: 
Oh women, 
Murderous women, 
whereon are your minds? 

9 She long had thirsted for his blood, 
(euen by her owne confession) 
And now her promise she made good, 

so heauen gaue permission 
To Satan, who then lent her power 
And strength to do't that bloody houre. 
Oh women, &c. 

lo It seemes that he his head did leane 
toth' Chimney, which she spide. 
And straight she tooke, (O bloody queane) 
her Sisers from her side, 



And hit him therewith such a stroake 

Ith necke, that (some thinke) he nere spoke. 

Oh women^ ^c. 

1 1 She hauing done that monstrous part, 

(woe worth her for her labour) 
No power had from thence to start, 

but went vnto a neighbour, 
And told him, that she verily thought, 
that she her husbands death had wrought. 
Oh women^ &'c. 

1 2 The man amaz'd to heare the same, 

caught hold of her, and said. 
He know the truth, and how this came, 

if such a part be plaid, 
No sooner had he said the same. 
But neighbours did her fact proclaime. 
Oh women ^c. 

1 3 Then to New Prison was she sent, 

because it was so late, 
And vpon the next day she went 

(through Smithfieldy to Newgate^ 
Where she did lye vntill the Session, 
To answer for her foule transgression. 
Oh women, ^c. 

14 Where she condemned was by Law, 

in Clarkenwell to be burned, 
Unto which place they did her draw, 

where she to ashes turned, 
A death, though cruell, yet too milde 
For one that hath a heart so vilde. 
Oh women, i^c. 

1 Text (through Swithfieli). 


1 5 Let all good wiues a warning take, 
in Country and in City, 
And thinke how they shall at a stake 

be burned without pitty. 
If they can haue such barbarous hearts, I 

What man or woman will take their parts, 
Oh women^ 
Murderous women, 
whereon are your minds? 



Printed at London for F.G. on Snow-hill. 



T'he western knight 

Pepys, I, 312, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. 

This ballad was licensed as "Western Knight" on June i, 1629 (Arber's 
Transcript, iv, 213). It is a romance with possibly a traditional ballad as 
a source and with a few traditional features. Of somewhat similar nature 
are "The False Lover Won Back" and "Child Waters" in F. J. Child's 
English and Scottish Popular Ballads (Nos. 63 and 218). Even closer is the 
resemblance to the early part of Child's No. 4, "Lady Isabel and the Elf- 
Knight," which in one stall copy (dating about 1749) is, as Professor Child 
noted {pp. cit. i, 23), called "The Western Tragedy." Professor Kittredge 
remarks that the Harvard College Library has an American edition of 
"The Western Tragedy" that was printed late in the eighteenth, or early 
in the nineteenth, century. 

Wsst V^t^itxnt llnigfjt, anb tfje poung iWaiti of Bristoli, 
Cijeir loues; anti fortunes; relateti. 

To a pretty amorous tune. 

1 T T was a yong knight borne in the West, 
A that led a single life, 

And for to marry he thought it best 
because he lackt a wife. 

2 And on a day he him bethought, 

as he sate all alone, 
How he might be to acquaintance brought, 
with some yong pretty one. 

3 What luck, alas, (quoth he) haue I 

to Hue thus by my selfe } 
Could I find one of faire beauty, 
I would not sticke for pelfe. 

R.p.G. 305 u 


4 Oh, had I one though nere so poore, 

I would her not reiect: 
I haue enough, and aske no more, 
so she will me affect. 

5 With that his man he then did call 

that nere vnto him staid. 
To whom he soone vnfolded all, 
and vnto him he said, 

6 Come saddle me my milke white Steed, 

that I may a wooing ride. 
To get some bonny Lasse with speed, 
whom I may make my Bride. 

7 On horsebacke mounted this gallant young Knight, 

and to try his fate he went, 
To seeke some Damsell faire and bright, 
that might his mind content. 

8 And as he through Bristoll Towne did ride, 

in a fine window of Glasse, 
A gallant Creature he espide, 
in the Casement where she was. 

9 His heart then taught his tongue to speake 

as soone as he her saw. 
He vnto her his mind did breake, 
compel 'd by Cupids Law. 

10 Faire Maid, quoth he, long may you Hue, 

and your body Christ saue and see, 
Fiue hundred Crownes I will you giue, 
to set your loue on me. 

1 1 Though I am faire, qd. she, in some sort, 

yet am I tender of age. 
And want the courtesie of the Court, 
to be a yong Knights Page. 



12 A Page, thou gallant Dame, quoth he^, 

I meane thee not to make; 
But if thou loue me, as I loue thee, 
for my Bride I will thee take. 

13 If honestly you meane, quoth she, 

that I may trust your word, 
Yours to command I still will be, 
at bed and eke at boord. 

Kf)t sfeconb part. Co tfje sfame tune. 

14 ' I "Hen he led her by the lilly white hand, 

-L vp and downe a Garden greene. 
What they did, I cannot vnderstand, 
nor what passed them betweene. 

1 5 When he to her had told his mind, 

and done what he thought best, 
His former promises so kind, 
he turned to a lest. 

1 6 Yet he gaue to her a Ring of gold, 

to keep as her owne life: 
And said, that in short time he would, 
come and make her his wife. 

1 7 Then mounted he vpon his Steed, 

and rode from the Damsell bright. 
Saying he would fetch her with speed, 
but he forgot it quite. 

1 8 When fifteene weeks were come and gone, 

the Knight came riding by. 
To whom the Lasse with grieuous moane, 
did thus lament and cry. 

19 Sir Knight, remember your vow quoth she 

that you to me did say, 
With child, alas, you haue gotten me, 
and you can it not denay. 
^ Texi she. 


u 2 


20 So mayst thou be, quoth he, faire Flowre, 

and the child be none of mine, 
Unlesse thou canst tell me the houre, 
and name to me the time. 

2 1 Full fifteene weeks it is, quoth she, 

that you lay my body by; 
A gay gold Ring you gaue to me, 
how can you this deny? 

22 If I (quoth he) my gold Ring gaue, 

to thee, as to my friend. 
Thou must not thinke I meane to haue 
thee till my life doth end. 

23 Nor do I meane to take for my wife, 

a Lasse that is so meane. 
That shal discredit me all my life, 
and all my kindred cleane. 

24 Quoth she, false Knight, why didst thou then 

procure my ouerthrow. 
Oh, now I see that faithlesse men, 
will sweare, yet meane not so. 

25 Now may I Hue from ioyes exilde, 

like a bird kept in a Cage, 
For I am fifteen weeks gone with child, 
and but fourteen yeeres of age. 

26 Farewel, farewel, thou faithlesse Knight, 

sith thou wilt me forsake, 
Oh heauens grant all Maidens bright, 
by me may warning take. 

27 When as the Knight did heare what she 

poore harmelesse wretch did say. 
It mou'd his heart, and quickly he 
made her a Lady gay. 

Printed at London for F. Cou/es. 


The father hath beguiled the son 

Pepys, I, 362, B.L., two woodcuts, four columns. 

"The father beguild his sonne" was registered for publication by 
Francis Coles and his ballad-partners on June 20, 1629. A lost ballad called 
"The Sonne beguils the Father" was registered by Francis Grove on 
July 3, 1630, and was probably a reply, by Martin Parker himself, to the 
present work. (Cf. Arber's Transcript, iv, 216, 238.) A tune of The Mother 
Beguiled the Daughter (cf. Roxburghe Ballads, vii, 161) is often used: the 
ballad from which it was derived is not known, but I suspect that it, too, 
was the work of Parker. He was very fond of writing of a subject from 
various angles, especially when he could in turn satirize men and then 
women. The tune of Drive the cold winter away is given in Chappell's 
Popular Music, i, 194. 

What basis — whether fact or imagination — Parker had for this doleful 
tragedy, with its pointed warning to deceitful fathers, is not determined. 
But the story reads like fiction. The third line, "a spokesman hath woo'd 
for himself," is an anticipation of a well-known passage in Longfellow's 
Courtship of Miles Standish. 

W^t fatijer fjati) beguil'b tfje gonne. 

^r, a tDonberfuU tE^ragebp, tofjicfj latelp tiefcll 3n 

OTiltJitjire, asi man? men fenofab fuU toeU. 

To the tune of Drive the cold Winter away. 

I T Often haue knowne, 

J- And experience hath showne, 

that a spokesman hath woo'd for himselfe 
And that one rich neighbour 
Will vnderhand labour 

to ouerthrow another with pelfe: 
But I neuer knew,^ 
Nor I thinke any of you, 

since wooing and wedding begun, 
^ Text has a period. 


That ith way of marriage, 
Or such kinde of carriage 

the father heguiV d his owne sonne. 

2 Yet of such a thing 
I purpose to sing: 

and tis of a certaine truth, 
A widower old 
Well stored with gold: 

had one onely sonne a fine youth, 
In Wiltshire of late 
Neere to Bodwin the great: 

this strange and true story was done. 
Then list and giue eare 
And you truly shall heare: 

how the father heguiV d his owne sonne. 

3 A pretty young maid, 
In the place aforesaid: 

in a Gentlemans house did dwell 
And this youthfull lad 
So much view of her had, 

that with her in loue he soone fell : 
By day and by night 
He wisht for her sight, 

and she at the last was wonne, 
To plight him her troth, 
Yet she broke her oath, 

for the father heguiV d his owne sonne. 

4 For once on a day 

The young man did say: 
vnto his wise and aged dad, 

That twas his intent 

(Worse things to preuent) 

with marriage to make him glad : 

Me thinkes first quoth he. 

Your wife I might see, 
why will you hastily run : 



On such brittle ware? 
Yet for all his care, 

{old fox) he beguird his owne Sonne. 

5 The Sonne told his father, 
How that he had rather: 

to haue in the same his consent, 
So to haue a view 
Of his Louer true, 

the Sonne with his father went: 
And when they came there 
The Lasse did appeare, 

so faire and so louely a one, 
That the old doting churle, 
Fell in loue with the girle 

and sought to beguile his owne Sonne. 

6 With such pleasant words 
As to loue accords, 

they all did depart for that season, 
The honest young Lad, 
Was ioyfull and glad: 

his sweet-hart had shew'd him good reaso, 
The loue-sicke old man, 
Did looke pale and wan, 

and could to no pleasure be wonne. 
By night and by day. 
Still musing hee lay, 

how he might beguile his owne Sonne. 

7 Yet none did mistrust, 
A thing so vniust: 

for he was neere threescore yeeres old: 
Which yeeres one would thinke. 
Should make a man shrinke, 

when his vitall spirits are cold : 
But now to be briefe. 
That was all his griefe, 

from loue all this mischiefe begun : 



And nothing could serue, 
His life to preserue, 

but that which must kill his owne Sonne. 

8 So once on a day, 

When his sonne to make hay: 

was gone a good mile from the house, 
Away the old man. 
Is gone to see Nan., 

as briske as a body louse: 
And with a bold face, 
He told her his case, 

and into what care he was runne, 
Unlesse that she, 
Would kindly agree, 

to take him in stead of his sonne. 

Clje geconb part, Co tfje siame tune. 

9 OHe mused in mind, 
vIj Such greeting to find, 

and thus vnto him shee said, 
Can such an old knaue. 
With one foot in the graue: 

set loue on a young tender maid, 
That hardly sixteene 
Cold winters had scene, 

sure such thing cannot be done: 
Nay more then all this 
You know what past is, 

twixt me and your onely sonne. 

lo Sweet Nan quoth hee, 
Ne're dally with me, 

I loue thee as well as may be, 
And though I am old 
I haue siluer and gold 

to keepe thee as braue as a Lady, 



All my whole estate 
Upon thee shall wait, 

and whatsoere thou wouldst haue done, 
With gold in thy hand 
Thou shalt it command, 

if thou wilt take me instead of my Sonne. 

11 If me thou doe shun, 
In hope of my sonne 

then take him and ift be thy minde, 
But into the bargaine 
Looke not for one farthing, 

then be not with folly let blind, 
For it lies in my power, 
At this instant houre 

(if thou say no it shall be done) 
To giue all I haue, 
Away from the knaue, 

then take me and leaue off my sonne. 

12 When she heard these words. 
To him shee accords 

vpon the same condition, 
That of all his pelfe, 
He should his owne selfe, 

her set in full possession, 
To which he agreed. 
And gaue her a deed, 

by which the poore Lad was vndone. 
To please his fancy, 

he did dis-inherit his sonne. 

13 These things being [said,]^ 
And they both contriued, 

by witnesse [conspires]^ so the Lad, 
The old man home went 

^ These words are blurred so that only a few letters can be read. Con- 
spires is very doubtful. 


With hearty content, 

reioycing at his courses bad, 

And thus the next day, 

He carryed away 

the Lasse which with wealth he had won.^ 

He maried was, 

Twelue miles from the place, 

thus the father beguiVd his own sonne. 

14 The young-man with griefe. 
Heard of this mischiefe 

and blaming this monstrous part. 
Before both their faces, 
Unto their disgraces, 

he stab'd himselfe to the heart: 
The vnnaturall dad. 
Ran presently mad: 

repenting of what he had done, 
He runs vp and downe, 
From towne vnto towne, 

and hourely calks on his sonne. 

15 The faithlesse young wife, 
Weary of her life, 

(to thinke what folly befell) 
Ran straight in all hast. 
And headlong shee cast 

herselfe in a deepe draw-well. 
And there shee was found. 
Next morning quite drown'd 

these things for certaine were done, 
Some sixe weekes agoe. 
As many men know, 

that knew both father and sonne. 

1 6 Let euery good^ father 
A warning here gather, 

by this old mans punishment: 

1 No period in the text. ^ Text god. 


And let euery young Lasse, 
(As in a glasse,) 

looke on this disastrous euent; 
For both were to blame, 
And both suffer'd shame, 

the old man yet liuing doth run 
In mad franticke wise 
And alwayes he cryes, 

for casting away his owne sonne. 



Printed at London for Francis Coules. 



AfooPs bolt is soon shot 

Pepys, I, 178, B.L., six woodcuts, four columns. 

Both the proverbial title of this ballad and the fine large woodcut of 
Part I were borrowed from Samuel Rowlands's satiric pamphlet, A Fooles 
Bolt is soone skott, which was printed by George Loftus in 161 4 {Complete 
Works of Samuel Rowlands, Hunterian Club, 1880, vol. 11). The ballad 
may have been printed by John Grismond immediately after Rowlands's 
book, but it was first entered in the Stationers' Register on June 20, 1629 
(Arber's Transcript, iv, 216), by Francis Coles. Approaching the same 
subject from another angle is the much older ballad (1569) of "The xxv. 
orders of Fooles" reprinted in A Collection of Seventy-Nine B lack-Letter 
Ballads, 1867, p. 88. 

The author, T.F., translated in 1616 a sensational news-pamphlet called 
Miraculous Nezaes, From the Cittie of Hold t, in the Lord-ship of Munster {in 
Germany) the twentieth of September last past. 1616. Where There Were 
Plainly beheld three dead bodyes rise out of their Graues, admonishing the 
people of Judgements to come (British Museum, 1103. d. 53. For a ballad 
on the subject see the Shirburn Ballads, pp. 76-80). He can hardly have 
been the T.F., a Kentishman, who in 1585 published Newes From the 
North. Otherwise called the Conference between Simon Certain and Pierce 
Plowman (C. 40. d. 12). 

The tune is given in Chappell's Popular Music, i, 378. 



^ jFooleg polt is! jsoone sifjot. 
#ooti Jfrientrs; tietoarc, 3'me Ufee to fjit pee, 
Wl)at ere pou be ijeer's! tljat tuiU fit pee ; 
WWh toap soeuer tfjat pou goe, 
^t pou 3 apme mp ^olt anti Potoe. 

To the Tune of, O^ no ?w no not yet. 

STand wide my Masters, and take heed, 
for feare the Foole doth hit yee, 
If that you thinke you shall be shot, 

rde^ wish you hence to get yee; 
My Bowe you see stands ready bent, 

to giue each one their lot. 
Then haue amongst you with my Bolts, 
for now I make a shot. 

He that doth take delight in Lawe, 

and euer to be brangling, 
Would be^ like to the Bells were hang'd, 

that loues still to be iangling; 
1 Text Id'e. 2 ^ext he. 


His Lawyers purse he fills with Coine, 

himselfe hath nothing got, 
And proues a begger at the last, 

at him I make a shot. 

3 Who all the weeke doth worke full hard, 

and moyle both night and day. 
Will in a trice spend all his coine, 

and foole his meanes away, I 

In drinking and in rioting, I 

at pipe and at the pot. 
Whose braines are like an adled ^^^^-t 

at him I make a shot. 

4. The Prodigall that is left rich, 

that wastes his state away. 
In wantones and surfeting, 

in gaming and in play. 
And spends his meanes on Whores and Queanes, 

doth make himselfe a sot. 
May in a Spittle chance to dye, 

at him I make a shot. 

5 He that is apt to come in bands ^ 

for euery common friend, 
May shake a begger by the hands ^, 

and pay the debt i'th^ end. 
By selling Goods and Lands away, 

or in a Prison rot. 
Where none will pitty his poore case, 

at him I make a shot. 

S The Man that wedds for greedy wealth, 
he goes a fishing faire. 
But often times he gets a Frog, 

or very little share; 
And he that is both young and free, 

and marries an old Trot, 
When he might Hue at libertie, 
at him I make a shot. 
1 TVAT/hand. 2 Text\x!\v. 

Cte ^econti ^art. tKo tlje game tKune. 

7 'npHe Miser that gets wealth great store, 

A and wretchedly doth Hue, 
In 's life is like to starue himselfe, 

at 's death he all doth giue 
Unto some Prodigall, or Foole, 

that spends all he hath got. 
With griping vsury and paine, 

at him I make a shot. 

8 He that doth early rise each morne, 

and worketh hard all day, 
When he comes home can not come in, 

his Wife is gone to play; 
And lets her to drinke and spend all 

the moneys which he got. 
Shall weare my Coxcombe and my Bell, 

and at him heers a shot. 

9 An Old-man for to dote in age 

vpon a Wench thats young. 
Who hath a nimble wit and eye, 

with them a pleasing tongue, 
Acteons plume I greatly feare 

will fall vnto his lot, 
That stoutely in his crest he'le beare, 

at him I make a shot. 

lo A Widow that is richly left, 

that will be Ladifide, 
And to some Gull or Roaring-boy 

she must be made a Bride, 
His Cloathes at Broakers he hath hir'd 

himselfe not worth a groat. 
That basts her hide and spends her meanes 

at her I make a shot. 



II A Mayden that is faire, and rich, 

and young, yet is so proud, 
That fauour vnto honest men 

by no meanes can be low'd; 
And thus she spends her chiefest prime, 

refusing her good lot. 
In youth doth scorne in age is scornd, 

at her I make a shot. 

1 1 But she that wanton is and fond, 

that fast and loose will play, 
When that her reconings are cast vp, 

must for it soundly pay. 
And may the Father chance to seeke 

of that which she hath got. 
Besides her standing in a sheete, 

at her I make a shot. 

1 3 Who spends his time in youth away, 

to be a Seruing-man, 
Doth^ seldome grow for to be rich, 

doe he the best he can; 
And then when age doth come, God knows 

this Man hath nothing got. 
But is turnd out amongst the dogges, 

at him I make a shot. 

14 He that doth sell his Lands away, 

an Office for to buy, 
May keepe a quarter for a time, 

but will a begger dye; 
For he hath sold his Lambes good man, 

and younger Sheepe hath got. 
Although he thinke himselfe so wise, 

at him I make a shot. 

1 5 He that will goe vnto the Sea, 

and may Hue well on shore. 
Although he venture life and goods, 
may hap to come home poore, 
1 Text Dotd. 



Or by the Foe be made a Slaue, 

with all that he hath got, 
Whose Limbes in peeces are all torne, 

at him I make a shot. 

1 6 Those that their Parents doe reiect, 

and makes of them a scorne, 
Who wishes then with griefe and woe 

they neuer had been borne; 
For portion they may Twelue-pence haue 

beside a heauy lot, 
For disobedience ordaind, 

at them I make a shot. 

17 The Parents which their Child brings vp 

to haue their owne free will, 
The wise and antient Salomon 

doth say they them will spill : 
And when correction comes too late, 

they wish they'd nere been got: 
But for their folly which is past, 

at them I make a shot. 

1 8 They that continue still in sinne, 

and thinke they nere shall dye, 
Deferring off repentance^ still, 

and Hues in iollitie. 
Death quickly comes and ceases them, 

and then it is their lot 
In hells hot flame for to remaine, 

at them I make a shot. 

19 And so farewell my Masters all, 

God send 's a merry meeting; 
Pray be not angry with the Foole 
that thus to you sends greeting: 

^ Text has the p upside down. 

321 X 


And if that any haue escap'd, 
and saies I did not hit them, 

It is because my Bolts are spent, 
but lie haue more to jit them. 

Printed at London for I.G. 



Fourpence halfpenny farthing 

Pepys, I, 274, B.L., three woodcuts, four columns. 

The ballad was licensed to Francis Grove on June 22, 1629 (Arber's 
Transcript, iv, 216), though it was printed by Cuthbert Wright. An 
extract of one stanza from the Pepysian copy is printed in the Roxburghe 
Ballads, VIII, 720. 

This ditty shows Martin Parker in a naughty mood, but seems desirable 
in print merely because it is his work. No other ballad-writer was half so 
clever in dealing inoffensively, so far as concerns language, with an offensive 
situation. In his class he was a master of innuendo. This "Jest" main- 
tained its popularity for years: answers and imitations, dating from the 
years 1685-1689, will be found in the Pepys Collection, iii, 41, 238; 
IV, 249, 257, and in the Roxburghe Ballads, viii, 710. The tune is given 
in Chappell's Popular Music, i, 366. 

Jpourepente Ijalf epennep Jf art^ing : 
^ ^^oman toiU taue tfje d^bbess. 

To the tune of Bessy Bell, or a Health to Betty. 

ONe Morning bright, (for my delight) 
Into the Fields I walked, 
There did I see 
A Lad, and hee 

with a faire Maiden talked. 
It seem'd to me, they could not agree, 
About some pretty bargaine, 
He offer'd a groat. 
But still her note 
was jour e -pence halfe penney farthing. 


1 Whats that thought I, that he would buy 
at such a little value, 
And as much I mus'd 
Wherefore he vs'd 

that summe of which I tell you, { 

The price was small, but that's not all. i 

The rest is worth regarding, .; 

for nothing she, ;. 

would doe, till he, 

gaue foure pence halje penney farthing. \ 

Quoth he faire Maid, let me perswade, 

you to vnfold a reason. 
Why you request, 
Boue all the rest 

that price now at this season. 
Quoth she, good Sir, I doe preferre, 
My humour, before the bargaine: 
by all the gods. 
He haue the ods, 

iust foure pence halfe penny farthing. 

I made an oath, which I am loth 

to violate, I tell you. 
Though 't be more worth. 
If 'twere set forth 

the lewell which I tell you. 
The number three, best liketh me, 
Therefore I aske according, 
three pieces of you, 
as 'tis my due, 

thats foure pence halfe penney farthing. 

When this yong Lad, receiued had, 

to his demand, an answer: 
He laught outright, 
As well he might, 

for he, nor his great Granser, 



The like nere heard, it well appear'd, 
She knew how to make her bargin. 

he drew his purse, 

and did disburse, 
iust foure pence halje penney farthing, 

6 When he had paid, the pretty Maid, 
and gaue what she desired, 
To haue the same, 
For which he came, 

he eagerly required. 
But ere they could, doe what they would, 
I (who had vnaware bin, 
and heard and seene, 
what past betweene, 
for jour e pence halje penney jarthingf- 

^i)t gecontr part, ^o tfje game tunc. 

7 "V ZNto them stept, by which I kept 
V the yongster from his pleasure, 
The best on't^ was. 
The witty Lasse, 

before had got his Treasure, 

^ Text far//fing. (Sic.) 


2 Texiont\ 


She swore to me, that neuer she, 
Would haue perform'd the bargin, 

her meaning was, 

to make him an Asse, 
for jour e pence halje penney farthing. 

8 And truely I, thinke verily, 

in that she did dissemble: 
Poore Fellow hee. 
At sight of mee, 

began to quake and tremble. 
His sword I found, upon the ground. 
With which I did reward him, 
with a knocke or twaine, 
twas all his gaine, 
for foure pence halfe penny farthing. 

9 When I had beate him with 's own weapon, 

and might haue run him thorow. 
To th'^ Alehouse we, 
Did goe all three, 

to drinke away all sorrow. 
The honest Lasse, most willing was. 
To call her whole reward in. 
and freely spent, 
with merriment, 
her four e pence halfe penny farthing. 

lo And he likewise, was not precise, 
but, (as it seemed) willing, 
To call for drinke. 
As much I thinke 

as came vnto a shilling. 
I would haue paid but he denaid. 
And thus I got by th'^ bargin, 
good sport and drinke, 
which makes me thinke 
of four e pence halfe penny farthing. 

1 Text 'th. 



1 1 But ere they went, I, to preuent 

their meeting againe together, 
Sent her away, 
And made him stay, 

Fme sure he met not with her. 
If she be nought, as 't may be thought, 
loue send her a Whores rewarding, 
but good or bad, 
she guld the Lad 
of joure -pence halfe penny farthing. 

1 2 The tother^ day, vpon the way, 

it was my chance to meet her. 
She blushed red. 
And nothing sed, 

but I began to greet her. 
How now sweet Lasse, can you thus passe 
By me without regarding. 

though you haue forgot, 
yet I haue not,^ 
the joure pence halfe penny farthing. 

1 3 Kind Sir (quoth she) I well doe see, 

you haue not it forgotten, 
Ouoth I, I protest. 
This may be a lest, 

when we are dead and rotten. 
She went^ her way, and since that day, 
I thought it might be a rare thing: 
to cause this lest, 
thus t' be exprest 
of four e pence halfe penny farthing. 



Printed at London for C W. 
1 Text to'ther. ^ Text has a period. ^ Text whent. 


A banquet for sovereign husbands 

Pepys, I, 402, B.L., three woodcuts, four columns. The first column is 
badly mutilated, so that the third and fourth stanzas have been filled in 
by guess. 

The date of the ballad is after June 22, 1629, for at that time was 
licensed the ballad of "The Woman to the Plough and the Man to the 
Hen-Roost," after which the tune is named (Arber's Transcript, iv, 216; 
Roxburgke Ballads, vii, 185). "The Woman to the Plough" was to be 
sung to / have for all good wives a song, a tune named from the first line 
of Parker's "Merry Dialogue betwixt a Married Man and His Wife. To 
an Excellent Tune" {Roxburgke Ballads, 11, 159). 

The idea of cuckoldry that underlies the "eating of the ram" is broadly 
implied: there is innuendo rather than actual coarseness of expression. The 
last stanza is cleverly designed to increase the sale of the ballad. 

^ Panqiuet for ^oueraigne i!|usibantisi. 

Cije l^ositing of ti)e Ramme tofjole at ^aint Giles 
in tljc fielbs; on TOebnesitiap tfje ttoentp foure of 3unc, 
1629. being iHitisiommer trap, ^eatr, ||ornesi, anb aU. 

To the tune of The Woman to the Plow, and the 
Man to the Hen-Roost. 

I /'"^N Midsommer day I chanc't to goe 
V--/ Unto a place which many know: 
And there was done a merry lest, 
Which in my song shall be exprest. 
Let no man thinke this is a flamme, 
I sing the rosting of a Ramme. 

1 Saint dies' es in the fields, that towne. 
Which no place can for mirth put downe: 



Especially about the City, 

They haue such sport and pastime pretty: 

But this excels all, sure I am, 

I meane the rosting of the Ramme. 

3 [The Ram~\me was for this purpose fed, 
[Was cooked] whole both feet and head: 
[Head an]d homes and all to boot, 
[And now herje all that would come too't. 
[Come John^ come George^ come William^^ 

[So precioujs is the rosted Ramme. 

4 [And many a man there] thither came, 
[Swearing he would] his wife rule and tame: 
[And that he s]hould eate vp the spit, 

[His wife also] should taste a bit. 
[But all be]held most sure I am 

[That nothing was ea]ten of the Ramme. 

5 He lay so long o'th Spit He tell yee. 

Till most o'th puddings dropt out of's belly. 
And scarce a man durst draw his knife, 
For feare he should displease his wife: 
Many excus'd it with a flam, 

and few or none durst touch the Ram. 

6 At last came in a good fellow o'th Towne, 
And swore it should cost him a Crowne, 
But he would haue a slash at th' Tuppe, 
This was before his wife was vp: 

Had she bin there, halfe sure I am, 
he had not tasted of the Ram. 

7 Many were halfe resolued to enter, 
Yet on the Ram they durst not venter. 
For feare their wiues ere they had dinde 
Would fetch them home with words vnkind: 
Franke would fain, & so would Sam^ 

yet neither of them durst taste the Ram. 

^ No comma in the text. 


8 This being perceiued by mine Host, 
Who fear'd this proiect would be crost, 
Hee had it cut off bit by bit, 

And sold for money from off" the spit : 
On these conditions many came 
to buy for money some o'th Ram. 

W^t jscconb part Co tije sfame tune. 

9 'VTOw if this Ramme had beene a Bull, 
1 ^ And all his belly with pudding full, 
If none but ruling women might 
Haue come, it had bin swallowd quite 
In the forenoone, for sure I am 

they best deseru'd to eate the Ram. 

10 But now to make my story short. 
This Ram all day did cause good sport, 
As Moris-dancing, and such toyes. 
That draw together Girles and Boyes. 
And many a groat and tester came 

to th'i Host, for tasting of the Ram. 

1 1 The Master Cooke that louiall blade, 
All day good mirth and pastime made: 
Though first a Tapster, next a Groome, 
He for that day supplyde the roome 
Of th' Cooke, and he with many a flam 

got money for the rosted Ram. 

1 2 One man among the rest was there, 
Who meant to tast of this good cheare, 
But he was glad his share to hide, 
For's wife came in and began to chide. 

She sware he should dine with the deuil & 's Dam 
before he should eate a bit o'th Ram. 

1 3 This poore mans credit being crackt, 
Alack for woe the market slackt, 
For all the women did consent. 

To make her tongue their president: 

1 Text 'th. 


And many a one to hinder came 

their husbands from the taste o th Ram. 

14 One sort of wiues were not so bold, 
In such a meeting place to scold: 

Yet 'cause their husbands shall not eate, 
On purpose they dispraise the meate. 
But I eate some, and sure I am, 

no Venson's sweeter then was that Ram. 

15 Though ruling husbands few did taste. 
The Ramme was eaten vp at last: 
They shau'd him barely to the bones, 
Nay some did cut his very stones: 
Who did the same not sure I am : 

who euer he was he well lou'd Ram. 

16 Some eate the rumpe, and some the feet. 
Not asking whether the meate was sweet. 
The head and homes I cannot tell, 
Unto whose share by right they fel. 

But he that hath a wanton wife, 

might keepe them still to whet his knife. 

1 7 Thus vnto you I haue exprest, 
The manner of this mery feast: 
He that is horned like a beast. 
Perhaps is angry at this lest. 
But each good fellow sure I am, 

will buy this Ballad of the Ram. 

18 If here be any scolding wiues, 

I wish them if they loue their Hues, 
In any case not buy this song. 
Which doth to gentle wiues belong: 
Thus from the Author told I am, 
who made this ditty of the Ram. 


Printed for Francis Coules. 



A he-devil 

Pepys I, 398, B.L., one woodcut, four columns. 

"The Hee divell" was registered for publication by Francis Grove on 
March 12, 1630 (Arber's Transcript, iv, 230). Several ballads are sung to 
a tune named from it (cf. Roxburghe Ballads, 11, 509). 

Martin Parker here espouses the cause of ill-treated married women, 
but not, one fears, with any real sympathy. The tune of The She-Devil is 
not known ("The she Divell of Westminster" was registered by Francis 
Coles on June 24, 1630), but at once suggests that Parker had first written 
a ballad of that title for the delectation of harassed husbands before turning 
to the woes of married women. This habit of his has already been men- 
tioned: undoubtedly one reason for his enormous popularity with the 
common people was his impartiality, his custom of writing ditties on both 
sides of every question. Thus his satire against women, "Keep a Good 
Tongue in Your Head," was immediately followed by a ballad against 
brutal husbands called "Hold Your Hands, Honest Men. To the Tune 
of Keep a Good Tongue in Tour Head'''' {Roxburghe Ballads, in, 237, 243). 

^ ^ee^iueU : or, 
3f tfjisi l^omang i|u£fbanti tjsie fjer toell, 
3le gap gome feinbnegge map tie founb in l^ell. 

To the tune of. The Shee-diuell. 

I A T THen I a Maiden was, 
VV I long'd to be married, 
But now (alas) such is my case, 

I wish I had longer tarried, 
Matching ouer hastily 

hath wrought me mickle euill. 
She that weds such a knaue as I, 
were as good to marry the Deuill. 


2 I thought each day as long as a yeere, 

vntill that I was mated, 
My Mayden-head I could not beare, 

so sore that life I hated: 
I long'd to haue a man, 

with pleasure to content me, 
But now that I haue gotten one, 

it sorely doth repent me. 

3 For he is such a dogged wretch, 

and doth so basely vse me. 
Many a sorrowfull sigh I fetch, 

when he doth beat and bruise me. 
I marryed him for loue 

that was not worth a farthing. 
And yet he doth ingratefull proue, 

iudge, is not this a hard thing? 

4 Two hundred pounds in ready coyne, 

my father did bequeath me. 
Which I (as freely as 'twas^ mine) 

did giue to him that hath me. 
Against my friends consent, 

I chose him for my pleasure, 
But now my hasty match repent, 

I doe (as they say) by leasure. 

^f)£ sieconb part ^o tte siame tune. 

5 T TE doth consume & waste my means 
X 1 in lewd dishonest fashion, 
Among a crew of Knaues and Oueanes 

which turnes to my vexation : 
And if I speake to him, 

in kindnesse, to reclaime him, 
Heele with his girdle lace my skin, 

though all the neighbours blame him. 

^ Text t'was. 



6 Euery day I labour sore 

and earne my food with sweating, 
Yet all the thankes I haue therefore, 

is nought vnlesse 't be a beating. 
What I haue earn'd all day, 

(alas) I speakt with sorrow, 
The knaue at night takes all away, '.[ 

to spend vpon the morrow. v 

7 And glad am I to please him so, "i 

If I might but Hue quiet: 
While he doth to the Ale-house goe, 

I worke to get his dyet. 
Though my labour earnes the meat, 

I nor my little daughter. 
Till he hath done, dare nothing eate, 

but dine (like seruants) after. 

8 When he comes home drunke at night, 

if supper be not drest. 
Most diuellishly heele raile and fight, 

though humbly I request 
Him to be patient, 

but there is no such matter. 
And if the meat doe not him content, 

heele breake my head with the platter. 

9 I like a seruile bond-slaue, 

doe wipe his boots and shooes. 
And yet the domineering knaue, 

so basely doth me vse,^ 
That if one spot on them he find, 

about my head heele beat them. 
And if with words I shew my mind, 

I were as good to eat them. 

^ Text has a period. 



10 Though such a portion I did bring, 

as before is said, 
Yet I doe euery droyling thing, 

heele let me keepe no Maide. 
I wash and scowre, 

yet (if you will beleeue me) 
I seldome Hue a quiet houre. 

iudge whether this doth grieue me. 

1 1 If any neighbour me inuite, 

to gossipping, or feasting, 
I dare not goe (is not this a spight) 

for feare of his molesting. 
I forth to supper went one night, 

but that may be my warning, 
Heele not indure me out on's sight, 

he is so afraid of horning. 

1 2 How can it chuse but griefe me still, 

to see some of my neighbours. 
That money haue to spend at will 

out of their husbands labours. 
And I that to my portion brought 

two hundred pounds in money. 
Dare neuer doe, as women ought, 

nor hardly spend a penny. 

13 If any time he money lacke 

and I cannot supply him. 
Heel pawn my garments from my back, 

and I dare not deny him, 
Tother day he tooke my smocke, 

and pawn'd it for a shilling, 
I came, and found him at the Cocke, 

iust when the drinke was filling. 

14 All you Maidens faire, 

that haue a mind to wed, 



Take heed and be aware, 

lest you like me be sped. 
And you good wiues, 

that heare my wofull Ditty, 
If you ere bought Ballad in your Hues, 

buy this, for very pitty. 



Printed for F. Groue, on Snow-hill. 



yohn y arret 

Pepys, I, 170, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. 

There is no colophon, but the ballad was no doubt printed by Francis 
Grove, to whom it was licensed as "John Jarrett" on December 20, 1630 
(Arber's Transcript, iv, 246). 

New Year's gifts in verse were great favourites, and here the complacent 
Mrs Jarret is represented as sending to her thoroughly dissolute husband 
a "gift" in rhyme, urging him to repent. The gift was printed in good time 
for the beginning of the new style year (January i), for although England 
retained the old style of dating until 1752, there were many seventeenth- 
century printers who consistently dated their publications stilo novo. A 
most forbearing and stolid wife was Mrs Jarret: apparently her objections 
to gentle John's bad courses are based sheerly on the economic misfortunes 
that will result, not at all on moral grounds. She feels little or no sense of 
personal injury because of his gross infidelity and libertinism. One hopes 
that her husband saw the error of his ways. 

For the tune see the introduction to No. 41. 

3 tell pou, Joftn 3arret, pou'l breafec : 

Soljn Sarretg toiuesi coungell to f)er fjufibanti, to fjaue 

care to ijig estate in tljisJ tjartJ time, 

legt Ije turne Panfeerout. 

To the tune of the wiu'tng Age. 

I T)Ray gentle lohn larret., give eare to my words, 
X It is my true kindnesse this counsell affords, 
And euery good husband to his wife accords: 
If your time you wast away at Alehouse boords, 

/ tell you, lohn larret., you I breake., 

I tell you., lohn larret., you I breake. 

R.p.G. 337 Y 


2 You see how the world to vices incHnes, 
Which if you doe follow, my soule thus diuines, 
That you'l want the mony which you waste in wines: 
Men being drunkards, are worse than base swines. 

/ tell you lohn I arrets ^c. 

3 They say, at the Talbot you runne on the score, 
Beside, at S. Katherines you keepe a braue whore,^ 
Where you on a night spent an Angell and more: 
If you vse such dealings, twill rriake you full poore. 

/ tell you ^ ^c. 

4 I heare y' haue a wench, they call her Blacke Kate, 
Whose dwelling, they say, is neere to Billingsgate^ 
Besides, how you gaue her a new gowne of late : 
If you vpon harlots doe thus waste your state,^ 

/ tell you, ^c. 

5 Besides, at S. Toolies, another mans wife. 

They say that (John larrei) you loue as your life. 
Twixt her and her husband you daily breed strife. 
Consuming your meanes, if you lead still this life, 
/ tell you, is'c. 

6 I heare say at Wapping that you keepe another, 
And when you goe there, you say tis to your brother 
But you maintaine her, with the old bawd her mother."^ 
Such scuruy dealings I by no meanes can smother: 

/ tell you, (fj'c. 

7 You rise in the morning before breake of day. 
And vnto the Alehouse you straight take your way. 
Where you in base manner at shuffle-boord play, 
Untill you haue wasted your money away. 

/ tell you, &'c. 

1 Text has a period. ^ Nq period in the text. 


8 You haue a Bastard at Brainford to nurse, 

That weekly dost cost you two shillings thats worse: 
These things, sweet lohnlarret^ will empty your purse.^ 
Besides, if you still perseuer this course, 
/ tel you^ ^c. 

9 You into ill company daily doe rome, 

Whilst I and your children sit sighing at home. 
With brown bread and small drink I sit like a mome 
And sometimes at midnight you drunke in do come.^ 
/ tell you^ ^c. 

lo This is a hard world, and euery thing's deare. 
Sweet gentle lohn larret^ my counsell pray heare 
Before all be wasted, I pray haue a care. 
For if you doe hold this course one other yeere,^ 

/ tell you^ lohn larret^ you I breake^ 

I tell you ^ lohn larret^ you I breake. 

tlTfje jEfeconb part. i;o tfje sfame tune. 

1 1 ^^/Ou see how the Farmers doe hoord vp their graine, 

X No eare will they lend to the poore mens complaine, 
Although weshouldstarue, these Curmuginswillgaine.^ 
They neuer thinke on vs, nor pitty our paine, 
I f eare me^ lohn larret^ you I breake^ 
I j eare me^ lohn larret^ you I breake. 

12 This is no world to borrow nor lend 
Nor (if you consider it) vainely to spend: 
Receiue this my counsell (good lohn) as a friend. 
For if you pursue this vaine course to the end, 

/ tell you, ^c, 

^ No period in the text. ^ Text has a period. 

339 Y2 


1 3 When you in your shop should be plying your worke, 
In some scuruy blinde Alehouse you all day doe lurke, 
More like than a Christian to some lew or Turke: 
If thus you neglect your liuing and worke, 

/ tell you^ ^c. 

14 Be rul'd by my counsell, good husband, I pray. 
For 'twill^ be your owne I'm sure another day: 
Yet, if you please Hue full well you may. 

But if you persist in your drinking and play, 
/ tell you^ ^c. 

1 5 You know, you haue wasted away a good Farme, 
And now we want firing for to keepe vs warme, 
Besides a good house for to shelter a storme : 

I giue not this counsell vnto you for harme : 
/ tell you, &'c. 

16 Giue ouer in time your scuruy base whores, 

For feare they should fill you with scars & with sores 

And laboure besides to pay your old scores : 

If whores still you follow, with company that rores, 

/ tell you, ^c. 

1 7 You see that the ould yeare is almost quite spent,^ 
The new one is comming, good lohn then repent 
Your wicked old follies, and with one consent, 
Your downe-sinking state with care to preuent. 

/ tell you, i^c. 

1 8 Some that haue enough, at Gods blessings repine. 
But whilest I Hue, that fault shall not be mine. 
Then to thy power, sweet lohn, with me ioyne. 
And pray that God daily will guard thee and thine, 

/ tell you, iffc? 

1 Text t'will. ^ No comma in the text. ^ Text i^c,. 



19 Be rul'd by your wife, that doth loue you full deare, 
And all ill society see you forbeare, 

And of these children I pray haue a care, 
Begin a new course, I pray, with the yeare, 
Or else^ sweety ^c. 

20 There commeth no goodnes by following of queene[s]^ 
But ryotous drinking, and wasting of meanes. 
Who trusts to such harlots, on wickednes leanes. 
And may with the Prodigall feed vpon beanes. 

/ tell you ^ lohn larret^ you' I breake^ 
I tell you^ lohn larret^ you I breake. 

1 Margin clipped. 



A wonder in Kent 

Pepys, I, 72, B.L., two woodcuts, four columns. 

This jocular ballad celebrates the "stomach's exploits" of Nicholas 
Wood, of Kent. It was suggested by and closely paraphrases (cf. the last 
stanza) a twenty-page pamphlet written by John Taylor, the Water Poet, 
and published by Henry Gosson in 1630 under the title of The Great 
Eater, Of Kent, Or Part Of The Admi-rable Teeth And Stomachs Exploits 
of Nicholas Wood, of Harrisom in the County of Kent. His Excessive Manner d| 
Of Eating Withovt manners, in strange and true manner described (British 
Museum, C. 31. c. 9; reprinted in Charles Hindley's Old Book Collector's 
Miscellany, vol. iii). The pamphlet begins with an address by Taylor "To 
The Most Famous, Infamous, High and Mighty Feeder, Nicholas 
Wood," who is described on page 18 as follows: 

he is swarty, blackish haire, Hawk-nosed (like a Parrot, or a Roman) hee is 
wattle-Iawde, and his eyes are sunke inward, as if hee looked into the inside of 
his intrayles, to note what custom'd or vncustom'd goods he tooke in, whilst 
his belly (like a Maine-sayle in a calme) hangs ruffled and wrinkled (in folds 
and wreathes) flat to the mast of his empty carkasse, till the storme of aboundance 
fills it, and violently driues it into the full sea of satisfaction. 

A person of similar achievements, J. Marriot, of Gray's Inn, was 
written up in numerous tracts and ballads in 1652 (see Thomason Tracts, 
E. 667(8), E. 668(20)). Both men are referred to in The Loves of Hero 
and Leander, 1653, p. 51: 

Their teeth so sharp, their stomacks keen , 

That Harriots you would them ween, f 

Or Wood or Kents own Bastards. I 

Professor Kittredge suggests that Woolner of Windsor, the famous eater, '' 
be mentioned, and states that references to him are made in Arber's English 
Garner, 1897, vi, 276; Gabriel Harvey's Works, ed. A. B. Grosart, 11, 
231 ; Nugae Antiquae, ed. Park, ii, 96; Archie Armstrong's fests, ed. 1 889, 
p. 112; and Poor Robin s Almanac, 1697, under "August." Perhaps the 
person who nowadays comes nearest to Wood's record is "America's 
tallest immigrant" "who is twenty-four years old, stands eight feet six 
inches and is said to eat twenty-four eggs for breakfast" (New York Times, 
September 26, 1920). The greatest possible contrast to Wood is the 
remarkable Miss Eve Fliegen, who lived for sixteen years on the smell of 
a rose: see the ballad on her in the Shirburn Ballads, p. 55, and cf. my 
notes in the Journal of American Folk-Lore, xxx (1917), 372. 


The tune of The maunding soldier is derived from Martin Parker's 
ballad, "The Maunding Soldier; Or, The Fruits of War Is Beggary. To 
the Tune of Permit me. Friends''' {Roxburghe Ballads, in, 1 1 1). Richard 
Chmsal has left many other ballads {e.g., ibid, i, 207, 499, 509; 11, 7, 28 1). 

^ toonlrer in Kent: 
^i tfic admirable jEStomacke of one Nicholas Wood, 
btoeUing at Harrisom^ in tfje Count? of Kent. 

Cfje lifee of tint toasi neuer fjearb, 
^g in tJjisJ Bittp ig beclar'b. 

To the tune of, The maunding Souldier. 

I ALL you that valiant fellowes be, 
^^^ I pray giue eare a while to me, 
I tell you of a Champion bold, 

^ I.e. Harrietsharn, 



That fights not for the fame of gold, 

but for good belly cheare, 

as well it doth appeare, 
the like wherof you nere did heare. ^ 

none may with him compare, 

as I will here declare, 
the like Hues not I dare to sweare. 

In Kent this fellow now doth Hue, 
At Harrisom as report doth giue. 
His Name is called Nicholas Wood, 
As I for truth haue vnderstood, 
well knowne by men of fame, 
his worth and name, 
that well can iustifie the same, 
some Gentlemen and Knights, 
to satisfie delights, 
haue sent for Wood to see his sleights. 

He is not like these puling ones. 
That sits an houre picking bones, 
A Sheepe or Calfe thats worth a Marke, 
On them heele brauely fall to worke, 

or if a Hogge it be, 

all's one quoth he, 
in one houres space you none shall see, 

his stomacke is so strong, 

nothing will doe him wrong, 
the Deuill is sure his guts among. 

What talke I of a Sheepe or Calfe, 

Alas these exploits are not halfe, 

A Hogs a thing that much will eate. 

Fish, Flesh, Fowles, Frogges, or such like meat, 

yet Wood is of such power, 

that he within an houre 
a good fat Hogge he did deuoure, 

his like was neuer none 

as plainely may be shone, 
not one like him was euer known. 



5 After that he had eate this Hogge, 
I doe not meane to lye nor cogge, 
Three pecks of Damsons he did eat, 
For to digest his Swinish meat, 

Another time beside, 

he being tride: 
seuen dozen of Rabbets he destroy'd, 

likewise he tooke in hand, 

to eat a Fleath of Brawne 
as soone as from the Bore twas drawne.^ 

6 At Sir William Sidleyes house he eat, 
As men of credit doe repeat. 

As much as thorowly would suffice. 
Full thirty men. Oh gurmundize, 
but then vnto the fire, 
he did retire, 
and for some grease he did desire, 
thinking his belly he 
would breake immediately 
vnlesse he had speedy remedy.^ 

7 A quarter of a good fat Lambe, 
And threescore Egges he ouercame. 
And eighteene yards of blacke pudding. 
And a raw Ducke all but Bill and Wing, 

and after he had din'd, 

as I doe find, 
he longed for Cherries yt brauely shined;^ 

the threescore pound they brought, 

which he consumed to nought, 
a thing vnpossible me thought. ^ 

8 His mighty paunch doth harbour all, 
Sheepe, Hoggs or Calues, tis like a stall, 
A Parke it is likewise for Deare, 

^ Text has a comma. ^ Nq punctuation in the text. 



And Conneyes gray, or siluer haire;^ 

a storehouse tis besides 

whereas he hides 
all kind of fruits that him betides,^ 

Cheese, Buttermilke and Whey, 

he bringeth in that way, 
thus he brings all quite to decay. 

Wt^t ^ttonh part. Co tfje game tune. 

9 ' I "He Norfolke Dumpling he ore came, 

■1- The Deuonshire white-pot he made tame,* 
The bag-pudding of Glocester,* 
The blackepudding of Wostershire, 
the Shrop-shire pan-pudding, 
and such gutting, 
and Somersetshire white-pudding, 
or any other Shire, 
their puddings heele not feare,^ 
none may w^ Nicholas Wood compare : 

10 The Clothiers that in Kent doe dwell. 
In Sussex of this man did tel. 

To some o'th chiefest yeomen theie, 
Who greatly mused when they did heare, 
and ofred presently 
that they would lay, 
a hundred pound of good money, 
that he could not deuoure, 
a whole calfe in an houer, 
they thought it was not in his power. 

1 1 The wager thus betwixt them laid, 
The Sussex men grew sore afraid. 
And of their match they did repent, 
Desiring that they might recant; 

the kentish men did say, 
that they should pay, 

^ No punctuation in the text. 


ten pounds or stand the match and day, 

then so they did agree, 

and spent it merrily, 
but JVood mist of their company. 

1 2 A Gentleman by chance did come, 
Where friends of his was in the roome 
And they were all at diner set. 

But he with them eate not a bit;, 
when the reckoning was paid, 
the tapster said 
that twelue pence more must be defraid, 
by him that last came in, 
which had not at diner ben 
whereat the Gentleman in spleene,^ 

1 3 Did pay the same and said no more. 
But after plagued them therefore, 
An other time he did come there. 

And brought Wood with him to a faire '? 

then to the Inne he went, 

whereas he spent, 
a shilling once by ill consent,^ 

and telling Wood his mind, 

being thus inclin'd, 
to call much meat & leaue Wood behind.^ 

14 Come hostes quickly let be brought 
As much good meat as may be thought 
To satisfie a dozen men. 

The hostes quickly sent it in.^ 

come sit downe Wood quoth he, 

and He goe see, 
for some more of our company, 

but ere hee came agen, 

the tapster he came in 
thinking the deuill there had ben. 

^ Text has a period. ^ No punctuation in the text. 



15 The tapster did his Mistris call, 
And said the man had eat vp all, 

Then into th' roome she came with speed. 
And found the same was true indeed, 
then she began to sweare 
and pull and teare 
with Wood for money for his fare 
and he said he was willing, 
to pay her downe a shilling :i 
he fitted her for former dealing. 

1 6 Two Citizens from London went. 
To see this Wood was their intent. 
And being come to Harrisom^ 
They sent for him into the roome, 

for all the victuals they 

did call and pay, 
that was within the house that day, 

and wished goodman Wood^ 

to fall vnto his food.^ 
I marry quoth he that is good. 

1 7 These Citizens found him to be, 

So strange the like they ne'r did see. 
Desiring him that he would goe. 
To London^ he resolued so, 
then at the last he said, 
he was afraid 
the same to th'^ King should be beraid; 
and so he hang'd might be, 
therefore this thought had he, 
tis best staying in Kent for me^ 

1 No punctuation in the text. 2 y^^^ to'th. 

3 According to the pamphlet, John Taylor himself made this offer to 


1 8 His porrige boule is full two pecks, 
He is not of the weakest sexe, 
Good Ale graines some times he doth eate, 
For want of other sort of meat, 
I doe not tell no lye, 
those that will further try, 
a booke of him likewise may buy, 
where much more is declared, 
as I haue read and heard 
none like to him may be compared. 



Printed at London for H.G. 



The judgment of Solomon 

Pepys, I, 30, B.L., one woodcut, four columns. 

In the main, the ballad is a paraphrase of i Kings, iii, 16-28, with 
passages here and there from other books dealing with Solomon's life; as, 
2 Chronicles, ix, 7, for the words of the Queen of Sheba in stanza four. 
Henry Gosson printed during the years 1603— 1640. For the tune see 
Chappell's Popular Music, i, 196. 

Cfic ^ubgement of Salomon : 

Sn bififcerning ttjc true iWotfjer from tfje fal£fe, tij» fjer 

compaggion, giuing sientence to biuilre tlje Ci)ilbe. 

To the tune oi the Ladies fall. 

WHen Dauid ouer Israel, had 
ruled full forty yeares, 
And on his Throne securely sate, 
as plainely it appeares: 


Stricken in yeares, and full of dayes, 

and nature almost spent, 
To set his Sonne vpon that Throne, 

his minde was fully bent. 

For fearing lest that he should dye, 

without the choyse of one: 
That might as he had done before 

sit still on Israels Throne: 
And to preuent the discord that 

amongst his sonnes might rise. 
He pickes out one, and makes him King, 

before Death closd his eyes. 

Whose name was Salomon^ a man, 

of rare, and excellent parts: 
Yea, such a man he was, that if 

any by their deserts 
Might claime a Crowne, then Salomon^ 

of whom the earth did ring, 
Deserud it, and none fitter could 

olde Dauid chuse for King. 

Such was his wisedome, that the Queene 

of Sheba from the South 
Came, for to heare those words that did 

proceede out of his mouth : 
Which when sh'ad heard, pronounc'd them blest, 

and happy for to be: 
That his Attendants were, and did 

wayte on his Maiestie. 

His wisedome made him shine more bright 

then did the Roabes he wore. 
And made him in the peoples sight 

to be respected more. 
Then all the costly lemms that hee, 

or ornaments had on: 
Or then the Throne that thus adorn'd, 

he vsd to sit vpon. 


6 Whose wisedome was principally 

vnto the world made knowne: 
In a iust sentence that he gaue 

to th'i Harlots which did come 
To him for Justice, 'bout a childe, 

that both layd claime vnto, 
Whose cause to heare he did assent, 

and did determine to. 

Cije sfeconb part, ^o tfje siame tune. 

7 ' I "He Harlots standing then before 

-L the presence of the King: 
W^ith faltring speech and trembling tongue, 

one straite declares the thing: 
Saying, my Lord we women had 

lately two children small. 
Which of all earthly ioyes we did 

esteeme them most of all. 

8 We had them much about one time, 

and both were of one sex. 
And one house doth containe vs both, 

tis this that doth perplex 
My troubled soule th'one Harlot said, 

seeing her Childe is dead. 
She labours all she can to haue 

mine, in her Infants stead. 


For in the night she ouer-layd 

her childe, and it did dye: 
But waking straitway, she perceiu'd, 

and this sad sight did spie: 
She straightway rose, and forthwith came 

at midnight to my bed: 
And tooke from me my liuing childe, 

and left with me hers dead. 

1 Texito'th. 


10 But in the morning when I wak'd, 

not knowing what was done: 
By this vilde woman which doth seeke, 

to bereaue me of my sonne: 
And taking gently in mine armes, 

as then I thought, my childe: 
I straight perceiu'd it was not mine, 

and that I was beguil'd. 

1 1 Nay, said the other Harlot then, 

the childe that Hues is mine: 
And that same Infant that is dead, 

assuredly was thine : 
That's false reply'd the other straight, 

for that that Hues (said she) 
Is none of thine, I did it beare, 

and it belongs to me. 

12 Thus whatsoe'r the one did say, 

the other did deny: 
And what the other did affirme, 

did th' other presently, 
Cryi out vpon as false and vaine, 

nor would they ere they said, 
Nor possibly could quietnesse 

betwixt them both be made. 

13 Therefore they did implore the helpe, 

and wisedome of the King, 
Whose eye could onely pierce into 

so difficult a thing: 
That he would graciously be pleas'd, 

as he had heard it so: 
He would giue sentence to their cause, 

which they would stand vnto. 


1 TextCry'd. 


14 Salomon causd the liuing childe 

in the midst to be plac'd, 
Of both those Harlots that did seeke 

each other to disgrace: 
And one of his seruants he charg'd 

to fetch a sword straightway; 
Which to him presently was brought 

without the least delay. 

1 5 Which sword he to his seruant gaue, 

putting it in his hand, 
Enioyning him to execute 

whate're he did command. 
Diuide the childe (saith he) and giue 

to each of them a part : 
Which words did pierce the true Mother 

vnto the very heart. 

16 Who humbly did beseech the King, 

rather then it should dye, 
To giue it to the other all, 

that with her did stand by: 
Nay answered the false Mother then, 

the King hath it decided: 
Neither thine, nor mine, the childe shall be, 

but let it be diuided. 

1 7 King Salomon weigh'd both their words, 

and looking on them both. 
Did say, that she the Mother is 

that most compassion shew'th : 
Giue her the childe that did lament, 

for such an Infant pretty. 
And when it should haue mangled beene, 

was moued vnto pitty. 

1 8 The Mother gladly did receiue 

her tender Babe againe : 



Which the false Mother cruelly- 
desired might be slaine: 

And when the people heard the words, 
and sentence of the King: 

Cry'd all with voyce most lowd, God blesse 
Salomon in euery thing. 

At London Printed for Henry Gosson, 
^ No period in the text. 




'T/j not otherwise 

Pepys, I, 394, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. 

Perhaps the point of view of the average married man is well stated 
here, though possibly too much stress is laid on the mere physical comforts 
that attend marriage. After the many ballads in which that sacrament is 
abused, the present defence of marriage is a bit refreshing. From the 
opening lines it is evident that this song is a reply to some doleful ditty in 
which a young married man laments his loss of liberty and his never- 
ending woes. The printer was no doubt G[eorge] B[lackwall], whose 
publications appeared during 1626-1636. The date of 1630, accordingly, 
may be assumed for this ballad. For the tune see Chappell's Popular Music, 
I, 380. 

Cts! not ottertDtfiie : 
Ctie pratsie of a marrtet) life. 

To the tune of. Vie neuer loue thee more. 

I A Young man lately did complaine 
±\. because that he was wed: 
And counsel'd others to abstaine 

from Hymeneal bed : 
Had years but giuen him man-like thoughts, 
hee'd^ not bin so vnwise, 
• For wiues increase mans happines, 

then ' Tis^ not otherwise. 

1 What ioy is there vpon the earth 

but Mariage makes it more, 
It is to man a second birth, 

and openeth the doore 
To happines, and such delight 

that none but they comprize: 
1 Text he'ed. ^ Text throughout t'is. 


They pleasures haue both day and night, 
then 'tis not otherwise. 

When I was single I did stray 

in heart, in words, and life. 
But I haue found a better way 

I thanke my louing wife: 
I now Hue free from all suspect, 

and many wicked lyes, 
The good I wisht, hath tooke effect, 

then 'tis not otherwise. 

Much company I vs'd to keepe, 

before I had a wife. 
The memory doth make me weepe, 

for 'twas^a wicked life: 
Such comfort now at home I finde, 

from Mariage to arise, 
I wish all men were in my minde, 

then 'tis not otherwise. 

Unthrifty games I now haue left 

as Tables, Cards and Dice, 
That oft hath me of wealth bereft, 

I curse no Ace, nor Sice: 
I do not now the Cards bid burne, 

that made my anger rise, 
A wife hath caused me to turne, 

then 'tis not otherwise.'^ 

So ciuill I am growne of late 

since that I made my choice, 
I hate each swearing swaggering mate, 

which makes me to reioyce: 
The company I now do keepe, 

are honest men and wise, 
That not with drinke, but sence do sleepe, 

then 'tis not otherwise. 
^ Text t'was. ^ No period in the text. 



7 No Constable nor watch feare I, 

that cryeth JVho goes there? 
I doe not reele, but soberly 

can passe them void of care: 
I vse no caudels in the morne, 

I drinke not out mine eyes, 
My wife hath made me these to scorne, 

then V/j not otherwise. 

8 This diet makes me to forget 

the head-ach that some haue, 
Which makes them for all things vnfit, 

(to drinke I am no slaue.) 
Those men their vertue hath out-worne, 

that drinke doth so disguise, 
My wife hath made me this to scorne, 

then 'tis not otherwise. 

W)t sieconb part. tlTo tfje siame tune. 

9 A Gainst I from my labour come, 
■l\. my wife prouides me meat: 
When I was single none at home, 

found I, or what to eate. 
At sight of me she layes the cloath, 

and then for meat she hies, 
Which makes me to forget all sloath, 

then Uis not otherwise. 

lo If I seeme discontent with ought, 

she kindly prayes me tell. 
If that it may be beg'd or bought, 

(or where it is to sell :) 
That would me please, & merry make 

the teares stand in her eyes 
Till I my discontent forsake: 

then 'tis not otherwise. 



11 It is a comfort for to see, 

good women meeke and mild, 
That to her come in charity, 

when that she is with child: 
They comfort her if she do sound, 

one for strong water hies. 
And so their husbands healths drinke round, 

then '//j not otherwise. 

1 2 When that she doth in child-bed lye,i 

the neighbours in their loue, 
Will with her sit, and pleasantly 

to mirth they doe her moue : 
By christning of my little lad 

I did in credit rise: 
All this by my good wife I had, 

then Vz5 not otherwise. 

1 3 For gossiping they send in meat, 

would well serue forty men, 
As good as any man can eate, 

for mutton, pig, or hen; 
They eate not halfe but leaue it me, 

there profit doth arise: 
This Cometh by a wife you see, 

then '//j not otherwise, 

14 One giues a peece, and one a spoone 

vnto my pretty childe, 
And wish that ere to morrow noone, 

their cradles to be fil'd 
With such a pretty child as this: 

ioy there to me doth rise, 
Had I no wife all this I misse, 

then V/j not otherwise. 

I 5 The babe doth grow, and quickly speaks, 
this doth increase my ioy, 

1 Text has a period. 



To heare it tattle, laugh, and squeake, 

I smile and hug the boy: 
I with it play with great delight, 

and hush it when it cryes, 
And euer wish it in my sight, 

then 'tis not otherwise. 

1 6 All Batchelors I wish you wed, 

if merry you would Hue, 
A single man is oft misled, 

and seldome doth he thriue: 
I liu'd before, but better now, 

my ioy and wealth arise. 
To Hue well I haue showne you how, 

then 'tis not otherwise. 

Printed at London by G.B. 



A goodfellow* s complaint 

Pepys, I, 438, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. 

This "pussyfoot" complaint should be compared with Edward Culler's 
(No. 27). It is worthy of notice that "honest Jack," the goodfellow, re- 
forms not because of moral or religious scruples, but simply because he 
has no money with which to buy strong beer — "a good cause why," as he 
truly remarks. Similar in idea and expression is "Wade's Reformation" 
{Bagford Ballads, i, 6) with the refrain, "And 'tis old Ale has undone me." 
The date is perhaps about 1630. The tune appears to be unknown. 

^ goobfellotDes; complaint againsit sitrong bcerc, 

Cafee fjeeb goobfeUotoesf for fteere j>ou map JSee 
llolD it ig strong beere tfjat fjat!) bnbone mc. 

To the Tune of <? day zvill come shall pay for all. 

1 A^-'-^ y*^^ good fellowes who loue strong beere, 
-^~^ In time be warned the same to flee 

For I can make it plaine appeare 

How tis strong beare that has vndon me. 

2 I vsd all company to keepe, 
Which was my downfall now I see 
For pouertie on mee doth creepe, 

And tis strong beerre^ that has vndon mee. 

3 I once enioyed both house and land, 
But now 'tis^ otherwise you see, 

My moneys spent my cloaihes are pawnd: 
And tis strong beere that has vndone mee. 
1 Sic. 2 Textx'xi. 



4 Now I haue wasted my estate, 
Which was enough to maintaine three, 
Ime faine to Hue at an vnder rate, 

For this strong beere that has vndone me. 

5 O how it greeues my hart to thinke. 
That they who had my money free, 
Now I am poore from me they shrinke, 
O this strong beere has vndone me. 

6 When I had coine enough to spend. 
Among good fellowes who but me, 
Then each one stroue to be my friend: 
Until strong beere had vndon me. 

7 Now all is gone and nothing left, 
It is not as it was wont to be. 
Of all my friends I am bereft, 

O thus strong beere has vndon me.^ 

8 For now my company they^ shunne. 
And where I come away they flee. 
Which makes me sing this heauy tune: 

tis strong beere that has vndon me.' 

9 They say tis money makes a man, 
Experience prooues it true I see. 
For my assotiates from mee rane. 
When thus strong beere had vndone me.^ 

10 For when I had clothes to my backe, 
And coine to call for liquor free, 

1 neuer did companions lacke, 
Untill strong beere had vndon me. 

1 1 But now I haue consumed all. 
And am as poore as poore may be, 
Here's many laugh to see my fall. 
Now this strong beere has vndone me. 

^ Comma in the text. 2 Text thy. 

^ Text mo. 



1 2 The world is growne to such a passe, 
That if your meanes consumed be, 
You shall be counted but an asse 
And thus strong beere hath vndon me: 

Cte sfeconti part. ®o tfje game ^une.^ 

13 \^ /"Hen- I had coine no tapster durst, 

VV Refuse to trust me shillings three, 
But now thele see my money first. 
Because strong beere has vndone mee. 

14 Unto a Tapster once I came, 

You'r welcome Sir, draw neere quoth he, 
But now the slaue wo'not know my name. 
Because strong beere has vndone mee. 

1 5 My little hostes at the crowne. 
Would often sit vpon my knee. 

But now sheele cry away thou clowne, 
Because strong beere has vndone me. 

16 Besides ther's Tapsters three or foure. 
Where I haue spent my money free. 
Are like to thrust me out of doore, 
And say there is no roome for me. 

1 7 But if I could get vp my meanes, ^ 
As that I doubt will neuer be, 

I sure would fit those Knaues and Queenes, 
But now strong beere has vndone me. 

18 O is not this a hellish spight. 
That I should thus reiected be. 
Who lately liu'd in such delight, 
Before strong beere had vndone me. 

19 When I doe call to minde the dayes, 
Which I againe shall neuer see. 

In which ^torments me many wayes, 
Alas strong'* beere has vndone me. 

1 No period in the text. 2 Text Wheu. 

^ Read It then ? * Text stroug. 



20 Full many a shilling haue I spent, 
And cride hang sorrow let it fly, 
In drinke and smoke away it went, 
And thus strong beere hath vndone me. 

2 1 Then who but I among the rout. 

Of louiall Blades should welcome be, 
But now my pouerty they flout. 
Because strong beere has vndone me. 

22 Then would good fellowes to me say, 
Heere honest lacke ile drinke to thee, 
Because they knew I still would pay, 
Untill strong beere had vndone me. 

23 Now they who hung vpon my purse, 
If I through want should starued be, 
Will not a groate for me disburse. 
Because strong beere has vndone me. 

24 And if I passe by the ale-house doore. 
My host will say, looke there goes he, 
I knew him rich but now hee's poore. 
And thus strong beere has vndone me. 

25 All you good fellowes that heare my case. 
Take heede least it^ your owne case be, 

I might haue liu'd void of disgrace. 
Had not strong beere thus vndone me. 

26 Shake of ill company in time. 
Which wrongeth many a man you see. 
Now I through them am like to pine. 
And tis strong beere that has vndone me. 

27 Farewell strong beere my mortall foe, 
lie drinke no more therefore of thee, 
A good cause why my purse is lowe, 
For thou strong beere hast vndone mee. 


Printed for F. Groue 
^ Text in. 



T'he honesty plain-dealing porter 

Pepys, I, 194, B.L., three woodcuts, four columns. 

A didactic ballad of a type characteristic of Martin Parker. There is a 
sturdy independence, a pride in honest labour, in almost everything he 
wrote. That pride may also explain his deep veneration for the nobility and 
the throne. The present ballad in praise of porters should be compared 
with Thomas Brewer's much earher production (No. 2). "The Proverb 
says, Need makes the old zvife trot" remarks John Taylor, in his Certaine 
Travailes of an Uncertain Journey (1653). Many instances of this proverb 
far older than 1653 are given in Hazlitt's Proverbs, ist ed., p. 288, and 
still older are the extraordinarily numerous uses of the proverb to which 
Professor Kittredge has referred me; as, "Besoing fet veille troter," of the 
thirteenth century (Haupt's Zeitschrift, xi, 1 1 5). The date of the ballad 
is about 1630. The tune is not known to me. 

Cfje fjonesit plainc bealing porter : 
^^to once toas; a ricfj man, tjut noto tis; fjiJf lot, 
t!Co proue ttat neeb ttitU maike ti)e olb toife trot. 

To the tune of the Maids A. B.C. 

1 '^/^Ou who haue beene rich heretofore, 

X and by ill fates are now grown poore, 
In that estate doe not despaire, 

but patiently your crosses beare : 
Though you haue quite consum'd your wealth, 

if God haue lent you limbs and health, 
To labour daily murmur not, 

For need will make the old wife trot, 

2 I haue had wealth as others haue, 

so much, I needed not to craue, 
Among good fellowes some I spent, 
the rest to cosening knaues I lent: 



Now all is gone, and nought is left, 
and I am faine to make hard shift, 

Yet am contented with my lot, 

Thus need will make the old wife trot. 

3 Now all my meanes is gone and spent, 

to fare hard I must be content. 
To get my bread my browes must sweat, 

till I haue earnd I must not eate. 
My charge I must take care to keepe, 

which makes me wake when others sleepe, 
I trudge abroad be it cold or hot, 

Thus need will make the old wife trot. 

4 At first to worke I was asham'd, 

but pouerty hath me so tam'd, 
That now I thinke it no disgrace, 

to get my liuing in any place, 
Tis more commendable to worke, 

then idlely at home to lurke. 
Wishing for bread, and haue it not, 

Thus need will make the old wife trot. 

5 Some idle knaues about this towne 

doe basely loyter vp and downe, 
And ere they'le set their hands to worke, 

from place to place they'le Hue by th shirke, 
They'le sit i'th Alehouse all the day, 

and drinke and eate, yet nothing pay. 
I scorne to drinke of anothers pot, 

though need doe make the old wife trot. 

6 Such men as these I hold in scorne, 

He rather rise at foure i'th morne, 
And labour hard til nine at night, 

ere I in shirking take delight: 
What honestly I get I spend, 

and well accept what God doth send: 
No man shall say he paid my shot, 

though need doth make the old wife trot. 



7 My calling's honest, good and iust, 

well worthy to be put in trust, 
I am a Porter my habit showes, 

my trade I doe not care who knowes, 
I am a man that's borne to beare, 

I cary burthens farre and neere. 
By which an honest meanes is got, 

thus need doth make the old wife trot. 

8 When some who knew me rich before, 

doe shun to meet me now I'me poore, 
I dare to looke them in the face, 

because my calling is not base. 
For of all men we Porters be 

good vnderstanding men you see. 
Then though I labour blame me not, 

for need will make the old wife trot. 

Wi)t sieconb part. tEfjc Same ®une. 

9 OUch pleasure in my worke I find, 
O that I Hue more content in mind, 
To earne my liuing with my hands, 

then when I liued vpon my lands. 
For many cares are incident 

to wealthy men, when sweet content 
Doth fall vnto the meane mans lot, 

though need doth make the old wife trot. 

lO When I doe meet with any friend, 

I seldome want a penny to spend. 
Which brings me to a good report, 

because I Hue in honest sort, 
Ide rather earne my liuing deare, 

then steale or beg for bread or beere, 
For charity is cold God wot, 

when need doth make the old wife trot. 



1 1 We Porters are good fellowes still, 

and spend our money with good will, 
When three or foure on's meet together, 

we needs must drinke come wind come wether, 
In friendly sort our pence we ioyne, 

or more, if we be stor'd with coine, 
We neuer wrangle at paying the shot, 

though need doth make the old wife trot. 

12 When I all day haue labour'd hard, 

content at night is my reward. 
When I come home, to quit my paines, 

my wife me kindly entertaines. 
We sup with such as God hath sent, 

though nere so small we are content. 
Come weale, come woe, we grumble not, 

For need will make the old wife trot. 

1 3 Thus haue I showne you my estate, 

and how I first was crost by fate. 
And how that crosse did proue a blis, 

because my mind contented is. 
My meanes I did consume in wast, 

but there's no helpe for what is past, 
I little dream'd of this my lot, 

but need will make the old wife trot. 

14 By this I free my selfe of blame, 

my kindred I will neuer shame. 
Well may they heare that I am poore, 

yet not to beg from doore to doore. 
Let him who hath no house nor land, 

some honest calling take in hand. 
Whereby a liuing may be got. 

For need will make the old wife trot. 

15 If thou hast learning, strength, or wit, 

to vse it lawfully tis fit, 



To sharke and shift from place to place, 
doth thee and all thy kin disgrace. 

Tis base to beg, tis worse to steale, 
then if thou honestly doe deale. 

Be not ashamed of thy lot, 

For need will make the old wife trot. 



Printed at London for F. Coules, dwelling at 
the vpper end of the Old Baily. 


369 AA 


A looking-glass for corn-hoarders 

Pepys, I, 148, B.L., two woodcuts, four columns. 

I have found no trace of John Russell, of St Peter's Chalfont, in histories 
of Buckinghamshire. It is worthy of note, however, that in 163 1, when a 
dearth was threatening, Charles Fitz-GefFrie wrote The Curse of Corne- 
hoarders: With The Blessing of seasonable Selling. In three Sermons, on 
Pro\verbs\ 11. 26. Begun at the general Sessions for the County of Cornwall, 
held at Bodmyn, and continued at Fowy (British Museum, 4455. b. 13). 
Evidently he had not heard of Russell's calamity, for he mentions only the 
well-known traditional punishments inflicted upon Archbishop Walter 
Gray and Bishop Hatto. Ballad-writers never tired of writing fearful 
warnings against "ingrossers" of corn, many of whom in person sank into 
the ground. A very remarkable example of such a punishment occurs in 
"A true balett of Dening, a poore man, and a lofFe of bred, which he paid 
for," printed as No. xlvii in H. Boeddeker's edition of the ballads from 
MS. Cotton Vespasian A. xxv {fjahrbuch fiir romanische und englische 
Sprache und Literatur, N.F., vols. 11 and iii). Russell should have deemed 
himself lucky, for he escaped, and the yavraing earth swallowed only one 
of his teams. But the punishments varied. Thus Goodman Inglebred, of 
Boughton, Norfolk, as one of Anthony a Wood's ballads (" A Warning-peice 
for Ingroosers of Come," ca. 1643) tells us, suffered from a tornado, which 
the Devil sent suddenly and which "tore the Barne in pieces, and scattered 
all the Come," doing such damage to his property as "the like was never 
heard of before." Many other engrossers hanged themselves "on the ex- 
pectation of plenty," as the Porter in Macbeth remarks. 



<a Hooking glasisie for Cornefjoortierj;, 
iBp tfje example of lohn Russell a Jfarmer btoeUing 
at ^t peters; Ctas^siant in Puckingtam sif)ire, b)tiosie 
gorges; fiunfee into tlje grounb tfie 4 of iHarcf) 1631. 

To the tune of Welladay. 

1 /^^F wonders strange that was 
V^ euer heard, euer heard, 
The like ne'r came to passe 

of this that followes. 
Let no man this truth doubt, 

but rather search it out: 
For tis spred farre about 

in euery place. 

2 This woefull chance befell 

welladay, welladay, 
Which I with griefe doe tell, 

Lord, haue thou pitty. 
Since mens hearts are so hard, 

that poore from bread are bard, 
And diuers almost staru'd 

in this our Land. 

3 In Buckingham Shire this 

Accident, Accident, 
Fell out at a place nam'd 

Saint Peters Chassant. 
This thing though strage, 'tis^ true, 

I doe assure all you 
That doe wrong, wrack and scrue, 

the needy poore. 

4 The poore being abus'd 

by the rich, by the rich, 
And by them cruelly vs'd 
in euery Towne: 

371 AA2 


But God that heares their moane, 
for their sakes hath this showne, 

That's already noysd and blowne 
ouer the Land. 

5 A Farmer there did dwell, 

rich he was, rich he was, 
Who had much Corne to sell, 

and store of graine: 
lohn Russell was he nam'd, 

whose base fact hath him sham'd. 
Because it is proclaim'd 

to his disgrace. 

6 A poore man wanting graine,^ 

came to him, came to him. 
Requesting to obtaine 

some of his store. 
The Farmer yeeldes thereto, 

seeming willing to doe 
This for the poore man, so 

he might be payd. 

7 The Farmer toke his price 

of his Corne, of his Corne, 
The poore man was not nice 

but yeelded to it : 
He bid him repaire home, 

and bring with him that summe 
That they concluded on, 

and he should haue 't. 

8 The poore man came and brought 

to the house, to the house. 
Of the Farmer, and sought 

him, to fulfill 
His former promise made. 

When he these words had said. 
His mony downe he paid 

vnto the Farmer. 

^ Text has a period. 




Cte siecontr part. tKo tfje Same tune. 

9 ^ I "He poore ma left his Sack 

X with his quoine, with his quoine, 
Thinking to returne back 

to him againe, 
And for to fetch from thence 

that Corne, which he long since 
Had giuen recompence 
vnto the full. 

10 But afterwards he came 

to demand, to demand, 
That Corne, yea that very same 

that he had bought, 
The Farmers humour was such 

that he did grumble much. 
Nor would he at all keepe touch 

with this poore man. 

1 1 But told him, Corne did rise 

euery day, euery day, 
And therefore a higher price 
must he giue him: 



Otherwise he should not haue 

one Corne, though's life't might saue, 

At which his speeches braue 
the poore man grieu'd.^ 

12 The poore man he went farre 

to his friend, to his friend, 
To get some mony more, 

to buy that Corne. 
Which when he had procur'd, 

though he was much iniur'd 
He quietly indured, 

and gaue it him: 

13 Who found him labouring 

in the field, in the field, 
And hard a harrowing 

with his seruants. 
But God will sure requite 

all those, that doe delight 
To affront and affright 

those that are poore. 

14 The ground strait opened wide, 

into which, into which 
Did two of his horses slide: 

tis strange to heare. 
They did sinke downe so lowe, 

thar^ no man yet can know 
Whither they fell, they did so 

strangely vanish : 

15 The rest o' th' Teame did sinke 

presently, presently. 
But twas good helpe, I thinke, 
that them releas'd. 

^ Comma in the text. 

2 I.e. there. Possibly a misprint for that. 



They were rays'd vp againe, 

suffring but little paine. 
This is a blot and staine 

to all our Mizers. 

1 6 Let them take heed how they 

doe oppresse, doe oppresse 
The poore that God obey, 

and are beloued. 
God will not let these long 

alone, that doe his wrong. 
Though ne'r so rich and strong 

that are oppressors. 


Printed at London for H. Gosson. 



News from the 'Tower Hill 

Pepys, I, 266, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. 

E[dward]B[lackmore] registered "Peg and Kate" on November 4, 1631 
(Arber's Transcript, iv, 263). Parker was evidently fond of this "jest," to 
which he refers in his "Good Throw" (No. 67). But it is not edifying or, 
for that matter, moral, though Parker undoubtedly intended it to be a 
warning to young roarers to shun evil women. He commends his hero as 
a model, but most readers would be inclined to feel some indignation at 
the scurvy trick that insufferable young person plays on the two London 
prostitutes. As a picture of the times and for the light it throws on M.P. 
himself, the ballad is not without some interest. What appears to be a 
reference to it occurs in the two lines, — 

And have I met thee, sweet Kate? 
I will teach thee to walk so late, — 

sung by Cuddy Banks in Ford, Dekker, and Rowley's Witch of Edmonton 
(printed 1658), iii, i, although this play is usually regarded as having been 
acted circa 1621. 

The music for The North-Country Lass which Chappell printed, with a 
specific reference to "News from the Tower Hill," in Popular Music, 11, 
457, is adapted neither to the measure nor to the stanza-form. In the same 
measure as the "News" and to the tune of The North-Country Lass is a 
ballad of "The Turtle Dove" in the Roxburghe Ballads, 11, 592. 

Mt\xst^ from tlje Cotoerfjill : 
^ gentle toarning to Peg anb Kate^ 
Co toalfee no more aftroab sJo late. 

To the tune of the North countrey Lasse. 

I A Pretty iest He tell, 

-l\. which was perform 'd of late, 
Let Lasses all in generall, 
be warned by Peg and Kate. 




2 These Lasses both doe dwell, 

neere Algate at this day, 
A vse they had ith night to gad, 
abroad as I heard say. 

3 To meete with some young men 

on them to shew affection, 
Which vse they still on Tower-hill 
did keepe by due direction. 

4 But now giue heede a while, 

and marke how they were serued 
Would all were so that thus doe goe, 
then men might be preserued^ 

5 From these deluding bayts, 

which by the way doe catch them.^ 
Let all young men be carefull then, 
and marke how one did match them. 

6 As they walkt forth one night, 

as twas their custome still, 
A youngman kind did chance to finde 
them vpon Tower-hill. 

7 And finding them so free, 

and easie to goe downe. 
He got them both they were not loth 
with him to Greenewich Towne. 

8 A payre of Oares he tooke, 

and thither went in hast, 
While all that night they had delight, 
but marke what after past. 

9 He brought them vp next day, 

and at the Posterne gate. 

Into the Ship they all did skip, 

at night when it was late. 

^ No punctuation in the text. - Text has a period. 

377 . 


10 Where they to supper had 

all dainties they could wish, 
Young Rabbets fry'd they bade prouide 
and rost Beefe in a dish. 

1 1 And Lambe they had beside, 

with Wine and Sugar store. 
And musicke sweet which made the street 
to muse how they did roare. 

12 At last the reckoning came 

to two and twentie shilling, 
The Lad was wise and did deuise 
to make them pay for billing. 

®te £feconlJ part, ^o tfje sfame tune. 

1 3 OO out of doores he stept, 
»3 and made a fine excuse, 

The Lasses still their Wine did fill 
as twas their former vse. 

14 But when they long^ had stayd, 

and the Lad came no more, 
The Vintner came of them to clayme 
money to cleere the score. 

1 5 They sayd they had no money, 

to pay for what was drawne. 
Their Aprons they vntill next day 
and Ruffes would leaue in pawne. 

16 The Vintner would haue none, 

but swore he would be payd 
Ere they did passe, or else alas 
in prison they must be stayd. 

1 7 All night they tarryed there, 

ith morning Peg did send 
To her Mother deare, who came to her 
as did become a friend. 
1 n upside down in text. 


1 8 Her Husband came with her, 

and he did passe his word, 
At a certaine day the shot to pay 
which they that night had scor'd. 

19 And so they were dismist, 

well serued I protest: 
If all base whores might pay such scores 
then men might passe in rest. 

20 The youngman I commend, 

and wish that others would 

Him imitate, then Peg and Kate 

would be no more so bold. 

21 It is a great abuse, 

in London at this day. 
Now in the street many nightly meet 
such wenches on the way. 

22 Which causeth many a Man, 

that would goe home in quiet, 
Upon such queans to spend his meanes, 
in filthinesse and ryot. 



London Printed for E.B. 



A good throw for three maidenheads 

Pepys, I, 314, B.L., one woodcut (which is reproduced in the Rox- 
burghe Ballads, viii, 641), four columns. 

Granted the situation, Parker's ballad proceeds without offence. From 
the fourth line it is evident that this song was written to outjest the similar 
ballad of "Peg and Kate," or "News from the Tower Hill" (No. 66). 
Accordingly, the date of "A Good Throw" can be established as after 
November 4, 163 1, at which time "Peg and Kate" was licensed. The 
ballad of "Over and Under," after which the tune was named (the music 
is given in Chappell's Popular Music, i, 190), had been licensed on June 
13, 163 1 {ibid. p. 254). The dicing terms used by Parker are explained 
in the Glossary. 

^ goob tijroto lor tfjree iHaiben=fjeabsf. 

^ome gap tljat maj>tjen=t)eatis; arc of ijigfj price, 
Put tiere are tfjree maibg tijat fjaue logt ttieirj; at bice. 

To the Tune, Of Ouer and Vnder. 

I ' I ^Hree maides did make a meeting, 
J- With one young man of late, | 
Where they had such a greeting, 
As passes Peg and Kate. 
They talke of many matters. 
Not fitting to be told : 
Also they dranke strong waters, 
To heat their stomacks cold. 

and when they had, 

drunke with the Lad, 
Vntill they were merry all : 

betweene them three, 

they did agree. 
Into discourse to fall. 



2 Concerning husbands getting, 
The question did arise, 

And each of them their sitting, 
Some reason did deuise. 
One was a milkemaid bonny, 
The other He not name. 
And shee did get much mony, 
By selHng of the same, 

her name is lone^ 

as is well knowne, 
I hope tis no offence: 

to tell what they, 

did on that day. 
Before they went from thence. 

3 They all did loue this young man 
And each for him did striue. 

It seemes he was a strong man. 
That could his worke contriue. 
Now which of them should haue him, 
They neither of them knew. 
But each of them did craue him, 
As her owne proper due. 

now meeting, 

and greeting, 
As maids and young men vse, 

with them he dranke, 

his money was franke, 
Indeed hee could not chuse. 

And either of them telling, 
Her mind in full to him, 
Meane while the rest were filling, 
Their cupps vp to yee brim. 
Because in either of them. 
It seemes he had a share, 



Unlesse he meant to scoffe them, 
He now must choose his ware. 

and therefore they, 

without delay, 
Being on the merry pinne: 

with good aduice, 

did throw the dice. 
Who should the young man win. 

5 The young man was contented, 
And so the dice were brought. 
The maids that this inuented. 
Their lessons were well taught: 
For the youngman all lusted. 
And by this fine deuice. 
They seuerally all trusted. 

To win him by the dice. 

but harke now, 

and marke now. 
The manner of their play: 

in their behalfe, 

I know youle laugh. 
Before you goe away. 

CfjE geconb part, Co tfjc sfame tune. 

6 T F any of the lasses, 

A Doe ouerthrow the rest. 
On her the verdict passes, 
None should with her contest. 
But she should haue her louer, 
Cleane from the other twaine. 
If euen not aboue her. 
Then they must throw againe. 

but if hee, 

all them three. 
Did win by throwing most: 

their mayden-heads all, 

to him must fall. 
Without any paine or cost. 



7 To this they all replied, 
They ioyntly were agreed, 
What words had testified. 
Should be perform'd indeed. 

The first maid threw, tray cater ace, 
Which is in all but eight. 
She hop'd from all the maids in place, 
To win the lad by right. 

The second I thinke, 

threw tray dewce cinque, 
There's ten (quoth she) for me.^ 

the first was quell'd, 

for this excel'd, 
Full sorely vext was she. 

8 The third with courage lusty, 
Did take the dice in hand. 
Now dice if you be trusty. 
Quoth she, this cast shall stand, 
For I resolue for better for worse 
As fortune shall dispose, 

That either now ile win the horse 
Or else the Saddle lose. 

she tooke them, 

and she shooke them. 
And threw without feare or wit, 

tray cater sice, 

gramercy dice. 
Quoth she, for that is it. 

9 She thought herselfe most certain 
The young man now to haue, 
But false deluding fortune. 

No such great fauour gaue. 

The young man tooke the dice vp,- 

Quoth he now haue at all, 

^ No period in the text. 2 ]sJq comma in the text. 


He threw sincke cater sice vp, 
Which made her courage fall, 

who threw the last, 

for 'twas^ surpast, 
How now my girles, quoth hee, 

You must resigne, 

for they are mine. 
Your maiden-heads to me. 

10 For I haue fairely wonne them. 
As you your selues can tell, 
The lots were cast vpon them, 
Which you all liked well. 
The maydens all confessed, 
That what he said was true, 
And that they were distressed, 
Should he exact his due. 

we hope sir, 

some scope sir. 
You vnto vs will giue. 

if that we pay, 

whats lost by play, 
Twere pitty we should Hue. 

1 1 Quoth he, He haue them all three. 
For they by right are mine, 

Or else in troth, they shall bee. 

All painted on my signe. 

The signe of the one maiden-head, 

Hath oftentimes bin seene, 

But ile haue three caus 't shall be sed 

The like hath neuer beene. 

now whether this lad, 

his winnings had, 
I cannot nor will not say: j 

but likely tis, M 

he would not mis, " 

What was won by faire play. 
^ Texi t'was. 



12 They thought they had bin priuat 
Where none had hard their doing 
But one did so contriue it, 
That he heard all this woeing. 
Thought he I haue heard many hold, 
Their maiden-heads at high price, 
But now hereafter it may be told, 
How three were wonne at dice. 

this man ere long, 

did cause this song, 
To be made on the same, 

that maidens faire, 

might haue a care, 
And^play at no such game. 



London, Printed for /. Grissmond. 




A wonder beyond expectation 

Pepys, I, 74, B.L., three woodcuts, five columns. 

The "Wonder," which was registered for publication on January 2, 
1632 (Arber's Transcript, iv, 268), is summarized from a thirty-five page 
pamphlet that was "Printed by R.Y. for John Partridge" in 1631 under 
the title oi Gods Power and Providence: Skewed, In The Miracv-lous Pre- 
servation and Deliverance of eight Englishmen, left by mischance in Green- 
land Anno 1630. nine monetks and twelve dayes Faithfully reported by 

Edward Pellham, one of the eight men aforesaid. As also with a Map of 
Green-Land (British Museum, C. 59. g. 17). The pamphlet was also sum- 
marized in 163 1 by John Rous in his Diary (ed. Camden Society, pp. 
63—65), and is reprinted in Churchill's Voyages, volume 11. 

In his preface Pellham says: "If the first in inhabiting of a Countrey by 
a Princes Subiects (which is the King of Spaines best title to his Indyes) 
doth take possession of it for their Soveraigne: Then is Green-land by a 
second right taken livery and Seisin of, for his Majesties use; his Subiects 
being the first that ever did (and I beleeve the last that ever will) inhabite 
there." He declares that his experience was in every particular more re- 
markable than that of "the Dutch-mens hard Winter in nova Zembla'''' in 
I 596. Coming to his story, Pellham tells how he and his companions left 
London on May i, 1630, in the ship The Salutation of London in the 
service of the Worshipful Company of Muscovie Merchants. Arriving at 
Greenland on June 11, the eight men were sent ashore to kill venison. 
They killed fourteen deer, but during their absence the winds and ice- 
drifts drove the Salutation away. As another English boat was known to 
be operating at Green Harbour, the eight men, loaded down with venison, 
set out for that place but arrived after the ship had sailed. Making the 
best of the matter, they settled down to a life that is described almost in 
Robinson Crusoe style. On May 25, 1631, two ships from Hull came to 
their port, and were followed three days later by the London fleet. At the 
end of the hunting season, on August 20, the rescued men and the fleet 
sailed for London. 

The tune is named from a ballad called "The wonderful example of 
God shewed upon Jasper Coningham, a Gentleman born in Scotland, 
who was of oppinion that there was neither God, nor Divell, Heaven nor 
Hell. To the Tune of O neighbour Robert'''' Ifloxburghe Ballads, 111, 104). 
In MS. Rawlinson Poet. 185, fol. 21, is preserved "A Pleasant new 



Sounge called The Carmen's Whistle. To the Tune of O Neighbor Roberte'''' 
(cf. ibid, vii, xiv). Accordingly, it is evident that O neighbour Robert and 
The Carmen s Whistle were identical. The music for the latter tune is 
given in Chappell's Popular Music, i, 137. 

^ tDonber tieponb mans; expectation, 
3n tfje presieruation of eigtt men in Greenland from 
one Seasion to another, tfie lifee neuer fenotone or Ijearb 
of before, tufjicf) eigfjt men are come all siafelp from 
ttence in tfjis! last Jf leet, 1631 . toJjoge names; are tfjejfe, 
WilliamFakely (gunner, Edward Peilham, (gunners; 
iHate, lohn Wise, Robert Goodfellow teamen, 
Thomas Ayers OTfjalecutter, Henry Rett Cooper, 
lohn Dawes, Richard Keliet Hanbmen. 

To the tune of lasper Coningham. 

TO England comes strange tidings, 
from Greenland of eight men, 
Who there had their abidings, 

till season came agen : 
Beyond mans expectation, 

(as you shall vnderstand) 
Was their strange preseruation, 
within that barren land. 

Where nothing for mans sustenance, 

most part o'th yeare doth grow, 
No Sun at all on them did glance, 

the hils are hid with Snow: 
White Beares and Foxes monstrous, 

and other sauage beasts, 
Within that Barren wildernesse, 

vpon each other feasts. 

387 BB: 


3 So that in mans coniecture, 

no man could there Hue long, 
But God the great Protector, 

of all both old and young. 
Did shew his wondrous power, 

in helping these men there. 
Whom beasts did not deuoure, 

nor hunger pinch too neare. 

4 These men abroad there wandred, 

to hunt for Venson there, 
Meane while the royall standard 

from heauen did appeare, 
I meane the Starre so constant, 

which when they doe perceiue, 
They must perforce that instant 

hoyst Sayles and take their leaue. 

5 The Captaine he commanding 

his men to goe abord, 
Alas there was no standing, 

the time would not afford, 
So that these men being absent, 

were left behinde on shore 
Because no time they had lent 

to linger any more. 

6 But when these men returned, 

and found the ship was gone, 
Alasse their hearts then burned, 

with woe they were^ forlorne: 
In pitious wise lamenting, 

their hard and heauy fate. 
At last they all consenting, 

(to grieue it was too late.) 

^ Text we. 


7 Then one man best experienc'd 

in pollicy and cunning, 
The rest to try their wits incenc'd, 

quoth he, here is no running: 
And seeing we are left here 

in this vnfertile place. 
Lets doe our best with hearty cheare, 

the rest leaue to Gods grace. 

8 Then with this resolution 

they firmely all agreed. 
To search out the conclusion, 

and try how they could speed: 
A Caue they dig'd i'th ground then, 

to shrowd them from the cold, 
Wherein they liued sound men, 

most wondrous to behold. 

9 Their Venson they dry baked, 

which serued them for bread. 
For drinke their thirst they slaked 

with Snow water, in stead 
Of English Beere and French Wine: 

to warme them they did burne 
Three hundred Tunne of Casks, 

which stood there for their turne. 

lo The flesh of Beares they boyled, 

in stead of powdered Beefe, 
Their Hues had all been spoyled, 

but for this course reliefe. 
In oyle which they had left there, 

with shirts and other clothes,^ 
They made lamps to burn most cleer, 

beleeue it on their oathes. 

^ Text has a period . 


1 1 And when their food was neare spent 

and fearing they should want 
Vittaile for the remaining time, 

they did begin to scant 
Themselues and feed but once a day, 

thus spare they did their meate, 
And fasting dayes they did obserue, 

on which they naught did eate. 

12 In this their extremity, 

when they did famine feare. 
They spide to Sea horses 

that vnto them were neare, 
And kild them as they a sleepe 

on th' Ice were set to rest, 
Which fishes much comfort gaue 

these men so sore opprest. 

Cte sieconb part ^o t^e s(ame tune. 

13 T /"V 7Hen much danger by these men 

V V they had past o're, much harme 
They did receiue for want for clothes, 

wherewith to keepe them warme, 
For by time, and their toyling 

their clothes were worne bare. 
And torne, that they could not 

keepe out the piercing ayre. 

14 But misery that makes men 

industrious, was so kinde. 
To furnish them with a tricke 

to keepe them from the winde: 
Their needle of Whales bone, 

vntwisted Ropes their thred. 
They sow'd their clothes, & handsomly 

their bodies couered. 



1 5 Foure of them watched duly, 

whilst th' other foure did sleepe, 
Thus constantly and truly 

their houres they did keepe, 
Els 't had beene impossible, 

they should themselues sustaine. 
Thus they were neuer idle, 

but still were taking paine. 

1 6 The Sabbath day they obserued, 

and spent it piously. 
Yet not as they desired, 

nor yet so zealously 
As they would haue been willing 

that holy day to keepe. 
Because they had not any booke 

to keepe their eyes from sleepe. 

1 7 Thus in that strange fashion, 

they liued in that place, 
Till the ships of our English Nation, 

keeping their wonted space. 
Did come againe and view them, 

clad with the skinnes of Beares, 
The Captaine hardly knew them, 

his heart was full of feares. 

1 8 But when he truly found them, 

so vnexpectedly, 
To be all perfect sound men, 

he praised God on high: 
Who had so well preserued 

these men of courage bold. 
Whom he thought to be starued 

with hunger and with cold. 

19 Now hauing past these dangers, 

they are come safe from thence,'^ 

1 Text thnce. 


And all both friends and strangers, 

not sparing for expence, 
Are ioyfull for to see them, 

lauding in their behalfe, 
That God which did free them, 

and brought them home so safe. 

20 So long they there had tarried, 

vntill two of their wiues 
Were in their absence married, 

not hoping of their Hues. 
This was the Lords owne doing, 

to him be giuen praise 
For this strange wonder shewing, 

admired in our dayes. 

Printed for H. Goison. 



// is had jesting with a halter 

Pepys, I, 440, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. The sheet was 
wrinkled in the press, with the result that stanzas i and 2 were blurred in 
printing. Blurs and typographical errors are here silently corrected. 

The ballad was registered on January 2, 1632 (Arber's Transcript, iv, 
268). The refrain is musical, but not much can be said for Mr Guy's 
"merry jest," which, indeed, though it enforces an obvious moral, is 
rather stupid. The "jest," however, Professor Kittredge notes, is hoary 
with age, and he has been kind enough to give me these references to stories 
that illustrate the danger of playing at hanging: E. Meier, Deutsche Sagen 
aus Schzvaben, i, 43; Kijhnau, Schlesiscke Sagen, i, 559, 572, 592; Eisel, 
Sagenbuck des Voigtlandes, pp. 289-290; Lincolnshire Notes and Queries, 
I, 166; Grimm in Haupt's Zeitschrift, vii, 477. The oldest instance of 
all, he says, is the story of King Vikarr and StarkaSr in the Gautrekssaga. 

Guy was a prolific ballad-writer: there are many of his signed pieces in 
the Roxburgke Ballads {e.g. 11, 105, 164; in, 47). It can hardly be doubted 
that Robert Guy is referred to in the first and third of the following entries 
in John Parton's Some Account of the Hospital and Parish of St Giles in 
the Fields, Middlesex, 1822, p. 303: 

1642. — P^i and given to Guy, a poore fellow i^ 

. Geven to the Ballet-singing Cobler i^ 

1657. — V^ the collectors for a shroude for 

oulde Guy, the poet 2/6 

Possibly the second entry also refers to him. It is melancholy to think of 
a popular ballad-writer's being buried at the expense, complete or partial, 
of the parish! 

The tune is named from the refrain of "A Choice of Inventions. To 
the tune oi Rock the Cradle, Sweet John'' {Roxburghe Ballads, i, 105). 
But Rock the Cradle, Szceet John and the tune given by Chappell {Popular 
Music, I, 189) as the equivalent o^ Rock the Cradle, John (see the ballad 
in Roxburghe Ballads, vii, 162) are evidently different tunes. 



St ig tab Sesitms toitlj a l^alter. 

^ iWerrj> Sesit to pou 3l'le mafec appeare, 
^tat fjappeneli latelp bnto Honbon neere, 
W\}tvtasi gootifcUotoesi toerc togetfjer brinfeing : 
(0ne ot tfjem in a leering manner tfjinfeing 
^0 jicape gi)ot=free, tW feUotu toas; in tope, 
^ig sljot to pap, tjj» jeasfting trjitlj a l^ope : 
WW^ ieasitins miofyt fjaue proueb to fjisf paine, 
Put fjee'le be abbis'b Jjoto be jeagtsi go againe. 

To the tune of There was a Ewe had three Lambes. 

I 'T^Hree louiall sparkes together, 
-L merry they did make, 
The coldnesse of the weather, 

made them their Hquor take: 
Their coyne they freely spent it, 

and quaft it merily. 
And all as one consented 

merry for to bee: 
One he for Tobacco cal'd, 

another cal'd for beere, 
Another cal'd what haue you not 

some faggots bring vs heere: 
They were three lusty souldiers^ 

had seru d in France and Spatne^ 

Germany and Italy, -fk 

and were come home againe^ 
One in Warres had lost an eye, 

another shot quite through the thigh, 

the third in Turkish slauery, 

endured had much -paine. 

1 These were no Maunding souldiers, 
maunding vp and downe. 
With knap-sakes on their shoulders 
that trudge from Towne to Towne, 



And by their Roking cunning 

poore Ale-wiues oft deceiue: 
For meate and drinke, and lodging, 

and doe their charges saue: 
These were no such they would keepe tutch, 

& pay their shot though ne'r so much, 
To gaine the loue of poore and rich, 

their fauour still to haue. 
They were three lusty Souldiers, ^c. 

3 Also three iouiall Saylers, 

vnto these Soldiers came. 
And brought with them two Taylors, 

but none of them He name: 
And brought with them a fellow, 

a Butcher and a Baker, 
But all this time to make them euen 

did want the neat shooe-maker: 
Quoth one of them I haue a friend, 

and he dwells here fast by, 
A shooe-maker lets for him send 

he is good company. 
They were three lusty Souldiers^ ^c. 

4 He will sing and be merry, 

drinke and pay his share. 
We wish then said his neighbors all 

that now we had him here: 
They for him sent, incontinent, 

he came and gaue them good content. 
And was so full of merriment, 

he pleas'd them all were there. 
They were three lusty Souldiers^ ^c, 

5 For nothing there was wanting 

that might giue them content. 
They merry were, and made good cheere 
and liberally they spent, 



Still calling on the Tapster, 

of Beere, to bring the best: 
Then silent be, and list to me, 

for now beginnes the lest. 
This fellow he, most louially, 

did for Tobacco call: 
And sayes my noble louiall blades 

a health vnto you all. 
They were three lusty Souldiers^ 

had seru d in France^ and Spaine, 

Germany and Italy^ 

and were come home^ &'c. 

Cfje ^etonb ^art So tfje game tune. 

6 " I "Hus beeing blith together, 

J- vnto their hearts desire 
Sayes he here is cold weather, 

lets haue a better fire, 
And bring vs more Tobacco, 

and of your Beere the best. 
For whilst I stay, my part He pay, 

and be a louiall guest. 
Hang money it is but an Asse, 

for meanes I cannot lacke, 
Then fill the other dozen in, 

let sorrow and care goe packe. 
They were three lusty Souldiers 

and seru'd in France and Spaine^ 

Germany^ and Italy^ 

and were come home againe^ ^c. 

7 So calling for the Tapster, 

to know what was to pay, 
Sayes he I haue no money, 

but if you please to stay, 
And drinke the tother dozen 

whil'st^ the Faggots burne, 
1 Text whls't. 


I scorne you for to cozen 

but presently returne: 
And money bring: then may I sing, 

a Flye, a figge for care, 
He hast away, and make no stay, 

but come and pay my share. 
They were three lusty Souldiers^ ^c. 

8 So presently returning, 

they all were in good hope. 
That he some money then had brought 

till pulling out a Rope, 
Which he had in his breeches, 

on termes he did not stand, 
But askt if any one were there 

would buy a Carelesse-Band: 
A neate one a feate one, 

that was both strong and new, 
And nere was worne, I dare be sworne, 

beleeue me it is true. 
They were three lusty Souldiers^ i^c, 

9 The company then smiling 

for to be leered so, 
One of them to him calling, 

the price of it to know: 
Is this a Carelesse-Band sayes he, 

I must commend thy wit: 
Then presently, I meane to try 

how it thy necke will fit: 
The Rope then, he tooke then, 

of trueth as I heard say, 
And with a twitch his necke did stretch 

vntill he gasping lay. 
They were three lusty Souldiers^ &'c. 

lo But when he did recouer, 
and to his sences came, 



Saith he I must acknowledge 

that I was much too blame, 
In such a foolish manner 

my betters so to leere: 
That here I should haue breath'd my last 

it put me in a feare: 
Your gentle fauours crauing, 

and briefely to be plaine, 
It shall to me a warning bee, 

for lesting so againe. 
They were three lusty Souldiers, ^c. 

1 1 Thus all the City ouer, 

by rumour it was spread, 
E're he could well recouer 

that surely he was dead: 
And that for trueth of certaine, 

he like a wretched Elfe, 
Had by some dire misfortune 

vntimely hang'd himselfe: 
This song therefore it written was, 

to cleare all doubts of it, 
That all may know, it is not so, 

he is not dead as yet : 
But hopes to Hue, content to giue, 

and so continue by care to thriue, 
Ne'r in that perill for to come 

of such a hanging fit. 
They were three lusty Souldiers, ^c. 


By Robert Guy. 

London Printed for F.C. 


News from Holland'^ s Leaguer 

Pepys, I, 98, B.L., two woodcuts, five columns. 

Holland's Leaguer was a notorious brothel kspt by a Mrs Holland^ on 
the Bankside, Southwark. It is described in a quarto pamphlet called 
Hollands Leagver: OR, An Historical Discourse Of The Life and Actions 
of Dona Brit-tanica Hollandia the Arch-Mistris of the wicked women of 
Evtopia, 1632 (Bodleian, Malone 227). Of this establishment J. W. 
Ebsworth {Bagford Ballads, i, 507*) remarks: 

In genera], the houses of ill-fame, attacked by the apprentices on Shrove- 
Tuesdays, were scarcely different from ordinary dwellings, and perhaps private 
spite often dictated the selection more than just cause of offence. But Holland's 
Leaguer was exceptional, and claimed to be an island out of the ordinary juris- 
diction. The portcullis, drawbridge, moat, and wicket for espial, as well as an 
armed bully or Pandar to quell disagreeable intruders, if by chance they got 
admittance without responsible introduction, all point to an organized system. 
There were also the garden-walks, for sauntering and "doing a spell of embroid- 
ery, or fine work," i.e. flirtation; the summer-house that was proverbially 
famous or infamous for intrigues, and the river conveniently near for disposal 
of awkward visitors who might have met with misadventure. 

Ebsworth {ibid. p. 508*) has reproduced from the 1632 pamphlet the 
famous woodcut of the brothel. 

The pamphlet was licensed for publication on January 20, 1632; six 
days later Shackerley Marmion's comedy oi Holland's Leaguer was licensed. 
Laurence Price's ballad followed on May 24 (Arber's Transcript, iv, 278), 
and deals with the same subject: it is simply a poetical paraphrase of the 
tract of January 20, although Ebsworth states positively {Roxburghe Ballads, 
VIII, 564) that it "is historical, on the Dutch alliance, and has nothing to 
do with the moated grange bearing the same name, on the Bankside in 

For the tune see the introduction to No. 33. 

1 She was twice summoned before the Court of High Commission in 
1 63 1 (on January 26 and February 9), but failed to appear. She is called 
"Elizabeth Holland a woman of ill reporte," and mention is made of a 
husband. See S. R. Gardiner's Reports of Cases in the Courts of Star Chamber 
and High Commission (Camden Society), pp. 263, 268. 



Vetoes; from Hollands Heager : 
Hollands Heager isi lately up brofeen, 
tEtisf for a certaine is! sipofeen. 

To the tune of, Canons are roaring. 

YOu that desire newes, 
list to my story; 
Some it will make to muse, 

some will be sorry, 
Some will reioyce thereat, 

others will wonder. 
To see the barke and tree 
Darted asunder. 


This of a certaine 
for truth it is spoken., 

That Hollands Leager, 
up lately is broken. 



2 Such Ensignes were displaid 

to amaze Holland^ 
The like hath seldome been, 

1 thinke in no land. 
From many parts there hath 

gallants resorted; 
Because the fame thereof 

they heard reported: 
Yet some their labour lost, 

for it is spoken, 
That Hollands^ ^c. 

3 The flaunting Spaniard^ 

and boone Cauillera, 
The bragging Dutchman 

thought cost him deare a: 
Wallouns and Switzer^ 

both lewes^ Turke and Neager^ 
Scots, Danes and French, 

haue been at Hollands Leager, 
Yet all would ^ not auaile, 

for it is spoken, 
That Hollands, ^c. 

4 Though many sought to 

inuade the strong Hand, 
And stratagems deuised 

by sea and by land, 
Rumors were spred abroad, 

fames Trumpet sounding, 
Their Sconce so firmely stood, 

they fear'd no wounding: 
But yet for all their pompe, 

thus it is spoken, 
That Hollands, &'c. 

^ No comma in the text. 

2 Texi won Id. 

R.P.G. 401 CC 


5 The great god lupiter 

did well affect her: 
And Mars the god of warre, 

did so protect her, 
His martiall discipline 

made her so valiant, 
She durst in battell ioyne 

with any Gallant: 
Yet though she valour had, 

thus it is spoken, 
That Hollands, &c. 

6 Belloniaes blustring shot, 

they neuer feared, 
But brauely face to face, 

the Champions dared: 
She seldome tooke the foyle 

by friend or stranger, 
Unlesse a backe recoyle 

put her in danger, 
But yet for all their pomp, 

thus it is spoken. 
That Hollands, &c. 

7 Blow for blow, shot for shot 

still they returned. 
But sliding Cowards 

she euer disdained: 
If any younker 

the Island doe venter. 
Without admittance 

no partie could enter. 
But tho they were so stout 

thus it is spoken, 
That Hollands Leager 

is lately up broken. 

8 The draw-bridge being 
up taken they durst to, 



Stand to push of pike 

and giue a thrust too: 
Those that gaue onset 

sometimes got th' worst ont, 
And at their parting 

most dearly haue curst ont. 
But howeuer it is spoken 

that Hollands Leager 
Vp lately is broken. 

tlTfje sfcconb part. Co tfje sfame tKunc. 

9 T3UIworkes and batteries 
-L) and other fences 
Daily manteined 

the Hand expences: 
Store of musition, 

and all things at pleasure, 
Fit for this company 

gold and rich treasure 
They had at her command 

yet it is, ^c. 

10 Now since the Leager broke 

and they are excluded 
The chiefe Commander 

by fate is subdued, 
Those that did them assault 

thought it small purchase. 
The Lion scornes to prey 

on a dead carkas. 
This we heare certainly 

by many spoken. 
That Hollands, &'c. 

1 1 All those that vsed to 

frequent this border 
Are backe retired for 
there's a new order: 

403 CC2 


That none shall thither come 

to worke a violence, 
Great and small, high and low, 

all must keepe silence, 
For it is by many spoken, 

that Hollands^ ^c. 

12 Yet youngsters^ arme your selues, 

here comes new tidings 
Allthough the Campe be broke, 

for their abidings, 
They haue a refuge found, 

that can defend them, 
Drummes, pikes and musketers 

doth there attend them 
Then brauely march along^ 

gallants in clusters^ 
Arrive at Bewdly^ 

where they keep their musters. 

13 There front garded is 

with such strong forces 
Only they left behind 

some certaine Horses, 
Yet for a trifle 

they will not be daunted, 
When once their Colors 

o'th' wall is aduanced. 
Feare to march away^ 

gallants in clusters, 
To Bewdly heigh, where 

they keep their musters. 

14 Now if my newes in 

this song may content you, 
Buy it and try it 

and neuer repent you, 

^ Text younster. 


For your recreation 

in loue I haue pend it: 
Trusting no creature I 

haue here offended, 
With telling of the newes 

which I heard spoken, 
That Hollands Leager 

is lately up broken. 



London, printed for I.W. 



I'he honest age 

Pepys, I, 156, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. 

Henry Gosson and his partners registered "The Honest Age" on May 
24, 1632 (Arber's Transcript^ iv, 278). It is of very little interest apart 
from the fact that its author, Laurence Price, mentions — apparently with 
approval — Robin Conscience, a long ballad-poem among the most pre- 
tentious and popular of Parker's works. The ballad, then, is one of many 
proofs (cf. the introduction to No. 78) that Price and Parker, though 
great rivals, were on friendly terms. Robin Conscience was first registered for 
publication on April 20, 1630 {ibid. p. 233); a late edition of it (1683) is 
reprinted in the Harleian Miscellany, 1808, i, 48-54. 

For the tune cf. No. 41. 


tlTfiere \% fjonesitp in all Crates ; 
^sf tip tijis! Bittp siijall appeare, 
tKfjerefore attenb anb giue gooti eare. 

To the tune of the Golden age. 

1 ^\/'Ou Poets that write of the ages that's past, 

Jl I pray stay your hand and write not too fast, 
He write of an age that for euer shall last, 
Plaine dealing in Country and City is plac't. 

O this is an honest age^ 

This is a -plaine dealing age. 

2 Some people at these strange tidings will muse, 
And some will be ioyfull to heare such rare newes, 
Then list to my Ditty for it briefly shewes, 

No man He offend, then let no man refuse. 
To heare of this honest age., 
This is a plaine dealing age. 



3 And first to goe forward as now I intend, 

I heare that the Broker his money will lend 
To any poore Neighbour his estate to amend, 
How well is that man that hath got such a friend. 

O this is an honest age^ 

This is a plaine dealing age. 

4 The Chandler that keepes coles and fewel to sell, 
Doth top heape his measure and soundly it fill. 
For Sope, Starch, and Candle he wayeth so well. 
That of his plaine dealing his neighbors can tell. 

O this is an honest age^ 
This is a plaine dealing age, 

5 That Taylor doth scorne to deceiue any friend, 
But vnto plaine dealing his mind he doth bend. 
If once he were false he hath sworne to amend. 
No more cloth, nor silke, lace, to hell he will send. 

O this is an honest age, 
This is a plaine dealing age. 

6 The Cookes in Pye-corner deceit will not vse, 
In rosting meat three times their trade to abuse, 
They'l rather both custome and money refuse. 
Than vse a man falsely if that they can chuse. 

O this is an honest age. 
This is a plaine dealing age. 

7 The Tapster is willing to giue men content. 
To sell them full measure his humour is bent 
If a man score a dozen he will not repent. 

Nor take of you hate for the beere which is spent 
O this is an honest age. 
This is a plaine dealing age. 

8 I heare this of Bakers in sizing of bread, 

Tho some think that conscience fr5 Bakers is fled 
Since one through the Pillery put forth his head, 
No more of their company will be misled. 

O this is an honest age, 

This is a plaine dealing age. 



^\)e £feconb part. Co tfje siame tunc : 

9 ALso the Butcher so iouiall and bold, 

■-t\ Is turn'd a plaine dealer as you may behold, 
They'l put forth no tainted meat for to be sold 
To wrong any Neighbour for siluer nor gold, 

O l/iis is an honest age, 

This is a plaine dealing age. 

10 The Miller that vsed too deepe to take tole. 
Is now in great feare to endanger his soule, 
Of late Robin Conscience tooke him by the pole. 
And charg'd him to flye those offences so foule. 

O this is an honest age. 
This is a plaine dealing age. 

1 1 The Brewer that made his beere very small, 
Hath changed his hand since Malt had a fall. 
And by this meanes gained the loue of them all. 
The rich and the poore, the great and the small. 

O this is an honest age. 
This is a plaine dealing age. 

12 And the neat Shooemaker who merrily sings, 
Whose predecessors were heires vnto Kings, 
To such good perfection all matters he brings. 
That throughout all Europe his credit rings, 

O this is an honest age, 
This is a plaine dealing age. 

1 3 The Weauer, the Glouer, the Mason also. 
The Painter that makes such a gorgious show, 
The Pewterer, the Plumer with other trades mo 
Will vse no false dealing where euer they goe. 

O this is an honest age. 
This is a plaine dealing age. 



14 The Cooper, the Blacksmith the ancient translater 
The Copper-nos'd tinker w* his wife y^ kind creture 
And yt swaggering Sowgelder & lack y* greater eater 
Hath sworne to his wife that he neuer will beat her 

O this is a quiet age^ 

This is a plane dealing age. 

15 The Spendthrift that vsed in Tauerns to rore, 
With wine and Tobacco and sometimes a whore ^, 
Say's now hee'l Hue honest and doe so no more. 
If he haue spare money hee'l giue it to the poore, 

O this is an honest age^ 
This is a plaine dealing age. 

16 All this honest company which I haue nam'd, 
I trust will like of it I shall not be blam'd, 
For this rare new Ditty in loue I haue fram'd, 
I know no plaine dealing man will be asham'd, 

To heare of this honest age^ 
This is a plaine dealing age. 

17 Thus here you see honesty flyes vp and downe, 
through Citty, through Country through Village & 

Amongst other vertues it merits renown, 
By this for example that it may be knowne, 

That this is the honest age^ 

The best and honestest age. 


London, Printed for H.G. 

^ Text apparently whoroe. 
2 No period in the text. 




Knavery in all trades 

Pepys, I, 1 66, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. 

Francis Grove registered this ballad on July i6, \6'i,2{AxhtxhTranscript, 
IV, 281). In it Martin Parker gives a mournful account of the evils of his 
time, but no doubt his disgust and cynicism w^ere assumed for the occasion. 
Probably it was nothing but an answer to Laurence Price's "Honest Age" 
(No. 71). In the second stanza of part two, however, there are some bitter 
comments on persons who evade paying their scores in taverns and inns 
which may have been due to Parker's own experience. He is known to 
have been an ale-house keeper, and one of his lost ballads, licensed on 
July 19, 1636, had the significant title of "Certaine verses of Martin 
Parker against trusting to sett vp in Alehouses." 

For the tune see Chappell's Popular Music, i, 267. 

Unauerp in aU Cralies:, 


^ere'si an age tnoulti make a man mab. 

To the tune of. Ragged and torne and true. 

I AS I was walking of late, 
£\. within the fields so faire, 
My minde to recreate, 

well nye orecome with care: 
I heard two men discourse, 

as I along did walke, 
It mou'd mee with remorse, 

to hearken to their talke. 
Full oftentimes they said, 

(to heare them I was sad) 
All honesty is decay d^ 

here's an age would make a man mad. 



The one to the other did say, 

what course shall I take to Hue, 
For none can thriue at this day, 

but such as their mindes doe giue: 
To ouer-reach and deceiue, 

and doing of others wrong. 
All they that such courses leaue, 

may sing the Begger-Boyes Song. 
A man can scarce thriue by his trade 

mens consciences are so bad. 
All honesty is decay d^ 

here's an age will make a man mad. 

Hee that is rich already, 

is like still to bee so, 
And he that is poore and needy, 

his burthen must vndergoe; 
Tis a Prouerb vs'd in our Towne, 

it hath beene and euer will, 
That if a man be once downe, 

the world cryes downe with him still, 
How shall a man finde a trade, 

whereby true meanes may be had, 
All honesty is decay d^ 

here's an age would make a man mad. 

If a poore man be wrong'd by a rich, 

as alas we dailv see. 
Without money to goe through stitch, 

in a pittifull case is hee: 
He were better to pocket the wrong, 

than himselfe into trouble to draw, 
For vnlesse his pockets be strong, 

tis but folly to meddle with Law, 
This makes many men dismay'd, 

for the fee makes a case good for bad, 
All honesty is decay d, 

here's an age would make a man mad. 



5 Betweene the Lawyer and 

the money-begetting Mizer, 
Men lose both house and land, 

and afterwards wish they had bin wiser: 
Although we haue plenty of Graine, 

yet the rich make among vs a dearth, 
Which causeth the poore to complaine, 

as though little grew on the earth, 
Ingrossing is growne such a trade, 

that the poore haue great cause to be sad, 
All honesty is decay d^ 

here' s an age would make a man mad. 

6 One tradesman deceaueth another, 

and sellers will conycatch buyers. 
For gaine one wil cheat his own brother, 

the world's full of swearers and lyars: 
Men now make no conscience of oathes, 

and this I may boldly say, 
Some Rorers doe were gallant clothes, 

for which they did neuer pay: 
The rich shall a Saint be made, 

though his life be neuer so bad. 
All honesty is decay d^ 

here" s an age would make a man mad. 

Clje sfeconb part. Co tfje jsiame tune: 

7 '' I ^He Taylor can neuer Hue well, 

J- as many men plainely perceiues, 
Unlesse he haue gaines from hell, 

or Hues vpon Cabidge leaues; 
O is 't not a pittifull case, 

and a thing which few men beleeues ? 
A Taylor that will Hue in grace, 

cuts out of one gowne three sleeues : 
Thus they must vse their Trade, 

or else little meanes can be had. 
All honesty is decay d^ 

here^s an age would make a man mad. 


8 The Victualers, Tapsters and Cookes, 

are hindered very sore, 
With many sharking Rookes, 

that vse to encroch on their skore: 
And when they are once in chalke, 

the house they will refraine, 
And to other places they'l walke, 

but neuer come there againe. 
This trusting without being paid, 

breakes many an honest Lad, 
All honesty is decay d^ 

here' s an age would make a man mad. 

9 Plaine dealing now is dead, 

and truth is so rare to finde, 
That most men now are led, 

contrary vnto kinde: 
Where one man's iust and sound, 

whose words and deeds agree, 
A dozen may be found, 

that will from their promise flee. 
Such knaues makes men afraid, 

to beleeue a true hearted Lad, 
For honesty is decay d^ 

here's an age would make a man mad. 

lo Such horrible abuse, 

is practis'd in this Nation, 
A fashion now in vse, 

next month is out of fashion : 
Our men are effeminate, 

which all their manhood disgraces. 
And makes our foes of late, 

to ieere vs to our faces, 
They were of vs afraid, 

when English hearts wee had. 
Our honour is much decay d^ 

here' s an age would make a man mad. 



1 1 A man I may rightly say, 

may be mad to note these times, 
Since Vertue doth decay, 

and Vice to preferment climes: 
Now couetousnesse and pride, 

is ore the Land bespread, 
All charities laid aside, 

and conscience is quite dead: 
The Master abuseth his Maid, 

which makes the Mistris sad. 
Thus honesty is decay d^ 

here's an age would make a man mad, 

12 Some men that haue wiues at home, 

both beautifull, vertuous, and chaste. 
Abroad amongst whores doe rome, 

and with them their meanes they wast: 
While the wife at home doth stay, 

the husband in Tauernes doth roare. 
She thinkes he is busie all the day, 

indeed so he is with his whore: 
In briefe no more need be said, 

all things doe appeare too bad. 
For honesty is decay d^ 

here's an age would make a man mad. 



London, Printed for F. Groue. 



Gallants^ to Bohemia 

Pepys, I, 1 02, B.L., two woodcuts, four columns. 

This musical ballad, dating about 1632, urges England to participate 
in the conquests and spoils of Gustavus Adolphus in Germany, and 
laments the apparent military decadence of England since the glorious 
days of Sir John Norris, George, Earl of Cumberland, Thomas Cavendish, 
Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, Sir Humphrey Gilbert, Frobisher, Lord 
Grey de Wilton, and Lord Willoughby de Eresby. The writer's chief 
regret seems to be for the gold and precious stones in which, on account 
of her neutrality', England has no share; though he professes, also, an 
eagerness to help to defeat Popery. The ballad is valuable evidence of the 
feelings and the attitude of a man of the streets towards the German wars. 
Every important incident of the Thirty Years' War was, as soon as the 
news reached London, at once put into ballads for circulation. See, for 
example, Arber's Transcript, iv, 144, 268, 271, 274, 282, 299. 

The "pleasant warlike tune" can be identified, thanks to a badly muti- 
lated ballad in the Manchester Collection (i, 48) of "England's Monthly 
Predictions" to the tune oi Let us to the Wars Again; or. The Maying Time; 
for the music of Maying Time was included by Chappell in his Popular 
Music (i, 377). Another ballad in the same collection (i, 2), "The Great 
Turk's Challenge, this Year 1640," is to be sung to My Heeding heart [a 
tune often referred to], or. Lets to the wars again. Martin Parker's own 
ballad of "News from Newcastle," 1640 {ibid. 11, i), is sung to Lets to 
the wars again. 



#aUante, to Potemia. 

0t, let tjs; to tfjc OTarreg againe: ^fjetoins tfje 

fortoartinefiisie of our Cngligfi ^oulbiers;, tiotfj in 

times; pagt, anti at tf^isi present. 

To a pleasant new Warlike tune. 

I "V/E noble Brittaines^ be no more 
X possest with ease vpon the shore: 
You that haue beene so bold and stout, 

sit not musing, but looke out: 
Kings of England with their shields 

full oft haue fought in martiall fields, 
And golden prizes did obtaine: 
Then let vs to the warres againe. 

1 Ye noble Captaines of the Land, 

and Sea men of such braue command : 
Bend all your forces to the Seas, 

and take on Land no longer ease : 
For Drums and Trumpets are not mute, 

to call you forth with Fife and Flute, 
To fleete your ships vpon the maine. 

Then let vs to the warres againe. 

3 Now Sea-men Pylots leaue the Land, 

Card and Compasse take in hand : 
And hye againe to Neptune Seas, 

where we'l haue riches when we please 
Our Souldiers they are men of might, 

and will for gold and siluer fight : 
Which doth vs brauely all maintaine. 

Then let vs to the warres againe. 

4 France and Flanders makes no mone, 

they get riches, we get none, 
Flemish Captaines sayle about, 
vnknowne Islands to find out: 



That Indian Pearles and lewells store, 
may decke them brauely on the shore: 

Away then Gallants, hence amaine, 
And let vs to the warres againe. 

5 Some seeke in forraigne Lands to thriue, 

we like Bees do keepe our hiue: 
Some get riches, Pearle and Gold, 

we sitting still grow faint and cold : 
Once againe let it be said, 

we forraigne actions neuer fear'd. 
The true Religion to maintaine. 

Come let vs to the warres againe. 

6 In faire Bohemia now is sprung, 

a Seruice which we lookt for long: 
Where Souldiers may their valour trie, 

when cowards from the field will flye: 
It neuer shall of vs be said, 

that English Captaines stood afraide: 
Or such aduentures would refraine. 

Then let vs to the warres againe. 

7 Of late we had within our Land, 

a noble number of command: 
Of gallant Leaders braue and bold, 

that almost all the world controld : 
As Essex, Cumberland and Drake, 

which made both Sea & Land to shake, 
The Indian siluer to obtaine. 

Then let vs to the warres againe. 

tEf)t geconb ^art. ^o tfje game tune. 

8 'npHe Norrisses, and noble Veeres, 

-L and Sidnies famous many yeares : 
The Willoughhy and worthy Gray, 
that serued still for royall pay: 


417 DD 


Made England famous euery where, 
to such as did their fortunes heare: 

Then let vs not at home remaine, 
But Brauely to those warres againe. 

9 Gilbert^ Hawkins^ Forhtsher^ 

and golden Candish^ Englands starrer 
With many a Knight of noble worth, 

that compass'd round the circled earth: 
Haue left examples here behinde, 

the like aduentures forth to finde: 
The which to follow and maintaine, 

Come^ let vs to those warres againe. 

10 Let vs no more sit musing then, 

but shew our selues true Englishmen, 
Whose fames great Mars resounds from farre, 

to be the onely men of warre : 
The bounds of Europe cannot yeeld, 

forth better Souldiers for the field: 
Let bullets come as thicke as raine, 

Weel^ brauely to those warres againe. 

1 1 Bohemian Drums and Trumpets call, 

a Summons to vs Souldiers all : 
Then who will from such seruice flye, 

when Princes beare vs company. 
To armes, to armes all Europe sings, 

the cause is iust, we fight for Kings, 
The which most brauely to maintaine, 

Come let vs to those warres againe. 

12 The Germane States, and Netherlands, 

haue mustred vp their martiall bands: 
The Denmarke King doth close combine, 
his forces to the Palatine: 

1 Text IVe'el. 


With three hundred Princes more. 

'side Dukes, Earles and Barons store: 
Then how can we at home remaine. 
But brauely to those warres againe. 

13 The Seas with ships are richly spread, 

the Land with colours white and red 
And euery Captaine ready prest, 

to rancke his squadrons with the rest: 
The Martiall musickes ratling sound, 

sayes, Soldiers, stand & keep your ground 
Though burning bullets flye amaine, 

Tet will we to those warres againe, 

14 Our Leaders nobly minded are, 

for to maintaine so braue a warre 
As this, for true Religions right, 

to spend their Hues in bloudy fight: 
For God and for his Gospell, then 

to armes, and fight it out like men, 
The which most brauely to maintaine, 

Let vs go to the warres againe. 

1 5 And let vs all that Souldiers be, 

both noble bloud and low degree: 
Be true to him that takes in hand 

these popish kingdomes to withstand: 
God guide him on with good successe, 

and all his noble army blesse: 
And so we shall the right maintaine, 

And go vnto these warres againe. 

Imprinted at London by G.E. 

419 ^°2 


Charles Rickets^ recantation 

Pepys, I, 172, B.L., three woodcuts, four columns. 

Perhaps this was the ballad called "Long Runns that neere turnes" 
which was licensed to John Wright, July 8, 1633 (Arber's Transcript, iv, 
299). "He runneth far that never turneth again" occurs among John 
Heywood's Proverbs, 1562 {Works, ed. J. S. Farmer, pp. 90, 182). 

Charles Rickets may be a pseudonym of Charles Records, whose name 
is signed to a number of ballads of this type; as, "The Goodfellow's 
Advice" against drink and other vices {Roxburghe Ballads, iii, 261; cf. 
the list given at p. 681). Possibly Charles was, as he professes, a roaring 
Oxfordshire trader; but certainly the exploits for which he grieves seem 
tame enough. The "crotchet" which he played on a tailor by spending 
his shilling hardly seems a matter for mention, much less for excessive 

No information about the tune is available. 

Charles Rickets f)is! recantation. 

Earning all goob jf ellotDEg to sitriue, 
Co learne tDitf) tint tfje toap to tfjriue. 

To the Tune of his lamentation, or He beat my wife no more. 

I T T E runs farre that ne'r returneth, 
ITl is a Prouerbe still in vse: 
And hee's vnhappy that ne'r mourneth, 
for his former times abuse. 

I therefore, 

who vs'd to rore, 
Where-euer I did come or goe, 

do now repent, 

for time ill spent. 
And vow He neuer more doe so. 




2 All my folly now He banish, 

which before possest my minde: 
All ill husbandry shall vanish, 
for I now begin to finde 
that mine owne good 
I haue withstood. 
And brought my substance very low, 
but now He giue 
my mind to thriue, 
Good heauens grant I may doe so. 

3 I haue vs'd among the brauest, 

to keepe quarter like a gallant, 
By which meanes my wealth is lauisht, 
for with the best I spent my talent: 
when to a Faire 
to sell my ware. 
Or Market, I did vse to goe, 
there was but few 
but my name knew, 
I vs'd to drinke and fuddle so. 

4 Who but Charles the Lad oi Morton^ ^ 

was denoted farre and neere? 
But now alas they shall come short on, 
that which late I did appeare: 
for now I meane 
to abandon cleane, 
Those humors which in me did flow, 
He bridle still 
my headstrong will. 
Good heauens grant I may doe so. 

5 Many times ith' towne of Cambden^ 

where my businesse sometimes lay: 
Among boone Lads, I haue been hemb'd in 
and inforced long to stay: 
both day and night 
for my delight, 

^ I.e. Moreton. 



I tarri'd still, and would not goe 

to my owne home 

but lou'd to rome 
Abroad, but He no more doe so. 

6 At Easam'^a.ho, and at S/iipson^, 

I am for a rorer knowne, 
Where many times mad Charles the gipson 
hath his merry humours showne, 
the stoutest there 
for wine and beere, 
Me in expence could not outgoe, 
for all the day 
I'de call and pay: 
But now I will no more doe so. 

Cf)e sfEconb part Co tfie siame tune. 

7 A /["Any Crotchets haue I plaid, 

IVX which in performance cost me deere, 
Whereby my substance it decay'd, 
therefore He such tricks casheere: 

my mind was such 

it ioy'd me much. 
When I such mad exploits did show, 

my time I lost, 

beside my cost. 
But now I will no more doe so. 

8 A Taylor once well sok't in Barley, 

profferd to lend me seuen pound. 
About the same we two did parley, 
and when he my humour found, 
a shilHng hee 
did giue to me 
In earnest, his kinde loue to shew, 
and I in game 
did take the same. 
Because he sware it should be so. 

^ I.e. Evesham. ^ I.e. Shipton or Shipston, villages near Oxford. 



9 Hauing tane the Taylors shilling, 
a lugge of beere I cal'd for then: 
I paid for that, and then was willing 
to giue him the rest agen : 
but he refus'd, 
and rather chus'd 
To spend the rest ere he did goe, 
then I did call 
and paid for all, 
The Taylor wil'd it should be so. 

10 This and many more such actions 

haue I done to please my humour: 
But now He leaue all drunken fashions, 
would to God I had done so sooner: 
in merryment 
my time I spent, 
And mony too, which breeds my woe : 
now my mad pranks, 
I giue God thankes. 
Are left, and He no more doe so. 

1 1 I will follow my Vocation 

with industry and regard, 
And maintaine my reputation, 

in this world thats growne so hard. 
Markets are naught, 
Ware is not bought. 
As twas since I the Trade did know, 
tis time therefore 
now to giue ore 
Such spending, and no more doe so. 

12 My wife and children I will tender, 

more then heretofore I vs'd. 
He be no more so vaine a spender, 
nor will I be with drinke abusde: 
He learne at last 
ere hope is past, 



My selfe a ciuill man to shew, 

and banish quite 

my old delight: 
Good heauens grant I may doe so. 

1 3 You that heare my recantation, 
which I purpose to obserue: 
When you see this alteration, 

from my rules doe you not swerue: 
through Oxfordshire^ 
both farre and neere. 
My resolution I will shew, 
that euery one 
which so hath done. 
May mend with me. God grant it so. 


Charles Rickets. 

Printed for lohn Wright. 



JVo natural mother 

Manchester Free Reference Library Collection, ii, 2, B.L., three wood- 
cuts, three columns. 

The ballad was licensed for publication on July 16, 1634 (Arber's 
Transcript, iv, 323). A better example of a good-night, or last farewell, 
could hardly be found, though many of the stanzas have a naivete that is 
a bit startling and that is somewhat unusual in so sophisticated a balladist 
as Parker. The first stanza is quoted in the Roxburghe Ballads, viii, xviii***, 
with no indication of its source. For the tune see Chappell's Popular 
Music, I, 176. Welladay was the favourite tune for good-nights after it had 
been used in a ballad (1603) attributed to Robert, Earl of Essex. Other 
famous victims of the law whose woes were sung to it were Thomas 
Wentworth, Earl of Strafford (British Museum, C. 20. f. 2/8), and 
Charles I {Roxburgke Ballads, viii, xc***). Cf. also Sir Walter Raleigh's 
lament (No. 15). 

i^o natiirall iWottcr, but a iHonSter. 

(!^r, tfje exact relation of one, loljo for making atoap 

Ijer otone neto borne cfjilbe, about Brainford neere 

London, toajf ijang'ti at Cepborne, on l^ebnesibap tlje 

II. of December, 1633. 

To the tune of, Welladay. 

I T Ike to a dying Swan 
-L^ pensiuely, pensiuely, 
(With mourning) I looke wan, 

for my life passed; 
I am exceeding sad, 
For my misdeeds too bad, > 

O that before I had 

better fore-casted. 


2 My Parents me vp brought, 

carefully, carefully. 
Little (God wot) they thought, 

that I should euer 
Haue run so bad a race. 
To dye in such a place, 
God grant all Maidens grace, 

to take example. 

3 Dame Nature shew'd her art, 

skilfully, skilfully, 
For I in euery part, 

was made compleatly; 
But my vnbridled will 
Did put me forward still. 
From bad to further ill, 

as late appeared. 

4 When my minority 

passed was, passed was. 
And some maturity, 

I had attained, 
I put to seruice was. 
With honest meanes to passe^ 
My time which is alasse, 

too soone abridged. 

5 My carriage was too wild, 

woe is me, woe is me. 
And I was got with child, 

take heed faire Maidens, 
The father on't was fled. 
And all my hopes were dead, 
This troubled sore my head, 

woe worth that folly. 

6 How I my fault might hide, 

still I mus'd, still I mus'd. 
That I might not be spide, 
nor yet suspected, 



To this bad thought of mine 
The Deuill did incline, 
To any ill designe, 
he lends assistance. 

7 Not long before my date 

was expir'd, was expir'd, 
To dwell it was my fate, 

in a good seruice, 
With people of good note. 
All thereabout doe know't. 
Where this foule fact I wrought, 

to my destruction. 

8 When the full time drew nigh, 

woe is me, woe is me. 
Of my deliuery, 

unhappy labour. 
Into the yard I ran. 
Where sudden pangs began, 
There was no woman than, 

neere to assist me. 

Ctie geconb part. Co tfje game tune. 

9 \T 7" Ith little pain or smart, 

VV strange to think, strange to think 
I with my child did part 

poore harmelesse Infant, 
Being where none me saw. 
Quite against natures law, 
I hid it in the straw, 

where it was smother'd. 

lo Then in againe I went, 
speedily, speedily. 
Hoping thus to preuent 
any suspition, 



But God that sits on high, 
With his all-seeing eye, 
Did see my cruelty, 
and wicked cunning. 

1 1 And did detect the same, 

presently, presently. 
Unto my open shame, 

and vilde discredit. 
Forcing me to confesse. 
My barbarous wickednesse, 
That fouly did transgresse 

thus against nature. 

12 My Mistresse to me said, 

earnestly, earnestly, 
O Besse I am afraid, 

thou hast done euill. 
Thy Belly that was high, 
Is fallen suddenly, 
This though^ I did deny, 

she further vrged. 

13 My conscience did me cast 

[woefully, woefully,] 2 
So out I went in haste, 

she followed after. 
And presently she saw. 
Me run vnto the straw. 
From whence I soone did draw, 

my strangled Infant. 

14 Thus taken in the same, 

soone I was, soone I was. 
With great disgrace and shame, 
carried to Newgate, 

^ Text theugh. 2 Torn off. 



And at the Sessions last, 
For my offences past, 
I was condemned and cast, 
and hangd at Teyborne. 

1 5 Sweet Maidens all take heed, 

heedfully, heedfully, 
Adde not vnto the deed 

of fornication, 
Murder which of all things, 
The soule and conscience stings. 
Which God to light still brings, 

though done in priuate. 

1 6 Though the first fact be vilde, 

yet be sure, yet be sure. 
If you be got with childe, 

through lawlesse sporting. 
Be grieu'd for your offence, 
And with true penitence, 
Striue to make recompence, 

for former vices. 

1 7 Let not the feare of shame, 

so preuaile, so preuaile. 
As to win you the name 

of cruell M[other.]i 
All those that God doe feare, 
Are frighted when they heare. 
That you more cruell are 

than Sauage creatures. 

1 8 Obserue the female Snake, 

carefully, carefully. 
What speedy shift she'l make, 
to saue her young ones, 

^ Torn off. 


Being by any spide, 
Her mouth she opens wide, 
That they themselues may hide, 
within her belly. 

1 9 The Tyger though by kind, 

truculent, truculent. 
As nature doth her binde, 

is wondrous tender. 
And louing to her young 
Whom to secure from wrong. 
Her selfe into the throng, 

shee boldly thrusteth. 

20 And can a womans heart, 

bloodily, bloodily. 
So willingly depart 

from her owne baby, 
You that good women be. 
Example take by me. 
And striue your selfe to free, 

from shame and slander. 



London printed for F. Coule[s.]^ 
^ Torn. 




Murder upon murder 

Wood 401 (129), B.L., four woodcuts, five columns. The first column 
is badly mutilated: missing words and letters in stanzas 1-4 have been 
supplied in square brackets. 

The melodious tears offered in this ballad to the memory of two notorious 
criminals may account for the references that were made to them for years 
after their execution. Thus in Merlinus Anonymus, for 1653, March 21 
and March 29 are designated as "fest days" in honour of Canbury Bess 
and Country Tom; in Monte/ion, 1660, Or, The Prophetical Almanack 
(sig. B"^), January 3 and 4 are dedicated to them; and in Montelion, 1661 
(sig. B'^), January 2 and 3. 

In the Obituary of Richard Smyth (ed. Ellis, Camden Society, p. 10) 
occur the entries: 


Apr[il]. 14. The. Sherwood hanged in chains in Grays Inne Fields for the 
murther of Mr Claxton and Holt. 
17. Eliz. Evans hanged also there for ye same murther. 

A full account of the two is given in H. G[oodcole]'s pamphlet called 
Heavens Speedie Hue and Cry sent after Lust and Murther, 1635 (British 
Museum, C. 27. c. 17). Goodcole tells that Canbury Bess and Country 
Tom killed (i) Rowland Holt, merchant, in Clerkenwell Fields, in Janu- 
ary, 1635; (2) Lieutenant Thomas Claxton, of London, on April i; and 
(3) Michael Lowe. Their arrest, trial, and execution came in rapid suc- 
cession. Sherwood was hanged on April 14, and made a most edifying 
end. At the gallows he confessed and lamented his crimes, sang part of the 
fifty-first Psalm, "and after that by his request was sung the Lamentation 
of a sinner'''' \i.e. the ballad of "Fortune, my foe"]. Thereupon, he "ioy- 
fully embraced" his death, while all the highly edified spectators prayed 
aloud for his soul. His body was hanged in chains at Battle-bridge, near 
Pancras Church, where such crowds of people swarmed to see it that 
fields and growing crops were trodden into slush and mire. The irate 
ovraers of the land surrounding the gibbet petitioned the King and Privy 
Council to remove the body. Shortly afterward, it was moved to the 
"Ring-Cross beyond Islington." After the execution of Elizabeth Evans, 
on April 17, her body "was conveied to Barber Surgions Hal for a Skeleton 


having her bones reserved in a perfect forme of her body which is to be 
seene, and now remaines in the aforesaid Hall^." 

The ballad is earlier in date than H. G.'s pamphlet^: it may have appeared 
on April 14, 1635 (cf. the title), and certainly was in print before the 
execution of Canbury Bess on April 17. 

Mnvhet upon iHurtrer, 
Committetl bp Thomas Sherwood^ aliajS, Countrey 
Tom : anb Fjlrzabeth Kvans, altasi, Canbrye Besse : 
tKtie firsit upon iH. Loe, Cfje 2. of iW. George Holt 
of Windzor, toficim inljumanelp ti^e? feilti neare 
Islington on tfje 22. bap of JTanuarp 1635. Wi)t lafilt 
upon iW. Thomas Claxton of London, tofjom merci= 
leglp tfjej> murberetj upon tfje sieconb bap of ^priU 
lagt pagt, neare unto Hamtjs; Conbuit on tfje tiacfesfibe 
of ilolborne, toitl) man? otfjer rotitjeriesi anb misicfjief esi 
bp tfjem committeb from time to time siince iHibsiomer 
lasit pagt, noto rebealeb anb confesit tjj> tfjem, anb noto 
accorbing to Jubsement fje isi fjangb neare to Hambs! 
Conbuit XW 14 of ^prill, 1635. to tfje terror of all 

gucf) offenberg. 

To the tune of Bragandary downe, &'c. 

1 [LJIst Christians all vnto my song, 

'twill moue your hearts to pitty, 
[W]hat bloody murders haue beene done, 

[o]f late about the City: 
[W]ee daily see the brood of Cain, 
[Amjongst vs euer will remaine. 
[O ?n\urder, lust and murder, 

\is~\ the joule sinke of sin. 

2 [Thejre's scarce a moneth within the yeare, 

[bu]t murders vile are done, 

1 On the practice of preserving the skeletons of criminals at the Barber 
Surgeons Hall see Stow's London, ed. Strype, 1720, book v, p. 209. 

2 The pamphlet was registered for publication on April 22, 1635. 


[The] Son, the Father murdereth, 

[th]e Father kills the Son, 
[TJwixt man and man there's such debate, 
[Whjich in the end brings mortall hate. 
O murder^ &'c. 

3 The mother loseth her owne life, 

cause she her child doth kill, 
And some men in their drunkennesse, 

[thejir deare friends blood doth spill, 
[And] many more, through greedy gaine, 
[The] brother hath the brother slaine. 
[O m'\urder, ^c. 

4 [But t]o the story now in hand, 

[the] truth I will declare, 
[Whe]n God leaues man vnto himselfe, 

[of S]athan then beware, 
[A]s doth Sherwood truely finde, 
[Who] vnto murder bent his mind. 
[O murjder, i^c. 

5 A man of honest parentage, 

traind vp to husbandry. 
But weary of that honest life, 

to London he did hye : 
Where to his dismall wofull Fate, 
He chose a Queane for his copesmate. 
O murder y Qc. 

6 One Canbery Besse in Turnball-street, 

on him did cast an eye. 
And prayd him to giue her some drinke, 

as he was passing by: 
O too too soone he gaue consent, 
And for the same doth now repent. 
O murder^ i^c. 

7 For by alluring tempting bates, 

she sotted so his minde, 

R.p.G. 433 ^^ 


That vnto any vlllany, 

fierce Sherwood was inclind, 
His coyne all spent he must haue more, 
For to content his filthy (Whoore).^ 
O murder^ ^c. 

8 Much mischiefe then by them was done 

in and about the City, 
But still they scape unpunished, 

(not knowne) more was the pitty. 
To deadly sinnes they then did fall, 
Not onely robbe but murder all. 
O murder^ lust and murder^ 

is the joule sinke of sin. 

9 The first was Master William Loe, 

a Gentleman of note. 
And cruell Sherwood laid him low 

with an inhumane stroke: 
Nor birth nor bloud they did regard, 
Yet death for bloud is their reward. 
O murder^ ^c. 

10 One Master Holt of Winsor towne, 

a Norwich Factor he. 
Walking abroad to take the ayre, 

felt next their buchery. 
For Sherwood with a fatall blow. 
This goodman kill'd, his quean wil so, 
O murder^ i^c. 

1 1 His cloak, hat, ruffe, from him they took 

eleuen groats also. 
And were about his cloathes to stripe, 

his shirt, shooes, hose thereto. 
But being scard, away they flye, 
he hath confest this villany. 
O murder^ ^c. 

^ No period in the text. 



12 A vile loose life they still run on, 

regarding not their end, 
Their hearts still bent to cruelty, 

not minding to amend: 
They cannot see Sathan the deuill, 
That drags them vnto all this euill. 
O murder^ lust and murder^ 

is the foule sinke of sin. 

tEfje jsecontr part tlTo tfje siame tune. 

13 "pOr being flusht with humane bloud, 
A they thirsted still for more, 

The more from God O man thou runst 

the greater is thy score: 
Like rauening wolues they pry & watch, 
How they the innocent may catch. 
O murder^ lust and murder^ 

is the foule sinke of sin. 

14 The last that fell into their hands, 

was Master Claxton he, 
A Gentleman of good descent, 

and well belou'd truely. 
Who walkt vnarm'd by breake of day. 
In holborne fields they did him slay. 
O murder^ ^c. 

15 A scarlet coate from him they tooke, 

new suit from top to toe. 
His bootes, hat, shirt they tooke from him 

much money eke also, 
And left him in the fields so wide 
So fled away and not discride. 
O murder, £ffc. 

1 6 But marke the goodnesse of the Lord, 

on the succeeding day. 
That Sherwood with his trull did think 
beyond sea take their way, 

435 EE2 


In Hounsdich were together tane, 
Selling the coat in the same lane. 
O murder^ &'c. 

17 With the new suit vpon his back, 

and all things else beside, 
The queane the hat of Master HoUy 

which they had murdered, 
So vnto Newgate were they sent, 
Confest all this, and doe repent. 
O murder, ^c. 

1 8 Wishing all men when as they walke 

to haue a speciall care. 
And not to go vnarm'd, or late, 

but sword or truncheon weare, 
Had they done so Sherwood doth say, 
He had not ventred them to slay. 
O murder, &€. 

1 9 Within three quarters of a yeare, 

these murders they haue done. 
And maim'd and spoiled many a one, 

by their confession : 
Such deadly blowes he did them giue, 
Twas strange that after they should Hue. 
O murder, &c. 

20 For these bad facts he now doth dye, 

iust iudgement for his meede. 
All such ill liuers grant they may, 

no worse nor better speed, 1 

So shall England from crying sinne, 'jfj 

Be euer freed, Gods mercy winne. ; 

For murder lust and murder, -^ 

is the joule sinke of sinne, 


Printed at London for T. Langley, 

and are to be sold by Thomas Lambert 

in Smithfield, neare to the Hospitall 




A description of a strange fish 

Wood 401 (127), B.L., three woodcuts, four columns. 

This ballad has been reprinted very inaccurately and with one whole 
stanza silently omitted in Halliwell-Phillipps's edition of The Marriage of 
Wit and Wisdom, Shakespeare Society, 1846, p. 95. Strange fishes, as 
Shakespeare himself bears witness, never failed to attract London crowds. 
In his Annals John Stow gravely recounts the most incredible marvels 
about fish: one mentioned there in the year 1606 is scornfully referred to 
in Ben Jonson's Volpone, 11, i. In later days, too, the attraction held. Thus 
in June, 1658, Francis Grove printed a book called London's Wonder. 
Being a most true and positive relation of the taking and killing of a great 
Whale neer to Greenwich; the said Whale being fifty eight foot in length, 
twelve foot high, fourteen foot broad, and two foot between the Eyes (Bodleian, 
Wood 487). 

Parker's ballad summarizes some pamphlet which I have not been able 
to locate, possibly the pamphlet licensed to Nicholas and John Okes on 
May 16, 1636, as a wonder from the sea Is'c. of a fish. It is evidently of 
about the same date as the licenses granted by Sir Henry Herbert to 
"James Scale to shew a strange fish for half a yeare, the 3d of September, 
1632," and to "Francis Sherret, to shew a strange fish for a yeare, from 
the loth of Marche, 1635" (Malone's Shakespeare, 1821, xiv, 368; xv, 
95). For the tune cf. No. 49. 



^ tiesicription of a Strange (anti miraculous) Jfist)» 
cast upon tfje Sanbs in tije meatis, in tfje Jlunbreb of 
Worwell, in tte Count? palatine of Chester, (or 
Chesshiere. W^t certaintj* tofjcreof iS Ijcrc related 
concerning tfje Saib most monstrous Jfisf). 

To the tune of Bragandary. 

OF many maruels in my time 
I'ue heretofore, 
But here's a stranger now in prime 

that's lately come on shore, 
Inuites my pen to specifie 
What some (I doubt) will think a lie. 
O rare 

beyond compare, 
in England nere the like. 

It is a fish, a monstrous fish, 
a fish that many dreads, 



But now it is as we would wish, 
cast vp o'th sands i'th meads, 
In Chesshire; and tis certaine true, 
Describ'd by those who did it view. 
O rare 

beyond compare., 
in England nere the like. 

3 Full twenty one yards and one foot 

this fish extends in length, 
With all things correspondent too't, 

for amplitude and strength: 
Good people what I shall report, 
Doe not account it fained sport. 
O rare 

beyond compare^ 
in England nere the like. 

4 It is almost fiue yards in height, 

which is a wondrous thing, 
O mark what maruels to our sight 

our Potent Lord can bring. 
These secrets Neptune closely keeps 
Within the bosome of the deeps. 
O rare 

beyond compare., 
in England nere the like. 

5 His lower jaw-bone's fiue yards long, 

the vpper thrice so much, 
Twelue yoak of oxen stout and strong, 

(the weight of it is such) 
Could not once stir it out o'th sands 
Thus works the All-creating hands. 
O rare 

beyond compare.^ 
in England nere the like. 



6 Some haue a project now in hand, 

(which is a tedious taske) 
When the Sea turnes, to bring to Land 

the same with empty cask: 
But how I cannot well conceiue, 
To each mans judgement that I leaue. 
O rare 

beyond compare^ 
in England nere the like. 

7 The lower jaw-bone nam'd of late, 

had teeth in't thirty foure. 
Whereof some of them are in weight 

two pounds, or rather more: 
There were no teeth i'th vpper jaw, 
But holes, which many people saw. 
O rare 

beyond compare^ 
in England nere the like. 

W^t sieconb part, ^o tfje siame tune. 

8 T T Is Pissle is in length foure yards, 
1 1 big as a man i'th wast, 

This monster he who well regards, 

from th' first vnto the last. 
By euery part may motiues find. 
To wonder at this wondrous kind. 
O rare 

beyond compare, 
in England nere the like. 

9 His Cods are like two hogsheads great, 

this seemeth past beleefe. 
But men of credit can relate 

what I describe in briefe: 
Then let's with charity confesse 
Gods works are more then man can guesse. 
O rare, &c. 



10 The tongue on't Is so mighty large, 

I will it not expresse, 
Lest I your credit ouer-charge, 

but you may easily guesse, 
That sith his shape so far excels, 
The tongue doth answer all parts else. 
O rare, ^c. 

1 1 A man on horseback as tis try'd 

may stand within his mouth, 
Let none that hears it this deride, 

for tis confirm'd for truth : 
By those who dare auouch the same. 
Then let the Writer beare no blame. 
O rare, &'c. 

12 His nerues or sinewes like Bulls pissles, 

for riding rods some vse : 
Of Spermaceti there's some vessels: 

if this be the worst newes, 
That of this monster we shall heare. 
All will be well I doe not feare. 
O rare, ^c. 

1 3 Already sixteene tuns of Oyle 

is from this fish extracted. 
And yet continually they boyle, 

no season is protracted: 
It cannot be imagin'd how much 
'Twill yeeld, the vastnesse on't is such. 
O rare, &'c. 

14 When he vpon the sands was cast 

aliue, which was awhile: 
He yell'd so loud, that many (agast) 

heard him aboue sixe mile: 
Tis said the Female fish likewise 
Was heard to mourne with horrid cryes: 
O rare, &c. 



15 The Mariners of Chester say 
a Herring-hog tis nam'd: 
Whatere it be, for certaine they 
that are for knowledge fam'd, 
Affirme, the like in ages past 
Upon our Coast was neuer cast. 
O rare 

beyond compare^ 
in England nere the like. 

M.P. J 

Printed at London for Thomas Lambert, at ^H 
the sign of the Hors-shoo in Smithfield. 

There is a Book to satisfie suck as desire a ™ 

larger description hereof. f 



Round^ boys^ indeed 

Pepys, I, 442, B.L., four woodcuts, four columns. 

A pretty, musical ditty by Laurence Price on the favourite topic of shoe- 
makers. Evidently it was the ballad called "A Merry Round &c." which 
John Wright, Jr, registered on June 24, 1637 (Arber's Transcript, iv, 
386). Price, the chief rival of Martin Parker, wrote very many ballads of 
equal merit to Parker's, but has left behind him almost no biographical 
record. There is a meagre sketch of his life in the Dictionary of National 
Biography, and a few other facts about him are given in my "Martin 
Parker, Ballad-Monger," Modern Philology, xvi (19 19), 120. Of the 
friendly rivalry that, at least for a time, existed between Price and Parker 
many evidences remain (cf. No. 71); such as the habit each had of writing 
ballads to tunes named for a ballad by the other and of answering each 
other's productions. Price, furthermore, contributed complimentary 
verses to Parker's pamphlet, Harry White's Humour (1637), and mentions 
him by name in his Map of Merry Conceits, 1656, sig. A 2 (originally 
issued in 1639). 

In striking contrast, however, to the numerous references to Parker, I 
have found, — after covering the period with some care, — only three allu- 
sions to Price. In a broadside in the Luttrell Collection (11, 22) called "On 
Bugbear Black-Monday, March 29. 1652. Or, The London-Fright at the 
Eclipse proceeding from a Natural cause," astrological pamphlets by him 
and by Will Lilly are thus sneered at: 

, Was 't Laurence Price's Shepherd's Gnostication 

With cunning M^ill's wise Astrologization, 
That put ye in distemper, and such fits. 
As if their folly practis'd on your wits ? 

Mercurius Democritus for April 13-20, 1653 (p. 416), after a scurrilous 
tale, breaks off with the remark: "but more of this the next week; because 
you shall then have the true relation in a Ballad, to the Tune of the 7 
Champions of the Pens in Smithfield, written by Lawrenc\e\ Priced He is 
also classed as one of the "glorious three of poetry" — along with the 
equally prominent ballad-writers Samuel Smithson and Humphrey Crouch 
— in S. F.'s Death in a New Dress, or Sportive Funeral Elegies (1656), 
sig. A 2^. S. P., writing a comic elegy on Robin, the Annyseed-water seller, 
expresses his astonishment that this celebrated personage (an hermaphro- 



dite) has been dead so long "without the meed of some melodious tear." 
He exclaims: 

♦Samuel Ye glorious *three 

^*^' Who grasp the Poles of Star-crown'd Poesie; 

Hum- Has som Cask-piercing** Youth poison'd your wine 

Crowch With wicked Lathe? Did you ever dine 

Law- On Turnep-tops, without or Salt, or Butter, 

Price That amongst all your Canzonets, or clutter 

••Drawer You fail'd to mention this deceased Robbin, 

^™^ ' It seems you ne'r-quaft Nectar in his Noggin, 
As I have done. 

The passage is all the more interesting in that allusions to Crouch and 
Smithson are as rare as are allusions to Price. 

iRounb tjopeji inbeeb. 

Peing a berp pleasant neto Bittp, 

Eo fit boti) Country, tE^otone anb Citie, 

IBeltsbttuU to perusie in eberp begree, 

Come gallant (Gentlemen, bansiell from j>ou let me ^tt} 

To a pleasant new Tune: 

I T TEre we are good fellowes all, 
i- 1 round Boyes round: 
Attendance giue when we doe call, 

round boyes indeed. 
Since we are here good fellowes all, 

drinke we must and worke we shall. 
And worke we will what ere befall, 

for money to serue our need. 

1 We get our liuings by our hands, 
round boyes round^ 
Then fill vs beare at our commands, 

round boyes indeed., 

^ Text has a comma. ^ No comma in the text. 



Our liuings we get by our hands, 
as plainly you may vnderstand. 
Whilst many gallants sell their land, 
for money to serue their need, 

3 We set our stitches iust and straight, 

round boyes round^ 
And doe our worke without deceite, 

round boyes indeed^ 
The Munday Sundayes fellow be, 

when tuesday comes to worke fall we 
And fall to worke most merrily, 

for money to serue our need. 

4 The titles which our trade adorne, 

round boyes rounds 
Shoemakers sonnes were princes borne, 

round boyes indeed., 
For kind S Hughe and Crispins sake, 

a merry day we meane to make. 
And after to our tooles betake, 

for money to serue our need. 

5 And if our Master angry seeme, 

round boyes rounds 
W^e little doe of that esteeme, 

round boyes indeed^ 
S. Hughs bones vp we take in hast, 

both pinsers, punching alle and last, 
The gentle Craft was neuer disgrast, 

they haue money to serue their need. 

6 If we want cash ouer night, 

round boyes rounds 
We shall not long be in that plight, 

round boyes indeed^ 
Next day ere morne God will vs send, 

if wee to worke our humour bend. 
And merry make each friend with friend 

with money to serue our need. 



7 We scorne such cheating knaues and queanes,^ 

round hoyes round^ 
Which doe not Hue by honest meanes, 

round hoyes indeed^ 
When theues & whores to tyburne pack 

wele drink strong beere good ale and sack, 
The gentle Craft did neuer lacke, 

for money to serue their need. 

tlTfje sieconb part Co tfje siante tune. 

8 /~\ Fie vpon the cursed crew, 
v_y round hoyes round, 

We doe defie the cursed crew, 

round hoyes indeed, 
The gallowes take that wicked crue, 

that will not keepe them iust and true. 
And pay to euery man his due, 

and haue money to serue their need. 

9 The shirking rooke and base decoy, 

round hoyes round. 
Our company shall not inioy, 

round hoyes indeed. 
But with those men of good report, 

that lead their Hues in honest sort, 
A lugg or two will make vs sport, 

we haue money to serue our need. 

lo The smith, the weauer, and the tayler, 

round hoyes round. 
The feriman and the iouiall sayler, 

round hoyes indeed. 
The mariner and souldier bold, 

are in the booke of fame inrold,^ 
That ventured haue their Hues for gold 

and money to serue their need. 

1 No comma in the text. ^ Text has a period. 



1 1 The carpenter we daily see, 

round boyes rounds 
The mason and bricklayers be, 

round boyes indeed^ 
The^ Costerdmonger will not shrinke, 

he is noe niggard of his chincke, 
But with boone blades will sit & drinke 

when he of it hath need. 

1 2 The maltman and the baker stout, 

round boyes round^ 
Will with the brewer haue aboute, 

round boyes indeed^ 
The tapster may not loose his share, 

though barly broth be nere so deare, 
Hele giue his friend a iugg of beare, 

if that he stand in need. 

1 3 The butcher if he be a drie, 

round boyes rounds 
Hele keepe good fellowes company, 

round boyes indeed. 
The tanner when he comes to towne, 

weighs not the spending of a crowne. 
Amongst his chapmen up and downe, 

he hath money to serue his need. 

14 All those good fellowes which are nam'd 

round boyes round. 
Within this song I here haue fram'd, 

are round boyes indeed, 
The gentle Craft doth beare good will, 

to all kind hearted tradesmen still, 
That keepe the prouerbe to fullfill, 

a penny to serve their need. 

^ The T of this word was dropped in printing to the /le of the following 



1 5 Now to conclude my harmlesse dittie, 

round boyes rounds 
I wish both countrie towne and Citie, 

round boyes indeed. 
That euery man and woman kind, 

a faithfull friend may euer finde 
So here my friends you know my mind, 

keepe money to serue your need. 

1 6 I trust none of this company, 

round boyes, round^ 
Will with this song offended bee, 

round boyes indeed, 
therefore let some kind Creature heare 

giue hansell for to buy me beere. 
To make my throat more shrill & cleere 

you see^ I haue great need. 


Printed at London for /. Wright. 

1 No comma in the text. 

2 Text sac. 



A monstrous shape 

Wood 401 (135), B.L., three woodcuts, four columns. One stanza is 
printed from this copy in the Roxburgke Ballads, viii, 28. 

In December, 1639, the "hog-faced gentlewoman" created great ex- 
citement in London journalistic circles. Ballads called "The Woman 
Monster," "A Maiden Monster," "A Strange Relation of a Female Mon- 
ster," "A New Ballad of the Swines-faced Gentlewoman," and "A Wonder 
of These Times," registered on December 4—1 r, spread her fame abroad. 
Laurence Price's ballad was apparently not among these registrations. 
Along with the ballads appeared (on December 5) a book entitled A cer- 
taine Relation of the Hog-faced Gentlewoman called Mistris Tannakin 
Skinker, zv/io was borne at Wirkkam a Neuter Towne betweene the Emperour 
and the Hollander, scituate on the river Rhyne. Who was bewitched in her 
mothers wombe in the yeare 161 8, and hath lived ever since unknowne in this 
kind to anyy but her Parents and a few other neighbours. And can never 
recover her true shape tell she be married ^c. Also relating the cause, as it is 
since conceived, how her mother came so bewitched (Ashbee's Occasional 
Fac-Simile Reprints, No. 16). According to the book, if any man will have 
the courage to marry this ugly but immensely wealthy woman he will find, 
as John Gower tells in the Confessio Amantis (book i, w. 1407 ff.), that 
immediately her deformity will vanish and her beauty become ravishing. 
The same z^o///" underlies Chaucer's Wife of Bath's Tale and the traditional 
ballad of "The Marriage of Sir Gawain" (F. J. Child's English and 
Scottish Popular Ballads, No. 31). See, further, Maynadier's Wife of 
Bath's Tale, Its Sources and Analogues, 1901. 

"The Swines-fac't Lady" is the subject of an epigram in Robert 
Chamberlain's Jocabella, 1640. Mercurius Democritus for October 19-26, 
1653, tells of a monstrous giant "taken by an English Merchant in a 
certain Hand in America called Nera," and remarks that ^''The Hgogs- 
fac'd [j/c] Gentle-Woman is sent for out oi Holland to be his godmother." 
(The same allusion is made in a separate tract on this subject printed by 
John Crouch in 1653.) Mercurius Fumigosus, August 9—16, 1654, p. ro6, 
speaks of "the Signe oi Hoggs-fac'd Gentlewoman in Bartholmew Faire." 
"The swine fac'd Lady" is mentioned also in Ad Populum, or A Low- 
Country Lecture, 1653, sig. A 2^. There is a wonderful lithographic fac- 
simile of Miss Skinker, catalogued under her name, in the British Museum. 

Sv^ne-faced ladies of a much later period are frequently reported. 

R.p.G. 449 



though many of them were at the time disclosed as frauds. John Pitts, of 
14, Great St Andrew Street, Seven Dials, London, printed about 1800 a 
ballad of "The Pig Faced Lady. Sung at Astley's Theatre, &c." (Douce 
Collection, iii, 132.) The first stanza runs: 

Your zarvant all round and you zee I be here, 
And what I left plough for will soon make appear, 
For I's come to Lunnun an outlandish place, 
To marry the lady that's got the Pig's face ! 
Tura, lura, lal lura, tura lura, lal la. 

There is also a marvellous portrait of an Irish lady on a sheet in the British 
Museum called "The Pig-Faced Lady of Manchester-Square. .. Pub- 
lished by John Fairburn, 2, Broadway, Ludgate-Hill. {Price One Shillings 
coloured.)," 181 5 (2188(2)). A less satisfactory portrait is in 2188(3). 
James Caulfield's Book of Wonderful Characters, 1869, has an account of 
hog-faced ladies and an engraving of "the Wonderful Miss Atkinson," 
born in Ireland, worth ^^20,000, but fed from a silver trough. Cf. also 
Ebsworth's notes in the Roxburghe Ballads, viii, 28. 

The tune is given in Chappell's Popular Music, i, 240. It is worth 
noting, also, that a Douce (i, 52, 62^) ballad of "The Daughter's Com- 
plaint"is directed to be sung to '"''The Spanish paving, or the Lovers Dream; 
or, Martin Parkers Medley T Parker's "Medley" {Roxburghe Ballads, i, 
52) is "to the Tune of Tarl ton's Medley," which has hitherto been un- 
known but may now be identified with the Spanish Pavin. 




^ gfjapElesfsie illonslter. 

^ Bcfiicription of a female creature borne in ||oUanb, 

compleat in eijerp part, siabe onlp a fteali like a jitoine, 

tofjo fjatlj trabaileb into manp partg, anb isi noto to be 

geene in %(BM^0M^, 

^fjees lotjing, courteous:, anb effeminate, 

^nti nere as; pet coulb finb a lobing mate. 

To the tune of /i^ Spanish Pavin. 

^ Wood added in MS. 1 640. 



OF horned Vulcan I haue heard, 
His teeth were longer the his beard, 
Whose monstrous looks made all afeard 

which did that night behold him: 
And of transformed Acteon, 
Which like a Hart in Forest ran, 
And how faire Lidia like a Swan 

Of Robin Goodfellow also. 
Which was a seruant long agoe, 
The Queen of Fairies doth it know, 

and hindered him in fashion : 
She knew not what she did her selfe. 
She chang'd him like a Fairie elfe, 
For all his money, goods, and pelfe, 

she gull'd him. 

But yet be brisk you Yonkers bold, 
And list to what I shall vnfold. 
Such newes afore was neuer told, 

as I will now relate: 
My subiect is of such a Girle, 
That hath both siluer, gold, and pearle, 
Yet neuer will be for an Earle 

right fitted. 

This Urokin as I vnderstand. 
Is now arriued from Dutchland, 
And hath as much gold at command 

that she would wish or craue: 
Her portion threescore thousand pound, 
Both corn and cattell on her ground, 
As good as any may be found 

in Holland. 

Besides, a dainty Lasse is she, 
A Boores daughter in the Low-country, 
Her mother is in her degree 
a very proper Fro, 



And all the Tribe from whence she came 
Call her faire Pigs nye by her name, 
You'l say they haue reason for the same 

6 To describe her from top to toe, 
I purpose now for to doe so, 

And shew how neatly she doth goe 
when young men come a wooing: 

She shews her pretty heele and foot, 

A dainty leg adioyning to't, 

Her stockins silk, if that will do't 
she cares not. 

®lje sieconb part, tKo tfte siamt tune. 

7 T T Er person it is straight and tall, 

i- 1 A lilly white hand, her fingers small 
Makes her the handsomest wench of all 

that euer her father got: 
In handsomnesse she doth excell 
Both bouncing Kate, and bonny Nell, 
In dancing she doth beare the bell 

of many. 

8 So choice of face she is indeed. 
As oft as she doth stand in need, 
A siluer trough she hath to feed, 

when euer she wants victuall : 
The siluer trough is straight brought out 
Wherein she puts her dainty snout. 
And sweetly sucks till all is out 

of action. 

9 And to speak further for her grace. 
She hath a dainty white swines face. 
Which shews that she came of a race 

that loued fat porke and bacon: 



Yet would I not her kindred wrong, 
Her nose I think is two foot long, 
Also her breath is very strong 
and fulsome. 

10 Yet let no party her despise. 

She is furnished with two pigs nies. 
Though something of the largest size, 

they doe become her neatly, 
Her ears hang lolling toward the ground 
More fairer then a mastie hound. 
Thus are her fortunes still renown'd 

by hearesay. 

1 1 Great store of suters euery day. 
Resort vnto her as they say. 

But who shall get this girle away, 

as yet I doe not know: 
But thus much I dare vndertake, 
If any doe a wife her make. 
It is onely for her moneyes sake 

he loues her. 

12 If any young man long to see 
This creature wheresoere she be, 

I would haue him be rul'd by me, 

and not to be too forward, 
Lest he at last should fare the worse, 
Although she haue a golden purse. 
She is not fit to be a nurse 

in England. 


Printed by M.F. for Tko: Lambert, and 

are to be sold at the signe of the 

Horse shooe in Smithfield. 




A new Spanish tragedy 

Wood 401 (137), B.L., two woodcuts, four columns. 

In a MS. note Wood dates the ballad " 1640 or 41." It was, however, 
licensed to John Stafford as "a New Spanish Tragedy or the late fight 
betwixt the Spaniards and Hollanders" on October 15, 1639 (Arber's 
Transcript, iv, 484). Five other ballads on this event were entered on the 
same day: only one of them — Martin Parker's "A Lamentable Relation 
of a Fearful Fight at Sea, upon our English Coast, Between the Spaniard 
and the Hollander.. . .To the Tune of Let us to the Wars againe" (cf. 
No. 73) — appears to be extant. It begins "In every place where men did 
meet," and is reprinted in Ballads from the Collections of Sir James 
Balfour, pp. 8—12. Ballads dealing with the first naval engagement of 
September 6 had been registered on September 16 and September 23 
(Arber's Transcript, iv, 478, 480). Of the two ballads registered on the 
latter day, one is preserved. It is entitled "A famous Sea-fight: OR, [A 
Bloojdy Battell, which was fought between the Spaniard [and th]e Hol- 
lander, beginning on the sixth day of this present month of September, 
l63[9] being Friday.. . .To the Tune oi Brave Lord IVilloughby." It 
begins "Give ear you lusty gallants, my purpose is to tell," was printed 
by Francis Grove, is signed by John Lookes, and is preserved (though 
somewhat mutilated) in the Manchester Collection. 

Price's spirited ballad is a good verse rendering of a news-pamphlet: it 
gives abundant information; and though this information came to him at 
second hand, his ballad is almost as satisfactory a document to a modern 
student of history as it was to a news-hungry throng of listeners in Charles 
I's time. The occasion for the ballad was this: Sir John Pennington, 
English Admiral guarding the Narrow Seas, was lying in the Downs when 
the Spanish fleet for Dunkirk, with troops on board, was driven into the 
Downs, on September 6, by the Dutch fleet under Trump. The latter 
fleet also anchored there. Pennington insisted that the neutrality of the 
roadstead be observed. On October 1 1, however, after receiving large rein- 
forcements from Holland, Trump attacked and destroyed the Spanish 
fleet, while Pennington helplessly looked on. He had no instructions, 
indeed, to do anything else, though apparently he favoured Spain. The 
victory of the Dutch was received in England with joy, for some people 
there believed that the Spaniards had come, at the invitation of Charles I, 
to crush English liberty. 



The tune is derived from the ballad of "The Angel Gabriel: his Salu- 
tation to the blessed Virgin Mary. To the Tune of The Blazing Torch is 
soon burnt out" {Roxburgke Ballads, vii, 779), but the tune of The Blazing 
Torch is not known (cf. No. 37). 

^ neto ^panis!}| ©ragebp. 


iWore Srtrange netuesi from tfte narroto sieasi, bi2!cober= 
tns ttDO mosit breabfull ^ea ii^i^ bettoeene ti)e 
^paniarb anb tfje ||oUanber, tfje firsit {)appeneb>n 
^eptemtier tiie 6, anb ti^e sieconb upon Jfribap tije 
I X of (I^ctotier last, in tofjict) totrc man? 1000 silaine, 
anb of tfje ^paniarbsi bjasf 16 gfjipsf grounbeb, 28 
fireb, fliome siunfee into ti^c sfea, anb siome tafeen. 

To the tune of the Angel Gabriel. 

I ALL you that are brave Saylors, 
-iJ^ of courage stout and bold, 
Give eare unto a fight at Sea, 

I purpose to unfold, 
Newes of a famous battell, 

fought on the Ocean main, 
Betweene the Hollander, 

and a mighty Fleet of Spaine, 

1 The King of Spaines great Navy, 

for warre being ready bent. 
About our coasts lay hovering, 

we know not their intent. 
The Hollander perceiving this, 

went towards them amaine, 
Not fearing of the force, 

of the mighty Fleet of Spaine. 

3 The sixt of our September 1, 
began a dreadfull fight, 

^ I.e. September 17, new style. 


Not ceasing of the battel!, 
by day, nor yet by night,^ 

Untill such time that thousands, 
on both sides there were slaine,' 

Both of the Hollanders, 

and the mighty Fleet of Spaine. 

4 Much blood shed was amongst them,^ 

and many harmes were done, 
Untill that they were forc'd to part, 

by noble Pennington^ 
Who charg'd them to give over,i 

or else he told them plaine, 
That he would sinke their ships, 

into the Ocean maine. 

5 Whereby some of the Spaniards 

thought to escape by flight. 
The Hollanders prepared, 

with them againe to fight, 
And compass'd them about, 

their quarrell to maintaine. 
Vowing to be revenged 

on the mighty Fleet of Spaine. 

6 And so upon the eleventh day, 

in this moneth of October, 
They had permission for to fight, 

neere Deal not farre from Dover, 
The Dutchmen were resolved, 

to kill or to be slaine. 
And bravely all prepared, 

against the Fleet of Spaine. 

Wbt sieconb part, Co tije jfame tune. 

7 OO giving the first onset 
O unto this second Battell, 

^ Text has a period. 



Their Trumpets sound, their Ensigns spred, 
and their warHke Drums did rattle: 

The thundring Canons roar'd, 
Bullets as thick as rain 

Came from the Holland ships 
unto the Fleet of Spain. 

8 No mercie 'mongst these Enemies 

could at that time be found, 
Full 1 6 of the Spanish ships 

were forc'd to run o'th ground. 
28 more at Sea were fired, 

thousands of men were slain 
Both of the Hollander, 

and their enemies of Spaine. 

9 The Spaniards in this conflict, 

was much with terrour fill'd. 
For one man of the Hollanders, 

ten Spaniards then were kill'd, 
Their Scooper-holes run down with blood, 

into the Ocean maine. 
Which made them cry alas we shall 

never returne to Spaine. 

10 Good Lord it was great griefe to see, 

dead men cast on the ground : 
Some had their very braines dasht out, 

and others more were found 
With mangled legs, and broken limbs, 

and most of them were slaine. 
Which did belong to Dunkerk, 

and to the King of Spaine, 

1 1 And as it was reported, 

the Spaniards wanting shot, 
They let flye gold and silver store, 
out of their Ordinance hot. 



And much there was thrown overboord, 
which will nere be found againe, 

This misery was then 

amongst the ships of Spaine. 

12 And being thus distressed, 

their men with fighting tired, 
Some kil'd, some maim'd, some shot, som 

and some on ship-boord fired,^ 
The remnant that remained, 

no longer could maintaine,^ 
The fight wherefore I thinke, 

that they wish themselves in Spaine. 

1 3 But to conclude my Ditty, 

I thinke there have not beene. 
Since eighty eight, the like sea fight, 

neere unto England seene. 
The Lord preserve our gracious King, 

and send him long to raigne^, 
In health, and wealth, and peace, 

Gods Gospel to maintaine. 


London Printed for Samuel Rand on Holborne Bridge. 
^ Text has a period. ^ Text ragine. 



Index of 
'Titles^ First Lines ^ and 'Tunes 

Tunes are printed in italics. Titles and first lines are printed in roman 
type; the former are enclosed in quotation marks. An asterisk (*) indicates 
that the ballad in question is merely referred to in the notes. 


1 66 















212, *456 

83. 300, +32, 438 






Alas what wretched bloody times . 

All men are inclined to follow their mind 

All trades are not alike in show 

All you good fellows who love strong beer 

All you that are brave sailors 

All you that Christians be 

All you that desirous are to behold 

All you that valiant fellows be 

All you young men who would marry 

Angel Gabriel, The 
"Anne Wallen's Lamentation " 
"Arraignment of John Flodder, The" 

As I was walking of late . 

As I went to Walsingham 

As I went to Walsingham . 

As late I walked the meads along . 

Away away make no delay 
* "Back and the Belly, The" 
"Back's Complaint For Belly's Wrong, The 
"Banquet For Sovereign Husbands, A" 
"Battle of Birds, A" 

Bessy Bell 

* Black murther and adultery 
Blazing torch, The 
Bonny Nell 
Bragandary {down') . . . 18, 2 or, 2 

* Brave Lord Willoughby . 

* Brave Mars begins to rouse 
Brave Windham late whom fortune did ad 

*"Brazen Age, The" 

♦"Bugbear Black-Monday, 1652" . 

Bugle bow 




* "Bugle Bow or a Merry Match of Shooting, The' 
*"Byd YBigail" .... 

"Caleb Shillock's Prophecy" 
Cannons are roaring 
*" Careless Curate and the Bloody Butcher, The" 

* Carmen's whistle. The 
*" Certain Verses of Martin Parker Against Trusting" 

Charles Rickets his lamentation 
" Charles Rickets His Recantation " 
"Cheating Age, The" 

* "Choice of Inventions, A" . 

Clean contrary way. The . 

* Codlings (cf. Percy Folio MS. Loose Songs, p. 82) 
*" Collins and the Devil" . 

"Collins' Conceit" 

Come give attention young and old 

Come hither young men and give ear 

Come you fatal sisters three 
"Commendation of the Society of the Porters" 
"Common Cries of London Town, The" . 

* " Complaint of Sir Francis Michell, The " . 

Conceits of sundry sorts there are . 

* " Constant Wife and a Kind Wife, A" 
" Country New Jig, A" 

Courteous kind gallants all . 
"Cries of the Dead, The" . 
"Cucking of a Scold, The" 
"Cunning Age, The" 

* Dainty come thou to me 
"Damnable Practises of Three Lincolnshire Witches' 

*" Daughter's Complaint, The" 
Day will come shall pay for all, A 

* " Dening a Poor Man and a Loaf of Bread " . 
"Description of a Strange and Miraculous Fish, A" 

*" Description of Wanton Women, A" 
"Deserved Downfall of a Corrupted Conscience, The" 

* Did you see Nan to-day .... 
"Dream of a Sinner, A Comfortable New Ballad of; 

Drive the cold winter away 

Dulcina .... 

*" England's Monthly Predictions" . 
*" Essex Man Cozened, The" 

"Every Man's Condition" 
♦"Excellent Ditty Both Merry and Witty, An" 

* " Fair Widow of Watling Street, The " 

Falero lero lo . 









49 zf. 














,, 222 






78 n. 





" Famous Rat-catcher, The " 
♦"Famous Sea-Fight, A" . 
"Father Hath Beguiled the Son, The" 

* Flora farewell 
Fly brass 
Flying fame 

"Fool's Bolt Is Soon Shot, A" 
*" Forlorn Lover, The" 

Fortune my foe . 
"Fourpence Halfpenny Farthing" . 

France that is so famous . 
"Francis' New Jig" 
"Frenchmen's Wonder, The" 

From India land such news I have 

From old famous Lincoln that's seated so high 

Gallants come away 
"Gallants To Bohemia" . 
*" Give ear you lusty gallants 

Go from my window (cf. Popular Music, i, 140) 

Golden age. The . 
* " Goodfellow's Advice, The " 
"Goodfellow's Complaint Against Strong Beer, A" 

Good fellows all to you I send 

Goodmorrow kind gossip why whither so fast 
"Good Throw For Three Maidenheads, A" 

Great God that sees all things that here are done 
*" Great Turk's Terrible Challenge, The" 

Hark man what I thy God shall speak 
"He-Devil, A" . 

He runs far that ne'er returneth . 

Health to Betty, A 

Hemp and flax 

* Here sits a jovial tinker 
Here we are good fellows all 

*" Hero and Leander " 

"History of the Prophet Jonas, The" 
*"Hold Your Hands Honest Men" 
"Honest Age, The" 
"Honest Plain-Dealing Porter, The" 

How shall we good husband live 

Humming of the drone. The 

I can nor will no longer lie alone 
*I have for all good wives a song 

I often have known and experience hath shown 
"I Tell You John Jarret You'll Break" 

/ will give thee kisses one two or three 










5,84, 156 
















60 n. 





78, 132 


78, 132 



If woful objects may excite 
/'// beat my wife no more . 
I'll never love thee more 
In Edinburgh behold 

* In every place where men did meet 
In slumbering sleep 
In slumbering sleep I lay 
In summer time . 

* In summer time when Phoebus' rays 
In the days of old 

*"Iron Age, The" . 
"It Is Bad Jesting With a Halter" . 
It was a young knight born in the west 
It was my chance of late . 
Jasper Coningham 
"Jewish dance. The 

* Joan's ale is new 
"John Spenser a Cheshire Gallant" 

* "Jonas" .... 

Jovial tinker. The 

* "Jovial Tinker, A Pleasant New Song of a" 
"Joyful Peace Concluded Between Denmark and Sweden, The 
"Judgment of Solomon, The " 

*"Keep a Good Tongue In Your Head" 
Kindhearted men a while give ear 
"Knavery In All Trades" . 

Lady's fall. The . . . .96,110,124, 

"Lamentable Burning of Cork, The" 
"Lamentable Complaint of France" 
*" Lamentable Relation of a Fearful Fight at Sea, 

* " Lamentation of England, The " . 
" Lamenting Lady, The " . 

Last Christmas 'twas my chance 
" Leander's Love To Loyal Hero " . 

* " Lesson For All True Christians, A" 

Let us to the wars again . . . . *i62. 

Let young men give ear . 
"Life and Death of Mr George Sandys, Th 

Like to a dying swan 

List Christians all unto my song 
" Long Runs That Ne'er Turns " . 
" Looking-Glass For Corn-Hoarders, A" 

Lord of Hosts hath blessed no land. The 

* Love's tide 

* " Love's Up To the Elbows " 

* Lover's dream. The 


















49 w. 













*" Lover's Lamentation To His Love Nancy, The" 
MaU's ABC, The 

* " Maiden Monster, A" . 
*" Maiden's Lamentation For a Bedfellow, A" 

Maidens of London are now in despair, The 
Margaret my sweetest Margaret I must go 
Mark well God's wondrous works and see 
*Martin Parker's medley 
Maun ding soldier. The 

* Maying time 
Merchant of Emden, The 
Merchantman, The 

* " Merry Dialogue Betwixt a Married Man and His Wife, A' 
" Merry New Catch of All Trades, A" 
"Merry Round, A" 

Methinks I hear a groan of death and deadly dole 

* " Misdeeds of Jonas, The " 
"Monstrous Shape or a Shapeless Monster, A" 

* Mother beguiled the daughter, The . 
"Murder upon Murder" . 
"Murther Unmasked" 
*My bleeding heart 
*My husband is a carpenter 

My masters all attend you 

* My mind to me a kingdom is 
Ned Smith .... 
Neighbours cease to moan 

*"New Exchange, The" . 

"New Spanish Tragedy, A" 

"New- Year's Gift For the Pope, A" 

"News From Holland's Leaguer" . 
*" News From Newcastle" . 

"News From the Tower Hill" 

"News Good and New Too Good To Be True" 

"News Out of East India" 

"No Natural Mother But a Monster" 

"Nobody His Counsel To Choose a Wife" 
*"Nobody Loves Me" 

* " Northamptonshire Lover, The " 

North-country lass. The 
»"Now Have With Ye To Nineveh" 
Now welcome neighbour Rowland 
*"Nut-Brown Maid, The" . 
*0 folly desperate folly 

O mine own sweet heart . 
*0 neighbour Robert 

R. P.G. 



78 n. 


78, 132 


















78 n. 









O no no no not yet 
*0 Roundheads desperate Roundheads 
Of damned deeds and deadly dole 
Of horned Vulcan I have heard . 
Of many marvels in my time 
Of wonders strange that was 

* Oil of care. The .... 
On midsummer day I chanced to go 
One morning bright for my delight 
Over and under . . . . 
Paggin ton's round {Packington's found') 

"Passing Bell Tolling To Call Us To Mind, A" 
" Pedlar Opening of His Pack, The " 
"Peg and Kate" . 

* Permit me friends 
"Pig-Faced Lady, The" . 

♦"Pinning of the Basket, The' 
" Pleasant New Ballad Both Merry and Witty, A" 

* " Pleasant Song Made By a Soldier, A" 

* " Poor Man Pays For All, The " . 
"Post of Ware, The" 

Pray gentle John Jarret give ear to my words 
Pretty jest I'll tell, A . 

"Prophecy of the Judgment Day, A" 
" Proverb Old Yet Ne'er Forgot, A" 
*"Quip For a Scornful Lass, A" 

Ragged and torn and true . 
*" Rat-catcher's Daughter, The" 
Regard my grief kind ladies all 
*"Rich Widow's Wooing, A Merry New Song of a" 
"Rochelle Her Yielding To the French King" 
*Rock the cradle {sweet) John 

"Round Boys Indeed" 
Shackley hay 
Shall I wrestle in despair 
She-devil, The . 

* " She-Devil of Westminster, 

Shore's wife 
♦"Silver Age, The" 
*Sir Andrew Barton 
" Sir Walter Raleigh's Lamentation " 
" Soldier's Farewell To His Love, The " 

* " Son Beguiles the Father, The " . 

* Southampton 










78 n. 



















Spanish pavin. The 
Stand wide my masters and take heed 
"Statute For Swearers and Drunkards, A" . 
*Story I'm going to tell ye, A 
*" Strange Relation of a Female Monster, A" 
*"Swine's-Faced Gentlewoman, A new Ballad of the' 
*TarItons medley .... 
There was a ewe had three lambs . 

* There was a jovial tinker 
There was a rare rat-catcher 

"This Maid Would Give Ten Shillings For a Kiss" 
Thomas you cannot 
Three jovial sparks together 
Three maids did make a meeting . 

* "Three Slips For a Teston" 

Thrice blessed is that land 
"'Tis Not Otherwise" 

To Caleb Shillock's prophecy 

To England comes strange tidings 
*Tom of Bedlam .... 
"Tragedy of Doctor Lamb, The" . 

Triumph and joy .... 
"Turner's Dish of Lenten Stuff" . 

* " Turner's Dish of Wagtails " 

* "Turner's Dream of Sym Subtle" . 

* "Turner's Pilgrimage To the Land of Iniquity" 
♦"Turtle Dove, The" 

* "Twenty-Five Orders of Fools, The" 

Twenty pound a year 

Two famous lovers once there was 

* Two lovely lovers. The 

*"Two Monstrous Births In Devon and Plymouth" 

Two slips for a tester 
"Two Welsh Lovers, The" 
"Unnatural Wife, The" . 

Unto the prophet Jonas I read 

Unto the world to make my moan 

* Virginia .... 

* "Wade's Reformation" 

Walsingham .... 

Wanton wife of Westminster, The . 
"Warning For All Desperate Women, A" . 

* "Warning For Swearers, A" 
"Warning For Wives, A" . 

*"Warning-Piece For Engrossers of Corn, A" 
Wat ton Town's end 






60 n. 




















78 n. 



263, *283 




GG 2 


Wedded wife there was, A .  . 

Welladay . . . . 

"Western Knight, The" . 
When cafinons are roaring 
When David over Israel had 
When I a maiden was 
"Whipping Cheer" 
Who is it will repair 
Who list to lead a soldier's life 
Who please to hear such news as are most true 
Whoop do me no harm good man 
*" Wicked Will's Sauce to Turner's Dish of Wagtails' 
*"WidowofWatling Street, The" . 

Wife prithee come hither and sit thee down by me 
Wigmore's galliard 
"Wiving Age, The" 
Wiving age. The .... 
*" Woman Monster, The" . 

Woman to the plough and the man to the hen-roost 
"Wonder Beyond Man's Expectation, A" . 
"Wonder In Kent, A" 
* " Wonder of These Times, A" 

Wonders of the Lord are great, The 
Ye noble Britons be no more 
* You justices and men of might 
You poets that write of the ages that's past . 
You that desire news 
You that in wicked ways long time 
You that true Christians be 
You who have been rich heretofore 
You young men all take pity on me 
Young man lately did complain, A 
Your zarvant all round and you zee I be here 

89, 104, 





189, 400 
























Gloss arial Index 

The references are to pages. Numbers in parentheses refer to stanzas. 

a, prefix (or preposition) with parti- 
ciples, 7 (14), 374(13) 

abiding, an, dwelling-place, 91 (9) 

Abides (Abydos), 50 (2) 

aboute, to have, i.e. a bout, a con- 
tinued fit of drinking, 447 (12) 

Actaeon, 452 (i); Actaeon's plumes, 
the horns of cuckoldry, 319 (9) 

Acton, Cheshire, 257 (2) 

actors, I, 30, 35 (15) 

admire, to, wonder, 130 (17) 

admirable, wonderful, 343 

admittance, permissionto enter, 402 (7) 

a drie (adry), thirsty, 447 (13) 

adventure, upon, by chance, 296 (6) 

afeard, 149 (13) 

affect, to, love, 52 (9), 79 (l), 306 (4), 
402 (5) 

affended, variant of offended, 37 (24) 

against, in anticipation of or prepara- 
tion for, 209 (7), 358 (9) 

Agas, Robert and Steven, 59 

ages, ballads on the gold, silver, and 
other, 234 ff.; the honest, 406 

alayd (allayed), mingled with water, 
etc., 119 (17) 

alegrains, refuse malt left after brew- 
ing. 349(18) 

Algate (Aldgate), London, 377 (2) 

all and some, 176 (2) 

alle, awl, 445 (5) 

ambling nag, an, 73 (2) 

Amboyna, the massacre at, 200 

America, the tallest man in (Eugene 
Arcean), 342 

amisse, an, misdeed, 56 (8) 

anatomies, bodies of criminals pre- 
served as, 43 1 

angel, an, old English coin worth 

about 10/., 237 (11), 338 (3) 
Angouleme (Angolsem, AngoUera), 

24, 27 
Anne of Denmark, Queen of James I, 

16 (19), 23 (24), 109 (16) 
annoy, annoyance, 186 (5) 
Anthropos, Atropos, 81 (10). See 

fatal sisters 
ap ap, inter j..'' 197 (5) 
apes, to lead, in hell, 132 
Apple-John, 198 (16) 
apprentice, an, barbarous treatment 

of, 222 
aquite, to, acquit, 168 (14) 
Arcean, Eugene. See America, tallest 

man in 
are, air, 152 (3) 
Arminian faction, followers of James 

Arminius (f 1609), a theologian 

opposed to Calvin, especially on 

predestination, 108 (11) 
Arminians, the, a ballad against, 104 
arson at Wymondham, Norfolk, 54 
art-tillery, fig. for implements of the 

(thieving) trade, 35 (16) 
Ashton, John, 60 
a'th, of the, 197 (7) 
Atkinson, Miss, a pig-faced lady of 

Ireland, 450 
attach, to, seize, lay hold of, 53 (14) 
Attowell (Atwell), George, actor and 

balladist, i 
Austria, Archduke of, the, 106 (5); 

prodigious battle in the air in, 161 
authors of ballads. See Attowell, 

George; Brewer, Thomas; C, J.; 

Cart, John; Climsal, Richard; Col- 



lins; Cooke, William; Culter, Ed- 
ward; Dickerson, Thomas; F., T.; 
Guy, Robert; H., R.; M., W.; 
Meash, William; Morg., LI.; 
Parker, Martin; Platte, T.; Post, 
The; Price, Laurence; Rickets, 
Charles; Rider, T.; Turner, Wil- 

Ayers, Thomas, 387 

ayery, aery, aerial, 153 (13) 

babies, dolls, 120 (25); images of 

saints, 172 (6) 
Bacchus' cheer, drunkenness, 187 

(8); — soldier's, drunkards, 169 

bachelor (batchelor), used of a maiden, 

243 (17) 

baily, bailiff, a, officer of justice under 
a sheriff, 219 (9) 

bait, a, snare, trap, 377 (5), 433 (7), 
etc.; fig., unlawful carnal inter- 
course, 62 (7 ff.) 

Baker, Sir Richard, 144 

ballads, long titles of, for advertising 
purposes, 161; mechanical division 
into two parts, reason for, 78; sum- 
marized from news-pamphlets, 17, 
24. 44» 54 (0» 96* iio» 206, 276, 

293» 342, 399' 442» 45 5- ^^^ 
authors, printers 

ballad-singer, a, 243 (19); arrest of, 


ballet, a, ballad, 34 (14), 82 (19) 

band, a, bond, agreement, r88 (13), 

bankerout, a, bankrupt, 337 
Bankside, the, 35 (15), 399. See 

bar-boy, a, 246 (15) 
barley, beer, 422 (8) 
barley-broth, strong ale, 447 (12) 
Barneveld, John of, 104 
bast(e), to, beat, thrash, 319 (10) 
bate, to, diminish, 142 (6) 
bayle (bale), torment, woe, 102 (22) 
beams, the, balance of scales, 36 (19) 


beans, to feed on, i.e. on poor food 

(cf. 'not worth a bean'), 341 (20) 
bear the bell, to, surpass, be first, 37 

(22), 184(20), 453 (7) 
bearing-trade, the, of a porter, 15 (13) 
bearward, a, keeper, or trainer, of 

bears, 197 (9), 274 (10) 
beast, to make one a, i.e. a cuckold, 

268 (12) 
beer, complaint against, a, 361 
beetles, implements for beating flax, 

39' 41 (7)' 43 (16, 18) 
beheading, the, of Raleigh, 89 
beknack, to, adorn with knacks or 

pretty trifles, 119 (20) 
belle, a, 265 (6) 
Bellona, goddess of war, 402 (6) 
belly, the, and the back, a ballad, 

belly cheer, gluttony, luxurious food, 

188(12), 344(1) 
belly-gods, gluttons, 186 (6) 
Belvoir Castle, witches at, 97 
bend the ears, to, listen, 224 (6) 
benefit of clergy, 191 ^. 
Beomont, John, 206 
beraid, see bewray 
Bergen op Zoom, 104 
Bewdly, 404 (13 f.) 
bewray, to, disclose, make known, 348 

Bible, the, and the Pope, 171 ; ballads 

taken from, 66, 350 

Bicks (Bix), Margaret, alias Elvyn, 54 

bill'd, entered, enrolled, 178 (16) 

billing, love-making (as of birds), 378 

Billingsgate, London, 338 (4) 
birds, wonderful battles of, ballads on, 

150, 161 
birth, a wonderful, of 365 children, 

Bishopsgate, London, 244 
Black Kate, a wench, 338 (4) 
blacking-man, a, cry of, 34 (13) 
blade, a, good fellow, roisterer, 61 (i) 
blessing, a, i.e. a curse, 32(5) 


blind alehouse, a, obscure, out of the 
way(?), 340(13) 

Blomefield, Francis, History of Nor- 
folk, 54 

blood used to seal a contract with 
Satan, 100 (i i) 

blot, disgrace, blemish, 49 (i) 

Boas, F. S., 200 

bodge, a, measure, about half a peck, 


bodkin, a, pin-ornament for the hair, 

Bodwin the Great, Wilts., 310 (2) 
Boetius, 22 (20) 

Bohemia, wars in, the, ballad on, 415 
bone lace, 119 (21) 
bony, bonny, 32 (7) 
book, your, benefit of clergy, 190 ff.; 

to swear on a — , 242 (15) 
boord (board), a, table, 246 (11), 

337 (0 
Boore (Boer), a, German or Dutch- 
man, 141 (4), 151, 452 (5) 
boothe, a, temporary shelter, 71 (17) 
booty, a, plunder, spoil, 35 (17) 
bottom of thread, a, ball or skein of 

thread, 272 (4) 
Boughton, Norfolk, corn-hoarder pun- 
ished at, a, 370 
Bouton, Archibald Lewis, 122 
bowler, a, player at bowls, 274 (8) 
bowzer, a, bouser, drunkard, 63 (11) 
Bradley, Mary Hastings, 132 
Brainford, see Brentford 
brangling, to be, wrangling, squab- 
bling, 317 (2) 
brave, handsomely dressed, 135 (8), 
174 (8), 210 (16); insolent, 374 
(ri); fine, beautiful, 55 (i), etc. 
brawn, boar's flesh, 142 (7), 345 (5) 
breach of the brains, i.e. injury to, 167 


break, to, become bankrupt, 337 ff. 
breeding debate, a, one who causes 

strife, 267 (10) 
Brentford (Brainford), 339 (8), 425 
Brewer, Thomas, ballad by, 1 1 

bride-posset, a, 235 (4) 
Bridewell, the, house of detention in 
St Bride's parish, London, 39, 220 
(13); the, in Tothill Fields, > 41 (9), 
143 (8). See spittle 
Brill, Brielle, 104 
Brinckmair, Captain L., 151 
Bristow (Bristol), 63 (12), 305 
brittle ware, fig. for delicate matters, 

broke, to be, ruined financially, 242 

brokers, pawnbrokers, 37 (22), 219 

(8), 319(10), 407(3) 
broom-man, a, cry of, 33 (9) 
brothel, Mrs Holland's, 399 
Browne, Robert, 206 
bruted, bruited, 279 (4) 
Buckingham, Duke of (George Vil- 

liers), 96, 276, 293 
Buckinghamshire, John Russell of, 

punishment of, the, 370 
budget, a, wallet, bag, 34 (14); — 

maker, 198 (13) 
bulls' pizzles used as riding rods, 

441 (12) 
Bullen, A. H., 104 
bum, the buttocks, 32 (4) 
Burford, Cheshire, 257 
burning of Cork, 155; of Wymond- 

ham, 54 
burning alive as a punishment, 84, 

283, 288, 299 
burning, by candles, as a punishment, 

burnt claret, 'made hot' {N.E.D., 5), 

bushop, a, bishop, 28 (11) 
buske, a,? corset-stays, 118 (13) 
buskins, 33 (9) 
butterflies, milk-white, alight on a 

corpse, 256 

C, J., ballad by, 239 
C, R., see Climsal, Richard 
cabbage leaves, to live on, :.e. poorly, 
412 (7) 



Cage, the, a prison, 75 (9), 245 (8) 

Cales, Cadiz, 119 (20) 

Camden (Cambden), Oxfordshire, 

421 (5) 
came, i.e. to be born, 246 (13) 

camphyre, camphor, 119 (17) 

Canbury Bess, 431 

Candish, i.e. Thomas Cavendish, free- 
booter, 4 1 8 (9) 

candles, lighting the wrong ends of, 
207; use of, for torture, 204 (13) 

cant, to, use the jargon, or cant, of, 63 

cantharies, cantharides, an aphrodisiac, 

card, i.e. cared, 55 (5), 261 (17), etc. 
card, a, chart, map, 416 (3) 
cards, playing, 42 (13), 43 (i 7) 
careless band, a, neck-band or shirt 

collar (used of a rope), 397 (8 f.) 
cargo! See kergo 
carking, fretting for, 266 (7) 
carles, churls, 188 (12) 
Carleton, Sir Dudley, 84, 248, 249 
carman, a, carter, 272 (5) 
Carre, Robert, 59 
carry-tales, 182 (14) 
Cart, John, ballad by, 239 
Cartwright, William, 124 
casheere (cashier), to, put aside, give 

up, 422 (7) 
cast, to be, condemned, 91 (9), 226 

(12), 291 (10) 
cast, a, throw (of dice), 247 (16), (of 

bowls) 274 (8) 
cat, a game, tip-cat, 37 (25) 
cat and dog, to live like, 301 ( 3 ) 
cater, four (of dice), 383 (7 f.) 
cates, dainties, 294 (3) 
cattle, possessions, 452 (4); live-stock, 

100 (12) 
caudles, a kind of hot drink, 136 (10), 

cauillera, cavaliero, roistering gallant, 

401 (3) 
caule, the, fatty membrane investing 
the intestines, 87 (15) 

ceases, puts an end to (of death), 321 

chalk, to be in, see score 
Chamberlain, John, 84, 89, 249 
charity, kindness, love, 359 (11) 
Charles I, King of England, 276, 293, 
425, 455; referred to in ballads, 
292 (16), 297 (8), 348 (17), 459 

Charles IX, King of Sweden, 44 

Chaucer, Geoffrey, proverbs in, 229; 

Wife of Bath's Tale, analogues of, 

Cheapside, London, 278 

Cheshire, 257, 438 

Chester Castle, 260 

Child, Francis James, 121, 132, 173, 

child-murder, ballad on, 425 

children, 365 at one birth, 121 

chimney-nosed, 246 (13) 

chimney-sweep, a, description of, 37 

chink, coin, money, 447 (11) 

Christ Church, London, porters meet 

at, 15 (16) 
Christian IV, King of Denmark, 44 
church, refusal to attend, indictments 

for, 248; women's actions at, 265 

Cibber, Colley, 132 

cinque, five (of dice), 383 (7) 

Cinque Ports, the, Dover, Sandwich, 

Hythe, Romney, Hastings, 59 
cipres, cypress, 118 (10) 
clap in a cage, to, imprison, 75 (9) 
Clark, Andrew, The Shirburn Ballads, 

I, 60, 316, 342 
Clarke, Alice, murders her husband, 

Clarke, John, 206 
Claxton, Lieut. Thomas, murder of, 

Cler ken well Green, 300 

Clesby, Humphrey, 54 

client, a, customer, 40 (3); a lawyer's, 




Climsal, Richard, 277, 343; ballad 

.by, 349 
clip, to, embrace, 231 (6) 
close stool, a, chamber utensil en- 
closed in a box or stool, 33 (8 f.), 
209 (10) 
coals, selling of, cries in, 36 (20) 
Cock, the, an alehouse, 335 (13) 
cocker, to, indulge, coddle, 247 (19) 
cog, to, deceive, cheat, 188 (14), 345 


Cole, Lucy, hanged, 299 

coll, to, embrace, 231 (6), 264 (2) 

Collier, John Payne, 30, 49 n., 161 

Collins, a ballad by one, 179 

Collins, Edward, 206 

collogue, to, speak flatteringly or de- 
ceitfully, 63 (10) 

colour, to excuse, 8 (18) 

Colson, Samuel, 206 

comans, commons, unenclosed land, 
36 (20) 

comfortable, comforting, 42, etc. 

commissioners. Earl Marshals, the, 

common, commonly, often, 64 (14), 

compass, to keep, i.e. within compass 

or in moderation, 166 (i), 168(15) 
complection, 79 (3); i.e. cosmetics, 

complement, knowledge of social 

forms, 209 (10) 
comsumeth, misprint in the original 

text for consumeth, 167 (6) 
conceits, fanciful notions, whimseys, 

condescend, to, agree to, obey, 14 

conjuring, the, of Dr Lamb, 278 
conneyes (conies), rabbits, 346 (8) 
constable, a, 74 (7), 77 (16), 142 (6), 

194(8), etc. 
conycatch, to, dupe, cheat, 412 (6) 
Cooke, William, ballad by, 244 
copen, to, ? cope, buy and sell, ex- 
change, 117 (3) 

copesmate (copemate), chapman, 

dealer, 433 (5) 
Cork, Munster, battle of birds over, 

I 50; burning of, in 1622, 155 
corn, one, i.e. one grain, 374 (11) 
corn-hoarders, a warning to, 370 
Coryate, Thomas, 1 2 1 fF. 
cosse, the, ? market, the trade, 197 


coster(d)monger, a, apple-seller, fruit- 
erer, 33 (10), 447 (11) 

could, cold, 32 (7) 

coultstaffe bore, a, on, I.e. borne, or 
ridden, on a cowlstaif, a pole or 
staff for carrying burdens, 14 (9) 

Counter (Compter), the, in the Poultry 
and in Wood Street, London, two 
debtors' prisons, 221 (15), 278 

Country Tom, 43 1 

course, coarse, 389 (10) 

Cowcross, London, 299, 301 (3) 

Cow Lane, London, 85 

coxcomb, a fool's, 319 (8) 

cozen, to, cheat, deceive, 397 (7), etc. 

cozens, cozeners, 32 (6) 

crass crone, a, stupid, dull, old woman, 

237 (14) 
crave, to, intrans. verb, beg, 127 (7) 

Crawford, Earl of, his ballads, 30, 

49 z?., 173, 256 
cries, street, of London, ballad on, 30 
crimes. See arson, child-murder, 

murder, poisoning, petty treason, 

rape, robbery, whipping 
Crispine, St Crispinus, the patron of 

shoemakers, a son of "the King of 

Logria" (cf F. O. Mann's Deioney, 

p. 90), 445 (4). See St Hugh 
Cromwell, Oliver, 189, 200 
crooked bows, to shoot in, i.e. to live 

evilly, 257 (3) 
crosses, misfortunes, 13 (3), 199 (21) 
crotchets, whimsical tricks or actions, 

422 (7) 
Crouch, Humphrey, 443 
cucking, punishment by ducking in 

water, a ballad describing, 72 



cuckoldry, eating of a ram as a sign of, 

Culter, Edward, ballad by, 166 
Culverwell, Anthony, 248 
Cumberland, Earl of, 417 (7) 
curmudgeon (curmugin), 210 (14), 

339(11) . 
current, flowing, 50 (3) 

cursed crew, the, cant name for roaring 

boys, 446 (8) 

cutpurse boys, 43 (16) 

damded, damned, 58 (22) 
damsons, plums, 345 (5) 
date, a , the period of gestation, 427 (7) 
David, King, of Israel, 350 f. 
Davies (Davis), Alice and Henry, 283, 

288, 299 
Dawes, John, 387 
dead lift, a, extremity or emergency, 

267 (9) 
Deal, Kent, 457 (6) 
debosht, variant of debauched, 191 (2) 
decay, ruin, 55 (3), etc. 
decoys, swindlers, 43 (17), 247 (19), 

Dee River, 213 (3) 
defame, evil, unchastity, 127 (8) 
degrading a knight in public, ballad 

on, 144 
Dekker, Thomas, 24, 39, 270, 376 
Deloney, Thomas, 72, 256 
denay, to, deny, 80 (7), 307 (19) 
Dening, a poor man, 370 
Denmark, peace of, in 161 3, with 

Sweden, 44; King of, t.e. Gus- 

tavus Adolphus, 418 (12). See 

Christian IV 
denoted, to be, distinguished by a 

mark or sign, 42 1 (4) 
depart, to, die, 282 (23) 
Derbyshire, 54 
Devil, the, and Master Inglebred, 

370; and three witches, 99 (10 f.) 
devil a word, the, 242 (14); what a 

(the)— , 237(11) 
dewce (deuce), two (of dice), 383 (7) 

dice, 33 (10), 42 (13), 43 (17), 183 

(17), 246 (15 ff.); ballad on three 

maidenheads lost at, 380 
Dickerson, Thomas, ballad by, 256 
diet, a, treatment, 77 (18), 136 (11), 

dildo dill, a refrain, 117 (9) 
diligence, } the Devil's coach, or some 

other means of conveyance, 99 (lo) 
dints, blows, 47 (6) 
discasting, casting off, 195 (10) 
dish-clout, a, cloth for washing dishes, 

.73 (4) 
Dives, the rich man, 187 (8) 

dodge, to, play fast and loose with, 

31 (3) 
DoiFeelde, John, 59 

dogged, crabbed, spiteful, 333 (3) 

dole, distress, sorrow, 97 (i), etc. 

Dole, France, i6i 

dolphin, the, dauphin, 26 (4), 28(12), 

doomsday, the, ballads on, no, 176 

Dordrecht (Dort), Holland, 121 

double colours, to display, .-' to cozen, 

to make a false show, 43 (19) 

doubt, to make no, have no fear, 171 

Douce, Francis, 176 

Dover, Kent, 457 (6) 

doves, milk-white, alight on a corpse, 

drabbing, associating with drabs, or 

harlots, 191 (2) 
draggle-tail, a, dirty, untidy (used of 

a slut), 32 (4) _ 
Drake, Sir Francis, 417 (7) 
draw, to, on a hurdle, 303 (14) 
draw-well, a, deep well from which 

water is drawn up by a bucket, 

drencht, drowned, 108 (11) 

dressings, apparel, 208 (4) 

drest, made ready, prepared, 334 (8) 

drink, ballads against, 166, 189, 337, 

361, 420 

droyling, drudging, slaving, 335 (10) 



drunk as rats, 63 (11) 

drunkenness, statute of James I against, 

189. (Si?^ drink 
dry money, hard cash, actual coin, 

247 (16) 
Dryden, John, 200 
Due gwin, 212 
dumbness strangely sent as a warning 

from God, 96 
Dunkirk, France, 458 (10) 
dure, to, endure, last, 120 (24) 
Dutch, i.e. German, 44, 48 
Dutch, the, and the massacre at Am- 

boyna, 200 
Dutchland, Holland, 452 (4) 
Dyer, Sir Edward, 176 

eare, e'er, 112 (6) 

Earl Marshals' commissioners, 144 

earnest, money paid as an instalment 

of a bargain, 422 (8) 
earthquake predicted, 22 (19) 
eat one's words, to, 334 (9) 
eaters, marvellous, 342 
Ebsv/orth, Joseph Woodfall, 30, 60, 

1 16, 207, 450 
eel, nimble as an, 73 (2) 
eflfeminacy of Englishmen complained 

of, 413 (10) 
effeminate, womanly (in a good sense), 

eight}' eight, i.e. 1588, the year of the 

Armada, 459 (13) 
either, both, 242 (i i); each (of three), 

381 (4) 
eke also, 43 5 (i 5) 
Elizabeth, Princess Royal of England, 

Elizabeth, Queen of England, 90 (4) 
Elsbach, 47 (9) 

Elvyn, Margaret, alias Bicks (Bix), 54 
engrosser of corn, an, his punishment, 

engrossing, buying up wholesale for 

hoarding, complained of, 412 (5) 

enjoy, to, have carnal intercourse with, 

3 (4 f-). 4 (9)' etc. 

essays, weights, balances (of scales), 

Essex, Earl of (Robert Devereux), 89, 

417(7). 425 
Evans, Elizabeth, alias Canbury Bess, 

Evesham, 422 n. 
exclaims, exclamations, 166 (3) 
exhilerate, to, rejoice, 251 (5) 
eyes, to drink out one's, 358 (7) 

F., S., Death in a New Dress, 443 

F., T., ballad by, 316 

fact, a, crime, evil deed, 57 (17), 
85 (i), loi (17), etc. 

faction, a, turbulent party, 280 (i i) 

factor, a, agent, deputy, 434 (10) 

faith, inter j., 9 (22) 

Fakely, William, 387 

falling band, a, band or collar worn 
falling flat around the neck, 1 1 9 ( 1 9) 

fardell, a, fardle, bundle, 117 (3) 

Fardo, John, 206 

farmers, hoarding of corn by, com- 
plained of, 339 (11), 370, 412 (5) 

fatal sisters, the three (Clotho, Lachesis, 
Atropos), 40 (i) 

fate, a, fatal influence, 62 (6) 

feat, suitable, proper, ? 118 (13), 397 


featly, skilfully, cleverly, 64 (20) 

fee, gold or, 7 (15) 

fences, defences, 403 (9) 

fennel, 192 (4) 

Fernseede, Anthony and Margaret, 

filching pranks, thievery, 98 (5) 
filling, being filled, 335(13) 
fire, a, started by lightning, cannot be 

quenched, 157 (10). See burning 
firing, fuel, 340 (15) 
Firth, Charles Harding, 89, 200 
fish, a strange, description of, 437 
fishing vessels, English, at Greenland, 

fish-wife, a, and her wares, 31 (2) 
fistolles, fistula, 167 (11) 



fits, ? tricks, deceptions, 247 (19) 
Fitz-Geffrie, Charles, 370 
flag, the, of a rat-catcher, 60, 63 (12) 
flamme, a, fabrication, humbug, 328 

flasket, a, basket, 274 (10) 

flax, spinning of, in prison, 39 

fleas, a tormentor for, 37 (25) 

fleath, flesh, 345 (5) 

Fleay, Frederick G., 30 

fleet, to, float, 416 (2) 

Fleetstreet cheaters, 220 (14) 

fletcher, a, arrow-maker, 197 (9) 

Fletcher, John, 66, 104,200, 212,234 

flie, to, flee from, 23 (23), 67 (2), 
etc.; fly, 164 (16) 

Fliegen, Eve, 342 

Flodder, Ellen (Helen), alias Pendle- 
ton, 54 
, Flodder, John and William, 54 

Floris, Earl of Holland and Zeeland, 

flouts, jeers, 149 (12) 

Flower, Joan, Margaret, and Phillippa, 
Lincolnshire witches, 96 

flush, abundant, 236 (5) 

fool away, to, 318 (3) 

fool's bolt, a, 3 1 6 

for why, because, 31 (3), 157 (10), 
163 (8) 

Forbes, John, Cantus, 1 89 

forehead aches, i.e. on becoming a 
cuckold, 216 (14) 

forespeak, to, predict, prophecy, 98 
(6), 100 (12) 

forlorn, lost, 240 (4), passim 

Fortune theatre, the, 277, 280 (10) 

four crowns of Denmark, i.e. Green- 
land, Denmark, Norway, Nordland, 

fourt, fourth, 113 (12) 

Foxe, John, of Middlesex Co., robbery 
of, 248 

foyle, to, foil, thrust with a foil, or 
sword, 198 (16) 

foyle, a, foil, defeat, 46 (3), 402 (6) 

foysters, cheats or sharpers, 43 (15) 

France, 45, 60, 63 (12 fF.), no, 141 
(4); battle of birds in, 161; com- 
plaint of, for Henry IV, 24; fall of 
La Rochelle in, 293 

Francis, a gentleman, the jig of, i 

Francis, Katherine and Robert, 299 

Frederick V, Elector Palatine, King 
of Bohemia, 11, 418 (12) 

free, to be, unreserved, open, 67 (i) 

Freeman, Esa, 59 

French, the, 272 (5); — rats, 64 (20), 
venereal disease; a — salutation, a 
kiss, 244(3) 

friar, a, murders Henry IV, 27 (9) 

friend, a, lover, 4 (8), 6 (i 3), 7 (i 5), 
9 (20), 53 (15), 216 (15); used 
of one's mother, 378 (17) 

fro, frow, Dutchwoman, 452 (5) 

Frobisher, Sir Martin, 418 (9) 

fructifie, to, 298 (8) 

fry, to, burn, 88 (20) 

fuddle, to, tipple, get drunk, 421 (3) 

fulsome, 61 (2), 454 (9) 

furtherer, a, 58 (25) 

G., H. See Goodcole, Henry 

gage, to, engage, 58 (25) 

Gallobelgicus, 161 

galymaufery, a, gallimaufry, hodge- 
podge, 30, 31 

Gam, Randall, 257 

game, in, sport, jest, 422 (8) 

games, see cards, cat, dice, mum- 
chance, nine holes, shufile-board, 
spurn point, tables 

gaping after, to desire eagerly, 36 (21) 

Garden-Alleys, notorious for its bro- 
thels, 41 (5), 220(13) 

Gatehouse, the, of Westminster, a 
prison, 92 (12) 

gay, fine, beautiful, i (i), 146 (4), etc. 

Gent, Edward, criminal, 249 fF. 

gentle craft, the, shoemaking, 445 

(5 ff-) 
Germany, miracle at Holdt in, 316; 

prodigies in, 151; Thirty Years' 

War in, 415 



getting, the act of begetting, 266 (7) 

Gilbert, Sir Humphrey, 418 (9) 

gipson, a, gipsy, 422 (6) 

gipsy, a, 63 (10) 

girdle, a, man s belt, 333 (5) 

glaues, glaives, arms, i 52 (6) 

glister, to, 34(13) 

globes, crystal balls, 1 1 7 (9) 

gloves, witches' spells with, i o i (19) 

go, to, walk, 99 (10), I 57 (i 0» etc. 

god wot, God knows, 26 (5), 82 (18), 

232 (9), etc. ^ . ^ ^ . 
gold and silver, Spaniards hre, trom 

cannon, 458 (11) 
Go/^e?i Legend, TAe,\'ji{s) 
golden thumb, the, of a thieving miller, 

Gomorrah, i 5 5 

gone, to be, used of pregnancy, 1 74 (4) 
Goodcole, Henry, 299, 431 
goodfellow, a, agreeable companion, 

usually a tippler, 166, etc. 
Goodfellow, Robert, 387 
goodfellowship, attacks on, 166, 361, 

good-nights, last farewells in verse, 

examples of, 85, 89, 250, 256, 284, 

288, 425 
gospelizing, 107 (9) 
gossips, a woman's female friends, 266 

got, begot, 321 (17) 
gould, gold, 36(21) 
gousell, to, guzzle, drink greedily, 

government, treatment, 225 (9) 
Gower, John, analogues to his tale of 

Florent, 449 
grain, a scold in, i.e. a scold pure and 

simple, 73 (3) 
Grammatical Drollery, 207 
grandsire, a, 324 (5) 
gratis, 245 (7) 
Gray, Walter de. Archbishop of York, 

great, pregnant, 118 (13) 
Great Britain, 45 

Greene, Robert, playwright, 66 
Greene, Thomas, actor, 30 
Greenland, 48 (11); eight English- 
men marooned in, 386 
green sickness, the, chlorosis, 64 (17) 
Grey de Wilton, Arthur, Lord, 417(8) 
Griggs, William, 206 
Grim the Collier, generic term, 36 (20) 

Grimeston, Edward, 121 

griped, gripped, clutched, 203 (9), 

groat, a, coin worth fourpence, 230 

(3). 236(9), 319 (10)' etc. 
gurmandize, gormandize, gluttony, 

345 (6) 
Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweden, 

guts, the, to stuff, 194 (7) 

gutting, guzzling, gormandizing, 346 

Guy, Robert, facts about, 393; ballad 
by, 394 

H., R., ballad by, 212 

hagler, a, huckster, itinerant dealer, 

197(11) ^^^ ^ 

hainious, heinous, 168 (14) 

haire, hare, 346 (8) 

halter, a, danger of jesting with, 393 

hand, out of, immediately, 28 (12), 

hane, to, ? ham, restrain, or perhaps 

hone, to sharpen, 31 (2) 
hanging as a legal punishment, the, of 

men, 54, 84, 96, 205 (17), 248, 

256,431; of women, 54, 103 (24), 

299,425,431 ^ , . , 

hanging, danger of playing at, the, 

folk-lore of, 393 
hanging in chains after execution, 57 

(18), 259 (10), 431; as a torture, 

before execution, 203 (9) 
hangman, the, 37 (25) 
hansell, handsel, reward, 444, 448 ( 1 6) 
haplessest, 79 (i) 
hard, heard, 385 (12) 
Hardy, Thomas, 96 



hardly, energetically, 5 (12) 

harlots, joke played on two, 376; two 
before Solomon, his judgment be- 
tween, 350; punishment of, at 
Bridewell, 39. See Holland, Mrs 

Harrietsham, Kent, 343 n. 

harrolds, heralds, 145 (2), 146 (6) 

hartless (heartless) place, i.e. a place 
of death, 259 (11) 

Hatto, Bishop, 370 

Hawkins, Sir John, 418 (9) 

heap, on a, in a mass, 153 (10) 

heare, hair, 117 (8) 

hearings, herrings, 31 (2) 

heart-string, a, 28 (10) 

heat, anger, 8(18); lust, 6(14), 51(8); 
venereal disease, 63 (13), 198(1 6) 

Hellen, i.e. Helle, daughter of Atha- 
mas, who was drowned in the 
Hellespont, to which her name was 
given, 53 (13) 

Hellespont, 50 (3) 

hemp, beating of, a punishment, 39 

Henneberg, Count Herman and Coun- 
tess Margaret of, their 365 chil- 
dren, 121 

Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I, 
referred to in ballads, 292 (16), 
297 (8) 

Henry IV, King of France, murder 
of, 24 

Henry Frederick, Prince of Wales, 

23 (24),. 30 

Herbert, Sir Gerard, 248 

Herbert, Sir Henry, 437 

hermaphrodite, an, 122, 443 

Hero and Leander, 49, 66 

herring-hog, the grampus, caught in 
Cheshire, 442 (15) 

hetroclite, heteroclite, eccentric, fan- 
tastic, 243 (19) 

hewen, hewed, 148 (9) 

Heywood, John, Proverbs, 229, 420 

Hey wood, Thomas, 234 

Hicks, a criminal, 58 (25) 

Hicks, Captain William, Grammatical 
Drollery, 207 

Hidra (Hydra), 22 (19) 

hie, hasten, 33 (i i), 63 (9), etc.; high, 

22 (19), 142 (6), 152 (3). etc. 
high day, a, solemn or festal day, 280 

hip, to be caught on the, 169 (20) 
hobbyhorse, 198 (19) 
hog-faced gentlewoman, the, 123, 449 
Hog Lane, London, 41(5) 
Holborn, 252 (8), 253 (10) 
Holborn Fields, murders in, 253 (10), 


Holdt, Germany, miracle at, 316 

Holland and the Amboyna massacre, 
200; naval battle of, with Spain, 
in 1639, 455; pig-faced lady, a, 
born in, 451. (9^^ Netherlands, the 

Holland, Mrs Elizabeth, her 
"Leaguer," 399 

holpen, helped, 82 (20) 

Holt, George, 432 

Holt, Rowland, 431 

honest, chaste, 3 (7), 10 (23), 142 
(5), etc.; honourable, 148 (11) 

honesty, the decay of, ballad on, 410 

hook or crook, by, 242 (15) 

hopeful, causing or inspiring hope, 

79 (I ff-) 
horns, to graft, on one's head, 7 (14); 

to proffer one, 8 (18); to wear, 37 

(23), terms referring to cuckoldry 
horned like a beast, to be, i.e. a 

cuckold, 331 (17) 
horning, cuckoldry, 335 (11) 
horses sink into the ground, 370 
Horsnell, William, 59 
Houndsditch, London, 36 (22), 436 

howers, hours, 98 (4), 259 (11) 
Howlbruck, Derbyshire, 54 
Hudson, Thomas, Songs, 166 
Huguenots, the, and La Rochelle, 293 
hurdle, a, sledge on which criminals 

were drawn to the gallows, 287 (12) 
hymeneal, 356 (i) 

I marry, aye, marry! 348 (16) 



I wis, certainly, indeed, 72 (i), 81 
imbrew, to, bathe in blood, 102 (20), 

282 (22) 
imp, a, child, 29 (14), 130 (17) 
impair, to, decrease, make less, 142 (8) 
impleated, filled full, 42 (13) 
inckle, inkle, linen tape, 119 (20) 
incontinent, immediately, 395 (4) 
indent, to, contract for, 219 (10) 
India, the nut of, 62 (4); = the East 

Indies, 206 (21) 
Indian, 162, 417 (4, 7) 
Indies, the East, 200 
infringe, to, destroy, 174 (5) 
Inglebred, Goodman, of Boughton, 

ingrateful, 333 (3) 
ingrosser, see engrosser 
intend, to, proceed (on a journey), 

Ireland, 45; a battle of birds in, i 50; 

burning of Cork in, 155 
ith, in the, passim 
luely, July, 287 (12) 

James I, King of England, arranges 
peace between Denmark and Swe- 
den, 45; letters-patent of, to Wy- 
mondham, 59; proclamation of, 
against Catholics, 170, against swear- 
ing, 189; rat-catcher, the, of, 60; 
referred to, 12 (2), 16(19), 23 (24), 
46 (4), 47, 91 (5 IF.), 109 (15), 
145(2), 155, 178(19) 

jars, dissensions, quarrels, 15 (12); 
used of war, 174 (3) 

Jarret, John, 337 

JeafFreson, John Cordy, 39, 222, 
248 f., 283, 299 

Jeremiah (leremie), 185(1), 188(14) 

jest, a, story, tale, 327 (13), 3.8 (i), 
376, 394, etc. 

Jew, a, prophecy of, the, 17 

Jews, the, 188 (11 f.), 218 (5); — 's 
trump, Jew's harp, 120 (25) 

jigs, dramatic farces, specimens of. 

reproduced, i, 132, 173, 207, 217 


Johnson, Timothy, 206 

Jonas (Jonah), 66 

Jones, James, a criminal, 249 ff. ; — 

Jones, his father, 253 (14) 
Jonson, Ben, 49, 66, 189, 437 
Joppa, 67 (2) 
Judas hand, a, 26 (6) 
Judgment Day, the, prophecy of, 17, 

no, 176 
judgments, strange, of God, examples 

of, 96, 121, 205 (18 fF.). See 

jury of matrons, a, 283 
Jury (Jewry), Old, London, 281 (17) 

Kalmar, the War of, ballad on, 44 

Kate and Peg, 376 

Kellet, Richard, 387 

Kemp, William, his jigs, i 

kennel, to reel to the, 192 (4) 

Kent, great eater of, 342 

Kergo, i.e. Cargo! an exclamation, 

. 192 (4) 
king, our. See Charles I or James I 

King of Spain, the, Philip IV, 456 

kiss, \os. for a, 78 
kitchen-stufF, 32 (4) 
Kittredge, George Lyman, 84, 123, 
132, 134, 166, 248, 2^6 n., 283, 

299' 305, 342, 365; 393 
Knared, Danish-Swedish peace of, 44 
knight, a, public degradation of, 144; 

wooing by, of a Bristol maid, 305 
Knot of Fools, J, \\ 

lace, to, beat, thrash, 333 (5) 

Ladbrooke, Thomas, 206 

lady gay, a, 308 (27) 

ladyfied, to be, 319 (10) 

Lamb's Conduit, Holborn, 432 

Lamb, Dr John, 276 

landlords, exorbitant rents of, 37 (24) 

larne, to, learn, 265 (4) 

Laudun, Lausdune, see Loosduinen 

Layland, Laaland, 48 (11) 

leading apes in hell, 132 


leaguer, a, military investment, siege, 

least, lest, 28 (10), 131 (20), 169 

(24), etc. 

leawdly, lewdly, 57 (20) 

Lee River, Cork, 151 

leese, to, lose, 141 (2) 

Leicestershire, Bottesford in, 96 

leidge, liege, 46 (4) 

Leighe, Sir Robert, 39 

Lenten fare, 35; — stuff, 31 

Leonard of Lincoln, ballad of, 244 

Le Petit, Jean Frangois, 121 

Lestrange, H., on Amboyna, 200 

Lestrange, Sir Nicholas, 1 1 

let, hindrance, 48 (ii), 296 (6) 

letters-patent of James I, 59 

libidinous, 238 (16) 

Lidia, Leda, 452 (i) 

lien, lain, 91 (7) 

life, to have a, i.e. 'now there'll be 

trouble,' 8 (17) 

lights, false, ? opposite of weights, 218 

. (5) 
like of, to, 242 (12) 

lily-white hand, a, 307 (14), 453 (7) 

Lilly, Will, the astrologer, 443 

limb'd, to be, limned, 177 (11) 

lin, to, desist from, cease, 213 (i) 

Lincolnshire Leonard, ballad of, 244; 

witches in 161 9, 96 
line, rules, standards, 179 (r) 
Loe (Lowe), William, 434 (9) 
lokt, locked, 227 (16) 
London Chanticleers, The, 179 
long, to, belong, 14 (7) 
Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 309 
Lookes, John, 455 
Loosduinen (Losdunen, Lausdune, 

Laudun, Lowdon), 365 children 

born to a lady at, 122 ff. 
loose, to, lose, 21 (14), 92 (n), 261 

Louis XIII, King of France, 24, 293 
louse, a body, brisk as, 312 (8) 
Lovejoy, William, 222 
loves, plural substantive, 98 (2) 

Loves of Hero and Leander, The, 342 
Low Countries, the. See Netherlands 
Lowdon. See Loosduinen 
Lowe, Michael, murder of, 431 
Ludgate, London, 143 (9), 221 (15) 
lurch, to, deceive or disappoint, 180 

lurch, in the, at a disadvantage, 264 

lurk, to, idle, loaf, 340 (13), 366 (4) 

M., L., see Morg., LI. 
M., W., ballad by, 49 n. 
magpie, the, to make stagger, 62 (4) 
Mahomet, 21 (14 f.) 
maidenheads, three, lost at dice, 380 
main, very great, remarkable, 160 (26) 
make, to, have business, to do, 8(17) 
male-content, discontent, 182 (15) 
mamesey-nose, a, nose inflamed by 

drinking malmsey, 274 (10) 
man the pad, to, see pad 
Manners, Francis, Earl of Rutland, 

his sons bewitched, 96 
Manuscript Additional, 38,599, 49, 

no, 150, 156, 161. See Shanne, 

many (a) one, 26 (4), 117 (8) 
marde, marred, disfigured, 197 (10) 
Margaret and Thomas, a jig of, 173 
Marguerite, Countess of Henneberg, 

her 365 children, 121 
Maria de' Medici, Queen of France, 

Marie de France, 123 
mark, a, coin worth about \y. \d., 

276, 344 (3) 
marks of admittance, pieces of tin 

serving as 'entrance tickets,' a 

porter's badge, 16 (16) 
Marmion, Shackerley, 399 
marriage, general satire on, 239; 

murderer's praise of, 260; of maids 

and young men, advised, 234; of 

widows and youths, satirized, 229; 

praise of, 356 
married woman, a, complaint of, 332 



Marriot, John, 342 

marry, interj., 348 (16) 

Marston, John, of Middlesex Co., 

robbery of, 248 
raartialist, a, warrior, 171 (3) 
Massinger, Philip, 104, 144 
mastie hound, a, dialectic for mastiff 

hound, 454 (10) 
mat, a, bed-covering, 33 (9) 
match, a, i.e. a slow-match, 56 (10) 
mauger, notwithstanding, 21 (12) 
maunding, begging, 394 (2) 
Maurice, Prince, of Nassau, 104 
mazed, bewildered, confused, 56 (i i) 
me, impersonal (ethical) use of, 264 

Mead, Dr Joseph, 277 

Meash, William, ballad by, 49 

meat,food in general, 126 (4), 297 (7), 

334 (7 f.), etc. 
Mensborch, 47 (9) 
Mercurius Democritus, 443, 449; — 

Fumigosus, 449 
Merlinus Anonymus, 43 1 
Merry Devil of Edmonton, The, 1 1 
Merry Dr-ollery, 60, i r 6 
mice, children the size of, 130 (16) 
Michell, Sir Francis, ballad on, 144 
mickle, much, 332 (i) 
middest, most central part, 157 (9) 
midsummer day, 328 
milk, sellers of, cry of, 33 (11) 
milk-white steed, 306 (6) 
mill-clack, a, clapper of a mill, 268 

miraculous judgments. See prodigies 
miscall, to, abuse, 75 (9) 
mischief, evil, great harm, 25(1) 
misdoubt, to, suspect, 100 (13), 129 

miss, the, failure to attain, 50 (4) 

mistrusting, fearing, 22 (17) 

Mitchell. See Michell 

mite, a, 71 (20) 

mo(e), more, 15 (14)^ 4^8 (13) 

mome, a, blockhead, dolt, 339 (9) 

Mompesson, Sir Giles, 144 

monopolies, commissioners for the en- 
forcing of, 144 
Monte lion, 431 
Moore, John, 59 
Moorgate, London, 280 (13) 
more fairer, 134 (6), 135 (9) 
more sweeter, 81 (11 fF.), 133 (i fF.) 
Moreton, 421 n. 
Morg., LI., ballad by, 270 
morris-dance, a, 198 (19), 330 (ro) 
Motley, John L., on Barneveld, 104 
mountebank, a, 62 (5) 
mouse-trap, a, 37 (25) 
move, to, affect, distress, 168 (14); 
make angry, 73 (2), 1 86 (2 fF.), 208 
(5); solicit, 3 (6), 4 (9); urge, re- 
quire, 180 (3) 
moyle, to, moil, toil, 318 (3) 
multipled, multiplied, 272 (3) 
mumchance, a dicing game, 33 (10) 
mumps, sulks, mopes, 197 (5) 
Munday, Antony, 11, 39 
murders, documents and ballads on, 
24, 84, 104, 222, 249 fF., 257, 276, 
283, 288, 299, 425, 431 
musckles, mussels, 3 i (2) 
muse, to, wonder, 237 (i i), 346 (10), 

musty, mouldy, decayed, 197 (6) 
Mutton Lane, the district of brothels, 

Nan, of Wiltshire, 312 (8 fF.) 

Nantwich, 257 

Nashe, Thomas, 39 

Neager, a, negro, 401 (3) 

neare, ne'er. 19 (7) 

nearly, closely upon, 41 (8) 

neats tongues, ox tongues, 76 (14) 

neck-verses, 249, 254 f. 

neclect, i.e. neglect, 22 (21) 

negro, a, and the rat-catcher, 62 (5). 

See Neager 
neighbours, the, stock characters in 

ballads, 74 (5), 87 (16), 100 (12), 

130 (17), 290 (8), 302 (7), 333 

(5)»335 (12) 





neither, used of three, 381 (3) 

ner, ne'er, 75 (10) 

Netherlands, the, 104, 121, 139. See 

Newgate Prison, London, 35 (16), 

87(17), 245(8), 286 (10 f.), 303 
(13), 428 (14), 436(17) 

New Prison, Clerkenwell, 303 (13) 

New Year's gifts, 337 

news, used as a plural, 156 (i) 

news, "currants" of, a satire on, 139 

News from Rome, 17 

nibs, beak of a bird, 162, 165 (19) 

nice,tobe,unwilling,reluctant, 372(7) 

Nicholas, Mathew, 222 

nick, to, put a nick, or fraudulent bot- 
tom, in a beer-pot, 197 (5), 219 (7) 

Nimingham, ? Nimwegen, 104 

nimming, stealing, pilfering, 35 (17) 

nine holes, a game, 37 (25) 

Nineveh, 188 (11); ballad on Jonah 
and, 66 

nipe, variant of nip, to affect pain- 
fully, 167 (5) 

nipping, cant term for stealing or 
picking pockets, 42 (14) 

nitty, infested with nits, filthy, 247 ( 1 9) 

Nobody, 263 

nock, to, provide a bow or arrow with 
a nock or notch, 197 (9) 

Noe, Noah, 19 (7) 

Norfolk, 54. See Boughton 

Norris, Sir John, 417 (8) 

Northamptonshire witches, ballad on, 

Norway, peace of, with Sweden, 44 

Norwich (Norwidge), 55, 434 (10) 

nosthrils, the, nostrils, 246 (13) 

nought, to be,thoroughly evil, 327(1 1) 

Noyes, Noah's, 17 

noynted, anointed, 65 (23) 

nye, ? colloquial for any, 31(2) 

oars, a pair of, boat rowed by two men, 

377 (8) 
of, off, 364 {7.6), passim 
of force, perforce, 258 (6) 


offence-bereaven, shameless, 27 (8) 

offensive, inimical, hostile, 5 1 (7) 

Olden barneveldt, Johan Van, 104 

on, one, 258 (8), 291 (11), etc. 

one, on, 36 (20), 37 (23), 300, etc. 

onion, an, a Welshman loves, 271 

on's, of his, 279 (7), of us, 368 (11) 

on't, ofit, 325 (7) 

or. . .or, either. . .or, loi (18) 

oreslip, to overslip, slip away, 231 (6) 

orphant, an, 28 (11) 

o'th, i.e. of the, 329 {z), passim 

Otland, ? Oland, 47 (9) 

out alas, inter]., 8(17) 

out of hand, without delay, 28 (12), 

overcloys, surfeits, satiates, 23 (23) 
overlay, to, smother, suffocate, 352 (9) 
Overreach, Sir Giles, 144 
Oxfordshire, Charles Rickets of, 420 

P., L. See Price, Laurence 
P., M. See Parker, Martin 
paced, proceeded to, walked to, 64 ( 1 9) 
pack, to, go away, depart, 446 (7) 
pad, to man the, thieves' slang. See 

pads, footpads (cf. prancers), 43 (17) 
painful, that which causes pain or 
death (of a bag of poisons), 63 (12) 
Palatine. See Frederick V, Elector 

palmer, a, pilgrim from the Holy 

Land, 2 (r) 
panders, 199 (20), 247 (19) 
papist, a, execution of, 57 (17) 
paratour, a, apparitor, 199 (20) 
parill, apparel, 257 (4) 
Paris, 25 (3), 26 (5), 28 (12), no 
Parker, Martin, 170, 239, 343, 450, 
455; ballads by, 212, 229, 234, 
276, 293, 299, 309, 327, 328, 336, 
365, 376, 380, 410, 425, 437; 
notes on characteristics of his style, 
229, 234, 309, 323, 332; relations 
of, with Laurence Price, 406, 410, 



Parliament, the. High Court of, de- 
grades a knight, 145 

pas, ? 33 (9) 

passing bell, a knell, the bell which 
rings at the hour of death to call for 
prayers for the passing soul, 185, 
228 (19) 

patcht faces, scarred or pimpled, 246 

patents, under James I, holders of, 
attack on, 144 

peace between Sweden and Denmark 
in 1613, 44 

pedlar, the pack of a, 116; tricks of, 
exposed, 36 (19) 

Peele, George, 66, 132 

pelfe, treasure, possessions, 230 (3), 

305 (3% 309 (0» etc. 
Pellham, Edward, his pamphlet on 

Greenland, 386 
Pendleton, Ellen, alias Plodder, 54 
Pennington, Sir John, 455, 457 (4) 
pent, penned, imprisoned, 260 (13 f.) 
pepper my box, to, punish severely, 

trounce, 245 (8) 
Pepys, Samuel, comments on the 365 

children, 124 
Percy, Bishop Thomas, ballad MS. 

of, 49, 170,^ 173 

petty treason discussed, 299 

petuously, variant of piteously, 2 14 (9) 

phifes, fifes, 75 (12) 

pick-thanks, flatterers, sycophants, 183 

Picthatch, enforced habitation of har- 
lots, 220 (13) 

Pie-corner, London, 407 (6) 

pies, cries of sellers of, 33 (11) 

piece, a, coin, 359 (14) 

Pierce Plowman, generic terra, 316 

pig-faced lady, the, 449 

pigs nye, pig's eye, 454 (10); as a 
term of affection, 'dear,' 'darling,' 

453 (5) 
pilgrim, a, 2 (i) 
Pilson, a bailiff, strange judgment 

shown on, 96 

pimps, procurers, 43 (15) 

pin, being on a merry, in a merry 
humour, 382 (4); to — the basket, 
207; to weigh it not a, 216 (14) 

pinch, to, squeeze money from, ex- 
tort, 35(17) 

pinching as a punishment, 204 (12) 

pinde, pined, made to suffer, 293 (i) 

pinsers, pinchers, 445 (5) 

pioneers, labourers, 162, 165 (21) 

pippins, apples, 33 (10 f.) 

pissle, pizzle, 440 (8) 

Pittsburgh, case of a scold in, 72 

place, in, present, 3 (7) 

plague of pence, a, 149 (14) 

Platte, T., ballad by, 84 

play, to be in, in action (as of a wea- 
pon), 153 (10) 

plays at Court in 161 3, 11, at the 
Inner Temple, 161 2, 40; boatmen 
carry lasses to the, 32 (7); penalty 
on swearing in, 189. See actors, 
jigs, theatres 

players, i, 30, 35 (15) 

playhouses, see theatres 

pleace, plaice, 31 (2) 

pleasant, pleasing, passim 

pleasure, to, i.e. with amorous dal- 
liance, 9 (19) 

ply the pot, to, drink steadily, 197 (11) 

poets, threadbare, 34 (14) 

points, tagged laces used in dress, 119 

poisoning, instances of criminal, 299 f. 
poke, to, crimp with a poking stick, 

198 (15) 
poking stick, a, rod for stiffening the 

plaits of ruffs, 117 (9) 
pole, the, poll, 408 (10) 
policy, sagacity, 389 (7) 
pomado, pomade, scented ointment, 

118 (10) 
pooch rings, pouch-rings, rings for 

closing a pouch, 33 (9) 
Pope (Paul V), 57 (21), ro6 (3); 

(Urban VIII), 170 
popery attacked, 54, 104, 170 



poppies, juice of, 62 (5) 
porters, Elizabethan company of, 
ballad on, 1 1 ; Parker's praise of, 

Portingall, a, Portuguese, 206 

Post, The, ballad signed by, 143 

post-boy, ballad on a, 139 

pottle, a, pot holding about two quarts, 

Potts, Thomas, 96 

pouch, the, scrotum, 63 (13) 

Powder Plot, the, of 1606, 108 (10) 

Powell, John, 206 

prancers, slang term for mounted rob- 
bers (cf. pads), 43 (17) 

precise, puritanical, 326 (10) 

pregnancy, an execution deferred be- 
cause of, 58 (22 f.); pleading of, 
disallowed, 283 

presaging, forecasting, indicating in 
advance, 52 (11), 156 (4) 

president, a, precedent, 330 (13) 

pressing in chains, 203 (9) 

prest, ready for action, 419 (13) 

Preston, battle of birds near, 161 

pretty, artful, clever, 323 (i) 

Price, Abel, 206 

Price, Laurence, ballads by, 399, 406, 
443' 449' 455; facts about, 443; 
rivalry of, with Martin Parker, 406, 

Price, Richard, ballad on, 222 

prick, a, pin, 289 (2) 

priest hanged in 161 6, 84 

prime, the, beginning, springtide of 
life, 53(15), 138 (18), 438 (I) 

printed, striped with lashes from a 
whip, 43 (20) 

Printers, ballad, referred to: Aide, 
John, 185; Blackmore, Edward, 
1 79 ; Blackwall, William, 3 1 ; Charl- 
ton, Geoffrey, 3 1 ; Coles, Francis, 
30, 185, 316, 332; Gilbertson, 
William, 30; Gosson, Henry, 132, 
212, 234, 300; Gosson, Thomas, 
i; Griffith, William, 66; Grove, 
Francis, 270, 309, 323, 455; 

Harper, Richard, 288; Lacy, Alex- 
ander, 66; Pavier, Thomas, 30; 
Stafford, John, 455; Trundle, 
John, 60, 283; Vere, Thomas, 30; 
Wright, Cuthbert, 166 

Printers, ballad, works by, here repro- 
duced : A., E. (Aide, Edward), 66, 
116, 160, 247; B., G. (Blackwall, 
George), 356; Barley, William, 24, 
29; Barnes, John, 103; Birch, Philip, 
95; Blackmore, Edward, 376; 
Clarke, John, 165; Coles, Francis, 
165, 175, ? 185, 206, 238, 255, 
275, 288, 308, 309, 369, 398, 430; 
Creede, Thomas, r6; E., G. (Ed- 
wards, George, or Elde, George), 
103, 419; F., M. (Flesher, Miles?), 
454; Gosson, Henry, 43, 48, 88, 
131, 138, 184,211,282,349, 350, 
375, 392, 406; Grismond, John, 
3 1 6, 3 8 5 ; Grove, Francis, 229, 304, 
332, 337> 3641 410; L, W. (Jones, 
William?), 104, i 54; L., T. (Lam- 
bert, Thomas), 228,436,442,454; 
Langley, Thomas, 436; M., A. 
(Matthewes, Augustine), 263; P., 
G. (Potter, George, or Purslowe, 
George), 72, 145; P., T. (Pavier, 
Thomas?), 23; Rand, Samuel, 459; 
Trundle, John, 54, 65, 143, 195, 
196, 221, 243, 262; Trundle, Mrs 
Margaret, 283; W., L (White, 
John, or Wright, Jr., John), 10, 38, 
115, 169, 405; White, John, 49, 78, 
165, 175; Wright, Cuthbert, 323; 
Wright, Edward, 178; Wright, 
John, Jr., 2i6(?), 247, 298, 405(?), 
420, 443 

prittle prat, trivial talk, 37 (25) 

proceeding dangers, those that are ad- 
vancing, going on, 58 (23) 

prodigal child, 247 (20) 

prodigies. See birds, wonderful battles 
of; birth, a wonderful; eaters, great; 
fish; Germany; judgments, strange, 
of God; Russell, John; Skinker, 



professors, used of Protestant Chris- 
tians, 1 06 (3) 

promoter, a, one whose business it was 
to denounce offenders against the 
law, 143 (9) 

proper, handsome, 38 (26), 79 (2), 
80 (7), passim 

prophecies, 17, no 

Proverbs: Beggar, a, on horseback 
rides to the gallows, 241 (9); Brew 
as one bakes, to, 241 (7); Broken 
staff, a, to trust, 167 (8); Fool's bolt 
is soon shot, a, 316; Long runs that 
never turns, 420; Marry in haste, 
repent at leisure, 333 (4); Monday 
is Sunday's fellow, 445 (3); Money 
makes a man, 362 (9); Need makes 
the old wife trot, 365; Penny, a, to 
serve one's need, 447 (14); Strike 
while the iron is hot, 229; Tailor, a, 
cuts three sleeves of one gown, 32 
(6), 412 (7); When a man's down, 
the world cries down, 411 (3) 

prune, to, adorn oneself with dress, 

puling, whining, sickly, 344 (3) 

punishments. See Amboyna; apes, to 
lead; beheading; Bridewell; burn- 
ing alive; cucking; hanging; knight, 
a, public degradation of; sheet, a, 
to stand in; stocks, the; whipping; 
wooden horse 

punks and panders, 41 (9) 

puppet-plays, 49, 66 

purchase, a, advantage gained, 403 

purst, to be, provided with money, 

put down, to, surpass, excel, 328 (2) 

quaff, to, drink deeply, 27 1 ( i ), 394 ( i ) 

quarter, a, place of stay, dwelling- 
place, 320 (14) 

quarter day, day on which quarterly 
charges fall due, 142 (6) 

quarteridge, quarterage, quarterly pay- 
ment, 13 (7) 

queans, jades, harlots, passim 

queen, our. 6'<'^ Anne of Denmark or 

Henrietta Maria 
quitted, acquitted, 226 (12) 
quoine, variant of coin, 373 (9) 

Rabbles, a contemptuous term (plural 
of Rabbi), 172 (6) 

rack, to, as a punishment, 203 (7); 
to increase unfairly, 219 (10) 

racking rent, i.e. rack-rent, extortion- 
ate rent, 182 (15) 

rag'd, enraged, 258 (8) 

Raleigh, Sir Walter, execution of, 
ballad on, 89 

ram, the, eating of, 328 

Ramsay, Allan, 132 

Ramsay, Ephraim, 206 

ranging, i.e. to be unfaithful, 7 (14) 

rank, gross, lustful, 196 (3) 

rape, Sandys hanged for, 249 ff. 

rashing hand, i.e. hasty or forcible, 
261 (18) 

rat, drowned, like a, 76 (16) 

rat-catcher, a Jacobean, 60 

rat-knawn hole, i.e. the source of his 
venereal disease, 65 (19) 

ratter, a, 64 (14) 

RavaJllac, Francois, 24 

ray, array, 152 (5), 153 (10) 

ready prest, fully prepared, 419 (13) 

rear, to, originate, bring about, 48(11) 

rebatoes, stiff collars, 118 (15) 

recall, to, recant, deny, 102 (23) 

Records, Charles, ballad by (.?), 420 

red-coated cheese, infected with 'red- 
coats' or mites, 141 (2) 

regard, reputation, 253 (13), 257 (i), 

rent, to, rend, 158 (16), 284 (2) 

rents, exorbitant, attacked, 37 (24), 
182 (15), 219(10) 

require, to, entreat, 50 (4) 

Rett, Henry, 387 

Revenge, revenge! 86 (7) 

revengement, 99 (9) 

Rhe, Isle of, 293 




rhewmes, rheums, 117 (6) 
Richard, a farmer, jig of, i 
Rickets, Charles, ballad by, 420 
Rider, T., ballad by, 207 
roar, to, riot, dissipate, 42 (13), 271 

(i), etc. 
roaring boys, description of, 245 

(8 ff.); punishment of, at Bridewell, 

robbery, highway, documents and 

ballads on, 248 fF., 431 

Robin, the annyseedwater-seller, 443 

Robin Conscience, 406 

Robin Goodfellow, 452 (2) 

Robinson, Fred Norris, 212 

Rochelle, La, the fall of, 293 

roe, satirical term for a woman, 75 

Rogers, Alfred, 24 

rook, a, swindler, cheater, 246 (14) 

rooking cunning, dishonesty, 395 (2) 

rore, see roar 

roseaker, rosaker, a poison, 62 (4) 

Ross, Henry, Lord, bewitched, ballad 

on, 96 
Rossetti, Dante Gabriel, 96 
round, a, dance, 443 
Rous, John, Diary, 276, 299, 386 
Rowland, John and, a jig, 217 
Rowlands, Samuel, 316 
Rowley, William, actor, 30 
rowling, rolling, 79 (4) 
Rowse, William, 59 
royal standard, the, standard star, 388 

rozen, rosin, 287 (13) 

Rudston, Honour, criminal assault on, 

by Sandys, 249 
Rumford (Romford), Essex, 33 (8) 
running, here's no, i.e. no help or 

alternative, 389 (7) 
Russell, John, sinking of, in the earth, 

Rutland, Earl of, see Manners, Francis 

Sadler, John, 206 

St Denis Abbey, France, no 

St Giles in the Fields, eating a ram at, 

St Hugh, patron of shoemakers, a son 
of "the king of Powis, a noble Brit- 
taine" (cf. F. O. Mann's Deloney, 
p. 72), 445 (4); his bones, i.e. shoe- 
maker's tools, 445 (5). See Crispine 
St Katherine's, London, 338 (3) 
St Martin's beads, imitation jewels, 

120 (25) 
St Paul's Cathedral, London, 139 
St Peter's Chalfont, Bucks., prodigy at, 

370 , 
St Toolies, ? corruption of St Olave's, 

Salins, France, r6i 
Salomon, see Solomon 
salt sprinkled on a body after whip- 
ping, 204 (10), 222 
salude (salued), salved, 13 (5), 28 (12) 
Sandys, George, Sir George, Lady 

Susanna, ballad on, 248 
save and see, save and protect, 306(10) 
scanting, economizing, 194 (7) 
scath, injury, 46 (5) 
scoff, a, jest, 163 (4) 
scold, a, cucking of, 72; husband 

punishes, 209 (i i ff.) 
sconce, a, small fort, 401 (4) 
scooper-holes, scupper-holes, 458 (9) 
score, indebtedness, 340 (16), 43 5 (13) 
score, to, to be 'chalked up,' to buy 

drinks on credit, 407 (7), 413 (8) 
scorn, to take, feel indignant, 8 (18); 

a — , reproach, shame, 85(2) 
scrapt, i.e. to scrape an acquaintance, 

244 (2) 
scrue (screw), to, oppress, 371 (3) 
scuse, excuse, 8(18) 
sea horses, walruses, 390 (12) 
Sedley (Sidley), Sir William, of Ayles- 

ford, Kent, 345 (6) 
see, to, intrans., appear, be seen, 113 

seidge, a, siege, 46 (4) 
sergeant, a, minor policeman, 219 (9) 
serude, served, 15 (12) 



Sestos, 50 (2) 

Severn River, 212 (i) 

Shakespeare, i, 18, 124, 132, 229, 

370, 437 

Shank, John, actor, 30 

Shanne, Richard, of Yorkshire, his 
commonplace book. See MS. Ad- 
ditional 38,599 

shark, to, swindle, 369 (15) 

sharking rook, a, swindling rascal, 413 

Sharocke, George, 206 

sharpers, London, ballad on, 244 

Sheba, Queen of, 350 

sheet, to stand in a, as a punishment 

for lechery, 320 (12) 
shepsternells(shepstares), starlings, i 56 
Sherwood, Thomas, alias Country 

Tom, 432 
shilling, high purchasing power of, 

under James I, 189 
Shillock, Caleb, prophecy of, 1 7 
Shipston, 422 n. 
Skirburn Ballads, The. See Clark, 

shirk, to live by the, act of shirking, 

cheating, 366 (5) 
shirking rook, cheating rascal, 446 (9) 
Shirley, James, 189 
shoes, blacking of, described, 34 (13) 
shoemaker, a, the heir of Kings, 408 

(12), 445 (4). See Crispine 
shoemaker, a, and his jesting with a 

halter, 395 (3 fF.); merry round of, 

shoot in the dark, to, act aimlessly, 9 

shot, a, bill, charges, 366 (6), 368 

(11), etc. 
shot-free, without paying one's charges, 

shroud, to, protect, shelter, 262 (21), 

shuffle-boord, shovel-board, a game, 

Shylock, on the origin of the name of, 


sice, a, the six (of dice), 357 (5), 384 

Sidley. See Sedley 

Sidney, Sir Philip, 417 (8) 

sieuet, civet, 79 (3) 

Silesia, battle of birds in, i 50 

silly, innocent, helpless, passim 

Simon and Susan, a jig of, 133 

Simon Certain, 316 

simples' guise, the, manner or habit 

of the simple-minded, 22 (20) 

sincke cater sice, five-four-six (of dice), 

sink, to, cause to sink, 37 (22) 

sinner, a, the dream of, a ballad, 176 

sisers (sizers), scissors, 300, 302 (10) 

sith, since, 231 (6), etc. 

sizes, assizes, 87(17), 102(22), 291 (9) 

sizing of bread, assizing, regulating 

the weight by a standard, 407 (8) 

Skinker, Tannakin, a hog-faced lady, 

skip-jack, shallowed-braincd, 241 (7) 

Skyte, Henry, 39 

sledge, see hurdle 

sleights, tricks, feats, 183 (19), 344(2) 

slide, to, vary, fail to observe, 134 (4) 

sliding, unreliable, 402 (7) 

slinging, ^ used of long, swinging 
strides, 33 (8) 

small, inferior, or weak, drink, 339 (9), 
408 (11) 

Small-beer, Drawer, 444 

smart, a, pain, sorrow, 215 (10), 

Smithfield, London, 35 (16), 303 
(13); fair of, the, 64 (19); horse- 
market in, 236 (9); horse-thieves of, 
220 (14); women burned in, 84, 
284, 288, 299, 301 (3) 

Smithson, Samuel, 443 

smother, to, hush up, suppress mention 
of, 338(6) 

Smyth, Richard, Obituary, 276, 299, 

snake swallows young to protect them, 




soap, Turkish, 119 (18) 

Sodom, 155, 187 (9 f.) 

sole, soul, 168 (16) 

Solomon, the judgment of, 350 

something, somewhat, 74 (5) 

somewhither, 242 (11) 

sort of, a, company (used of high 

rank), 147 (7) 
sotted, besotted, 433 (7) 
sound, to, swoon, 359 (11) 
souse, pickled pig, 142 (7) 
Southwark, an apprentice murdered 

in, 223. See Bankside 
Spain, naval battle of, with Holland, 

in 1639, 455; war of, with the 

Netherlands in 1621, 139 
Spanish tragedy, a, in 1639,455 
sparks, gallants, 271 (2), 394 (i) 
speed, to make, to have good fortune, 

264 (3) 
spells, the, of witches, 96 

Spenser, John, of Chester, 256 

spermaceti, 441 (12) 

spight (spite), a, annoying matter, 

calamity, 86 (9), 363 (18) 
spill, to, ruin, destroy, 321 (17) 
Spinola, 139, 141 
spittle, a, spital, specif. Bridewell, 

41 (5), 245(8), 318(4) 
spoiled (spoyled), despoiled, 46 (3); 

destroyed, 389 (ro) 
sport, amorous dalliance, 50 (2) 
Sportive fVit, 60 
sprats, 31 (2) 
spread, to be, by racking one's body, 

203 (7) 
spurn, a, blow, kick, 225 (7) 
spurn point, a game, 37 (25) 
spurned, kicked, 227 (18) 
standing, a, the station (of a pedlar's 

stall), 120 (26); stopping, delay, 

388(5) . 
stares, starlings, battles of, 150, 

states, the, of France, the States 

General, 26 (4); personal condi- 
tion, 28 (11) 

stay, a, delay, 158 (13); condition or 
state, 1 84 (20) 

stay, to, appease the appetite, 32 (7); 
delay, 26 (6), 159 (24); desist, 
cease, 106 (6); stop, 5 (ir), 134 
(6); stopped, seized, 27 (8), 142 
(7); withhold, 23 (22) 

stay in, to, remain unchanged (of a 
lamp-light), 52 (10) 

stayed, to be, confined, 378 (16) 

stealth, a, theft, 253 (12), 273 (6) 

stiff, strong, stalwart, 169 (22); adv., 
192 (4) 

stil'd, distilled, 117 (7) 

stile, style, title, 149 (13), where the 
title meant is "arrant knave" 

stitch, to go through, to complete, to 
prosecute to the end, 411 (4) 

stoates, European ermine, 62 (3) 

stock, a, tree, 112 (8) 

stocks, the, used for swearers, 1 89 

Stoke, a/ias Francis, Katherine, 300 

stool, see close-stool 

store, abundance, abundantly, i (3), 
4 (8), 37 (24). etc. 

stoutness, rudeness, 15 (14) 

Strafford, Earl of (Thomas Went- 
worth), 425 

strangling twist, a, halter for hanging 
criminals, 103 (24) 

street-cries of London, 30 

street-walkers, tirade against, 376 

strooke, struck, 87 (14) 

Stourbridge (Sturbridge) Fair, Cam- 
bridgeshire, 65 (23) 

suborned, 251 (4) 

subtle-pated, 171 (2) 

sugar-plum, a, 40 (3) 

surfetes, surfeits, disorders due to ex- 
cessive eating, 167 (11) 

Susan and Simon, a jig of, 133 

suspect, a, suspicion, 357 (3) 

swarue, to, swerve, 68 (8) 

sweale, to, swill, drink greedily, 19-? 

swearing, statute against, 1 89 

Sweauian, Swedish, 46 (6) 



Sweden, peace of, in 1615, with Den- 
mark, 44 
sweet, pleasing to the taste, 331 (16) 
sweeting, a, dear one, 5 (13), 82 (17) 
swell, to, become pregnant, 265 (6) 
swim in silk and gold, to, 191 (2) 
swines, 338 (2) 
swine's-faced gentlewoman, the, 449 

tables, backgammon, 357 (t;) 

tabor and fife, to dance after, i.e. to be 

married, 235 (3) 
Talbot, the, an alehouse, 338 (3) 
tallents, talons, 152 (6) 
tane, taken, 80 (7), 423 (9), 436 (16) 
taplash, dregs of liquor, very stale beer, 

tattle, to, prattle, 35 (16), 360 (15) 
taverns, methods of sharpers in, de- 
scribed, 245 
Taylor, John, the Water Poet, i r, 342, 

teens, the, 136 (12) 
tel, till, 224(4) 
Temple, Sir Peter, 249 
tester (testern, teston), a, sixpence, 

three slips for, 270 
Teyborne. See Tyburn 
than, then, 427 (8), passim 
the, i.e. they, 281 (17) 
theatres, the Bull, 30, 35 (15); the 

Curtain, 30, 35 (15); the Fortune, 

277, 280 (10); the Globe, the Swan, 

35 (15) 
theies, i.e. the eyes, 79 (4) 

theile (thele), they'll, 13 (6), 362 (13) 

then, than, passim 

there, their, 37 (23 f.), etc. 

Thirty Years' War, ballads on, 41 5 

Thomas and Margaret, a jig of, 173 

thorough (thorow), through, 103 (23), 

169, 326 (9) 
thought, i.e. though it, 401 (3) 
thrasher, a, one who separates grain from 

straw by beating with a flail, 272 (5) 
three-cornered night-cap, the, gallows, 

247 (19) 

three hundred sixty-five children at 

one birth, ballad on, 1 2 1 
thrids, threads, 40 (i) 
throw, see thorough 
Timoneda, Juan de, 121 
tinder-boxes, 41 (5) 
Tinker of Tiirvey, The, 60 
title, to, entitle, 50 (i) 
to (too), two, 31 (3), 167 (9), 289 

(3), 390(12) 
toast, a, browned bread put into wine 

or ale, 274 (10) 
toasts drown'd in ale, 246 (14) 
tobacco, 246 (12 f.), 394 (i), 396 

(5 f.), 409(15) 
Tomson, Emanuel, 206 

too, see to 

too too, used absolutely for very much 

or exceedingly, 8 (18), 433 (6) 

toot, /.^. to it, 231 (7), 233 (13) 

tother, 269(15), 327 (12), 335 (13) 

Tothill Street, London, 284 n. 

tottered, variant of tattered, 245 (9 f.) 

touch, to keep, keep faitli, 373 (ro), 

395 (2) 
Tourval, M. de, 248 

Tower, the, of London, 91 (7 ff.), 144 

Tower Hill, the, news from, 376 

Towerson, Captain Gabriel, 205 (i 5), 

toying, amorously dallying, 237 (12) 
toys, trifles, childish amusements, 35 

(16), 330(10) 
translator, a, low-class cobbler, 409 

trau ell, travail, 13 (4) 
travailed, travelled, 451 
tray, trey, three (of dice), 383 (7 f.) 
treason, petty, discussion of, 299 
trice, in a, 246 (r 5), 318 (3) 
trim, to, furnish, equip, 35 (18) 
tript, to go on foot, 63 (12) 
trot, to, go at a rapid gait, fig. to work, 

365 ff. 
trot, a, old woman, 318 (6) 
troth, truth, 8 ( 1 7 f.) 
Trott, Anthony, 299 



truculent, 430 (19) 

trull, a, 435 (16) 

Trump, Admiral, of Holland, 455 

truncheon, a, cudgel, 436 (18) 

truss, a, bundle, pack, 37 (23) 

trusting, selling on credit, 413 (8) 

tuppe, a, ram, 329 (6) 

Turk, the, prophecy about, 21 (14); 
mentioned, 188 (13) 

Turnbull, 220 (13), 433 (6); — 
jades, harlots, 191 (2) 

turner, a, one who works (turns) with 
a lathe, a joiner, 85 

Turner, William, ballad by, 30 

Turn-gain Lane, 73 (3) 

turtle, the, dove, 242 (12) 

tut, inter]., 9 (20) 

tutch, see touch 

twins, the mother of, insults to, punish- 
ment for, 123 

twist, a, rope, 103 (24) 

Tyburn, 220 (14); hangings at, 84, 
250. 425; to bear a load to, to be 
hanged, 32 (5); to leap a leap at, 
to be hanged, 38 (26); to pack to, 
446 (7); — ague, the convulsions 
that followed hanging, 37 (26) 

tyres, attire, dresses, 118 (15) 

vaine, vein, desire, 148 (11) 
vaver, to, ? misprint for waver, 268 w. 
vbbraide, to, upbraid, 285 (4) 
venereal disease, treatment of, ballad 

on, 60 
venson, venison, 33^ (H)» 33^ (4) 
venter, to, venture, 117 (5), 329 (7), 

ventures, t.e. venture us (for ourselves), 

42 (h) 

Vere, Sir Francis, 417 (8) 
victual(s), 294 (2), 297 (7), 453 (8) 
vild(e), vile, 27 (8), 247 (20), 253 

(14), etc.; vildly, 75 (9), 257 (4) 
vital breath, 21 (12) 
vive le rot, 29 (13) 
under rate, an, inferior to the standard, 

362 (4) 

unguent, an, ointment, 119 (17) 

unpartial, 171 (3) 

unpossible, 345 (7) 

unrespected, unintentional, thought- 
less, 259 (10) 

vpont, upon it, 53 (12) 

Vpse-freeze, in the Friesian manner, 
141 (2) 

vre, use, practice, 182 (13) 

Urokin, a Dutchwoman, 452 (4) 

usual, usually, 80 (9) 

usury, attacks on, 36 (21), 37 (22), 
143 (9)' i55» 188(11), 218(4) 

Vtreicht, Utrecht, 104, 123 

Vulcan, 452 (i) 

W,, W., News from Rome, 17 

wail, to, bewail, 219 (9) 

waits, weights, false, condemned, 36 


Wallen, Anne, murderess, 84 

Wapping, 338 (6) 

War between Denmark and Sweden, 
44; between Spain and Holland, 

Ward, Sir Adolphus W., 18, 104 

Ware, Herts., 139 

Waring, Robert, 124 

water, stuffing one with, as a punish- 
ment, 204 (11) 

waters, strong, restoratives, 359 (11) 

water-man, a, boatman, 32 (7) 

Watling Street, the widow of, 78 

weaned, to be, 190 (i) 

weare, were, 16 (16, possibly ware 
here), 50 (3), 52 (11), passim 

Webber, William, 206 

Webster, John, 229, 270, 300 

weed away, to, 58 (27) 

welflet {? walfleet, wainfleet) oysters, 

31 (2) 
welladay, sad sobs of, 223 (i) 
Welsh, ballad in, 212; the — lovers, 

Welshman, a, love of, for an onion, 

Westminster, 145 (i); Old Palace of. 





beheading at, 89; woman burned 

in, 284(1), 289 (4) 
Wetherall, John, 206 
whale, the, and Jonah, 69 (12); a 

great, caught at Greenwich in 1658, 

wheelbarrow, a scold carried in a, 76 


when as, when, 73 (3), 285 (5), etc. 

where as, where, 6 (14), 15 (12), 50 

(3)» H5 (0» 291 (9); whereupon, 

whifF, a, draught of wine, 168 (16) 

whipper, the, 40 (2) 

whipping as a punishment, 204 (10), 


whipping-cheer, ballad on, 39 

white, the, bull's-eye of a target, 

257 (3) 
White Lion, the, 223 ,^. 

Whitelocke, Sir Bulstrode, 276 

white-pot, a, 346 (9) 

whoot, variant of hoot, 192 (5) 

wich, see witch 

Wicked Will, his sauce to Turner, 31 

widows, satires on, 229, 235, 239, 263 

wife, a. Nobody on choosing, 263 

Willoughby de Eresby, Lord, 417 (8) 

Wiltshire, a father in, beguiles his son, 

wimble, a, gimlet, 272 (4) 
Windebank, Sir Francis, 248 
Windham (Wymondham), Norfolk, 

burning of, 54 
Windsor, Mr Holt of, murdered, 

432; Woolner of, 342 
winion, with a, 272 (5) 

winters, sixteen (used of age), 312 (9) 

Wise, John, 387 

wisp, a, handful of straw, the sign of 

a scold or "a shameless callet" (cf. 

3 Henry VI, 11, ii, 144) 76 (13) 
wit, a countryman's attempt to buy, 

witch, a, male conjurer, 279 (6) 
witches, ballad and pamphlets on, 96 
woe worth, interj., may woe come to, 

55(4)»303 (10.426(5) 
Wood, Nicholas, 342 
wooden horse, a, to ride, i.e. to ride a 

rail, 14 (9) 
Woolner of Windsor, 342 
words, to eat one's, 334 (9) 
worser, 79 (4)» 87 (13) 
Worwell, Cheshire, 438 
wrack, to, rack, torment, 371 (3) 
wrackt, wrecked, 46 (3) 
wrested (of laws), misapplied, falsely 

administered, 146 (3) 
Wright, Jane, murder of, 249 
Wright, Robert, 248 
wrought, worked (like iron), 230 (2) 
w*^, with, 346 (9) 
Wymondham. See Windham 

ye (yee), the, 106 (3), 167 (6), 381 

(4), etc. 
ympes, see imp 

Yonge, Walter, diary of, no, i 50 
yonkers, younkers, young people, 402 

(7), 452(3) 
y\ that, 241 (10), 301 (2), 345 (7), 

y", thou, 208 (i) 


PR A Pepysian garland