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by F.D. Hoen$ger 


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P. 12. When he in prison lay full poore : I [3] I. 
A person looks in through the prison-bars fo the cell in which a prisoner 
is fettered : Wood 4or, f. I44. The engraver was so accustomed fo put 
tufts of grass af the feet of his figures that he could not leave bare the floor 
of the prison. 
P. 2o. A gentleman he was of courage bould : I I [3] I. 
The gallant : from the Black-letter copy of this ballad in 4fo Rawl. 566, 
f. 204 (olim 315). In Wood 4ox, f. 89", the figure is very dim and faces 
the other way. 
P. 23. The man of death his part did playe : II [22] I. 
Execution scene : from the Black-letter copy of this ballad : 4to Ravd. 
566, f. 2o4 (olim 3x5) ; Wood 4oz» f. 9 o. 
P. 25. Good people ail, repent with speede : III III I. 
' The sign of the son of man,' a favourite heading in day-of-judgement 
ballads : from the Black-letter copy of No. VI in 4to Rawl. 566» f. x62 
(olim 26o). 
P. 36. The Lord thy God is comminge : VI [I] 5- 
Another block on saine subject as preceding, but with tbe face looking to 
right, hot fo left. Prefixed fo a I652 Black-letter copy of this ballad in 
Wood 4ox, f. x59". 
P. 4 o. Consider death must ende out dayes : Vil [I] 2. 
Death, as slayer by dart and consigner fo the sexton's spade, is followed 
by Time» with hour-glass and scythe. From a Black-letter copy of the 
ballad on the pestilence af the OxfordAssizes in July, 577 : 4 t° Rawl. 566, 
f. 2o3 (olim 34)- The engraver's inexpertness is seen by the difliculty he 
experienced with Time's forelock and Death's nether jaw. 
P. 43. That finallye we may possesse 
the heavenly ioyes most bright : VIII [28] 3, 4- 
A Christian tramples Death (represented by seuil and cross-bones under 
foot, in reliance on the heavenly promise. In the background, beyond the 
Thames, are the Tower and Westminster Abbey : from a Black-letter A.B.C. 
ballad in 4fo Rawl. 5661 f. 99 (olim 78). 
P. 50. Who viewes the lyfe of mortall men : IX [I] L 
An example of the combination of several small blocks. On the left 
a soldier, between two imprints of a lady; underneath, a skeleton, be- 
tokening that beauty and valour alike descend to the grave. On the right 
the saine topic is worked out by classical imagery, Death with fatal dart 
driving before him Mars and Venus. From ' A Looking Glass for a Christian 
Family ' in 4fo Rawl. 5661 f. 3 (olim 69). 
P. 60. Angels they syng ' behould the kinge ! ' XI [6] 5. 
Virgin and child, and «angels' with palm-branches: from the Black- 
letter copy of this ballad in 4fo Rawl. 5661 f. 56 (olim 253)- 

Illustrations Jrom ktlack-letter copies 
P. 7z. The Devill, in Frier's weed» appeard to me : XV [5] t. 
Faustus, his book of conjuring, and the fiend he has called up. From the 
Black-le,ter copy of this ballad in Wood 4oz, f. 53*. The engraver bas 
forgotten, or felt himself unahle, to array the fiend in a friar's gown. The 
second block gives the engraver's idea of scholastic dress. 
P. 76. From whence rose vp three ghostly shapes : XVI [7] 7. 
From second column of a 'very godly song' in 4to Rawl. 566, £ 
which the ' clerk of Bodnam ruade upon his Death-]3ed? 
P. 8. Therefore, i'le neuer woo¢ ber more: XVII [] 8. 
From the Black-le,ter, 'The Resolved I.over' : 4to RawL 566, f. 
P. 88. I that haue oft on the Sea beene in danger : XX [4] I. 
A sea-fight. The swimming figures, who bave all retained thelr ha,s, 
suggest that several ships bave sunk. The cross of St. George files bravely 
at the tops of the chier English ship. From ' a dainty new Dxtty of a Saylor 
and his Love ', 4fo Rawl. 566, f. 3 (olim 7o). 
P. 92. A whiffe of your Trinidado : XXI [5] - 
Tavern-scene from 4to Rawl. 566, f. 155 (olim 5I). One man standing 
glass in hand, seems to be trolling out a song ; and one of those seated, to 
be taking up the chorus. A third is smoking. The woman is pushing 
forward a back-gammon board. The drawer brings foaming tankards. 
P. 96. Into his mouth he thrust it long : XXIII [zS] 3- 
From the Black-le,ter copy of this ballad : Wood 4o f. sa*. The en- 
graver is careless as to the details in the ballad. The lance is hot thrust 
into the vuinerable mouth, hut through the neck. Sabra is no, seemly 
attired, as in stanza I8 ; the engraver probably copied an old engraving in 
P. Il6. Vnto my mill I praye yow range : XXIX [9] 3- 
Mil], maid, mi]]eG and mi]]ers man : from ' Merry Tom of all Tradcs » in 
4fo Rawl. 566, f. z86 çolim 
P. 134. If had two faces strange : XXXIII [loi 5- 
The monster, with ruff hirch, mirro G and roses on insteps: from the 
Black-]errer copy of this ha]lad» Wood 4ox» f. 
P. I4O. And there I playd at dice : XXXIV [8] z. 
Dicing in a tavern: from a 131ack-letter ballad, Wood 4ox,f. I"/8 which 
Anthony Wood bought ' In the beginning of bIarch 
P. 46. l'le leave the world, and seeke a grave: XXXV [z] 6. 
Emblems of mortality : from the Black-letter, ' The woful complaint.., of 
a forsaken Loyer' : 4to Rawl. 566, L I"/5 (.olim 8o). 
P- 59- And hangèd for the fact : XXVIII [II] 8. 
An execution scene, showing the ladder which gave the drop when 
pulled away and the mode of tying the noose : Wood 4ox, f. x43*. 
P. I64. The earth did open immediatelye : XXXIX [4] 3. 
This is a favourite cut, balladists vying with each other to supply 
incidents in which evil-doers were swallowed up quick. From ' A wonder- 
fui example of God's justice ', Wood 4ox, f. 98. 
P. 79- The h'oblest Queene that ever was seene : XLII l'Il 4, 5- 
From 4to RawL 566» f. z'/x (,olim a'/a). 

Illustrations from Blac-letter copies 
P. 18. Thus, with my bell and Lanthorn : XLIII [13] I. 
The bellman : from Blaek-letter eopy of « Awake» Awake, oh England I ' 
(No. VI) : Wood 4oi, f. I6o. 
P. I86. Abroad let vs be walking: XLIV III . 
From 4to RawL 566, f. 96 (olim I75) : a favourite cut at the top of 
anaatory ditties. 
P. 19. The king a daughter had : XLVI [] 5- 
From Wood 4oi, f. 1 i9". A medallion of Henri, duc d'Anjou (Elizabeth's 
suitor, Nov. I57o; crowned King of Poland, Feb. 4, x573-4 ; crowncd 
King of France as Henri III, Feb. x31 I574-5 ; assassinated Aug. , x589), 
is ruade to do duty as a portrait of the lcgcndary king. The picturc of the 
princess was obtained by taking hall of the block on p. 8 L and in doing so 
the face was damaged. 
P- 97- A Prince of England came : XLVI [] 9- 
From Wood 4oI, f. Io. The black mark on the horses head is a drop 
of ink which was let rail when the volume was foliated. 
P. zoo. But I was borne, with shame to dye : XLVII [5] 3- 
A military exccution : from a Black-letter ballad of date x635-6 , in 
Wood 4oI, f. I3o. The second block may stand for London or any other 
P. 2. Goe, pine thyselfe ; repent, and dye : L [Io] 4. 
Death's summons by fatal dart, and ringing the passing knell. From 
a Black-letter ba]lad, ' Huberfs Ghost ' : 4to Rawl. 566, f. I94 (olim 3o). 
P. 6. Thus they went ail along vnto the miller's howse : LI [7] . 
From ' King Edward the fourth and a tanner of Tamworth" Black-letter : 
,Vood 4or, f. 43*- 
P- 23" Tyll we two meete again : LIII [8] 8. 
From a Black-letter, ' The Loyers Final Farwel" : 4to Rawl. 566» f. I47 
P- 4- bIy walles are battered downe : LX lui 9- 
From the Blaek-letter ballad, * Shrowsbvry for me ' : 4to Rawl. $66, f. 6 
(olim 61). Siege of a town : in front besieger's battery of eight guns, each 
with a man and a linstock, firing aeross moat. To out right hand, in a blur, 
an assailing eolumn eharging over the bridge ; in background» smoke from 
burning houses. 
P- 73. Then once more did they sally foorth : LXVII [3] 5. 
Siege-piece, from a Black-letter ballad of z64o : Wood 4or, f. 33 . In 
foreground the besiegers are withdrawing their guns and ammunition- 
wagons, tleeing from a strong column of pikemen, which bas crossed the 
moat by the bridge. In Wood 4o, f. I3*, the blank spaces are fil.led up by 
the words Hewcastle (in backgroundh Scots [by the wagon), English ,at 
pikeman's foot). 
P. 77. To mighty Car/baffe walles was brought : LXVIII [2] 4. 
From the illustrations to this ballad in Wood 4ou, f. :*. Two English 
men-of-war, w,th St. George's cross at their tips, firing off guns, do duty 
for the Trojan fleet. Polonius himself might find it too great a demand on 
his courtliness to pronounce the wallowing monster in the foreground 
' very like a whale ', for which the engraver intended it. Thesecond block 
represents Aeneas, sword in belt and feather in cap, coming to Dido, 
seated in a chair of state» outzide the towers of Carthage. 

Illustrations from Black-letter copies 
P. =79- V'hich vnto thee such welcome ruade : LXVIII [xS] 4- 
Gallant, with sword ; lady, with fan, turf, and flaunting feather ; stock 
pieces as headings of amatory ditties : e.g. to the second part of 
this ballad, Wood 4ode, f. 3- From inability to treat the gallant's right-foot 
spur the engraver has twisted it round in a most awkward way. 
P. 297- On me she lookt askance : LXXIII [2] 
The bashful shepherd, with crook (broken in this cut and bag, averts 
his face. She has fart in left hand, and warns him off with uplifted right 
hand. Her heels suggest ' the altitude of a chopine ' (Haml«t, ii. 2. 445- 
Heading of the BlackAetter  The Complaint of the Shepherd Harpalus': 
4to Rawl. 566, f. i64 (olim 262). The top-corner emblems suggest an April 
day, alternate sun and shower. 
P. 302. Send then some faythfull one to me : LXXIV [xS] 5- 
Lady and Suitor. From the Black-letter, ' The Lovely London La, 
long lamenting for a husband ' : 4to Rawl. 566, f. 5o (olim ioi). The lady 
seems to be tr3"ing ' Ioves me, loves me hot,' while blowing off the down 
from some thistleheads. To provide for continuance of the gaine she bas 
ready to ber hand an additionai bundle which looks something like 
P. 323. Th¢ aunci¢nt fight of England: LXXVIII [Ix] 4- 
From a Black-letter Robin Hood ballad : Wood 402, f. xo. 
P. 3z5. The Pikemen there, like souldiers good : LXXVIII [8] 
Pikemen and musketeers, from « John Armstrong's last good night', Wood 
4ox. f. 94. In front a sergeant, followed by twelve musketeers, marching 
three abreast. Each bas musket sloped over left shoulder, and carries the 
rest (to lean it on when kneeling to tire) in right hand as a walking-stick- 
From bandoleers strapped across the shoulders bang powder-flask, bullet-bag, 
and match-bag. Each wears a sword. The defensive armour is the plain 
motion. Behind a drummer walk pikemen, with long pike on left shoulder, 
with motion on head, and plate-armour on breast. Behind are a captain 
(with a most monstrous halbert) and an ' insygne-bearer' with flag (cross 
of St. George on a canton, stripes of diterent colours). The musketeers in 
background bave musket on right shoulder, rest in left hand, probably only 
because the engraver was hot equal to drawing them with musket on left 
shoulder and rest in right hand. 
P. 328. And yeeldes my selfe vnto the blowe : LXXIX [8] 4- 
Beheading of the earl of Essex : heading to Wood 4oI, f. 75 v, ' Sweet 
England's pride is gone.' It will be noticed that the victim is lying face 
downwards, at full length, on the scaffolding, with throat on the block. 
The stroke of the axe bas cansed the severed head to roll round and it is 
now lying on its right car. The engraver bas hot studied uniformity in the 
halberts of the guard. Nor bas he succeeded in giving the headsman 
a good grip of the axe-haft. Later this block ,,as freely used to illustrate 
the beheading of Charles I : e.g. Wood 4ox. f. x45 v. 

l. Fol. x87 v, I88 toface bage I86 
2. Fol. 212v 213 : :, 236 
3- Fol. 2x6", -"x7 ,, ,, 246 
4- Fol. 229 v, 230 ,, ,, 272 



29escription of the 2S. The MS., the contents of which are 
now ruade public, is one of the treasures of the Earl of 
Macclesfield's noble library at Shirburn Castle, Oxfordshire; 
shelf-mark, Shirburn North Library I19 D 44. The warmest 
thanks of loyers of English letters are due to Lord Maccles- 
field's Trustees for generosity in granting permission to publish 
his MS. and for facilities afforded for transcription and 
collation. The MS. is a neat paper volume, closely written on 
both sides of the leaf, each leaf 6t inches by 3{ inches. With 
the binding (by Hatton, Manchester, i86o), the book is ¼ inch 
thick. It now contains i6o. leaves, marked by an old hand 
98-,Io., x,3[a ], ,x3[b], I14-I83, I84[a], ,84 [bi, I85-o.57. 
Since foliation the volume bas thus lost its first 97 leaves. It 
had suffered mutilation previous to foliation, a leaf or leaves 
being wanting between IV.o., I3; I45, I46; o.I!3, I4. When 
the library was catalogued by Edward Edwards in 86o the 
volume no doubt required the re-binding which it then received ; 
but it is to be regretted that he ruade no note of its then con- 
dition and outward marks of provenance. The internal evidence 
as to its history is as follows. The MS. is wrongly marie up. 
The second part, from fol. I84 b, both by handwriting and 
contents, must be the earlier portion. It begins with No. XLII, 
whose date is November, I6oo, and contains no piece later 
than April, i6o 3 {No. LXXVII). I take it that these leaves 
were written by one person at intervals between i6oo and 
x6o 3, the handwriting varying slightly according to the quill 
and the ink used. In consonance with this conclusion are the 
facts that this portion contains, with two exceptions (Nos. IV', 
XXIX), ail the coarser pieces, and that in it are round also the 
four places in which the music is given. Second in order of 
rime, I put the present first part of the MS., fois. 98-184a. 
In this corne ail the ballads which are later than the accession 
of James I, the latest being October, I616 (IN'o. XIV). Here 
also are ail the graver ballads, natural to more advanced lire. 
The handwriting is a very good Elizabethan-formed hand, 
using for the most part English and not Roman letters. It is 
that of a well-educated person. The signature Edwarde Hull 
is written, in this hand, at foot of leaf 155, and may be the 
naine of the transcriber. I bave called this ' the second hand ', 
for reasons of rime, but imagine that it is the saine hand as 

Shir$urn Ballads 

that which wrote the portion already described, only resuming 
after an interval of years. I regard these leaves as wrltten at 
inter-cals between I6O 9 and I616. In this portion of the MS. 
a few pieces are written in a thîrd hand. This is of a later 
formation, approximating to the Roman letters of the later 
Stuart period. From the fact that the pages have been ruled for 
it, in pencil or ink, and from its frequent clerical errors, this 
hand may be inferred to be that of a lad, imperfectly educated, 
set to relieve an older man, his relative or teacher. The second 
hand has in places amended the slips of this third hand. 
Throughout the MS. it is plain that the ballads are copied 
from printed exemplars. Thus, the copyist constantly changes 
his writing from English characters to Roman where the 
printed copies would make the saine change, as in proper 
names, refrains, and the like. Interesting problems, but 
impossible to solve, are (i) to determine why the copyist set 
himself to write out so much printed matter, and (il) whence 
he got the necessary Broadsides. Several possibilities suggest 
themselves. He may have borrowed Black-letter sheets from 
a wide circle of friends ; or he may have rented a house whose 
owner had papered the walls with them. It will be remem- 
bered that at Gloucester, in 635, John Aubrey (Brief Lires, 
il. 249) saw the engraved description of Sir Philip Sidney's 
funeral doing duty as a chimney-piece. 
Later owners have made various scribbles in the MS. in 
somewhat illiterate late seventeenth- or early eighteenth-century 
hands. On fol. 2o5" is 'Thomas Sturgies is the right Oner of 
this booke in t[he] naine of the father and of the sone'. 
'Thomas Sturgis' occurs also on fol. 234; and ' Edward 
Sturgis' on fois. I2 , 62, OEIS* , OE34- « William Halford' cornes 
on fol. 6J v ; ' Richard Halford,' fol. 62 ; ' Thomas Manton,' 
fois. x37, i6; ' Richard Manton,' fol. x62. 
Aire of this edition. This edition, being a special edition 
for students of Elizabethan letters and social conditions, ex- 
hibits the actual text of the MS. in its present order, with the 
minimum of change or omission. The punctuation, which in 
the MS. is haphazard (mostly a comma or colon at the end of 
each line) and misleading, bas been amended. Ordinary con- 
tractions, e.g. &, y°, and the like, have been expanded, as 
non-significant. The spelling, however, of the MS. has been 
rigidly followed, as also the varying use of i and j, u and v. 
The use of capitals or small letters in the body of the text 
follows that of the MS., and the use of capitals or small 
letters at the beginning of lines follows the general practice of 
the MS., only somewhat reduced to fuie. Occasionally, dropt 
letters, syllables, and words have been supplied in square 
brackets. Many obvious errors of the MS. have been allowed 


to stand in the text, but they are amended in the footnotes. 
The types used suggest the difference of type in the Broadside 
originals, where English letters supply the body of the text, 
and Roman letters perform the function of our Italics in head- 
lines, refrains, and proper names. 
In almost every text of this period the questions of softening 
offensive words and omitting offensive marrer present them- 
selves importunately. In these respects I have bowed to the 
direction of weighty authorities, and, in this special edition, 
left the text practically untouched. Some of the pieces, which 
are rankest in themselves, yet throw much light on various 
social questions hinted at in Shakespeare's plays and explain 
many of their covert allusions. Ail of them are eloquent as 
to the baseness of popular taste in Shakespeare's t/me. 
Just before undertaking to issue these ballads, I had, by 
the extreme kindness of the Corporation, full access to the 
hitherto uncalendared and unsearched miscellaneous papers of 
the Essex borough of Maldon. These have supplied a number 
of notes, illustrative of the social conditions here alluded to. 
These notes hot only emphasize the historical accuracy of 
the ballads, but (coming from one source) suggest that the 
incidents recorded in them were of everyday occurrence. 
Early printed ballads. The form taken by ballads was 
peculiarly suitable to the limitations of the art of printing in 
its infancy. A ballad occupied a single page, and so was 
printed on one side only of a folio sheet. It could thus be set 
up, and struck off, by an inexperienced workman, with a rude 
machine. A slightly later plan, securing saler locking of the 
[orme for the press as well as greater handiness of the final 
issue, was to place two quarto pages of type sideways in the 
folio-size forme, so that, when struck off, the two pages lay 
alongside of each other, allowing the folio sheet to be folded 
in the middle. From occupying only one side of the sheet, 
ballads are called Broadsides or Singlesheets. The type used 
was that now called English, corresponding closely to that 
which has continued in use in Germany ; hence these ballads 
are also known as Black-letter ballads. Long after the 
adoption of Roman letters, this English fount continued in 
use for two purposes only--for ballads, and for the decrees of 
various crown-offices issued by the king's printers. To cut 
down compositors' expenses, and to attract customers' eyes, 
recourse was had, at a very early date, to rude wooden blocks, 
which supplied an engraving or set of engravings for the top 
of one or both of the quarto pages, thus greatly reducing the 
amount of printed matter on the sheet. 
The earliest printed ballad extant is said to be of the year 
.53- The evidence shows that, from the first, there was a large 

Shirburn Ballads 

and steady demand for printed ballads. In academic Oxford 
in 52o the Dutchman John Dorne (F. Madan in Oxford 
Historical Society's Collectanea, vol. i) sold from his book- 
booth 196 ballads (broadsides, no doubt) at the price of ½d. 
each, but making an allowance when a bundle was taken, e. g. 
giving, on occasion, 7 ' balets' for 3 d. ; 2 for 5d. ; 3 for 6d. ; 
OE3 for I od. 
Most of these early issues have, of course, perished as to their 
then form, but several are well known in reprints, e.g. ' The 
Not-brone Mayd' (O. H. S. Coll. i. 87) , ' Roben Hod' (i. 79), 
and our own No. XXXVII, ' The fryre end boy' (ii. 459)- 
Zater collections of ballads. Of the ballads which were put 
out by the Black-letter press from say x65o to i68o, large 
collections were ruade by connoisseurs, who had foresight to 
perceive that these perishable sheets would in rime outweigh 
in interest and value the ponderous folios and quartos of 
contemporary law, medicine, and divinity. Two collectors 
stand out head and shoulders above the rest, as the St. 
Christophers of ballad-literature, Samuel Pepys and Anthony 
Wood. Pepys' collection, in rive volumes, tests in the safe 
quarters which he provided for his books in his own college, 
Magdalene College, Cambridge. Wood's collection, partly in 
bound volumes, partly in loose bundles, was long in attaining 
the security of the Bodleian at Oxford, and reached it only 
after most serious loss. According to William Chappell's 
count (Roxburghe tallads, i. p. vii) Pepys has x376 Black- 
letter ballads ; Wood only 79. But, in critically estimating 
the personal labours of the two collectors, we ought to deduct 
from Pepys the John Selden collection which he acquired as 
a whole (Roxburgkc tallads, viii. p. xxxviii) ; and large addi- 
tions, more than doubling or even trebling Wood's total, must 
be ruade from ballads which ought to be, but are no longer, 
in the Wood collection. Robert Harley (d. x74), first earl 
of Oxford, brought together two thick volumes of Black-letter 
ballads (now vols. i and ii of the Roxburghe collection in 
British Museum Library). Harley's binder has taken advan- 
rage of their being printed on one side of the sheet to paste 
these ballads into folio volumes, a form convenient for preser- 
ration and reference, but destructive of their original appear- 
ance. By cutting off the margins he has removed nearly all 
marks of provenance. In vol. i, however, some traces of 
paging, in Wood's handwriting, remain on the clipt edges, 
which show that part at least of the ballads came from Wood's 
collection. In vol. ii the clipping of the edges is more 
complete, and is suggestive of a wish to destroy damaging 
evidence of'conveyance'. The saine is true of the ballads 
collected for himself by Hadey's caterer, John Bagford (d. 1716), 


which are now Bagford Ballads, three volumes, in the British 
lIuseum Library. The closely pared edges, from which every 
shred ofmargin bas been removed, bave a guilty look. To the 
original Harleian volumes, John Ker ('d. 8o4), third duke of 
Roxburghe, added a bulky third volume. His Grace's binder was 
more tender of margins, and (from lapse of time) was under no 
apprehension of the cry of' Stop thief !' He has not, therefore, 
been careful to remove marks of provenance ; and from these 
we can safely conclude that all the ballads in Roxburghe 
collection, vol. iii, pp. !o-26, came by stealth from Wood's 
collection. These marks are (i) pages noted in Wood's hand- 
writing when he had the ballads bound in a volume, ranging 
from p. 7 (iii. 59) to p. 375 (ib. 24); (ii) notes by Wood, 
giving dates of his acquisition of the ballads (166- 3, iii. 253 ; 
I68, ib. 245) ; and (iii)notes by Wood, explaining the sequence 
of the ballads in his bound volume (iii. 237, 262, 269). When 
Wood's collection was catalogued in the Ashmolean lIuseum 
about xTo, it had a large volume of Black-letter ballads 
(Wood 4oo), which was missing when the collection was 
recatalogued in J 837. It is satisfactory to know that most, at 
least, of its contents have only migrated to Roxb. Coll. iii, 
and hOt perished utterly. I ara also suspicious, from the old 
paging, that the volume, now 4to Rawlinson 566, once con- 
taining 339 Black-letter ballads, of which now remain 2i 7, with 
the edges where others have been torn out, is also by origin 
a Wood volume. Rawlinson's caterers are known, in other 
cases, to have procured for their patron papers and MSS. from 
' Mr. Wood's Study' in the ill-guarded Ashmolean. 
These, and other collections, have ruade privileged stu- 
dents, who bave had access to them, familiar with the issues 
of the London Black-letter press--their rough woodcuts, 
their worn-out type, their abundant misprints. A wider circle, 
perhaps, will make acquaintance with their character through 
the facsimiles given in this edition. 
Dr. Thomas Plume, vicar of Greenwich, heard, about x663, 
and recorded in his note-book (MS. at Maldon), a pretty 
anecdote, illustrative of the zest with which an earlier genera- 
tion of ballad collectors had pursued their quest. In x64I, 
as an act of conciliation towards the Calvinists in the Church, 
Charles I nominated their leader, John Prideaux, Regius 
Professor of Divinity at Oxford, to the see of Worcester. 
When Prideaux went to be installed, a Worcestershire gentle- 
man, who attended the ceremony, ended his speech of welcome 
with the sentence: ' Lend me what ballads you have, and 
I will let you see what I have: I know you to love ail such 
Recently the Rev. Joseph Woodfall Ebsworth, II.A., 

ShrbuTn Ballads 

St. John's College, Cambridge, F.S.A., poet, musician, en- 
graver, in his monumental editions of the Bagford Ballads 
and the Roxburghe tallads for the Ballad Society (instituted 
868), bas conquered this whole province of English letters; 
and, by corrected texts, collation of different copies, reproduc- 
tions of woodcuts, identifications of tunes, and full indexes, 
bas ruade it for ever accessible to students. 
Relation of the Shirburn )ILS. to the printed collections. 
Although a veritable Saul among Davids, and possessed of 
only eight tens of ballads, as against the many hundreds 
of the great collections, the Shirburn set bas several features 
of unique interest. It bas preserved a number of pieces, of 
no slight value, which, certainly, are hot round in the great 
collections; and which, possibly, are round nowhere else. 
Further, it bridges over the gap between early ballads°and 
post-Restoration ballads, and shows that many of the ordinary 
issues of the Black-letter press of Charles II's and James II's 
reigns had been in common circulation under Elizabeth and 
James I. It also opens up an inviting field of textual 
criticism, furnishing earlier, and often better, texts than the 
printed copies ; but sometimes carrying back obvious corrup- 
tions, destructive alike of rhyme and reason, for a period of 
eighty years. Far-reaching textual conclusions may thus 
be drawn, hot without bearing on the condition of the text 
of the great Elizabethans. It is, above ail, a sinmalarly 
representative collection, embracing ballads of almost every 
type in circulation, and so presenting us with just the library 
which was found in most English households in Shakespeare's 
rime. The one exception, a striking one, is the Robin Hood 
ballad, which is quite unrepresented. A set of these may well 
bave been in the missing ninety-seven leaves. 
Distribution of ballads. The ballads were sold in bundles 
by the printer to wandering minstrels, who sang them at 
markets and faits to recommend them to the public, teaching 
purchasers the tunes. For success as a ballad-monger a 
wheedling manner was requisite, with discernment of character 
to press, on possible buyers, just the sort of verses they 
wanted, and by just the arguments which appealed to them ; 
but, above ail, a good voice was needed. In x6x I Shakespeare, 
in .Autolycus (A l$'inter's Talc, .Act iv, Scene 3), depicted 
the man and his manners. It so happens that we bave in real 
people of the rime the very persons who might have sat for 
this portrait. At Maldon, 1594, the Town-clerk's list of 
persons disaffected towards the Puritan magistracy indudes 
' Thomas Spickernell , somtyme apprentice to a bookebyndcr; 
after, a vagrant pedler ; then, a ballett singer and seller ; and 
a Alternative spelling ' Spigurnell ' ; an old Maldon stock. 


now, a minister a and alehouse-keeper in Maldon '. In John 
Aubrey's Brie/" Zives, i. J84, we have this vivid portrait of 
Richard Corbet, M.A. 16o5, D.D. ,6x 7 :-- 
'After he was Doctor of Divinity, he sang ballads at the 
Crosse at Abingdon on a market-day. He and some of his 
camerades were at the taverne. The ballad singer complaynd, 
he kad no custome, he could hot _tn«tt off kis ballades. The 
jolly Doctor putts off his gowne, and putts on the ballad- 
singer's leathern jacket ; and being a handsome man, and had 
a rare full voice, he presently vended a great many, and had 
a great audience.' Put together Spigurnell and Corbet; 
voilà Autolycus ! 
Cntents of the ballads. The roughest classification of 
these ballads shows the important place they occupied in the 
intellectual life of the nation. 
They served, for one thing, as a weekly newspaper. The 
fariner and his man heard, in the market, the ballad-singer 
proclaiming the events of the day, great battle abroad, damage 
by thunderstorm, execution of a noted highwayman, dreadful 
murder, sad accident, and the like; and bought, and took 
home to farm-house and cottage, the broad-sheet which 
promised a true and particular account of the event. Thus, 
we have notices ofthe Earl of Bedford's death, I58.5 , No. LXII; 
the Spanish sack of Calais, I596, No. LX; Essex's Irish 
campaign, x599, LXXVIII; Elizabeth's anniversary, i6oo, 
XLII; in I6oi, a triple record, the execution of Essex, 
LXXIX, the campaign in the Netherlands, LXVII, and the 
Spanish invasion of Ireland, XXXI ; and, in I6O3, the acces- 
sion of James I, LXXVII. The Norwich thunderstorm 
of I6O cornes in No. XLVIII. Highwaymen figure in 
Nos. XXXII (I.597) and II (after 16o3). Murderers corne 
in XXV, XXVI, XXVII. A drowning accident (66) is 
described and declaimed on in No. XIV. 
Secondly, the ballads represent modern fiction, in something 
of its variety of interest and diversity of source. Thus, we 
have novels of domestic lire, some professedly of English 
origin (Nos. I, XLIX, LXIV), others (as No. LXXI) 
based on those Italian novelle, from which the Elizabethan 
dramatists chiefly derived their plots. Nos. XLVI, LI, 
LXXVI have a sort of historical setting, and anticipate in 
a way the historical novel. Of romance, pure and simple, 
we have examples drawn from Teutonic fairy-tale (XV, 
XXXVII), from church legend (XXIII), and from classical 
story, filtered through Italian novelle (LV, LXVIII). 
Thirdly, the ballads discharged the functions of the modern 
pulpit. Parson might be a ' homilist ', like Thomas Hobbes's 
 Of what sect ? 

çrurn lallals 

father (Aubrey's Brief Lires, i. 33), and hOt preach; or 
a pedant, quoting Greek and Hebrew ; or a drone, who sent 
men to sleep; but, in Saturday's market, any staid house- 
holder could buy a sermon in verse, to be sung, or recited, 
at whatever 'good exercise' (No. IX, stanza Jo) he used in his 
household on Sunday evening. These religious pieces differ 
widely in type and in merit. Nos. XI, XII, XXIV, XLI 
are expository of Scripture; Nos. XVIII, XL are devotional 
pieces. In both sets direct contact with the very words of 
Scripture gives a depth of feeling and a wealth of thoughfful 
expression, which invest them with a greater dignity than 
they might otherwise bave attained, a feature hOt unknown 
in modern hymnals. Nos. III, VII, XXXVI are high 
musings on the vanity of lire and the certainty of judgement, 
in the tone of, and hot unworthy comparison with, Edmund 
Spenser's Small toemes of tlte Worlds Vanitie and the 
earlier Spanish Coplas of Don Jorge Manrique (Englisht by 
H. W. Longfellow). With these may be placed Nos. XXVIII 
and LIX, similar musings, inspired by Stoic philosophy 
rather than by Christianity, and so comparable to Francis 
Bacon's The IVorM's a Bubble. Nos. V, VI, VIII, IX, XLIII, 
LXIII are hortatory serinons, hOt altogether devoid of truth 
or force or music. Several pieces, however, are wretched 
exaggerations by way of 'improving' special occasions (such 
as monstrous births, executions, pestilence), or are mere 
canting fictions. From these, melody and truth bave jointly 
fled. Of this sort are X, XVI, XXXIII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, 
XLVII, XLIX, LXXII. The stage is hOt much in evidence 
and little in favour in these ballads. No. XXV, stanza 7, 
mentions the play-house in a list of demoralizing agencies. 
No. LXI, however, is a dramatic sketch of interest and merit. 
Two social questions are treated with much wit and spirit, 
the ecclesiastical courts (LXXV)and temperance (XXXIV). 
The remaining ballads relate to the perennial topics of wooing 
and marriage, conviviality and funerals, often sinking into 
doggerel. A few, however, bave that bird-like melody of the 
lyrics in Shakespeare's plays, which Milton possibly had in 
his thoughts when he pictured him as 'warbling his native 
wood-notes wild'. It is a singular ethical fact, and one much 
to the front in these ballads, that, while this gift of melody 
vanishes at the least intrusion of pharisaical preaching, it 
often remains where the ideas have sunk to mere filth. 
Dated ballads. Of the eighty ballads contained in the 
MS., twenty-eight possess in themselves, either in statement 
or in allusion, fairly definite dates. In order of rime, these 
run :-- 



5 Jul¥ x585, No. LXII. Apr. I596 , LX. 3 Dec. I597, 
XXXII. 3 Apr. I599, LXXVIII. 8 Sept. x6oo, XLVII. 
17 Nov. 16oo, XLII. 5 Feb. I6OO-i, LXXIX. 9 Apr. 
x6ox, XLVIII. 31 July 16Ol. LXVII. 16Ol 1, XXVI, 
XXVII. 9 Jan. I6Ol-oE, XXXI. 16 March 16OI-oE, LXXII. 
Before 5 March i6o3, XLIII, LVIII. 

Apr{{ x6o3, No. LXXVII. After James l's accession. 
Nos. I", II, III, Vil, VIII, XXXVI. 16o9, XXXIII. 5 Dec. 
i61, XXXVIII. Feb. x61m-x3, X. x6x4, IX. o Scpt. 
16x6, XVI. 15 Oct. 6x6, XIV. 
In the undated pieces, I can find nothing suggestive of 
a later date than 16x6; and I think they may be divided 
between the two reigns in something like the above proportion. 
Re-dating of ballads. The printers of ballads brought their 
successive issues up to date by silently altering the dates and 
other marks of time. Thus, the saine ballads which had 
appeared in Elizabeth's reign with a parting prayer for 'out 
Queen ', go on appearing in James I's reign, with the style 
changed to 'out King'. This renders it a difficult task to 
pronounce as to the actual date, or the historical accuracy, of 
many ballads. Nos. XXVI, XXVII are cases in point. 
Taking the date, I6OI, as unhesitatingly assigned in the MS. 
to the quadruple execution I caused the burial registers 
of Bamstaple to be searched for the years x6oo to I6O. 
Finding no reference to G'eorge Strangwidge or Eulalia Page 
there, I was inclined to regard the story as mere romance. 
I afterwards round that the ballads had already appeared 
in I59I , and that the date 16ox was a figment of the printer 
to make his reprint appear a new issue. Mr. C. E. Doble then 
supplied me with the exact reference. 
Place-names. Printed ballads frequently bave attributions 
of town or county intended to commend them to special 
audiences by" local interest. These Shirburn ballads are 
somewhat singular, in being mostly' of a general type; 
but a few local names occur. London is naturally the most 
frequent: Nos. I, V, XIV, XXI, XXII, XXV, XLVII. 
Others are :mBarnstaple, XXVI ; Coventry, XXIII ; Kendal, 
II; Lichfield, LXXV; Manchester, XXIX; Margate, LXIV; 
Norwich, XLVI II ; N ottinghamshire, LI, LXXVI ; Worcester, 
L; York, XL. No. XXXII revels in place-names, from 
Devonshire to Essex. 
' But reprints from 59t. ' But a reprint from z59"/. 


No. i 

Of the kind widow of Watling Street 

Fol. 98 ; with second part on fol. Ioo v. Text given in Roxburghe 
2Ballads, viii. 8, from several later Black-letter exemplars. The ballad 
was entered at Stationers' Hall, 15 August, 1597 ; but the present text, 
from the mention of James I in stanzas 23 and 4o, is later than 16o'2- 3. 
In 16o7 was printed a comedy ' Tbe Puritaine, or the Widdow of Watling- 
srreete, . . . Written by W.S.', initiais expanded in later issues, by the 
impudence of the booksellers, to William Shakespeare. The plot is 
altogether different from the ballad, but the2#ersonaeare the same in both--- 
a rich widow, three daughters, and a prodigal son. 
Watling Sta'eet is still round in the map of London. It leads eastwards 
from St. Paul's Churchyard, north of, and parallel to, Cannon Street. 
The statement (stanza 6) of the ' Custom of London' shows that the 
writer had only an indistinct knowledge of the facts. That custom 
(R. R. Sharpe's Introduction, p. xxxiii, to vol. i of Calendar of I-Iustings 
FVills, London, 1889) required that a freeman of London must leave one- 
third of his personalty (movables) to his widow, and one-third to his 
children, but might dispose of the remaining third at his pleasure. By 
ordinary law, prevalent in London (I assume) as elsewhere, the widow 
would be entitled also to life-rent of one-third of the real property. This 
is hOt alluded to in the ballad : but a novelist's law must hOt be examined 
too narrowly. 
The appeal (stanzas 9 and 23) to the Lords of the Privy Council, in a 
matter within the province of the law courts, seems strange to us, but is 
historically correct. The Council, at the date of the ballad, exercised 
indefinite judicial functions, to which litigants had recourse by petition, 
ignoring the courts of law. About 6oo there was a dispute at Maldon, 
between the corporation and John Cade, about some new buildings at 
Cade's wharf, which the corporation regarded as encroaching on town-land. 
Cade went stralght to the Privy Council, and accused the corporation of 
• trespass against him in his wharffs and wharfages', blaldon authorities 
had to defend themselves before the Council in London, where their 
charges were ,. The Council decided in their favour, and Cade was 
' greatly rebuked as a troublesome fellow '. 

Shirburn Ballads, 1 

Ke first part of te ibol of wallingstreete 
an rr 3 augtcra, an o er ice 
onne accuc cr for a Çarlot, an  itera 
atara, etc. 

To THE TUNE OF Bragandary. 

OF the kind widow of zPatlinge slreete 
I will the story tell, 
Who by her husband deere was left 
in substance rich and well. 
A prodigall sonne likewise had shee, 
and fayre young daughters louely three. 
Greal misery, sorrow and miser)', 
commeth for zvant of grace. 

Title] The 'etc.' of the lIS. replaces 'only to deprive them of 
their portions' of the B.-L. copy. 
Ix] 7 Refrain to follow each stanza. 

S/irurn Ballads, I 
For, by his dayly practises, 
which were both lewde and iii, 
His father's hart flore him was drawne, 
his loue, and his goodwill. 
But yet, what chaunce so ere befell, 
his mother loued him dearely and well. 
When he in prison lay full poore 
for debt which he did owe, 
His father would hOt styrr out of doore 
for to release his woe. 
But, when his mother his greefe did see 
she found the meanes to sert him free. 
And, when ber husband fell full sicke, 
and went to make his will, 
' O husband, remember your sonne,' she said, 
'although he bath beene iii. 
'But yet, noe doubt, he may returne, 
' repentinge the evill that he bath done.' 
'Remember, wife, that sorrow and care 
'through him I dayly round, 
'Who, through his lewd vngratious deeds, 
' hath spent me many a pound. 
' And therefore, let him sinke or swimme, 
'I meane hot for to deale with him ; 
'And, therefor, sole Executor heere 
' I doe thee only make, 
' To pay the debts and legasyes : 
' the rest vnto thee take.' 
' Not soe, my husband deare,' quoth shee 
'but let my sonne be ioynde with me: 
' For why ? he is out child,' shee said, 
' we can it not denye, 
' The first that ever gracèd yow 
' with father's dignitye. 
'Or, yf that ever yow did me love, 
'graunt this request for his behove. 

[7] $. Or] radOh. 

ç/zirburn ']3allads, 1 

«Thy love, deare wife, was evermore 
'most precious vnto me; 
And therefore, for thy sweete love's sake, 
' I grant thy suyt to thee. 
'But, ere the yeare be fully spent, 
' I know thow wilt the saine repent.' 
Now was the sonne receiud home, 
and, with his mother deare, 
Was ioynd Executor of the will, 
which did his courage cheere. 
The old man, dyinge, buried ,,vas: 
but now, behould, what came to passe. 
The funerall being ended quite, 
it fell vpon a daye 
Some frinds did fetch the widow forth, 
to drive conceyts awaye. 
While she was forth, and thought no iii, 
her wicked sonne doth worke his will. 

Possession of the howse he tooke, 
in most despitefull wise, 
Throwing his systers out of dores, 
with sad lamenting cryes. 
When this they did their mother shew, 
she would hot beleeue he would do so. 

But, when she came vnto her howse, 
and round yt trew in deede, 
Shee cald vnto her son, and sayd 
(although her heart did bleed), 
'Corne downe, my son, corne downe,' quoth she, 
' let in thy mother, and systers three.' 
'I will not let in my mother,' he said, 
' nor sisters any one. 
' The howse is mine ; I will it keepe ; 
' therefore, awaye be gone ! ' 
' O sonne, canst thow indure to see it ? 
'thy mother and systers to lye in the streete. 

Shirurn Ballacls, I 
' Did hot th), father, by his will, 
'for tearme of this my lyfe, 
' Giue me this howse for to enioye, 
' without ail further strife ? 
' And more, of ail his goods,' quoth shee, 
' I ara an Executor, ioyned with thee.' 
' My father left ,ow the howse ;' he said, 
' but this was his intent : 
'That yow therefore, during your lyfe, 
'should paye me yearely rent. 
' A hundrede pounde a yeare, therefore, 
' yow shall me giue ; or giue it o're. 
' And, syth the Cittye's custome is 
' that yow the thirde must haue 
' Of ail my father's movables, 
'I graunt what lawe doth crave ; 
'But hot a penny more will I 
'discharge of any legasye.' 
'O wicked son,' quoth shee, ' that seeks 
' thé, mother thus to fleece. 
'Thé, father to his daughters gave 
' Three hundred pound a peece. 
' Tell me who shall their portions pay, 
«appointed, at their mariage daye.' 
Then, with a scornefull smile, he sayd: 
' What talke yow of soe much ? 
'Tenn pound a peece I will gyve them, 
'my charytye is such.' 
' Now fye vpon thee, beast !' quoth she, 
'that thus dost deale with them and mee. 
But, eare that I will take 
' this inurye at thé, hand, 
The chiefest Peers of EnKland shall 
' the marrer vnderstande.' 
'Nay yf yow goe to that,' quoth he ; 
' mark well what I shall tell to thee. 

[xg] x that I] r«ad that the, and I. 

a inurye] read iniur e. 

Shirburn Ballads, I 

Thow hast a secret Harlot bin 
'(and this l'le prove full plaine), 
' That in my fathefs lyre aliue did 
'leud Ruffians intertaine, 
'The which did then beget of thee, 
' in wicked sort, these bastards three. 

• No daughters to my father then 
' were they in any wise, 
' As he supposd them for to be, 
'thus blindinge soe his eyes. 
' Therefore no right at all have they 
'to anye pennye gyven this daye.' 

When we did heare her shamelesse son 
for to defame her soe, 
She, with her lovely daughters three, 
with greife awaye did goe: 
But, how this marrer out did fall, 
the seconde part shall shew yow all. 
[Great misery, sorro'a, and miser)/, 
cometh for want Of grace.] 

Ke e¢ovt part of tc Iiol of watlinge 
streete anl ]er tree aulIter. 

To THE TUNE OF T/r/ wanlon wife. 


The beautyfull widdow of IValling street 
being falsly accused by her sonne, 
With her three daughters of favour so sweet, 
whose beauty the love of soe many had won, 
With her daughter three for succour went she 
vnto the King's Counsell of noble degree. 
Now fy z,pon falskood and forgery fraile/ 
for great is the lruth, and it will preuaile. 

[20] 3 ]yfe aliue] read ]yfe-time. [2I] 4 thus] nad thou. 
[2ai x we] ead she. [3] 5 daughter] readdaughters. 
6 King's] i.e. James I. 3 Refrain to fo|love each tanza. 

Shirtu rn Ballads, I 
lier sonne by writ now sommond is 
at the Star Chamber with speed to appeare, 
To answeare there the abuses of his: 
the Lords of the Counsell the matter will heare. 
This newes was brought ; his wits he sought, 
which way his villany best might be wrought. 
Then, vp and downe the Cytye so fayre, 
he seeketh companions to serve his tume, 
A sort of vagabonnds, naked and bare, 
the which to worke murthers for mony are won. 
These wretches, behould! for mony and gould 
he hird, for witnes his lyes to uphould. 
'My maisters,' quoth he, 'my mother, by naine, 
'to be a lewd strumpet accuslxl I haue ; 
'And, havinge no witnes to prove the saine, 
'your ayd and assistance herein I doe crave. 
'Therefore, without feare, belote the lords there, 
'that this thing is certaine, yow syx shall it sware. 
'The first two,' quoth he, ' shall sware, of a booke, 
' that sixteene yeares past they plainely did sec, 
• As they through the garden hedg sadly did looke, 
' that she in one hower was abush:l by three ; 
' And how it fell, as the[y] markt it well, 
' that iust nine mo[n]thes after she had ber first gifle. 
'The second couple shall sware in this sort, 
' that at bristow fayre, about '7 years past, 
'She with ber owne aprenties did fall in such sport 
' that her second daughter was got at the last.' 
' Now trust vs,' quoth they, 'wee'le sware what yow say, 
'Or any thing els, for mony, this daye.' 
' And now the third couple their oth shall now take 
'that, as at the bath she stayd one day, 
'For ach in ber bones (as the scuse she did make), 
' how she with a courtier the wanton did play, 
'And how well yow wot, in the pleasant plot, 
'ber dearest young daughter for certaine was got. 
[aT], of ai rcad on the.. [uS] u ,7] thirteen. 3 aprentie-] prentice. 
[ug] * And now] rcad And thus. 
s.,.,, c ( '7 ) 

çAirturn Ballads, I 
But now, yow masters, your names let me knowe, 
' that I ma)' provid yow appareil with speed. 
Like syxe grave Cittizens so must yow goe ; 
' the better the speeches the Lords will heede. 
' So shall I, with scome, ere Saterday morne, 
'prove her a harlot; my sisters, base-borne.' 
'My naine is Mrake-stift,' the first man did saye ; 
and 'Frands Zight-flnKer; the second like-wise ; 
'Cutbert Creee-window,' the third to displaye ; 
and 'Rowland Rob-man; with foule staringe eyes. 
'Jack Slmmeles' corne then ; with '//arry Stele-en '. 
« Yow are,' quoth the widdow, « some right honest men 
Belote the Lords, most prudent and wise, 
this wretch doth with his witnes corne. 
The mother complaines, and Justice doth crave, 
of ail the offences that he bath her donc. 
' My Lords !' then quoth she, ' I pray yow heare me. 
'The law, for my deeds, my warrant shall be. 
I say shee is a Harlot most vile, 
'and those be her bastards that stand here in place: 
And that shee hath often her body defilde, 
'by very good witnes l'le prove to her face.' 
' This thing ofthy mother thow oughtest for to smother 
' 'tis shame for a child to speake iii of the mother. 
But, yf this marrer be provd vntrewe, 
'and thow a false lyar be round to thy face, 
Worse then an Infldell, Pagon, or 
'thow oughtest tobe punisht and plaged in this case. 
' And therefore, draw neere: and now let vs heare 
'what sayes the witnes that here doth appeare.' 
When the first couple did corne to sware, 
the[y] quivered and quakt in most wonderous sort. 
The Lords' very countenance did put them in feare, 
and now they knew hOt what to report. 
The second, likewise, so stared with their eyes; 
They stammered ; and knew hOt what to devise. 

[$o]  yow] rtad my 4 the speeches] rtad your speeches. 
[3 x] 5 corne] read came. [3a] I] read grave, a witnes] 
read witnesses. $ she] rtad he. 

SAir$urn Ballads, I 
The Lords, perceiuyng the case how it went, 
did aske the last couple s, hat they had to saye. 
Who fell on theire knees, incontinent, 
sayinge they s, ere hyr'd for mon), that da),. 
Quoth they: 'It is so: the truth for to shew, 
'Against the poore widow nothing we do know.' 
Thus was the widdow deliuered from blame, 
with ber three daughters of beauty most bright ; 
Her sonne, reprochd with sorrow and shame, 
having his iudgment appointed him right-- 
To loose at the least the good he possest, 
to lose both his eares, and banisht to test. 
[38 ] 
When he hard this iudgment pronouncd to be, 
the teares fell bitterly from his face ; 
To mother and systers he kneeled on his knee, 
confessing that lucre had wrought his disgrace. 
That 'for my owne gaine, I sought to detaine 
my sisters' three portions ; this lye I did frame.. 
Therefore, deare mother, forgivnes I crave 
'of yow and my sisters, offended soe sore. 
'bly body from perill yf yow will but saue, 
' I sware I will greeve and offend yow no more.' 
The Lords then replide : 'The law iustly tride, 
'the punis[h]ment now thow art like to abide. 
'Therefore to prison now thow shalt go, 
'where thow shalt the King's pleasure abide. 
' From thence tobe brought, with shame and with 
'to surfer thy punishment dew for thy pride. 
'Then, out of hand, thow shalt vnderstand, 
' that presently thow shah be banisht the land.' 
Now, while in prison this prisoner did test, 
himselfe he hangtM in desperate sort 
Such horror of conscience possesstM his brest ; 
a[n]d, being cast forth, the ravens pict out his eyes. 
Ail children behould what heare bath bin tould; 
accuse no man falsely for lucre of gould. 
gVato fie vison falshood and forger), iraile .t 
and great is the truth, and it will prevaile. 
[$7] $ loose] read Iose. good] read goods. [$8] a from] 
read down from. 6 frame] read faine (,i.e. feign). [40] a King's] 
i.e. James I. [4ri a sort] read wise. 4 the ravens] omit the. 
C 2 (I9) 

Shirurn Ballads, II 

No. II 
To lodge it was my luck of late 
Foi. Ioz*; with second part on foi. Io3". Text given in Ro:burghe 
l?allads, vii. 604, from Biack-letter exemplars, in which the tune is named 
Wharton. The tune (known as ' Down Plumpton Park', or ' Plumpto.n 
Park'), and refrain, belong to an oider balla& This Plumpton is m 
Cumberland, north of Penrith, and a long way from Kendal in West- 
morland. There is another Piumpton in Northamptonshire. The king's 
receiver was an official who, personaily or by deputy, went on circuit, 
at the usual term-days, to the different county towns to coilect quit-rents, 
fines, and other dues belonging to the crown. 

 lamentation of yhon )IIus£rave, I10 
Ia utb at Kendall for robbing t 
king' eteiuer f eat tre f eure. 
To lodge yt was my lucke of late, 
at Kendl, in the Sises weeke; 
Where I we many a gallant ste 
was walking  and downe the streete. 

Shirurn Ballads, H 
l)owne Plumton Parke as T did passe, 
I harda t?ird sing in a glend: 
7he cheefest of ber song it was-- 
'Farewell, the flower of serving men.' 
Sometimes I hard the musicke sweete: 
it was delightfull vnto me. 
At length, I hard one waile and weepe, 
a gallant youth condernnd to dye. 
19owne Plumton Parke, etc. 
A gentleman he was of courage bould ; 
his like I never sawe before; 
But when-as I did him behould, 
my greefe it grew still more and more. 
Of watery eyes there was great store, 
for ail did weepe that did him see. 
He ruade the hearts of many sore ; 
and I lamented for companye. 
'To god above,' quoth he, ' I call, 
' that sent his sonne to surfer death, 
' For to receaue my sinfull soule 
'so soone as I shall lose my breath. 
' O god, I haue deserved to death 
' for deeds that I haue done to thee: 
' Yet never lyvd I like a theefe, 
' till I mett with iii companye. 
' For I maye curse the dismall hower, 
' first time that I did giue consent 
'for to Rob the King's Receiuer, 
'and to take awaye his rent. 
' ¥ow gallants ail, be warned by me: 
' learne cards and dice for to refraine ; 
'Flye whores ; eschewe iii companye,-- 
' For those three things will breed your pain. 

[ ] 6 glend] i.e. glen. [u] 5 Refrain to follow evelT stanza. 
[6]  deserved to death (dath substituted for dy«)] r«ad deservèd 
death. [7] 4 and] rtad and for. 

Shirurn Ballads, 11 

' Ail ea_rthly treasure is but vaine ; 
'and worldly wealth is vanitye. 
'Search nothing else but heaven to gods, 
'Remember, ai1, that we must dye. 

'Farwell, good fellowes, lesse and more. 
'Be not dismaid by this my fall. 
' I never did offende before; 
'Jhon Musgrave man my naine do call.' 
2Downe Plumton Parke as I did passe, 
I hard a 2?ird sing in a gknd; 
2"he ¢hiefest of ber sonKe il was-- 
'farewell, the flower of Serving men.' 

part f tÇt gamtntatin 
hon Muserave. 



' The bayte begyles the bonny fish. 
' Some c.are hOt what they sware or saye. 
'The Lambe[s] become the foxes' dishe, 
' when as the old Sheepe runne awaye. 
19owne Plumton, e/c. 

'The fowlers, that the Plovers get, 
' take glistring glasse their net to set. 
'The ferret, when ber mouth is cropt, 
' doth drive the conye into the net. 

'The Pike devoureth the Salmon frie, 
'which is a better fish then ber selfe. 
'Some care hot howe others' children crye, 
'soe they themselues prosper well. 

[9] 3 gods] rmd gain. 
[] 3 cropt] ¥ stopt. 
may keep their pelf'. 

[xo] 4 man] readmen. 
Ix3] 4 B.-L. copies ' themselues 

S]irurn Ballads, H 
'Farwell, good fellowes, lesse and more ; 
' both rich and poore, that did me ken. 
' Farewell great, and farwell small ; 
'and farewell all good servingmen. 
'God, by my death, yow all may knowe, 
'that this samc lesson yow may Icarne: 
'Of high dcgrcc, or what yow bce, 
'clymc not to high abovc your rcach. 

• Good gentlemen, I yow intreat, 
' that haue more sonnes then yow ha,ce land, 
'In idlenesse doe not them keepe 
'learne them to labour with their hand. 
[' ['or idlenesse is the foot of evill ; 
'and this sin never goes alone, 
'But Theft and Robbery follows 
'as by my self is plainly shown.] 
Ix4]  B.-L.copies ' both great and small '. 3 B.-L. 
¢op|es read ' Farewell rich, and farewell poore,  preserving the 
rhyme. [5]  read (possibly) ' doth this same lesson to 
yow teach . 3 read (possibly) « Of high degree be yow, 
or Iow'. [7] Stanza added from B.-L. copy : Wood 
4ox, foi. 9o. 
C 3) 

Shirburn 13allads, 11 

' For 'outh, as ae, will hot vnderstand 
' that friends in want they be but could : 
'If they sn their uoions, an lacke lan, 
'they wl begge for it when they be old. 
'FarewelL faell, my brother deeoe! 
'Swoete sister, make noe dole for me. 
'My death at hand I doe hOt fre; 
'we are ail molli and borne to dye. 
' I knowe that CHST for me did die: 
'noe hly plsure would I haue. 
'I ce not for this wodd a flye ; 
' but mercy, good Ior on thoe I crave. 
' Corne mace of death, and doe me right ; 
'my glasse is nne ; I OEnnot sye. 
' With cHmsT I ho to lodge this night, 
'and ail good people for me praye.' 
The man of dth his pa did playe, 
which ruade the teares blind many an eye. 
He is with cHgsT, as I dare saye; 
the rd ant yt that soe we maye. 
ne Plumton Parke, as 
I &rd a ird sing in a glend; 
e ckst OE r songe it 
' arewe, t fler  Semingn 

[ao] 4 good lord, on] read lord, of. crave] substilut¢dfor crye. 
[at] x mate] read man : man of death = the hangman. [aa] 4 
read grant us that soe may¢ we. 


SAir[urn Ballads, III 

No. III 

Good people ail, repent with speed 

Fol. o4". There is a duplicate copy on fol. 38, interesting as showing 
how arbitrary is the spelling of the period. A few of the alternate 
lections have been noted. There is a later Black-letter copy in 4to 
RawI. 566, fol. 124 (olim zoS). 

 arninge t0 orlling t0 learne 
ttm te 
To THE TUNE OF ?"]t.e Ladye's fall. 

GOOD people ail, repent with speede ; 
high time it is to praye. 
Tempt not that iust and righteous god 
with vaine and longe delaye ; 
And, while it is to-day indeede, 
for mercy call and crye. 
0 would tlat man would beare in minde 
tlat one day /e must dye. 
Title a./. Warning for. Ix] 3 that] a.I. the. 5 to-day] 
a.L the day. 7 Saine refrain follows stanzas a, 3, 4. 

Shir$urn Ballads, III 

Thy selfe, in thy securitye, 
why doost thow flatter so ? 
Deferring thy repentinge dayes 
till age doth bring thee low, 
And, further, to thy sickest howre 
that heare thow hast to lye. 

O dust and ashes, doost thow thinke 
the glorious goal of might 
Will take in worth these wicked thoughts, 
and wast on thy delight ? 
O! marke how sore and sodainelye 
his wrath on some did lye. 
For what is he vpon the earth 
that can himselfe assure ? 
Or say that 'for an howre space 
'my lyre yt shall indure'? 
No man [on] earth can warrant lire 
the twincklinge of an eye. 

And, after death (assure thy selfe), 
repentance cornes to late ; 
Not ail the wealth within the world 
can then thy paines abate. 
For, as a tree doth take his fall, 
even soc the saine doth lye. 
Therefore, in chiefest of thy health, 
prepare thy selle to dye. 

And see'st hot thow, in sicknesse, oft 
man's memorye decaye, 
Who many times doth rave and range 
when they had neede to praye. 
Whose hearts are bent to curse and ban 
till death doth close their eye. 
[u] u doost] a. 1. dost. 5 to... howre] a. 1. tyll.., hours. 
[3]  doost] a. L dost. 4 wast] rtad wait : a. !. wayt. 
[4] I what] a.L who. 3 howre] a. L how-er's. 4 Yq 
a. L it. [5] u toi i.e. too. 4 can then] a. 1. that can (in 
ergot for then can). 7 a.L cheifest. Saine refrain follows 
stanzas 6, 8 to x4. [6] u decaye] a.l. decayes. 3 range] 
a. L rage. 5 curse and ban] a. i. banne and curse. 

SAirhurn Ballads, II1 

And, yf thow hast thy memorye 
and vnderstanding right, 
And of thy speeeh the perfect vse, 
and brightnesse of thy sight, 
Yet may the Lord withhould this graee, 
and take thy fayth from thee, 
That to repent thy folly past 
thow shalt hot able bee. 

But yet, admit out gratious god 
in greatest mercye deale 
That in thy sickenesse he vouchsafe 
his mercy to revaile, 
For thow shalt have of thousand griefes 
to wring thy minde awrye. 

For thow shall haue thy body then 
disquietèd ail with paine; 
Thy head and hart svill vexèd be, 
and soe will every vaine. 
The panges of death will feare thee sore, 
whose force thow canst hOt flye. 

The love of life will tempt thee much, 
whose favour is soe sweete, 
And thow wilt muse on many things 
that for thy health is meete. 
To thinke thow must forgoe thy goods 
will nip thy hart full nye. 

To see thy freends, and neighbours ail, 
thy dying howre abide: 
To see thy wife and children small 
cry out on every syde. 
To thinke thow must forgoe them soe 
will nip thy hart full nigh. 

[7] S this] a.l. his. [8] 4 revaile] i.e. reveal. S For] 
rtad Yet. of] rtad a. [9]  shall] a. 1. shalt. [o] a favour] 
rmdsavour. 3 wilt] a.L shalt. [] 3 small] a.i. smale. 
5 soe] a.l. ail. 6 nigh] a.l. nye. 


Ballads, III 

Besides, to thinke vpon 
will much molest thy 
The fresh remembrance 
thow wilt most bitter 

thy synnes 
minde ; 
of the saine 
finde ; 

Dispare and dread will drowne thy haut 
for lyvinge soe awrye. 
And thy accusing conscience then 
will witnesse, to thy woe, 
I-Iow wickedly vpon the earth 
thow didst thy dayes bestowe ; 
And thus within thy pensyve breast 
most grieuously will lye. 
Then will the Divell most busye be 
god's iustice to declare ; 
And of his mercy he will still 
procure thee to dispare, 
Perswadinge thee thy grieuous sinnes 
doth for hell-Yire crye. 
I-Ieere maist thow see, o wretched man, 
how bad a time thow hast 
Preparèd to repent thy sinnes 
at this thy latter cast. 
Therefore, put hot repentaunce backe; 
do hot God's grace deny ; 
But, in the chiefest of thy health 
29repare thyself, etc. 
Let every one pray that the Lord 
may blesse our King and Queene, 
And that their yeares vpon the earth 
like _Areslos may be seene, 
And after death that they may lyre 
in ioy eternallye. 
Then let ail people say Amen! 
And soe amen! say I. 

Ix3] 5 thus] r«ad this. 6 grieuously] a. L greeuously. 
Ix4] x Divell] a.I. Devill. 6 tire] a.L fyre. [xs] 2 bad] 
a.I. hard. Ix6] a King and Queene] i.e. James I, Arme of 

Shirburn Ballads, 1I  

No. IV 

In the merry month of May 

Fol. o7. The second naine of the tune is written sideways in the 
margin, but by the saine hand. The piece is of the saine type as the 
snatch sung by distraught Ophelia in ttamlet (6oz}, iv. 5, base matter, 
but the choice and order of words haire and tuncfttl. 

le 1oler' replee 
te tle maien' fvefye. 

To THE Tç OF Nay fyel Nay fye I 
To THI/ "/'UNE OF Newton flil&. 

IN the mery month of Maye, 
when birds doe chirpe on thorne, 
Wherein their sweetest laye 
the season to adome, 
At midnight cornes a Swaine 
to the window of his love, 
Nay fye ! nay fye l nay fye ! 
her freindship for to prove. 
He whispered once or twise, 
before his love did wake: 
At last, with good advise, 
she softly to him spake: 
'I knowe thy sute,' quoth shee. 
'Then, prethee ! ope the gate.' 
' Nay fye I nay fye ! nay fye ! 
' Sweet love, 'ris too too late.' 
At last, his smoothinge tongue 
her chamber did attaine: 
Such eloquence he sunge, 
in the ende he did her gaine, 
But then, o then, such warres 
these loyers gan to prove. 
lut fye I but fye I but fye I 
none tan well say but love. 

[I] 4 to] r«addoth. 


SAirburn Ballads, II 
For then they sylent iaye, 
tongue's office beinge voyd; 
And fairelye did they playe-- 
!iii day-breake thus they toyd. 
But swift-wingd Tyme, atlast, 
did shew the morninge greye: 
' 2"hen fye ! then fye ! then fye !' 
vnto him did shee saye. 
'¥ow have beguild my trust:' 
quoth shee, 'leave off to strive. 
'My finger yow will burst : 
'your strugling mus! no! thrive. 
'Çease, cease! what doe yov noyée ? 
'yow woe me but in vaine: 
' Then fye ! then fye ! then fye ! 
'your labour is bootlesse pairie. 
"Tis day, deere love! "ris daye! 
'fye! fye! yow lye to longe. 
'Goe! goe from me awaye! 
'your pratlinge doth me wronge. 
' Fye ! fye ! what doe yow nowe ? 
'yow shall no! bave your sill. 
' Naye fye ! naye fye ! naye fye .t, 
'I praye yow then be still.' 
"Tis time your prisoned flocke 
'by this vnfoulded were: 
'For brights Aurora's clocke 
'hath stroken fowre, my deare. 
'Besides, my mother cornes 
'at the risinge of the Sunne : 
' Then fye ! then fye ! then fye ! 
'we shall be quite vndone.' 
Atlast, she vrgde him soe, 
that out of bed he flunge ; 
But, after, did she goe, 
and about his necke she hunge. 
'Corne, tome, deare love, againe[ 
'I did but trye thy minde. 
' Although some crye fye ! fye ! 
' in truth tlaey will prove kinde. 
[5] 6 woe] read woo. [7] 3 brights] read bright. 

Shirurn Ballads, II/" 

' Most maidens nowe and then 
' will doe as I have done. 
' Al.though they crye fye ! fye ! 
m troth, they will be wonne.' 

No. V 

When fair Jerusalem did stand 

Fol. lO8. A Black-letter copy in Wood, 4oi fol. 81, omits stanzas 5 and 
Il. The ultimate source of the ballad is, of course, the much-read 
Josephus. John Stockwood, ' Schoolemaister' of Tunbridge, published at 
London, 1584, 'A very fruiffull and necessarye sermon of the moste 
lamentable destruction of lerusalem,' which contains, and may have 
suggested, most of the points in the ballad. The portents (stanza II) are 
thus described by Stockwood (sign. B 7):--'for a whole yeare's space 
togeather, there was seene in the ayre a blasing starre hauing the fashion 
of a sworde and did hang right ouer their Temple, as an vndoubted token 
of God his wrath to fall vppon the saine .... There were seene in 
the element the likenesses of armed men cruellye fighting one against 
another, and besieging of holdes.' The pestilence (stanza 8) cornes on 
sign. C 3 :--' What with the stench of the great multitudes of dead bodyes 
that laye everye where on heapes in the streetes without buriall, there 
arose in the Citie a wonderfull great plague and pestilence.' The famine 
(stanza 6) is on sign. C 3 verso :--' a mother was compelled for verye hunger 
to eate her owne deare Sonne.' One point in the ballad I can discover 
no authority for. Josephus states that Titus rewarded his troops with 
presents of silver, gold, garments, and military distinctions. The captives 
that were spared were sent parti}, to the mines in Egypt ; parti}, to 
the amphitheatres, to be 'butchered to make a Roman holiday '. The 
ballad says (stanza IO) that Titus allowed his soldiers to sell the captives. 
Line 6 seems to be a turning of the tables on the Jews for their purchase 
of Christ (St. blatt, xxvi. 15). For Christ they gave thirty ' pieces of silver', 
now thirty of them were sold for a (silver) ' penny'. 
The title should probably rtm :-- 
'A dolefull destruction of faire .]erusalem, whose miserye and vn- 
speakable plague is a Warning or Lanthorne to London which doth,' etc. 
The confusion in the MS. text is perhaps due to error in transcribing 
an original printed copy in which the title was distributed round a wood- 
cut. Wood's later B.-L. copy reads :-- 
' A warning or Lanthorn to London by the dolefull,' etc. 


Shirurn Ballads, 1/" 

WHzr faire Jerusalem did stande, 
whom God did love soe deare, 
Whom he did keepe with his right hand, 
as plainelye did appeare-- 
Yet, when the people went awry, 
great plagues he sent them presently-- 
With--o sorrow, pitifull sorrow I 
ood Zord, thy r2eneance sare / 
Although his temple there did stand 
whose beautye did surpasse, 
The onely beauty of the land, 
where God's true honour was-- 
Yet, when the Lord did on them frowne, 
the same was spoyled and throwne downe-- 
lf'ith--o sorrowfull, etc. 
And, for the people's wickednes 
which in the Citye dwelt, 
The land was brought to great distres, 
and many plagues they felt. 
Their enimies did so abound 
that they besiegd the Citye round- 
The mighty Emperor then of ome 
the Lord in furye sent, 
To bringe them ail to deadly doome 
who would hOt once repent. 
When halfe a yeare he there had lien 
the people then began to pine-- 
[] 6 spoyled and throwne] i.e. spoyl'd and throw-en. 7 sor- 
rowful] r¢adsorrow. Refrain to be repeated at end of each stanza. 
[4]  Titus conducted the siege ^.». 7o, but did hot become 
Emperor till ^. ». 79. 
(3 2 ) 

Sbirurn tallads, I  
For they had neyther bread nor meat 
their hunger to sustaine ; 
But dogg[s] and cats were glad to eate, 
which late they did disdaine: 
Yea, ratts and myce they ¢ounted sweete, 
and eat their shooes from of their feete-- 
The rotait which one man did cast 
another man did eate. 
Their very dung they layd hOt wast, 
but ruade therof their meate. 
And, through the famyne long begunne, 
the rnother was glad to eate ber sonne-- 
The gallant Ladyes of that place, 
whose pride did late excell, 
Full leane and withered was their face ; 
their bones a man might tell: 
And they which were so daintye fine, 
through hunger great, to death did pine-- 
The dead men covered ail the ground 
of fayre .[erusalent. 
Such pestilence did their abound, 
and soc infected them, 
That many a thowsand there did lye, 
which still vnburied there did lyew 
Yet would hot they gyve over the towne 
for ail this greeuous case, 
Vntill their enimies puld it downe 
and all the walles did race: 
And ail the Jewes that livd then 
they took them prisoners every one-- 
And those that were of noble blrth 
the conqueror tooke awaye; 
And ail the rest the Emperor ruade 
his hardye soldiers' praye, 
Who then for slaves did sell them bound, 
even thirtye for a penny rounde-- 

[8] 3 their] vtad there. 5 lye] read dye. [9] x over] i.e. o'er. 
4 race] i.e. raze. [xo] 3 Emperor] Le. Titus. 
s,,,-,. D ( 33 ) 

Shtrlurn J3allads» P" 
Thus haue yow hard the great distresse 
of faire jrerusalem, 
Which, for their synnes and wickednes, 
the Lord did sende to them ; 
Though long before great signes he shewed 
that he would plague their sinnes so lewd-- 
For, two yeares' space before this warre, 
within the skye, soe bright, 
2Vlost like a sword, and blazing starre 
hung over the Cytye right ; 
And, in the skyes, they might see plaine, 
how men of warre did fight amaine-- 
Yet would hot they their lires lainent 
in any kinde of case, 
Nor once within their harts repent, 
nor call to God for grace: 
Vntill his wrath on them did fail, 
and that they were destroyèd all-- 
0 noble Znn, warninge take 
by fayre fersalem ; 
And to thy God thy pray-ers make, 
least thow be like to them ; 
For, yf he would not spare the fewes, 
thinkest thow he will thy synnes excuse ?-- 
Thy synnes as greatly doe abound: 
fayre Zndon, then, beware! 
Least God in wrath do thee confound 
with sorrow, griefe, and care; 
For many signes he bath thee sent 
that thow maist yet thy selle lament 
Let hot the wealthy of the land 
in riches put their trust ; 
Thow canst keepe them from the hand 
of him that is soe iust. 
Their gould wili doe them litfle good, 
yf he withhould their da),lye foode-- 

[x] 3 and] rada. [xS] 6 maist] readmayst. 
Ix6] 3 Thow canat] r«ad They cannot. 

Shir[urn Ballads, l e" 


Thy woman eke, so fayre of face, 
and of such dainty tast, 
Let them thinke on their greiuous case 
whom famine did so wast ; 
And not despise the poore to feede, 
least they do crye whea they have neede-- 

0 Lord, we praye for Crttsrs sake, 
out greiuous plagues remove ; 
And on this land some mercye take, 
for JEstrs CrmlSa'E his lot, e. 
Preserve our Kinge from care and smart, 
'hose losse we should lainent in hart 
IVitli--o serroo, ittifull sorroo.t 
goad Zord, lhy vengeaunce sare! 

No. VI 

Awake, awake, oh England! 

Fol. Io9 v. Text given in ?oburghe Ballads, iv. 467, from several later 
Black-letter exemplars. The fondness of the age for apocalypdc studies 
and predictions of judgement-day is faithfully reflected in this ballad ; see 
also No. XVI. 
The allusion to great buildings (stanza 13) was peculiarly apposite in the 
later years of Elizabeth, and the earlier years of James I, whoE suCh 
stately houses as Longleat, Wilts., x$67--9; Wollaton, Notts., x58o-8; 
Beaudesert, Staffs., a588; Holland House, Kensington, I6o7; Temple 
Newsam, Yorks., a62; and Audley End, Essex, 6o3-I6 , were constructed : 
see John Britton's Arckitectural Anliquities, vol. il. 
In the same stanza the allusion to deer-preservation has also something 
distinctive. Sept. 9,16o9, James I issued a long proclamation setting forth 
that although Elizabeth, a female sovereign, had neglected the royal deer- 
parks, he himself was passionately fond of hunting, and would enforce to 
the full the old forest-laws. The king's example was no doubt copied by 

[7] t woman] rtad women. 6 dol rt,d too. 
Christ his. 5 Kinge] i. e. James I. 
D 2 

Irai x Christes] 

SAirSu-'n Ballads, 

A Bell-man for England 
night and day doth stand, 
To ringe, in ail men's hearinge, 
'God's vengeance is at hand!' 

To THE TUNE OF O man in des2Oeration. 

AW.«KE ! Awake ! Oh Englande/ 
sweete .England, now awake ! 
And to thy pray-ers, speedily, 
do thow thy selle betake. 
The Lord thy God is comminge, 
within the skyes soe cleere. 
Reenl wilh sleed lhy wickednesse-- 
tac day it drawetA neere. 


The dreadfuli day of vengeance 
is shortly now at hand, 
That fearfull burninge tire 
shall wast both Sea and land: 
And ail men's harts shail faile them 
to see such things appeare. 
2elen/ /herfore, oh England-- 
tAe, etc. 

Shirurn lallads, rl 
The worldly wise and prudent 
shall fall besydes their witts, 
And wishe the hylles to cover them 
in these their franticke fyts: 
No suecour, helpe, nor safegard, 
for them shall then appeare: 
eent tAerfore, elc. 

The Seaes and rivers runninge 
shall roare in greevous wise; 
The Beasts, in Pastures feedinge, 
shall straine forth greevous ct3,es 
The skyes shall flame with tire 
the earth shall burne as cleere: 
epen! IAerfore 

The glorious holy Angels 
shall then their trumpet sound ; 
The dead shall heare their voyces, 
as they lye in the grounde; 
And then all graues shall open» 
and deadmen shall appeare 
Before the Lord in iudgementm 
Ihe day i! drauselA eere. 

The Divell will there be ready 
each creature to accuse ; 
And shew, how in their life time, 
they did themselues abuse. 
/xnd every man his conscience 
for witnesse shall appeare_ 
eent tAerefore lhy wickednessem 
the day it draweth neere. 

The works of every creature 
their thoughts, and deedes, I saye, 
Shall follow them together 
in that most dreadfull da), ; 
And no respect of persons 
shall at that tyme appeare. 
eent tAerefore, etc. 


Shirurn Ballads, 
But such as haue donc iustly 
shall weare the crowne of lyfe. 
The wicked »bal be damnèd 
to soow, paine, and strife, 
In blyng brands o brimstone, 
with ddefull hea eheere. 
ent tore, etc. 
But wo vnto that woman 
that then with child shall go, 
And to the syllye nues 
which doe giue sucke also, 
When[as] the day of iudnt 
so eevous shall appâte. 
ent theore, etc. 
And pray, with has most consent, 
vnto the Lord of might 
That in the frozen winter 
yow d hot feele this flyght, 
Nor thnt on the boath day 
that perill doe apare. 
epent, trore, h England 
[l daye il drawelh are.] 
Let ail g «hffstian pple 
rent, therefore, in tyme ; 
And, from their harts lamentinge 
ch former greevous crime, 
Prepare them lves ith gladnes 
to watch when CaRrer shall corne. 
The trumpe sll sounde on sudaine, 
and no man knowes how soone. 
For ail things are fullfillèd 
which CRs lore had tould : 
Smale faith is nowe remainynge, 
and chaty is owne oeuld ; 
Great signes and wonders we haue sn, 
both on the eah and skye. 
epent tore, ah England 
he iudnl day is nye. 

[9] i.e. St. blatt, r.xiv, z 9. 

[toi i.e. St. Matt. xxiv. go. 

Shirurn Ballads, I[ 

Why dost [thow] put thy confidence 
in stronge and stately Towres ? 
Why tookest thow such pleasure 
in building sumptuous bowers, 
Reioycinge in thy pastures, 
and Parke of follow deere ? 
epent therfor G etc. 


Why seekest thow, deeeitfullye, 
to purchase treasures great ? 
And why dost thow, through vsury, 
the bloud of poore men eate ? 
Why doth thy lyfe and lyvinge 
soe filthylye appeare ? 
Repent therfore, oh England! 
IAe iudgment day is neere. 

Wherefore let ail good people, 
vpon their knees, proceede 
In makinge earnest pray-er 
(for never was more neede), 
That god may spare his punishment, 
even for lais mercy meere, 
And gyve vs grace to beare in mind 
/ne iudmenl day îs neere. 

[t3] 3 tookest] rmd takest. 
[t4]  purchase] i.e. acquire. 

6 follow] r*ad fallow. 

Shirurn Ballads, l/Il 

No. VII 

Ail careful Christians, mark my song 

Fol. !I3 a. The refrain of this piece afterwards gave a new naine to its 
tune : see No. XVII. 

lf, tt anitt of tt allung , an 
tr npraale i0t of rabrn prrparr 
for tr tat nfainrlp rre in te 
To rn rç or ms Gaillard. 
AL oerefull Chsans, marke my Song ; 
¢onsider death must ende out dayes. 
This rthly lyre it is hot longe ; 
and Cmsr shall corne to iudge out way. 
 glse doth n, t c/oce doth go. 
Awa& fr syn : why sl« ye so  
Vnceine is out sweetest lyfe; 
our pleasure soene is turnd to pairie. 
Out rime is stuft with oere and stfife, 
and griefe is all the bye's gaine. 
[x] 5 Refra to foow eve 

S]zirurn ttallatts, 1/'II 
What doth availe out pompe and pride ? 
out costly garrnents garded round ? 
The fairest body it doth bide 
rnust dye, and root within the ground. 
Why doe we brag of beauty bright ? 
of strength, or wit, or wealthy store ? 
Syth tract of time puts ail to flyght, 
that we shall see those dayes noe more. 
We cmm this earthly carkas still, 
witla daintye store of costly price ; 
With rnusicke sweete our eares to fill, 
rnaking this world a 29aradice. 
But then, when we haue wrought our will, 
and satisfyed out fond desyre, 
We will be sure, for toyes so iii, 
to reape repentance for our hire. 
With craft and guyle our goods we get ; 
we keepe it vith a carefull rninde ; 
And, though our harts thereon be set, 
needs rnust we leaue it ail behind. 
t-Iad ,,ve the wealth that Cressus woone, 
or were of Sampson's strength and power, 
Or wisedome like King 1)avides sonne, 
it could not length our lyfe one hower. 
Doe hot repentance then delay, 
for tyme doth swiftly corne and goe ; 
Out of this world we must awaye, 
and no man doth the how-er knowe. 
Then, for the time that here we staye, 
vprightly let vs lire on earth, 
So that, when death takes life awaye, 
CrlRsr rna), receyve our fleeting breath. 

[8] a garded] i.e. braided. 4 root] rot. 
rad we. [8] x Cressus] Croesus. 

SAirurn Ballads, III 
Out conscience that shall witnesse beare, 
the world and Devill we subdue; 
We need hOt out accusers feare ; 
and CrIRIST will then out ioyes renew. 
The gares of heaven shall open stand, 
where glorious Angels waitinge be 
To bring vs gently by the hand 
where we out Saviour CrIRIST may see, 
Who then this sentence sweete shall say :-- 
'Weleome, my children deere, to me, 
'Which doe my father's will obey, 
'eschewing worldly vanitye. 
' For sorrow, now yow shall haue ioye ; 
' for care and griefe, eternall blisse ; 
'And, for your former vile annoy, 
'yow shall receiue great happinesse. 
' With me yow shall for ever raigne, 
'in glory and in honour hye; 
' And ail your foes I will disdaine, 
' because yow loved me faithfully.' 
O CrlalSr, that shedst thy preeious blood 
from death and hell to set vs free, 
Graunt vs thy grace, which is so good» 
that we may truly worship thee ; 
That, while this britle life doth last, 
out ende we may remember styll, 
And grieve for out offences past, 
desiringe pardon for out iii. 
Out graeiou Kinge, 0 Lord, preere ; 
and ngld elfare siill defende. 
Orant v thy lae o io observe 
that we ma t make a bleed encl. 
2i« glass« dotk ru ; tkt «o«« dolk go. 
[II] I lhl] l'tld 

SAir$urn Ballads, l/'IIl 


Arise, and wake from wickedness 
Fol. Il 3 {b) =. Text given in Roxburghe Ballads, iii. x6o, from a Black- 
letter exemplar. A.B.C. poems are common among Black-letter ballads. 
In Roxburghe Ballads, ii. 65 , is' The Virgin's A. B. C.', followed, ib. 655, by 
'The Young man's A.B.C.' In the originals the pital letters are on 
engraved blocks. 

Oeing, tOe ete of eere 
To THE TUNE OF ogero. 
RSE, and walke from wickednesse ; 
repent, and thow shalt lyre, 
or else, with sword and pestilence, 
the rd God will the[e] ieve. 
Beware of lust and Letche ; 
keepe thow thy by chast, 
or else frequent the remedy 
that auk doth say thow maist. 
Ix] x walke] i. e. wake.  Walk' or «wauk' is a nohern spelling 
for ' wake' : cp. Gude and GI allat, edit. A. F. Mitchell, 
p. 137, ' walkand ' -- ' wing.' lai 4 i.e. l Cor. vil 9- 

Shirurn Ballaas, 1III 
Confesse thy synnes, as 29auid did, 
and turne vnto the Lord: 
he wiii thee here belote thow eall, 
so say doth recor 
le th thy neighbours mercifull ; 
deceiue no man by guile ; 
ke heed of ail extor-ti-on, 
it ill thy soule defile. 
mine ell thy wicked lyfe ; 
bide not thy counsaile deepe ; 
the rd God thrtneth wo to them 
that secret synnes doe kee 
lye thefç and ail vnthf6nes; 
and labour in the rd: 
the ound of synne is idlenesse ; 
ith vic it is storde. 
iue aimes to th brethmn poooe i 
turne hOt thy face them fro: 
lend to the needy man thy go  
his pledge restore aiso. 
u hot th neighurs willily 
in bod, goede or name: 
ferait offenc willingly  
let God revenge the me. 
If  doe blesse thee with h giftes 
of worldly goods and store, 
let hot thy hart on them be set ; 
but pmy the rd before. 
Keepe not the hioeling's wag backe; 
d will his c regard: 
in ore men's matter be hot scke ; 
the Lo will thee rewar 
[3] 3 here] i.e. hear. 4 i.e. lsah Ixv. 4- [8]  llingly] 
r«ad wittingly. [9] 4 before] rmd therefore. 

SAirurn Ballads, l'ZlI1 
Love everye man vnfainedly ; 
hate no man in thy hart: 
despise the waye of w/cked men 
pray God they may convert. 
Minister Justice, magistrate: 
yow maisters, iustly deale: 
yow Parentes ail, least God's curse fMI, 
let youth correction feele. 
No guilefull speeches, nor l)'ing ta|ke, 
ve not in an), wa),es : 
e$chew a|l evill ; in goodnesse walke, 
),f thow v¢ilt see good dayes. 
Oppresse no man by vury ; 
refuse vnlawfull gaine: 
giue plentiously vto lhe poore ; 
CRlSm will thee pay therefore. 
ossesse your se]mes wilh pt-i-ence, 
agMnst this wicked world : 
wre oint your prayers wilh revrence 
belote the lyvnge Lord. 
uarrell with none ; quench such desire : 
fo anger be hot ben: 
remember God is mercifull, 
when synners doe epent. 
Redeemèd from he Crse we are 
by CnR*Sm, fo lyre with him: 
out members Wt vs more I-fye 
which are all nt o snne. 
anctifye the saboth  sexe the Lord  
rom labomr see thow test: 
then God ill bav reçd fo thee, 
and make tl,F labour blest. 
[,], peeehe] r«ud spee«h. [,]  therefore] i.e. çor at. 
[,] 8 more l-çe] nad mortifie. 

8hir$u'-Bll'ds, FIII 
Take heed yow loue no swaringe false ; 
sware not by God in vaine: 
let ail your talke attend vnto 
the honour of his naine. 
"?'se no deceipt, nor uniust meanes, 
to compasse worldly wealth : 
extortion, fraud, and vsury, 
and ail such things, are stealth. 
Walke not in fleshly lusts and synne ; 
such vorldly darknesse shunne: 
but walke like Children of the lighh 
as CURST himselfe begunne. 
Xamples many are set forth 
against the druncken sort ; 
what deadly plagues are dew to them, 
the Scripture doth report. 
'rong folke, be sober, and chast of minde ; 
let God's word be alwayes your guide: 
make cleane your wayes belote the Lord, 
and never from him slyde. 
Zaché the Publican (S. Zuke doth tell) 
vhat zeale to CIRST he had: 
but to hould out jre,ish barres, 
alasse ! it is to badde. 
 plainly Zuke doth specifye 
of that man's Godly minde, 
how to the poore most liberally 
halfe of his goods he assigned. 
Est in nglish doth specifye, 
in speech, a latine verbe: 
into out harts, Lord, powre the spirit, 
vherby we may be stirde 
[ao] 4 stealth] i.e. stealing. [a3] a be alwayes] omlt 
alwayes. [a4] x S. Luke] omit S. 3 hould] zd behould. 
[aS] 4 R«ad he halle his goods assigned. [a6]  Est] a 
blunder for «te. The interlretation in the stanza follows the blunder. 

çAiraurn Ballads, lflII 
to sigh and groane vnfainedlye, 
v¢ith sorrov¢, for out synne ; 
and for to seeke the remedye, 
a new lyre to begynne. 
Amen ! God graunt we slacke no rime 
to v¢alke, while wee haue light ; 
that finallye we may possesse 
the heavenly ioyes most bright. 
Out noble King, with Nestor's yeeres, 
the Lord God long indew; 
With Samlson's strength, and Salomon's wih 
his foes for to eschew. 
Goal graunt him grace, great ioy, in honour 
• aith pleasure here beneath, 
To fuie and raigne in royall seat, 
so long as he heath bteath. 

No. IX 

Who views the life of mortal man 

Fol.  6 v. Text given, from this M S., in Roxburgke Ballads, viii, p. xxvii. 
The ballad is a vigorous, and apparently sineere, censure of the evils of 
the age ; and is amply justified by contemporary documents. 
Offences against morality were supposed to be punished (stanza 4) 
by the civil courts. At Maldon, for example, there was a specially 
ignominious punishment, corne clown from Plantagenet rimes, called 
'carrying the mortar about the town'. In I572, d. was allowed ' to the 
sonne o! Sinon Sawyer for the ringinge of the bason borne before the 
surgeon wearinge the morter about his necke for baudry this yeare'. 
Extravagance and novelty in dress are frequently arraigned in these 
ballads, as here in stanza 5- Strong efforts were ruade by the government 
to enforce the sumptuary laves. At Maldon ,,ve find in 1566 » and again in 

[30] x ioy, in honour] readtossibv ioy, and state. 

4 heath] r«ad hath. 

Shirurn Ballaas, 
1597, payment of 3s. 4d. to the Queen's pursuivant bringing a proclamation 
declaring orders for apparel. At the Easter sessions, 1562, proceedings 
were taken against 'Jock,e' (a servant} and ten others because the, 
' excede in their appareil, as in great slopte hosen, in great roffes  in their 
shertes'. Similarl' in 1571, two tailor's-servants were prosecuted for 
wearing ' greate and monsterus briches '. 
In stanza 7 great complaint is made of profane swearing. At one time 
man)' such expressions had been regarded as natural embellishments 
of speech : and old people, who had grown up in the 13ractice of them, 
round it diffieult to avoid giving offence. Thus, in  592, his recalcitrant 
Puritan parishioners articled against the High-Church Vicar of Ail 
Saints, llaldon, that witLin few yeares past diuers bave harde yow 
sweare Goda's wounds! Godd's blood!' In 1001, Parliament was 
drafting a statute to deal with such offences, for on December I, 
' Amendments in the bill against Blasphemous and Usual Swearing, was 
read and ordered to be ingrossed.' A statute against profanity was 
actually passed in 1623 (21 Jac. I, cap. 20). In cortformity with this, at 
Maldon Easter sessions, 163o, a mason was indicted for having, on April 8, 
twice sworn ' by the living God '. 
Stanza 8 enlarges against drunkenness. In i0Ol the House or 
Commons was engaged (Heywood Townshend's Thefour Parliaments 
ofElizabeth, London, 168o, pp. 188, 267) on a ' Bill against Drunkards', 
' the effect whereof was that common Drunkards should be presented as 
common Barrettors,' i.e. brawlers. No stature seems passed till 16o4, when 
there is 'An Acte to restraine the inordinate hauntinge and tipling in 
Innes, Alehouses, and other Victuallinge Houses' (1 Jac. I, cap. 9)- • 
In stanza 1o Sabbath observance is touched on. Throughout Elizabeth s 
reign the old idea that the sanctity of the day ceased with the performance 
of Church service, leaving the remaining hours as a time for amusements, 
was in collision with straiter Puritan opinion. At Maldon, John Morrys, 
who had been one of the two Bailiffs (chier magistrates) of the borough in 
1574, 1578, 1582, round himself, in 159o , in sharp conflict with his younger 
Puritan successors in office. They indicted him for justifying against the 
Bailiffs the 'misdemeanors of disordered, unrulie, and contemptuous 
persons in their evell behaviour ; as when certein players played on the 
Lord's day in the nyght, contrarie to both the carie of Essex' [H igh Steward 
of Maldon] lettre and Mr. Baylieffs' commaundement, and Mr. Baylieffs 
rebuking them for the saine, Mr. Morrys spake opeie in the [town-]hall 
that--Before tyme noble-men's menn hadd such entertaynement when 
they came to the towne that the towne hadd the favour ofnoble-men, but 
now noble-men's menn hadd such entertaynement that the towne was 
brought into contempt with noble-men. And when Mr. Morrys was 
gonne out of the hall into the streete, he spake thes woords alowde-- 
A sort of precisians and Brownists ! ' There was also the abomination of 
Sunday athletics in the town itself as well as that of the imported 
Sunday theatre. At Midsummer sessions at Maldon, 1564, complaint was 
made against the constables that they had suffered 'stole-ball' to be 
played on Sundays. At Easter sessions, 1583, Edward Anderkyn and 
four others were indicted for playing at stool-ball on Sunday, I4 April. 
At Easter sessions, 1623, three youths were indicted for playing at stool- 
ball in time of afternoon service on Sunday, 27 April; and another, 
for loitering in the fields that afternoon. Attendance at church was 
enforced by fine. 1567, Easter sessions, a sawyer, of St. Mary's parish, 
Maldon ; a linen-draper, of All Saints' parish ; and a currier, of St. Peter's 
parish, were fined 1s. each for every occasion of their absence from their 
t i.e. ruff. 

Shir[mrn Ballacts, 1X 
parish church. The fines went for poor relief in the several parishes. 
The rnagistrates, during service time, were supposed to go from bouse to 
bouse to discover absentees, bad neighbours, no doubt, making srnooth their 
task b}' tale-telling. At Maldon Easter sessions, i623, Ann wife of John 
Carter, butcher, was indicted for insulting John Rudland, one of the chier 
magistrates. Finding ber in ber house on Sunda}' morning, 12 Januarï, 
1622-3, and hot at church, he had rebuked ber. She had retorted that' if 
he would provide one to do ber work, she would goe to church ' and that 
she « served God as well as hee '. 
The feelings of well-disposed people as to the matters touched on 
in stanzas 7 and IO are well set out in Admiral Sir William Monson's 
instructions to his son, prefixed to his narrative of military affairs from 
1585-16o2 :--' The next and worst sin I would bave },ou shun is swearing. 
I do hot advise },ou like a Puritan, that ties a man more to the observing 
of Sunda},s» and from taking the name of God in vain, than to ail the rest 
of the Commaundments : but I wish you to avoid it for the greatness of the 
sin it self, for the Plague of God hangeth over the House of the Blasphemer" 
(2F[egalosychy, 168o edition). 
In stanza I I it is stated that ail sorts and conditions gamble at cards and 
dice. A few examples from the Quarter-sessions book of Maldon show 
this trouble to have been as prevalent in Elizabeth's reign as in James l's. 
Complaint was ruade, at Midsummer sessions, 1559, that the curate of 
Purley had played at IManning's ale-house at tables for money. At 
Michaelmas sessions, 1568, a shoemaker and a glover were fined 12d. each 
for playing at tables ' at Iryshe game' at William Boxted's ; and Boxted 
2s. for suffering these serving-men to play in his house. In May, 1569. 
Ralph Sparrow, tailor's apprentice, ,vas fined 12d. for playing at novem 
quinque at the Saracen's Head ; and the landlord I2d. for allowing it. 
At Michaelmas sessions, 1569, John Hill was fined 12d. for suffering 
Richard Chambers, cleric, and certain unknown seafaring men, to play at 
cards at a game called The zlIa¢ve. At Epiphany sessions, 1569--7o, John 
Moore,ale-house-keeper, was fined 5s.for allowing Richard Booth, scrivener, 
to play at dice for money. Booth had staked and lost his cloak, worth 4os. 
In 1571 , Edmund Tyler, surgeon, was fined lori. for playing tray-tri2b in an 
aie-bouse. In April, t572 , Alderman Thomas Eve was fined t2d. for 
playing at dice at the Saracen's Head..At Easter sessions, I616, the 
landlord of the Blue Boat was fined 2s. for allowing William blildmay, 
gentleman, to play at dice for money in his inn. In 1623 fines of 6s. Bd. 
(reduced to fs.) were inflicted on two labourers for playing cards in 
an ale-house, and the landlord was fined 2s. for suffering them. See also 
The 'theme' mentioned in the title is possibly the text, St. Luke xxiii. 34, 
* They know hot what (they do).' 

sa,as. E {49) 

Shirburn 13allads» 12( 

t]¢am I know hot what ; l]trtin la 
o[o men ougt hot to et teir minle 
on tuorllp pleaure, but on te lpoing 
torl. 1614. 

To THE TUNE OF Labandalashot. 

Wo viewes the lyre of mortall men, 
his state, and whereof he began, 
Shall find such hugy heapes of we, 
as nether tongue nor pen showe; 
Wherewith our minds may daunted be 
from vsinge worldly mirth and glee, 
And more us to consider well 
what paines there are prepard in hell 
For wicked people, as their lot, 
which have done here they kno no/ what. 
If every man would heare God's ord, 
and reverently obey the Lord, 
Then wickednesse would hot abound; 
but grace and vertue would be round 
In younge and olde, in high and low, 
in servaunts and children also, 
In rich and poore, in great and small, 
in Preachers and in people ail, 
Who now delight in this and that, 
and often doe thçç know hot what. 

III I men] ,rad man. 

4 nether] r¢ad neither. 

SAirurn Ballads, IX 
Looke round abowt on each degree, 
and marke what faults and crimes we sec. 
Behould the Court, and Cuntry twoe ; 
and then note well what great adoe 
There is in every kind of state :-- 
few are content with simple rate ; 
But every one will clime aloft, 
till triall hath them plainely taught 
'Tis vaine, in hope of this or that, 
to say or doe they know hot what. 
Love is hOt found but here and there ; 
lewd lust doth florish every where. 
Good lawes are ruade, but kept at will ; 
loose lyvinge now increaseth still. 
Like swine, we wallow in the mire, 
and seeke to follow vaine desire. 
Let God or man say what they please, 
we hunt for pleasure, wealth, and ease ; 
And, for the love of this and that, 
we say and doe we know hOt what. 
In pompe and pride we doe excell, 
like Zucifer, the divell of hell. 
All new-found fashions we do crave, 
to make our bodyes fine and brave; 
But for our soules we little care-- 
smale suites for it we do prepare. 
We gard and lace vs round abowt ; 
in Jigges and Jagges we let it out. 
some will weare this, some will weare that ; 
and some will weare they know not what. 
'Ail whoredome is but tricks of youth,' 
sa), those that doe hOt know the truth. 
Not one of twenty, v¢hen they wedd, 
do bring vnto their marriage-bedd 
Their bodies pure, as Christians ought: 
but fleshlye pleasures first is sought, 
And, for to cloake their filthy deed, 
the[y] must be married with ail speed. 
Then do they lyre like dogge and cat, 
because they did they knew hot what. 

[3] 3 twoe] read too. [5]  it] read them. 

Shirurn Ba//ads, 
Much swearing many aone doth vse, 
and soe the naine of God abuse. 
Some sweare by wounds, [by] blood, and heart, 
by foote and sydes, and every part; 
By masse, by Crosse, by light, by tire, 
by bread, and ail they can desire 
]3y faith and troth, though they bave none 
by Saincts, and Angels, and many aone. 
Some sware by this, some sware by that ; 
and some doe sware lhey know nol zvhaL 
Fye on the drowsye drunken sort, 
that in excesse delight and sport! 
Fye on the ale-knight[s] that will quaffe, 
and make men drunken that they may laugh ! 
Fye on ail pot-mates that delight 
to serve God Bacchur day and Night! 
To them belonges red eyes and nose; 
to them belongs the raggd cloathes; 
For they styll drink of this and that, 
vntill they doe they knowe hot 
O when will couetousnes be left, 
with fraud, and guile, deceit and theft ? 
Or when will Vsury take his flyght, 
with flattery, falshood, craft, and spire ? 
When shall the poore in good state lyre 
by helpes and gyftes that rich men gyve? 
When will our Landlords be content 
to let these farines at the old rent 
Alasse! they cannot heare of that. 
but they would have 
See how the Saboath is abused, 
and ail good exercise refused. 
O see what pastimes men devise 
to please their carnall eares and eyes. 
Few take delight to heare God's word; 
but, lyke bruyt beasts, they rise from board, 
To daunce, to bowle, to gawde and game, 
though Preachers oft reproove the same. 
Some follow this, some follow that; 
and some do follow they know hot 

[9] 8 thee] read their. 


SAir#urn Ballads, 
The Dite and Cardes esteemèd be 
of rich and poore, we dayly see: 
Till ail is gone there is no staye, 
but at the Dite it must away. 
The rnarried man, the Batcheller, 
the Prentise, and the traveller, 
Do follow garning earnestlye, 
vntill they corne to beggery. 
Example drawes them hOt from that ; 
but still they doe they know hot w/rot. 
Enforst I ara to tell yow plaine 
what synnes amongst vs doe remaine, 
That trew repentaunce may abounde 
while God his rnercy may be founde: 
For the time will corne, when we shall say 
' what fooles were we to goe astraye !' 
And, yf we knew, 'twill be too late, 
for we shall answered be at gare 
'Depart from henc, I know yow hOt, 
which have done here yow know hOt 
Repentaunce God doth hOt deny, 
if we doe aske before we dye, 
And put not of[ri, from time to time, 
the amendrnent of each fault and crime. 
And rnarke also what things are taught, 
and print them in your minde and thought. 
Beat downe your will, with witt and grace; 
and foster hOt in any case 
Your lewd attempts to this or that ; 
but in God's word learne wht is what. 

In humble sort, pray we, pray we, 
vnto one God and Persons three. 
O let us rnagnifye his name, 
and sound out prayses to the same ; 
For he in mercy did vs bringe 
a godly, wise, and vertuous Kinge. 
Notlinge we lacke, in these out dayes; 
wherefore let vs walke in his wayes, 
Regarding neyther this nor that, 
but seeke to know still w/za¢ is ]m¢. 

[xx] x The] reaclThat. [*] 5 the time]omitthe. 7 knew] 
rcad do. 9 i. e. St. M*tt. vii. u3. [4] u and] readin. 

ShirurTt Ballacts, 1X 

Here will I knitt vp and condude; 
here will I ende my verses rude. 
Ail yow that are disposed to singe, 
to, to heare, this simple thinge, 
Desire of God (and soe will I) 
that we may profit well hereby, 
Even for his Sonne CHRIST JEstrs sake: 
to hom let vs out selues betake. 
So shall we never be forgot, 
for he will teach us zt,hat is what. 

No. X 

You gallant maidens of the world 

Fol. 119-I22¢: written in the third, imperfectly-formed hand, for which 
lines bave been ruled. The small letters at the beginning of proper names 
are an additional characteristic of this hand. The town of Moers, M6rs, 
Meurs, is thirty-six mlles south-east of Diisseldorf. 
We have a touch of the times in stanza 3- Sugared wines were a great 
feature of Jacobean, and (before that) of Elizabethan, banquets. At 
Maldon there was never a year without corporation entertainment, al'ter 
this fashion, to knight and lady, lawyer and church dignitary, preacher 
and soldier; from which we may infer its frequency at private parties. 
Thus, in 16o6, '4s. 6d. for a pottell of sack, pottell of clarrett, and sugar, 
to Sir John Sames, knt. and Sir William Ayloffe, knt. ; 2s. 3 d. for a quart 
of sack. a quart of clan'et wyne, and ½ lb. of sugar, sent, to gratifie Mr. 
[Dauiel] Rogers the preacher, to the place where he stayed in the towne.' 
In 1607, ' 2s. lori. for a pottell of wine, and sugar, to Mris. Mildmay, of 
Danbury, at ber resort in this towne.' In t6o8, ' Ss. 4,4. for a pottell of 
sack, a pottdl of claret wyne, and a lb. of sugar to Archdeacon [Samuel] 
Harsnett on his visitation ; 24 May, t6s. for a gallon of sack, a gallon and 
pottell of clarrett wyne, and 6 lb. of sugar on the earl of Sussex and the 
lord Harringxon at their coming to the town.' In I61h ' 9 s. zd. in wyne 
and sugar on Sir Edward Bullock, knt., captain of the trained hand.' 
Stanza 12 alludes to the maid's naine as being well known, whereas it 
is not given in the ballad. Probably the ballad purs into mette a 
pamphlet, which did give the naine : cf. No. XXXIII. 
The ballad is nicely baited to trap English interest by the allusion 
(stanza 13) to the Princess Royal of England, who had sailed from Kent, 
z6 April, 1613. Meurs lay near her route to her new home, and she may 
bave passed through it on her journey (being, 2o May, t6t3, evening, at 
Emmerich ; 2 May at Niederwesel ; 22 May at Diisseldorf), though she 
certainly ruade no stay there. English readers were not likely to b¢ 
critical, and would cheerfully accept apocryphal tidings of the foreign 
progress of their king's daughter. Her marriage had taken place I4 Feb. 
16tz- 3. People had been naturally interested in the match, as the first 

Shiraurn Ballads, X 

royal wedding since  554; and pleased with it, as to a Protestant. It had 
also been brought home to every parish by the collection (first time since 
x 5oz a) of the old feudal ' aid '. Precepts of the magistrates of Maldon to 
the constables of two of the three parishes are extant, ' to collect, and 
paie over unto us, ail and every the somes herafter appering, for a 
reasonable ayde to be paied to his maiestie towards the mariag of the 
Lady Elizabeth, his highnes eldest daughter.' The sums are taxed accord- 
ing to property, and are to be paid to Commissioners at Chelmsford on 
Monday, z November, 6xz. The amount actually collected in the two 
parishes seems to be ,4 s. zd. ; the 'arrears', i.e. assessed amount 
uncollected, , Ss. 6d. The rateable proportion paid by Maldon for its 
corporate property was os. ; and 6s. Bd. was allowed the Town-clerk for 
' making up the book of the aide for this towne paid to his maiestie for to 
marie the lady Elizabeth, his highnesse eldest daughter'. Popular atten- 
tion had also been drawn to the princess by the tours of her company of 
players. Maldon accounts show, 6z, 'zos. to the plaires of th, e right 
noble princes[si Lady Elizabeth coming to this towne this yeare. 63, 
' os. given to the plaires of the right noble princess Elizabeth comyng to 
this towne thls year." The smaller grant of 63 probably shows wincing 
at the ' aid' charges of 6z. 

meurs ill duAch/and, tat 
fo0e t 16 eeareg 
ungre n0r titte; 
latrle eene preentr t0 tÇr lae e/izaet, 
te ing' augtrr 0f enz/and. 
a mae be te maire 
tran¢late int0 enç/ish. 
Yoç galhnt maidens of the world, 
of beau faire and fine, 
Behould a heauenly blessing giuen 
vnto this life of mine. 
Full sixteene yees are pt and gone 
since last I tasted foode, 
And to this houre no meate nor drinke 
oen doe my body good. 
No thirst nor hunger me annoyes, 
nor weakenes my estate ; 
But liues like one that's finely fed 
with dainties delioete. 

 Marriage of Margaret of England to James IV of Scotland : 
see No. LXXVIL lai 3 But liues] read I liue. 

Shirburn Ballacls, P[ 
For daily in my hand I beare 
a pleasant smelling flower, 
Which to maintaine me sale in health 
bath still the blessèd power. 
For, when that nature framd me first 
a young and tender maide, 
To liue as other damsels did 
my heart grewe sore afraide, 
And doubted much theies sugred wines, 
and banquets of great cost, 
Would drow my soule to wanton sin, 
thereby to haue it lost. 
Then downe vpon the ground I kneel'd, 
and ruade my prayers to heauen 
That no such sweete delightfull ioyes 
might to my minde be giuen, 
But rather still to fast and pray 
to quench ail wanton rires 
That in my bosome might take hold 
or kindle vaine desires. 
lly pure vnspotted minde preuaild 
according to my will, 
And so my life preseruèd is 
by smelling flow-ers still, 
That belly-gods and drunkards ail 
might hereby take good heede 
How they their unsuffisèd mawes 
doe daily stuffe and feede. 
So neuer after this could foode 
into my body goe, 
Nor any art of man could bring 
my nature thereunto ; 
By which a wonder I became, 
and people much did muse 
How I could liue in perfect health 
and sustenance refuse. 
Within the towne of meurs, well known, 
I liud thus many yeares, 
Where much resort vnto me came 
of states and noble peeres, 
[3] 5 theies] these. 7 drow) rtad draw. 

Shiraurn Ballacls,  
Who p[r]offerd me much curtesie 
if I would with them eate. 
As god would haue, I still refusd 
ail kindes of drinke and meate. 
Amongst the rest, a countesse braue, 
a lady of renowne, 
On pleasure came, with ail her traine, 
to see this famous towne ; 
And, hearing of this meruaile strange 
that I so long had usd, 
In person came, her selle to see 
if foode I quight refusd. 

Where, after rnany speaches past 
and tryalls ruade in vaine, 
The Countesse sought some other way 
her purpose to obtaine, 
And traind me to an Orchard forth 
where pleasant cherries grew, 
And vnawares the one of them 
into my mouth she threw. 

The iuyce there-of I tasted straight, 
which downe my body past, 
Whereby into a deadly swound 
I sodainely was cast: 
Where, if good meanes had not beene ruade 
by phisicke cuning cure, 
I neuer had recouered more, 
but there had died most sure. 
This strange attempt being spred abroad 
to-places farre and neare, 
Did mooue the nobles of that land 
to hold my lire more deare ; 
And straight app[o]inted for my guard 
a person wise and graue ; 
And, for his paines and mainteinance, 
a monthly pention gave. 

Shirurn tallaa?s, 
Then yeelded I the lord aboue 
eternall laude and prase 
That thus bath ruade me in my life 
a wonder of these daies : 
A wonder, sure, in that my naine 
about the world is spread, 
And will, I know, remembred be, 
(saide she)when I ara dead. 
But now, to make and end of ail ; 
my fortunes to adduance, 
Prince palsgraue and his lady faire 
came th[r]ough the towne by chance; 
Where princely faire elezabelh, 
with ail her english traine, 
Desired to stay and see the same, 
and there a while remaine. 
Where, for a meruaile, to her grace 
my selfe full soone was told, 
And there presented to her sight 
that she might me behould; 
Who straight demaunded how I liud 
so straingely in that kinde, 
Receuing neither meate nor drinke 
which nature seeke to finde. 
My answere was :--the lord aboue 
my dayes did thus preserue, 
From whose commaundement in the 
l'le neuer goe nor swerue. 
And, therewithall, I gaue the prince 
a nosegay of sweete flowers, 
For by the verrue of such like 
I take my breathing power[si. 
The which the gentle lady tooke, 
in kinde and humble wise, 
As if they had been Jemmes of wroth 
and Jewells of great prize ; 
And, for the same, returnd me backe 
a guift of good red gold, 
An hundreth Dollers presently, 
the which my keeper told, 
[z3] I and] readan 3 i.e. in *6z 3. 
seeks. Ix5] 3 in the] read in the least. 
princess. [6 3 wroth] rad woth. 

[4] 8 seeke] rtad 
5 prince] i.e. 

Nirurn Ballads, X 

With charge that I should maintaind, 
accordinge to my will, 
At meurs, where I was bred and borne, 
and there continue still. 
Thus, from this good and gratious prince, 
I parted in kinde loue ; 
Where ail my words for veryty 
she did by witnesse proue. 

Some Englis lord did there that rime 
my vse and manners see; 
With Englis Ladyes in like sort, 
which meruaile much at me, 
Anti can report this thing for truth 
that's heere to England sent-- 
Yea, those that with out princely bird 
to alsKrauds Country went. 

Then let no man, with hard beleefe, 
account this newes vntrue. 
At meurs I liue (and there will die), 
for such as will me viewe. 
So, England! blest be thee and thine 
by God's most holy hand :-- 
This praier the d«tcMand maiden sends 
from that good neitloerland. 

No. XI 

Jewry came to Jerusalem 
Fol. 123: begins imperfectl¥, the preccding lcafhaving been cul out. The 
text is completed from a Black-letter cop¥, in 4to RawL 566, fol. 156 (olim 
53)- The obscure stanza 6 seerns to mean :--the Jews held a mistaken 
belief that the advent of thc Messiah was to be prodaimed abroad b¥ 
thunder; whereas, in fact, il was ruade known b¥ angelic song. 
This, with ils companion-pi.ecc (No. XII), is, in ont wa¥, the most 
singular ballad in thc set. As s sccn in No. XIII, thc tune was closel¥ 

Il'l] t should] readshould be. 
princely bird] read that princely bride. 

lord] read lords. 

7 out 

Shirburn Ballads, XI 

associated with songs of indelicale or even filthy character. We are, 
therefore, to think of the author, as setting himself, undeterred by the 
tangattaching to the music, to compose ennobling words for it, determined, 
like a later hymn-writer, that ' the devil shall hOt bave ail the best tunes: 
A copy of the broad-sheet, with Nos. XI and XII on it, may weil bave 
been in Milton's hands when he wrote (I629, I63o) his ode On the Ararn- 
ing of Christ's Nativity and his fragment on The Passion. At an' rate, 
the two ballads form no unworthy prelude to these hymns. At the end of 
each verse, some licence for writing nonsense may be conceded to the 
librettist who had to provide words for so tricky a tune and for rhymes so 
intricate. The religious poet (Nos. XI, XII)appears to require less 
indulgence, in this respect, than the amatory (No. XIII). 


tttllnt Salla of tÇe irflj 


[Jury came to ferusalem 
(ail the world was taxed then): 
Blessed ,l/'ary brought to Belhlehett 
more then all the world again. 
A gift so blest, so good; the best 
That e'r was seen, was heard, or done. 
A King, a CHRIST, prophet and priest, 
/t festts, God, a Man, a Son. 

Ix] t i.e. Jewry. 6 e'r] i.e. e'er. 

S/zirurn Ballads, 
Happy night! a day was never 
hall so happy, sweet, and fair : 
Singing Souldiers, blessed ever, 
fill the sky with sweetest air. 
Amaz'd men fear, they see, they hear ; 
yet doubt and ask how this was done. 
'Twas bid 'Behold it was foretold,' 
This night bath God himself a sott. 
There appears a golden Usher, 
kings attending on his train: 
The bright sun could hot outblush her-- 
sueh a star ne'r short again. 
See now it stays, seeming it says 
' Go in, and see what there is done :'] 
A child whose birth leagues heauen and earth; 
JEsus to vs ; to God, a sonne. 
Subtill lzrerod sent to finde him, 
with a purpose blacke as hell ; 
But a greater power consumd him, 
and his purpose did repell, 
Who should betray doe ail obey,-- 
As fitting was it should be done. 
The[n] ail adore, and kneele before, 
This God and man, to god a sonne. 
'Twas vpon a Commet's blazing 
Cuma to luffttSlttS sayd :-- 
« This foreshewes an act anaazinge ; 
' [or a mother, still a maide, 
'A babe shalle beare that ail must feare, 
'And sodainely it must be done. 
'Nay, Caesar! thow to him must bowe 
' Heer's god and man, to god a sonne.' 
Is not this a blessed wonder? 
God is man, and man is god. 
Foolish £rewes mistooke the thunder 
should proclame the king abroad. 
Angels they syng ' behould the kinget. ' 
In t?eththelem where this was done. 
Then we, as they, reioyce, and saye 
' We haue a sauiour ; god, a sonne.' 
[3]  i.e. St. Matt. ii. , 2. 7 Indp't fol. t3of MS. 
4] 3 consumd] read confin'd. 5 doe] read whom. [5] 2 i. e. 
ibylla Cumana, as in Verg., Ecl. iv. 4- 

Shirburn Ballads, XII 

No. XII 

Turn your eyes, that are affixèd 
Fol. 123 v : fo ' the saine tune' as the preceding ; i.e. fo Dulcina. Il is 
really a ' second part' of No. XI, as is shown both by the title of that piece, 
and by the Black-letter exemplar in 4to Rawl. 566, fol. 156 (olim 
where it is printed alongside of No. XI on the saine sheet. 


TVRE yours eyes, that are affixbd 
on this world's deceavinge things ; 
And, with ioy and sorrow mixbd, 
Looke vpon the kinge of kings, 
Who left his throne, with ioyes vnknowne ; 
Tooke flesh like ours ; like as drew breath, 
For vs to dy: heere fixe your eye, 
Ind thinke ulOon his tOrecious death 
See him, in the Gardaine prayinge, 
while his sad disciples slept ; 
See him, in the Garden sweatinge 
Droppes of bloud, and how he wept. 
As man he as, hee wept (Alasse 
And, trembling, feard to lose his breath ; 
Yet to heauen's will hee yeelded still: 
Then thinke vz#on his lOrecious dealh I 
See him, by the Souldiers taken ; 
hen, with Auè and a kisse, 
Hee, that Heaven b_ad quite forsaken, 
had betrayd him, and vith this! 
Behould him bound, and garded round, 
To Caiphas borne to loose his breath. 
There see the Jewes heaven's king abuse. 
0 thinke v/on his precious death ! 
Ix] t your] read your. 6 like as] read like us. [3] 3 t]t] 
i. ¢. whom, riz. Judas. 

Shirurn Ballads, 
See him, in the hands ol r 
like a base offender stript; 
See the rnone and teares they srnile at, 
while they see our Saviour whipt. 
Behould hirn bleede: his purple weede 
Record, while yow have life and breath ; 
His taunts, and scornes, his crowne of thornes. 
Oh thinke vpon his precious death ! 
See him, in the houre of parting, 
hanging on his bloody Crosse. 
See his wounds ; conceiue his smartinge, 
and our gaine by his lyve's losse. 
One eyther syde a fellon dyed-- 
The one derided him, leaving breath; 
The other praies, and humbly sayes 
Oh mue me by thy precfous death ! 
See, as in these pangs he thirstèd, 
and, that heate to coole, did call, 
How these.[vives (like Iudas cursèd) 
bring him vineger and gall. 
His spirit then to heaven againe 
Comrnending with his latest breath, 
The world he leaves that man deceaues. 
Oh thinke ,on his predous death I 


The golden god Hyperion 

Fol. I24 v : second part on fol. lzS". In the first two lines daybreak is 
described by the reflection of the sun [Hyperion] from the sea, which is 
named from Thetis, the mother of Achilles. The saine combination of 
names occurs in other ballads. The combination is possible, since Thetis 
was a Nereid and dwelt, with ber sisters, in the sea-depths. Probably, 
however, the more familiar name has displaced Tethys, wife of Oceanus, 
a better opposite to Hyperion. Samuel Danie|'s masque, Tethys Festival, 
was brought out in 161o. 
The refrain of the ballad belongs to out older piece (see Chappell's 
Po2ular Music oflhe Olden Time, 71  ); and, as used here, is meaningless. 

[5] 50ne] rad On. 6 derided] read derides. 
world that deceives man. 

[6] 7 i.e. leaves the 

Shirburn Ballads, XIII 

Dukina ¢omplagnet for 
er earet Coridot, but at lrngt 
To THE TUNE OF Dulcina. 
T8z golden god vrion 
by Ttis is saluted, 
Yet comes as Shepard Coridon, 
In Bdall cloothinge suited. 
uldna then did y that men 
Were cuing like the siluer moon; 
And now I fre I buy to deare 
orgoe me n, corne /o  soone. 
Wandring by the silver mounines 
seking my sweet Sheprds swaine, 
I hard the chirsmll humming founines 
morningly ith me complaine 
How I ara slayne by love's disdaine, 
d all my musicke out of tune; 
Yet ill I singe no other thinge 
Love is in her blooming blasted, 
deceavèd by a golden tone; 
Vaine delights haue fondly tasted 
sweets that bringe me bytter wrong. 
Yet hee's a creature, for his fture, 
More iocund then the sue or moone. 
Sweet, tume again the flowre of men 
Let res sing the Rundelayes, 
and fayes daunce their twilight's rond, 
Whilst we, in Venu sued phyes, 
doe solace on the flowe ound. 
The darkest night for our ddight 
Is still as pleasant as the moone. 
Within thy armes, when Cupid charmes, 
uldna nnot be to soone. 
Ix] u Tht] read Tethys. 3 ¢om ] ad com hot. 
 Shepds] r«ad sheppard. 
moingly] read mouingly. [3] 3 haue] re l¢e. 
the] aa thou. [4] i e] read eir. 

S]irurn Ballads, XIII 
A sheephooke, ail of good red gould, 
my Caridon, l'le the provide 
To drive my larnbes vnto their fold, 
»oe I may be thy wedded bride; 
And for thy sake l'le garlands make 
of Rosye buds and Hawthorne b|oome. 
Make noe delay but sweetly say-- 
l'le corne to my Du&ina soone. 
As shee in sorrow thus sat weeping, 
goulden slumber closd ber eyes; 
The shepard carne, and round ber sleeping, 
saying--' Fayre Dulcina, rise[ 
' Let love adome out bridall morne.' 
Now bels doe ring a silver tune, 
And prety faunes daunce o're the Lawnds 
to thinke what ioyes will follow soone. 


A hundreth shephards corne with him, 
attyrèd ail in cuntry gray. 
With oaten reeds they pipèd trime 
in honour of Love's holydaye. 
Their bonnets fayre ernbrodred were, 
in beauty lyke a winter's moone, 
Which set on tire the sweet desire 
of wishèd ioyes that followed soone. 
Loyalty with love's requited, 
yf that loyers have contentinge ; 
And pleasure stolne will be affrighted 
soone by jealous head tormentinge. 
For still their lyes, in loyers' eyes, 
a fancy changing like the moone; 
Yet, in my brest, a constant rest 
of sweet delight that cornes full soone. 

[5] a the] i. e. thee. 3 my] read thy. [8] 4 jealous head] 
jealousohead» i. e. jealousy. 5 their] i.e. there. 
,.,,,,. - (65) 

SAiraurn lallads, XIII 
Out wood-nymphs on their sommer greenes, 
God Cupid kindly to content, 
Will foote it, like the nymble Queenes 
that daunst in Lady Irenus ' tent: 
And 1-.vmen's hands tye holy bands, 
this bridall day, before hye noone. 
A fayrer Dame did never Swain 
say, 'Corne, Z)uldna, to me soone.' 
The day is spent with sweet desires; 
our wishes welcome gentle night; 
And virgins' Lampes, of 1-Iymen's rires, 
doe lead the way to love's delight. 
Come, nymph, and rest vpon my brest 
tyll cockes do crowe their morning tune 
Then let's awake, and pastime make, 
and tast the ioyes we shall haue soone. 
Aurora, blushing white and redde, 
now lends vs pleasure in our sleepes ; 
And bright tlppollo, from his bed, 
between the silken Curtaines keepes ; 
And with his face giue[s] sweter grace 
then 29hoebus doth at cheerefull noone. 
Leaue of to say ' Away, Away ;' 
and l'le be still thy comfort soone. 
Thus, hand in hand, desire did meete, 
as men and maydens vse to doe. 
If yow attempt a Lady sweete, 
corne, learne of Coridon to woe. 
The cuntry Swaine is alwayes plaine, 
and sings to love the sweetest tune. 
Be hot to coy, but say, with ioy, 
1;orffoe me home, corne go me soone. 

[9 -I 3 Queenes] i.e. the Graces (Hot. Carrn. I. 4- 5, 6). 7 A] 
read To. [I x] 4 keepes] rad peeps. 6 then] i. e. than. 
of] off. 

Shir#urn Ballads, )flF" 

No. XIV 

What heart so hard, but will relent 

Fol. I26 v. I have not found lvy Bridge in old maps of London. In 
Charles II's time there was, and there is still, an Ivy Lane, not far from 
Newgate Street. 
In his zeal to press his point of Sabbath observance the writer bas dis- 
torted facts (stanza l l). A Maldon borough by-law, no doubt coincident 
with statute-law, January 1558-9, warns « a]] vittelers.., that they do hOt 
surfer any persons to eate or drynke in ther howses in the tyme of devine 
service, travelyg men only excepted, vppon payne to forfeyte, for every 
time of offending, 1os.' A typical Maldon ale-house licence, of 1628, 
contais an express proviso that the licensee shall ' sell no beere or ale in 
his bouse during service- or sermon-time' on Sunday or holy-day. Pre- 
sentments, and fines, for breach of by-law (or statute) are frequent. Public 
opinion sanctioned magisterial investigation in ale-houses during service- 
time, even where it resented it in private houses. At Maldon Epiphany 
sessions, I622-3, chief-magistrate John Rudland complained that on 
Sunday, January 12, he and other officers found a husbandman of St. 
Mary's parish and other company, during service-time, in the house of 
Robert Barber, fisherman, of St. Peter's parish; and that his remon- 
strances for their being there, and hOt at church, were met by the retort, 
' Goe ! meddle with your alehowsen : for you bave nothing to do with me.' 
The suggestion of the ballad is that the persons named went from London 
to Southwark to avoid such visitation. But the ballad itself states that 
tbey waited till after service, when, even in London, they would bave been 
free from molestation on Sabbatarian grounds. 
There is inconsistency also between the title, which makes the accident 
occur on Sunday night, and stanzas I 5 and 16, which put it on Monday 
The allusion to James I's 'laws' in stanza 3 ° is to a proclamation 
issued in t6o7, enjoining strict observance of the Sabbath. To the 
messenger who brought this to Maldon, fs. was paid in that year. The 
earliest stature on the subject seems to be that of 625 [l Car. I, cap. 
directed against divers abuses committed on tbe Lord's day, bearebaiting, 
bullbaiting, enterludes, common playes '. 
In Elizabeth's reign ' The Bill for more Diligent Resort to Churches on 
Sundayes was Read,' in 16o, enforcing attendance by a penalty of 
but seems hot to have reached its final stage : Heywood Townshend, T/te 
Four last Parliamenta af Queen Elizabeth, London, 6co, p. 273. 

»  67) 

8hirburn lallacts,  iii 

I eolefulI eittpe of tibe bnfortunat per-. 
en tÇat ere rone in tÇ¢ir 
Octo&r lat, 1OlO : et fortÇ for an 
fer ail ut prepaner er te 
abaotÇ aee. 
To H U OF ss«x 
WnAT a SO hard, but wi]l relent 
of Strangers' sudaine deate fo re; 
And, of God's dreadful punishment, 
he oennot choose but stande in feare. 
Some reth with the morninge Sun, 
ail healthfull, lustye, stronge, and bolde; 
And yet, before the day be done, 
are changd to claye and rthly moulde. 
And some, hot well prerd for death, 
are in a moment ne awaye, 
And graunted hOt one minute's breath 
to make provision for that daye. 
Then let our lives soe ordered bee, 
that death may corne what howre he will ; 
So shall we ioyfull endings see, 
whilst others reape deseèd iii. 
And call to out remembrance, then, 
the heavy Judgements of the Lord 
Inflicted on fyve haplesse men, 
forgetfull of his holy worde: 
The which were neighbours in the Strande, 
of good account and credit ail, 
But, followinge not the Lord's commaund, 
did into carelesse courses rail. 

Sirurn Ballacts, 
For, God's most blessed Sabbath daye, 
a day of order for holy vse, 
In sinfull sorte, the ' spent awaye 
in gormandizinge['s] foule abuse. 
Vea! on tht daye, the which, by heaven, 
apinted is for prayer and rest, 
That blessèd day of ail the seaven, 
which should anaongst vs be the best, 
Was, by these sinefull wicked igh, 
consumde with ott and excesse, 
Who, for their ilfull vaine delights, 
d tymelesse ends, remedilesse. 
For as, before, they did consent 
to meet and merye-make that daye; 
And, findinge hOt, for their content, 
a place where they might safely stay 
From sight of neighbors, and of those 
in Oce made to srch and see 
Howe oerelesse pple styll bestowes 
the Sabbath day vnreverentlye, 
So, further off from home they ent, 
and crost the çems to Southware side, 
Where they the time in drinkinge spent, 
regardlesse there to be espy'de. 

Ke et0ne tart. 
Scarce could they stay God's service end, 
so soone from church they needs must goem 
Good Lord, vs synners ail defend 
from seekinge thus vntimelye woe! 
How apt were they to runne the path 
of temptinge iii, and vaine delight ! 
For which the Lord's most heavy wrath 
vpon them sodainlye did light. 
[7] a of order] r«ad ordain'd. [8] I on] read ail. 

Shir(mrn Ballads, 
For, all that day and foliowing nyght, 
they ply'de soe well the good ale can, 
Tyll ail their wites were wasted quite» 
and not remainde one sober man. 
And so continuinge, with content, 
till next day morninge fast drew on, 
The rime beinge slipt awaye and spent, 
in desperat sort they would be gone. 
Though all the 27ames, with billowinge waues, 
did raginge swell and fise full hi,e, 
To hardi', they for passage craues, 
havinge a Boatman ready bl', 
Who, as the Lord appointed had, 
attending was, and ready founde; 
But, being all with drinke growne madd, 
thei' were in wofull manner drownd. 
For, blinded with intisinge iii, 
herein they thought themselues secure ; 
](et every one, by God's high will, 
his dreadfull anget did indute, 
The which (no doubt)his Judgements were 
for spending so his Sabaoth day, 
Else had he gyven them grace and care 
not thus to cast themselues awaye. 
By whose vntimely losse of lives 
their freinds, bewayling, sorrowe makes: 
Their parents, kindred, and their wives, 
now sit lamentinge for their sakes. 
Their children, that be fatherlesse, 
might longe have had these loving freinds, 
If that this desperate wilfulnesse 
had hot thus brough[t] them to their ends. 
[  7] a Toi i. e. Too. 

Shirurn tallatts, .J(I[ r 
Their neighbours' griefes were hot the least, 
when of these hard mishaps they knev; 
Who came, with sorrovinge harts possest, 
this deathfull sight of dole to viev. 
With grieud harts, both younge and olde, 
that of their kinde acquaintance were 
Came sadly likewise, to behoulde 
Their lifelesse bodyes lyinge there. 
For, beinge found, they ail were layde 
there, one by one, vpon the shoore, 
that people might be ail afrayde 
of such offences, more and more, 
And frighted from this custome vaine 
(wherein the world doth so delight), 
God's blessd Sabaoth to prophane, 
from heavenl, grace deseruèd quight. 
Thus god (ve see), with powerfull will, 
for man's amisse and secret sinne, 
Still plagues by Justice every iii, 
the rest from like misdeedes to winne. 
Therefore, let ail good people then 
take heede how they the Lord offend, 
Lest, like to these vnhappy men, 
they come to have such suddaine end. 
And to the Lord out pray-ers make 
that suddaine deathes we never haue. 
For Jtrs ClRlSa: our Sauiour's sake, 
give vs repentance to out grave. 
And for our Kinge let's hourely praye, 
that such good lawes for vs decreed, 
That we may keepe God's Sabaoth day, 
of which we wretches take small heed. 

The Professions of these persons, so vnfortunately 
drowned, were :--, a Haberdasher ; 2, a Taylor ; 
3, a Sadler ; 4, a Barber ; $, a Waterman. 

Shirburn Ballads, XP" 
No. XV 
Ail Christian men, give ear a while to me 
Fol. I29. Text given in Roxburghe Ballads, vi. 7o3, from numerous 
131ack-letter exemplars. The interest of the piece lies in its connexion 
with Christopher Marlowe's (I598) Faustus. Here, as in No. LV, a 
ballad and a tragedy bave a common origin. In 1587 there appeared at 
Franldort-on-Main Historia von Z). Johann Fausten; which ,,vas 
promptly Englisht by ' P. F. gent.' as TAc Historie af tac damnable Lift 
and desered Z)eath af 2)r.tohn Faustu$ (re-edition I$92). 
The deed (stanza 6), written in blood, is executed, like a legal eontract 
in duplicate, one copy to remain with each of the t,,vo parties to it. 
For contemporary belief in sorcery, see note to No. XXXVII. In I563 
{5 lïlizabeth, cap. 16) was passed 'An Act agaynst Conjuracions, 
Inchantments, and Witchecrafts'. In 6o 4 this was replaced by the Statute 
J Jac. I, cap. 12, which punished by' pains of deathe as a felon', ail persons 
who, as Faustus does in the ballad, 'covenant with.., any evill and wicked 

,pirit... to or for an}, intent or purpose.' 

Slir[urn Ballads, XI7 
In Wittenberge, a towne in Germany, 
there was I rne and bred, of go degree, 
Of honest stocke, which afterward I shamed 
accurst thereforefor austus I was namd. 
In leaminge lofe my vncle brought  me, 
and ruade me Doctor of Divinitye ; 
And, when he dyed, he gave me ail his wealth 
his cursèd gold did hinder my soule's health. 
Then did I shun the holy Bible boeke, 
nor on God's lawes would never after loeke; 
But studied accursèd coniuration, 
'hich was the cause of my vtter damtion. 
The Dell, in Frier's weed, appeard to me; 
and soene to my request consented he. 
That I might have 1 things I would desire, 
I gave him oeule and body, for his hire. 
Twise did I make my tender flesh m bleed; 
twise, with my blé, I wrot the Devill a deed: 
Twise, wretchedly, th soule and y muld, 
to lire in pfide and do what thing I would. 
For fowre and twentye yres this bond was ruade, 
and at the end my soule was trewlye paide. 
Time tan away, and yet I never thought, 
how deare my Saviour CHmS h my soule ught. 
Would I had then been ruade a beast by kinde, 
then had I hot m vainely set my minde ; 
Or would, when reason first began to bloome, 
some darksome den had beene my deadly toeme 
Wo to the day of my natiuitye  
wo to the rime that once did foster me l 
And wo vnto my hand that soEld the bill 
woe to my selfe, the causer of my ill 
7]  trewlye] ad to be 4 how deare] i. e. af what eat 
pnce. [8] 4 toome] i. e. tomb. 

Shir[urn Ballads, )[1  

The time I spent awaye with much delight 
mongst princes, peers, and many a worthy knight. 
I wrought such wonders, with my magicke skill, 
that ail the world may talke of l:austus still. 
The Devill caried me vp into the skye, 
where I did sec how ail the world did lye. 
I went about the earth in eyght dayes' space, 
and then returnd vnto my native place. 
What pleasures I did wish to please my minde 
he did performe, as hand and seale did bind ; 
The secrets of the Starres, and Planers, told ; 
of earth and sea ; with wonders manifould. 

When fowre and twenty years were almost run, 
I thought of all things that were past and doone-- 
How that the Devill would corne and clame his right, 
and carry me to everlasting night. 
Then--all to late--I curst my wilfull deed, 
the griefe whereof did make my hart to bleed: 
Ail dayes, ail howrs, all nights, I mornnèd sore, 
repenting me of ail things donc before. 
I then did wish both Sun and moone to staye, 
ail times and seasons never to decaye: 
Then, had my tyme ne're corne to datèd ende, 
nor soul and body downe to hell descend. 
At last, when I had but an howre to corne, 
I turnd my glasse for my best hour to run ; 
And cald in learnèd men to comfort me-- 
But faith was gone, and comfort none could bec. 
By twelue a clock my glasse was almost out: 
my greeuèd conscience then began to doubL 
I wisht the students stay in chamber 
but, as they staid, they hard a dolefull cry. 

Ix4] 3 mornnèd] i.e. mourned. 

best] read last. 

Shirurn Ballacts, t r 

Then, presently, they came into the hall, 
whereas my braines were cast against the wall: 
Both armes, and leggs, in peices tome did see ; 
my bowels gone--that was the end of ne. 

¥ow Coniurours, and damnd wretches ail, 
example take by this accursd fall. 
Giue hot your soules and bodyes vnto hell: 
see that the smallest heare yow do hot sell 


But hope that CnR,ST'S kingdom yow may gaine, 
where yow shall never feel such greeuous payne. 
Forsaking the Devill and ail his craftye wayes, 
embrace trew faith that never more decayes. 

No. XVI 

The dreadful day of doom draws near 

Fol. 13 or, title, in second hand; fol. 13, text, in third hand: with second 
part, fol. 136v, first 3 verses in second hand, test in third hand; continued 
on fol. I44, in third hand. This ballad bears testimony partly to the 
popular appetite for the marvellous, but more to the prevalence of apo- 
calyptic speculation in James l's reign. It is unlikely that the place-naine 
and the presumable matters of fact (great thunderstorm and outbreak of 
pestilence) are quite fictitious, though they have not yet been nailed down 
definitely. The nearest place, in point of lettering, that I find in Gazetteers 
is Holt, a commune of Belgium, province of Limburg. blore probable, in 
respect of locality, is Holten, a village (z,46z inhabitants) near Diisseldorf: 
cf. M6rs in No. X. In Roxburghe Collection, il. 545, and in 4to Rawl. 
566, fol. 166, is the woodcut for the second part of this ballad, representing 
three skeletons, rising from graves, numbered I, , 3, to fit them to stanzas 
8, 9, 11. It has nothing to do with the piece where it cornes; but the 
Black-letter printer would hot, for such a trifle as inappropriateness, let 
his wood-blocks lie idle. 

[x9] 4 heare] i.e. hair. 

Christ'si read Christ h;s. 

Shirurn Ballads, XI/I 

ff)iratuIoua Jtlja from tl titfi of Ho/dt 
bopr rnr to ri out of tÇir rau 
pon tÇ trntitÇ 
1616, itÇ 
Ta dreadfull day of doome drawes neere: 
oh mortall man, repent 
For ail the world is full of sinne, 
and vnto mischiefe bent. 
His sword is drawne to strike vs dead, 
as heere it is declard: 
Then let vs call vnto the lord, 
with cryes that may be heard. 
The lord hath shewd his anger late 
by lightning and in Thunder, 
With many othoe fearfull threats 
of terror and great wonder. 
As late, at oldt in Germany, 
the heauens ail burning bright 
Appearèd, full fiue houres and more, 
there in a fiery light. 

Shirlurn Ballads, XVI 
The dreadfull Thunders ratled loude, 
the lightning flashes strange, 
Which seemd, within a moment's time, 
this earthly globe to change. 
The people ail were sore amazd 
the same to heare and see ; 
And euery one did thinke that day 
the day of doome to be. 
And those that in the Towne[s] neare dwelt, 
adioyning to the saine, 
Did thinke the cittye ail on tire 
and burning in a flame. 
Where-at they came in numbers fast, 
with manye a fearefull crye, 
To helpe to quench the burning rires 
that seemd to flame on hie. 
But there they found no building burnt, 
nor house with tire consumd ; 
But ail the cittie in a maze, 
that so in sinne presumd: 
Where, s¢hen the thundrin[g] tempest ceased, 
was heard a dolefull sound 
And clamor, which strucke trembling feare 
through ail the cittye round. 
Yet no man could perceiue from whence 
those dreadfull clamours came; 
Nor could they finde, in any place, 
the speakers of the saine. 
Yet euery where it still was heard, 
but no-w[h]ere could be round, 
Though in the cittye still it gaue 
a fearfull hiddeous sound. 
At leng[t]h the people vnto Church 
did generally repaire, 
In-tending there vnto the lord 
to sacrifice in prayer. 
But in the church-yard, as they went, 
the Graues did open wide, 
From whence rose vp three ghostly shapes 
which long belote had dyed. 
[3] 4. change] read range. ['7] 8 F.xii«'t, fol. x3a. The 
second part inciit on fo!. 

Shirburn 13allads, .XII1 

= onl part. 
Wereof the first as seene fo be 
Yet f a hmze sa  see, 
mst semly cleere ad 
1Vho spake these wordes :' ow is the time 
' (the lord be blest therefore ! ) 
' That we haue loekt for, day by day, 
'these thousands yres and more.' 
The second that rose from his aue 
oeme with more trembling feare, 
For, all in tire, from head to foote, 
he burning did appeare. 
Vpon his head his haire likewise 
did flaming snd vpfight ; 
And ail his by round about 
did shine with fie light. 
Quoth he :'Renç repent with speede, 
' you Nations on the eah ; 
'For g intends to plague you ail 
' with pestilence and death. 
'Your pompe and pride he will destroy: 
'Your liues with speede amend. 
'Rent, rent, while rime giues lue: 
' the world is at an end.' 
No sooner ended these his wordes, 
but came a third in sight, 
A feaffull shape that strangely brought 
the people in a fright ; 
For, gnashing of his teeth together, 
he made a hiddeous c, 
Delivering fooh the threatning wo 
vnto the sunders-by. 
'Woe, woe to you, wicked men! 
'this is the time that we 
'So many a day haue lookèd for ; 
«Bd OW the sae we 
[8] 8 OEousands] v¢ad thouad. 

S/irurn lallaas, 

'Strange suddaine deaths are neere at hand ; 
'the earth with trembling feare 
'Shall shortly be incompast round, 
' Euen now this present yeare.' 

So heauing spoake these threatning words, 
their graues did open wide, 
Where hacke againe these gastly shapes, 
before them ail, did glide. 
When dosèd vp, the skyes grew ¢leare, 
and so the tempest ceast : 
The people ail, from present feares, 
were likewise so releast. 

But yet, assembling soone themselfe, 
vnto the lord gaue praise, 
Desiring that, in mercy, he 
would giue them longer dayes, 
And hOt to lay his heauy hand 
vpon them, for their sinne 
And long continued wickednese 
they so delighted in. 

Let no man therefore thinke in heart 
these warnings were in vaine, 
Nor that they doe hot any way 
vnto vs appertaine. 
For, as that cittye feeles god's Ire, 
so ours may doo likewise, 
When-as the liues here of vs ail 
within his Justice lyes. 

For, in that cittye, at this day, 
so great a plague is seene, 
That like hot in the world (I thinke) 
belote hath euer heene. 
For people dye within their streetes, 
as they abroad doe goe. 
Thus god, for their fore-passèd sinnes, 
his heauy hand doth showe. 
[z3" ] ! heauing] read having. [x6l 4 Eplicit, fol. z37"- 
5 lno'pit» fol. z44- 7 fore-passëd] substituted Cor fore-a-passed. 

S/irurn Balla&, 

Some, feeding, at their tables dye 
in midst of ail their cheare, 
The bread scarce in their mouthes belng put 
but fainting they appeare. 
And some, that goe vnto their beds 
in heaith and weil ore-night, 
Are strangely round therein starke dead 
before next morning's light. 

By these we may perceiue, oh lord, 
thy warnings bring vs woe ; 
And that they are not sent in vain, 
as these they workes doe shoe. 
Therefote let vs beleeue, and thinke 
the wonders that he sends 
Foretells vs following meseries 
he suddainly intends. 

Nor let vs make a sport of them 
in meriment or game 
(For goal will ail such scorners still 
confound with open shame); 
But rather hoid them gentle meanes 
and warninges of is liue, 
In rime to win vs vnto grace, 
And our repentante more. 

To which most kinde and gracious god 
Let us our pmy-ers make 
That ail such threatning woes he may 
rom this out countrey take, 
That we may neuer feele the wrath 
which hee on other iayes, 
But still to waike, like christians true, 
vprightly in his wayes. 

[,8] , they] r«ad thy. shoe] i.e. show. 
his love. 7 vnto] inserted by second hand. 
by econd hand. 

[I9" ] 6 is liue] rad 
8 move] added 


Shirurn Ballaafs, 2Vll 

Corne! come! come l corne! What shall I say 
Fol. I32 : written by the third hand. For the tune see No, VIL 

qnb lmter'a lamçntaHe 
(being foraen) 

t0ietÇ ail ornera to 
tahe !eee of t0ome,. 
COME! corne! corne! corne! What shall I say 
to driue away this dolfull day ? 
For all is vaine for to complaine 
to this my deare that doth disdaine. 
Therefore I vill her quite forgoe, 
for shee bath wrought my griefe and voe. 
4nd /bus I sing '2hry hear/ is sore : 
'thereore, l'le neuer wooe ber more.' 
For though my labour is corne to this, 
yet to let ber goe, 'tis not amis 
For she hath beene cause of my smart, 
in fixing her so neere my hart. 
Therefore, all you that wooers be, 
take this example now by me: 
24nd sing zvith me 'Out hearts be sore: 
'therefore wee'le neuer wooe no more: 
Title : And] read A or A fond. 
o (8) 

SAirurn Ballads, XIZlI 

Fo virgins they haue wit at will 
to try men's cunning, and eke their skill, 
And thinke themselues most braue and gay, 
when they are ail in fine array. 
But it is hOt so, you louers knov¢e ; 
therefore say oft and let them goe: 
And so I sin K 'A/[y /tort is sore: 
' tAerefore l'le neuer wooe no more.' 
Why doe I sit so heauily, 
because faire flora is not by ? 
If shee be gon, then Iet her goe, 
for she hath proued my deadly foe ; 
And nowe to loose her it is best, 
that so my hart may line at rest. 
But it makes me sin K etc. 
But now I weepe, and sore lament, 
to see the rime which I haue spent 
In mournefull grones, and sighs so deepe, 
which makes me nowe to waile and weepe, 
And cursse the rime she bath me slaine, 
most secretly, in such a vaine: 
IVhich makes me sin K etc. 
For now my sure is ver[i]e colde ; 
and now to speake I may be boulde. 
Therefore, ail ye that wooers be, 
leaue off your suite and end with me: 
For creature faire hath temp[t]ed me, 
and brought me to this miserie: 
ATut now I sing etc. 

When loue 
and on my 
Such ioy it 
though she 
And nov¢ I 
and coynèd 

in me it was first bred, 
heart must sweetly fed, 
was vnto my minde, 
at last hath proued vnkinde. 
must her quite forsake, 
gould I will home take: 
makes me sig etc. 

[4] $ loose] i. e. lose. 

[7] a must] read most. 

SAirurn Ballads, XFII 
What suddaine chance to me befell 
vnto the world is knowne full well. 
Therefore I houe deseruèd hell, 
and now let louers ring my knell. 
Therefore, ye wooers, take good heede, 
and heaue a care ere ye proceed, 
And sin K witA me ' Out tearts be sore : 
' and neuer let s wooe no more.' 

You louers ail, that be so bolde, 
take heede your courage be not colde ; 
And doe hOt lust, and eke desire, 
least that your hearts be sit on tire, 
But leaue them ail in the open field, 
consent to none, nor doe hOt yeild: 
'or yet I sing ' 3ly art is sore : 
' terefore Pie neuer wooe no more.' 
For pride will striue among them ail 
of which he meanes to giue the rail, 
Which makes my soule lainent the saine, 
with flouds of teares that run amane. 
Now fie vpon this maiden kinde 
that proued so false vnto my minde: 
B'hich makes me sing etc. 
For this I grieue, and sore repent, 
of this vilde loue wherein I went 
In sorrowes deepe, and worldlynes, 
and wandred thus from happines: 
And thus ara tost now too and froe 
and my poore hart in such a wooe: 
IVAich makes me sing etc. 
And thus I end my moumefull song, 
which griefe did cause me to prolong ; 
And leaue my loue, which is so could ; 
and wrape my selfe in endles moulde. 
Therefore, ail ye that louers be, 
leaue off your suite, and end withe me, 
And let vs sing: ' Out ]mrls be sore : 
'terefore let vs leaue and wooe no more.' 

[8] 6 heaue] i. e. bave. [9] 4 sit] i.e. set. 5 in the] omit the. 
ç2 (83) 

S/ir$urn Ballads, XFIII 

Jesu, my loving spouse 
Foi. 134 sqq. Title (on fol. 134) and first stanza (o fol. 134 v) by second 
hand : ail the rest by third hand. The combination of arnatory tune with 
devotional sentiment forcibly recalls similar strange collocations in the 
Scottish .dne Coml#endious Buik of Godly and SlMriluall Sangis, printed 
in 567, commonly known as The Gude and Godlie Ballatis, re-edited 
by Professor Aiexander F. Mitchell, 1897. 

To TS Ng OF ain» corne  0 mec. 
JEso, my lovinge suse, 
eternall vetye, 
Peffect guide to my soule, 
waye to eternitye  
Strengthen me with thy ace ; 
from thee l'le never flye. 
Let them ye what they will, 
Jesu, ce t to mee. 
Poere men soeke after wealth, 
bond men eke lirtie, 
Crazed corpes ce for health, 
ail soeke prosritie. 
Nothing seeke I but CHRmT, 
he alone pleaseth me. 
Let them ail y what th will, 
Jesu, corne tu to mec. 
Some wea out themselues 
in wayes of miserie ; 
Some follow painted flies 
th[r]ough fields of vanitie; 
Some, in the mouth of men, 
place their felli[ci]ty; 
Such trifl I contemne. 
Jesu, wme t to mee. 

[] 3 crazed coes] i. e. craz'd corpses. 

? omit ail. 

irbrn Ballads, XFIII 
Some passe through surging seas 
in dayli ieoperdy, 
Hazarding life and limme, 
to be inrichd thereby ; 
Some toyle at home therefore. 
I, by possessing thee, 
Haue ail they haue, and more. 
Jesu, corne tlmu go me. 
Feruent loue langheth sore 
his louer's face to see; 
Discarded caur-ti-ers, 
in prince's grace to bee. 
No woe, no want I feele, 
svhile I remane ith thee. 
Let them ail say what they will, 
Jesu, tonoe thou fo mee. 
What can this wretched world, 
repleate with miserie, 
Houlde to delight my soule, 
ruade for eternitye ? 
Ail is vaine ; ail is fraile, 
ail that's compard to thee. 
Ail earthly things doe faile; 
Jesu, conte tku to m. 
Ail that heart can conceaue, 
eare can heare, eye can see, 
Ail, and more, I possesse, 
sweete JEs cnmsT, by thee. 
Heauen and earth, ail therein, 
Life, limme, thou gauest mee. 
Haue I hot cause to sing 
resu, corne t/wu to mec ? 
If pleasure moue my mind, 
pow-er, nobilitye, 
Ail this I find in thee ; 
strenght and agilitye, 
Wisdome, wit, beautye, health, 
peace, and felicity. 
Of my soule perfect health, 
esu, corne tlmu lo mee. 
[5] * langheth] v«ad longeth. 3 caur-ti-ers] i. e. courtiers. 
7 omit ail. [7] u read eare heare, or eye ean see. 
[8] 3 read Ail thLs in thee I fmd. S health] r¢ad wealth. 

S/ir[urn Ballads, 
Though the world tempt me sore, 
though the flesh trouble me, 
Though the Deuell would deuour, 
my refuge is in the. 
Though heauen and earth doth faile, 
though ail perplexèd be, 
Thou art, and euer shall 
my chiefest comfort be. 
Thou art my Sauiour sweete, 
foode and light vnto me ; 
A medicine most meete, 
for each infirmitie ; 
To my tast, honie sweete ; 
to my heart, melody; 
Perfect guide to my feete ; 
to my harç Jubilie. 
Not my will, Sauiour mine; 
but thine, performèd be. 
Ail things I count as dounge, 
Jv, for loue of thee. 
Pleasure, pom, ail delight, 
that I may bleèd be, 
I doe abandon quite. 
esu, corne t o me. 
Hauing thoe, though I die, 
I liue most ioyfully: 
Wanting thee, though I liue, 
such life is dth to mee. 
Thou a my blisse, my ioy, 
all my felicie. 
Chiefe succour in annoy, 
Jesu, corne t to e. 
For thee my soule was marie ; 
nought else contenteth thee. 
AI1 earthly plsures fade ; 
thou liuest eternally. 
Strengthen mee with thy aee, 
that I may wohy be 
In heauen to see thy face, 
d bume in loue of thee. 
[9] 4 the] l.e. thee.  ou] F im though. 
[toi B hea] maa e. [tS] a ee] m m« 

SAirurn Ballads, 

No. XIX 
And wilt thou, my dear, begone 
Fol. 4o . Text given, from this MS., in Roxburghe Ballads, vil, p. xiii. 
[ttiIt tl be gne, m beare. 
To THE TUNE OF Sweete Gardiner. 
AND wilt thow be gone, my Deare? 
and wilt thow no longer remaine? 
Farewell! I can lire alone; 
thy companye I can refraine. 
If it be your favour thus for lo war;er, 
Goe / Goe / 
4nd never corne to mee againe. 
I seorne for thy love to sue ; 
my thoughts doe detest the same. 
I am as well resoluèd as yow, 
and as little I doe complaine. 
If it be your favour thus for to waver, 
Goe ! Goe ! 
4nd never corne to me aKaine. 
These follyes yow will repent, 
when dreames have possest your braine ; 
And, in your false armes, yow 
will wishe mee your lover againe. 
But when your lypps misses my wonted kisses, 
[Oh  Oh q 
Faine would yow corne fo mee againe. 
Then kisse mee, nor clap mee, no more; 
Nor coll mee, nor court mee, in vaine. 
Yow might bave knowne before 
To have kist mee, and with mee have laine. 
But now, Adue! and when it please yow, 
Soe goe / 
4nd neer corne to me againe. 
Iii x readAnd wilt thow, my Deare, be gone--for the rhyme TM 
sak¢. [3] 6 line dropped out. [4] I clap] pos, sibly clasp. 
3 might bave] possibly might this have, 6 Sot got] read 
Got ! Goe ! 

Shir#urn Ballads, XX 

No. XX 

0 smile, o smile ! o my joy, o my sweeting 

Fol. I41. lqo. XLV is another instance of a 'Second Part' of which the 
first part is hOt round in the MS. Possibly the original printed sheet had 
been torn in two, and only the second hall had corne to the writer's hand. 

Ke .et0n Dart. 
To THé. TUNe. OF So /fO. 

O stalle, o stalle! o my ioy, o my sweetinge! 
let not my love despare. 
Crowne },ou my thoughts vith a friendly greeting, 
else shall I dye with care. 
For my hart, 
with Cuids dart, 
is stricken very sore: 
wi/h a  Iononanero ]tarte. 
When first I saw thee, I stoode all amazèd ; 
like to a starre most bright, 
Beautye shined on mee, as inglazèd 
in the darkest night. 
F'enus fayre 
wa$ not $oe rare 
as my poore love alone: 
with -- I-Ionananero ]tant. 

Shirurn Ballads, X 

O now, my ioye! thou wert wont for to love me; 
now art thow growne vnkinde. 
Hast thow hOt had longe rime to prove me ? 
[why] was thy love soe blinde? 
[would] to my griefe 
I had some reliefe ; 
and to thee I make my mone, 
t,ith  11ononan«ro hone. 

I that haue oft on the Sea beene in danger, 
for my trew lover's sake, 
Now I ara returnèd againe, like a stranger : 
turne to me, Love ; and awake. 
Thy sweet face, 
with a comely grace, 
when first I looked vpon: 
with -- t[ononanero Aorte. 

Neptune, why, from the wind and the weather, 
didst thow my body keepe, 
And didst hOt rayse the floudes altogether, 
and drowne me in the deepe? 
It makes my hart 
with griefe to smart, 
weepe, waile, lainent, and morte, 
with  Hononanero hane. 

No. XXI 

Corne hither, mine host, corne hither 
Fol. 4: : with second part on fol. 43- 
This piece is a good example of the convivial song of the period, in 
which the actual words were of minor importance, the attraction lying in 
the rattling chorus. The true vocation of this type of song was for im- 
provisation, the singer, or each member of the company in turn, making 
up the next verse, with topical allusions or rhymes on the names of those 
prescrit, while the others trolled out the chorus. Balliol men of 88o 
remember the varied entertainment derived from improvisations sung to 
a Burschenlied of this sort, with the chorus :- 
Vive la, vive la. vive la va! 
Vive la, vive la, haupt sa sa! 
Vive la companaiya! 
[3] 4 and 5- Words lost by fraying of edge of leaf. 


Shir[urn BallacA, XXI 
In stanza 7, in the 'pewter standard', demand is ruade for full legal 
measure. The stature (Il Henry VII, cap. 4, § l) required tbat liquor 
should be sold in measures attested by the seal, or stamp, of the Weigbts 
and Measures authorities. This was evaded for various reasons. In 
RaxburKhe Ballads, ri. 486, is a ballad entitled : ' Nick and froth, or the 
Good-fellow complaining for want of full measure, discovering the deceits 
of victuallers.., by filling tbeir drink in false flaggons.' One stanza of 
this descants on short measure, and its profitable use by the ale-sellers 
For those that drink Beer 
('tis true as l'me here,} 
your counterfeit flaggons you bave, 
Which hold hot a quart» 
scarce by a third part, 
and that makes my hostis go brave. 
Another reason was the desire hOt to discard old stock-in-trade !, such 
as earthenware jugs. At Maldon the alehouse-keepers, with one consent, 
clected to sell their aie in such jugs, and hot in stamped pewter jugs. 
At every Clerk of the Market's Court there, from Elizabeth to Anne, there 
is a long list of licensed houses fined .od. or 4od. each for selling in 'stone 
ports' and hOt in ' sealed measures '. 
Those other devices of the tavern, nick and froth, are mentioned in 
stanzas 9 and 1o, and the tavern-keeper is ruade to comment on the 
advantages they bring him, e.g. sleep free from care, rent paid, house- 
property acquired. To ' nick' was to serve liquor in jugs which had 
bottoms rising up inside of the jug, so that their size as seen outwardly 
deceived the customer into a belief that he was getting large measure. To 
'froth' was to put a frothy head on the aie, instead of filling the jug to the 
brim--in modern slang, 'to give it a long neck.' The lotus claasicus on 
the practice cornes in the ballad already cited : 
Bee't tankard or flaggon, 
which of them you brag on, 
we'l trust you to nick and to froth : 
Before we can drink 
be sure it will shrink 
far worser than/Vort-country cloth. 
Farthing tokens (stanza )were extensively issued by James I, and 
their use en.joined by yearly proclamations, e.g. May 
64, and Oct. 26, 65, this last 'establishing the continuance of his 
maiestie's farthing tokens' ; and printed 'at London, by Robert Barker, 
65 '. In stanza t2 the singer represents himseff as tossing a number of 
these tokens on to the counter in call for more aie. 

t In the saine way, af the present day, alarming calculations bave heen made 
of the cost to the community which would be entailed by enforcement of the 
metric system. 


Shir#urn Ballads, 

To rHE NE OF Sland l/b' ound, oM IYarrye. 
CoM hither, mine host, corne hither! 
Corne hither, mine host, corne hither! 
I pray the, mine host, 
Giue vs a pot and a tost, 
.And let vs drinke ail together. 
Giue vs more ale, and booke il! 
Giue w more ale, and booke it.t 
And yf lhe olde whore 
Would zot'e of ]ter score, 
tor money she musl goe looke il. 
Then let vs be blith and merry! 
Let tare kill a catte ; 
Wee'ie laugh and be latte ; 
Her[e]'s aie as browne as a berry. 
The Taylour loues the Baker! 
The Shoomaker tho, 
Full well I doe know, 
Loves the nappy, strong, Ale maker. 

[ffi] 4 Giue vs] r¢ad Giue 
stanza. 9 of] i. e. off. 
to be sung twice. 

Refrain to foiiow every 
Fir-t line of every stanza is 


Shh'urn Ballads, XXI 
'Twill make him singe dawn« dMdl« ! 
To lay by his Naule, 
His last, and his Ball, 
And daunce without a fiddle. 
A round, a round, old I-2"arry«! 
Corne, take off your Pott, 
And call a new shott ; 
I preeth[ee], sitt downe and tarry. 
Corne, fill it againe, M'all Spaon«rl 
Let's laugh and be fatt ; 
Let's tipple and chat-- 
'Tis but begginge a yeere the sooner. 
Wee'lle drinke by the Pewter standard! 
A quarter-day 
If I want to paye, 
l'le pawne--to please my Landlord. 
I love good drinke, I tell yee! 
Tho cloathes I do lacke 
To put on my backe, 
l'le have liquor for my Bellye. 

Ke efon part. 
Heere's to the old wench in fol.gale/ 
' And though I be loth 
'To nicke and to froth, 
That built the Pie at Algate: 
No more of that Nicke, good eterl 
No more of that froath, good Peler  
' O hould yow content ; 
'They pay a man's renç 
'And make his sleeps the sweeter.' 
[4]  Nade] i. e. awl.  Ball] i.e. heel-ball. 

Shirurn Ballads, XXI 
Full wittilye hast thow spoken! 
Mine hostess con do't, 
If she be put to't, 
l'le lay a new farthing Token ! 
Then flye, old Brasse, fly over! 
If Copper still goes, 
l'le houe a redd nose 
As any 'tweene this and Douer. 
Who is it but loues good Liquor ? 
'Twill make a Cotte speake; 
Him strong, that is weake; 
And ail our witts the quicker. 
Heer's to thee, okl Tare, heer's to thee 
The t'othe 
Againe n ine 
A penn will ne'ere vnoe thee. 
A whiffe of our rniada 
More Liquor and 8moake 
We re ready to choeke 
A pipe of the bes 
Then iake off your Lappe there roundly 
Then take off ou Lappe there rounly  
Dm Dite, and 
Wee'le fink an be runke, 
An sleepe together sounly. 
Giue vs more aie, and booke il 
Giue vs more ale, and booke 
And 9f the old 
WM wipe OE r Score, 
For ney s must goe looke il. 

Ix6] x Lappe] i.e. liquor. 


S/ir#urn Ballads, XXII 


There was a rat-catcher 
Fol. t44*. Another piece with a « tavern-chorus ', as No. XXI, but of a 
baser type. The title does not correctly describe the contents. The rat- 
catcher leaves London, to travel over England, and then departs to France, 
with no mention of his return. 
In stanza tŒE the implements and badge of this trade are described. The 
man worked by me.ans of a 'painefuli bagge', i.e. a bag of poisons, in 
Essex at the present day the professional rat-catcher is regularly called in 
to rid rickyards of rats. He works by poison, the nature of which, and 
the disposition of which about the ricks, he makes a mystery of. In the 
bailad the ensia of this trade is a flag of different colours. Rev. J. W. 
Ebsworth notes {Roxburghe BaIlads, viii, p. xxxvil) that in 183a the rat- 
catcher's professionai badge was a yellow scarf with figures of black rats. 
Ze famou lattter, toit i trauel 
into Fraunce, alll) of t¢ returne tÇ London. 
To "rE "rtII,E oF :Trie Jouiall 2infier. 
THERE was a Rat-ketcher 
did abovt the Cuntry wander, 
The soundest blade of ail his trade, 
or I should him deeply slaunder; 
For still would ne crye '4 Rat, rat, rat, 
tara Rat !' ever. 
2"0 catch a Mouse, or fo «arouse, 
su«h a Natter I saw never. 
Vpon a Poale he carried 
full fortye fulsume Vermine, 
Whose cursèd lives, without any Kniues, 
to take he did determine. 
And still zvould fie crye etc. 
}-Iis talke was ail of India, 
the voyage, and the Navye. 
'What mise or Rattes ? or wild polecats ? 
' what Stoats or weesels have yee ?' 
I-Ie knew the Nutt of India 
that makes the Magpy stagger, 
The Iercuries, and Canthari[d]es, 
with Arsnicke, and Roseaker. 
[2] $ Refrain to follow everà, stanza. 
[4] 4 Ro«eaker] i. ©. realgar, disulphide of arsenic.. 

Shirurn Ballads, XXII 
Full often, with a 2Vegro, 
the iuyce of Poppies drunke hee; 
Eate Poyson ranke, with a mountebanke ; 
and Spiders, with a Monkye. 
In Zondon he was well knowne ; 
in many a stately Howse, 
He layd a bayte, whose deadlye fate 
did kill both Ratte and Mouse. 
But, on a time, a Damosell 
did him to farre intice, 
That for ber a Bayt hee layd strayght 
would kill no Rats nor mice. 
And on the Bayte shee nibled, 
so pleasing in ber tast; 
Shee lickt so longe, that the Poyson strong 
did make ber swell i' th' wast. 
He, subtilely this perceiuinge, 
to the Country straight doth hye him, 
Where, by his skill, he poysoneth still 
such vermine as corne nye him. 
He never careth whether 
he be sober, tame, or tipsye ; 
He can collogue with any Rogue, 
and can, vdth any Gipsie. 
He was soe braue a bowzer, 
that it was doubtfull whetber 
He taught the Rats, or the Rats taught him, 
to be drunke as Rats together. 
When he had tript this Ilande 
from A?r¢stow vnto 19ouer, 
With painefull Bagge, and painted flagge, 
to lrance he saylèd over. 
Yet still would he cry ' A Rat, rat, rat, 
tara rat !' euer. 
[2"o catch a mouse, or to carouse, 
such a Ratter I saw never.] 


Shirurn tallads, XXIII 


Of Hector's deeds did Homer sing 

Fol. 146; begins imperfectly, from Ioss of the preceding leaves. Title, 
and thirty-seven first stanzas, supp|ied from the Black-letter copy in Wood 
4oh fol. I 5- Text given also in RoxburgheBallads, i. 38o, from other Black- 
letter exemplar copies. As usual, the source of the ballad is a con- 
temporary book--Richard Johnson's Famous Historie of the Seven 
Champions af Chris/endom, printed before 1596. 

[{ raost rtcdIrnt taIlal of .laint] GorKe f England an th 
hing's aut of pt, 0om be rli f0m at0 ; an 
be sk a mii ragon. 
[Of YectoYs deeds did omer sing, 
and of the sack of stately Troy, 
at ief fair ellen did them bng, 
which was Sir aris only joy. 
And, with my pen, I must recite 
S. George's deeds» an English ight. 
(9 6 ) 

SAir$urn Ballads, XXIII 
Against the Saraens, full rude, 
fought he full long and many a day, 
Where many Gyants he subdu'd 
in honour of the Christian way. 
And, after many adventures past, 
to Egypt land he came at last. 
And, as the story plain doth tell, 
within the Countrey there did rest 
A dredfull Dragon, tierce and fell, 
whereby they were full sore opprest : 
Who by his poysoned breath each day 
did many of that City slay. 
The grief whereof did grow so great. 
throughout the limits of the land, 
That they their wise men did intreat 
to shew their cunning, out of hand, 
which way they might this dragon stroy, 
that did their Countrey so annoy. 
The wise men ail, belote the King, 
framèd this matter, incontinent ; 
'The dragon none to death might bring 
'by any means they would invent. 
' His skin more hard than brass was round, 
«that sword or spear tan pierce or wound.' 
When thls the people understood, 
they cryèd out most pitiously. 
The Dragon's breath infected their blood 
that they in heaps each day did dye. 
Amongst them such a plague it bred, 
the living scarce could bury the dead. 
No means there was, as they could final, 
for to appease this Dragon's rage, 
But by a virgin pure and kind, 
whereby they might his fury swage. 
Each day he should a Maiden eat 
for to allay his hunger great. 
This thing, by art, the wise men round, 
which truely must observèd be. 
Wherefore, throughout the City round, 
a Virgin pure, of good degree, 
was, by the King's Cmmission, still 
took up to serve the Dragon's will. 
[$] 4 would] read¢ould. $ that] r«ad than. [6] 3 i,afected] 
read infects, • 
s,,.B. Il ( 97 ) 

Shirlurn Ballacls, XXIII 
Thus did the Dragon, every day, 
a Maiden of the Town devour, 
Till all the Maids were worn away, 
and none were left, that present hour, 
saving the King's fait Daughter bright, 
her Father's joy and heaxt's delight. 
Then came the Officers to the King 
this heavy message to declare, 
Which did his heart with sorrow sting. 
• She is,' quoth he, 'my Kingdom's heir. 
' O let us ail be poysoned here, 
' ere she should dye, that is my dear.' 
Then rose the people presently, 
and to the King, in rage, they went, 
Who said his daughter dear should dye 
the Dragon's fury to prevent. 
' Our daughters ail are dead,' quoth they, 
'and have been ruade the Dragon's prey. 
'And, by their blood, we have been blest, 
' and thou hast sav'd thy lire thereby. 
'And now, in justice, it doth rest 
'for us thy daughter so should dye.' 
' O save my daughter!' said the King, 
'And let me feel the Dragon's sting.' 
Then fell fait çabrine on her knee, 
and to her Father thus did say, 
'O Father, strive hOt thus for me ; 
'but let me be the Dragon's prey. 
' It may be, for my sake alone, 
' this plague upon this Land was shown. 
"Tis better I should dye,' she said, 
'than all your Subjects perish quite. 
'Perhaps the Dragon here was laid, 
'for my offence, to work this spight ; 
'And, after he hath suckt my gore, 
'your Land shail feel the grief no more.' 
'What hast thou done, my daughter deax, 
'for to deserve this heavy scourge? 
 It is my fault, as may appear, 
' which makes the gods our state to grudge. 
'Then ought I die, to stint the strife, 
and to preserve thy happy lire.' 
[tt] 3 Who] i.e. the peopl¢. 

SAirurn Ballads, XXIII 
Like madmen then the people crt'd , 
'Thy death to us can do no good. 
' Out safety only do abide 
'to make thy daughter Dragon's food." 
'Loe! here am I; I come;'quoth she, 
 therefore do what you will with me.' 
* Nay! stay, dear daughter;' quoth he Queen, 
'and, as thow art a Virgin bright-- 
' Thow hast /'or Verrue famous been 
' so, let me cloath thee ail in white, 
'and crown thy head with flowers weet, 
' an Ornament for virgins meet.' 
And, when he 
according to her Mother's mind, 
Unto the stake then did she go, 
to which they did tbis Virgin binà. 
Who being bound to stake and thraIl, 
she bad farewell unto them ail. 
' Farewell, dear Father,' then quoth she, 
'and my sweet Mother, meek and mild. 
'Take you no thought, nor weep, for me ; 
' for you may have another chi/de. 
'Here, for my Countrie's good, l'le dye, 
' which I receive most willingl¥.' 
The King and Queen, with ail their train, 
with weeping eyes went then their way 
And let their Daughter there remain 
to be the hungry Dragon's prey. 
But, as she did there weeping lye, 
behold ! St. George came riding by. 
And, seeing there a Lady bright, 
fast tyd to the stake that day, 
Most like unto a valiant Knight, 
be unto her did take his way. 
 Tell me, sweet maiden,' then quoth hee, 
• What person thus abusd thee ? 
• And low! by Christ his Cross, I vow, 
' which here is figured on my brest, 
• I will revenge it on his brow, 
'And break m¥ Lance upon his chest.' 
And speaking thus whereas be stood, 
The Dragon issuèd out of the tvood. 
. 2 (99) 

Shir#urn Ballads, XXIII 

The Lady, that did firæt eæpy 
the dreadfull Dragon coming so, 
Unto St. George aloud did cry, 
and willèd him away to go. 
' Here cornes that cursèd fiend,' quoth she, 
«that soon will make an end of me.' 
St. George then, looking round about 
the fiery Dragon soon espi'd, 
And, like a Knight of courage stout, 
against him he did fiercely ride. 
And, with such blows he did him greet, 
that he fell under his horse['s] feet. 
For, with a Lance that was so strong, 
as he came gaping in his face, 
Into his mouth he thrust it long, 
the which could pierce no other place. 
And there, within this Ladie's view, 
this dreadful Dragon then he slew. 
The savor of his poysoned breath 
could do this Christian knight no barre. 
Thus did he save the Lady from death, 
and home he led her by the arm. 
Which when [King] ltolomy did sec, 
there was great mirth and melody. 
When-as the famous knight, St. Georffe 
had slain the Dragon in the field 
And brought the Lady to the Court, 
whose sight with joy their hearts [ail] fil'd, 
He in the Ag),#tian court then staid, 
till he most falsly was betray'd. 
The Lady Sabrin« lov'd him well ; 
he counted her his only joy. 
But, when their love was open known, 
it provd to G«aroee$ great annoy. 
The 21Ioro«co king was in the court, 
who to the Orchard did resort. 
Dayly, to take the pleasant ayre, 
for pleasure's sake he us'd to walk 
Under a wall, wheras he heard 
St. George with Lady Sabrine talk. 
Their love he revealed to the King, 
which to St. George great wo did bring. 
xoo ) 


Ballads, XXIII 

These Kings together did devise 
to make the Chrislian knight away. 
With Letters him Ebassador 
they straightwa]¢ sent to Persia, 
and wrote to So#y him to kill 
and Traiterously his Mood to spill. 
Thus they, for gd, did him reward 
with evil, and most subtily. 
By much vile means, they did devise 
to work his death most cruelly. 
While he in P«rsia abode, 
he quite destroy'd each Idol god. 
[] • 
Vhich being flone, he straight was st 
into a Dungeon dark and deep. 
But, when he thought upon his ong, 
he bittefly did waile and weep. 
Yet, like a Knight of courage tout 
fonh of the Dungoen he got out. 
And, in the night, three horsekeers 
this valiant Knight, by wer, lew, 
Although he sted many a day. 
And then away from thence he flew 
on the st steed that Sày had : 
which, when he knew» he w full d. 
Then, into Cdtendem he me, 
d met a Gyant by the way, 
With whom in combate he did fight, 
most valiantly, a Summer's day. 
Who yet, for ail his bates of steel, 
was forc'd the sting of dth to feel. 
From Chsle this valit Knight 
then with [his] warlike ouldiers pt, 
Vowing, upon those Heathen Lands 
to work revenge ; which, at the last, 
E'[e]r thfice three years were gone and snt, 
he did, unto his great content. 
Save only, Kypl land he spar'd 
for Saine bright ber only sake: 
And ere his rage he did suppress, 
he meant a tal kind to make. 
lalomy did know his senh in field 
and unto him did kindly yield. 
[3 ] 3 much] ad which. 

Shirurn Ballads, XXIII 
Then he the M'orocco king did kill, 
and took fair Sabrine to his wife ; 
And after that, contentedly, 
with ber St. GeorKe did lead ber life, 
Who, by the vertue of her chain, 
did still a Virgin pure remain.] 
Toward EnKland then S. GeorKe did bring 
this gallant Lady, Sabra bright: 
A Eunuch also came with them, 
in whom the Lady tooke delight. 
None but these three from Egypt came: 
now let me print S. George his fame. 
When they were in a forrest great, 
the Lady did desire to rest: 
And then S. George to kyll a deere, 
to feed thereon, did thinke yt best; 
Left Sabra and the Eunuch there, 
whilst he did goe to kill the deere. 
Meanwhile, within his absence, came 
two hungry Lyons, fyerce and fell; 
And tore the Eunuch presen[t]lye 
in peeces small, but, truth to tell! 
Downe bï the Laydye then he layd, 
Whereby yt seemd shee ¢as a maide. 
But when S. GeorKe from huntinge came, 
and did behould this heavye chaunce, 
Yet, for his loving virgine's sake, 
his courage then he did aduaunce, 
And came into the Lyons' sight, 
who ran on him with ail their might. 
But he, being no whyt dismayde, 
but lyke a stout and valiant knight, 
Did kyll those hungry Lyons both, 
within the Ladye's, Sabra's, sight: 
But all this while, sad and demure, 
she stoode, most lyke a virgin pure. 
[37] 4 ber life]readhislife. [38] x incipit fol. x46. 
B.-L. Sabine. [.40] 5 he] 'ead the¥. 
B.-L. Sabvine's. 

[4u] 4 

Shirburn Ballads, XXIII 
Then, when SI. George did surely know 
his Ladye was a virgin true, 
His doubting thoughts, that earst ware dampt, 
began most freshlye to renewe: 
He set her on her paifry steede, 
and toward .England went with speede. 
Where he aryvd in short tyme 
vnto his father's dweiling-place, 
Where, with his love, in ioy he iyved, 
when fortune had their nuptiali graced. 
They many yeares of ioye did see 
and iead their iyves at C¢pentr,_/e. 

When Jesus Christ was twelve years old 
Fol. 46". Text given in Roxburghe lallads, vil 79I, from Black-letter 
copies. In stanza 3, a slip of the copyist bas jumbled the 7 loaves and 
4,ooo of St. Matt. xv. 34, 38, with the 5 loaves and 5,ooo of St. Matt. xiv. 
I2. It may be conjectured that such a hymn, sung in church by a 
go soloisç with the whole conegation taking up the last quatrain and 
so giving the soloist rime to recover breath, had a striking effect. 
The last stanza is shoer by four lines than the others (with the refrain}, 
both in the MS. and in the B.-L copies. Possibly the air was repeated 
twice and hot thrice ; or else the soloist gratified his hearers by making 
them sing the refrain twice over, a trick still known in conegational 
singing. The conduding verse of No. LXXVI I l, sung to the saine tune. 
has its full 9 lines. 
fl m0t rxtdlnt an 0rtÇp pttp, 
tt onerful[ miradt f ur r an 
Çe remaine on tÇe carte, to tCe great 
comfort of all te gobIpc anb uc a bp 
lptlpe faptÇ flpe nto m. 
To xns xuE o um and ioye. 
Wn ]esus Chst was twelue yee old, 
As holy scriptmes plaine bath touide, 
He then desputed braue and bouide 
amongst the iearnèd doctors ; 
[43] 3 ware] r«Mwere, dampt] B.-L. dum. 
B.-L. firmly. 

4 freshlye] 
( o3 ) 

Shir3urn Ballads, XXII/" 

Who wondred greatlye at his witte, 
As in the Temple they did sytte, 
For noe man could compare with yt, 
his wisdome was soe heauenlye. 
hen prayse th Zord, bath hye and lae, 
ll'hich ai1 thèse wondrous worhes did shewe, 
2"bat œee la heauen al lenglh may goe 
where h in glory rag¢neth. 
At thirtye yeares he then hegan 
To preach the gospell vnto man, 
And ail Judea wondred than 
to heare his heauenlye doctrine. 
Such wonders he wrought as made them muse 
Amonge the proud, hard-harted fewes; 
Yet euermore they did refuse 
to take him for their Sauiour. 
For, first of ail, by power divine, 
He chaungèd water into wine, 
When at a mariage he did dine: 
which ruade the people wonder. 
Moreouer, with seauen loues of hread, 
Fyve thousande men he fully fedde, 
Whereby his glorye farre was spread 
throughout the lande of Iury. 
And, by his glorious power and might, 
Vnto the blinde he gaue their sight ; 
For which the Jeu, es bare him a spire, 
who sought for to destroye him. 
The man that was bath d[e]afe and dumbe, 
Which never hard, nor spake with tongue, 
By CHRISX was healed when he did came, 
whose prayse he then pronouncèd. 
The woman which was greeuèd sore 
With an issue of bloud, twelue yeeres and more, 
Vnto her health he did restore 
in a minute of an hower. 
The captaine's man, that sicke did 
Our Sauiour healèd presentlye. 
Although he never came him nye, 
his worde alone did helpe him. 

Ix] 9 These four lines to be sung in chorus at the end of every 
stanza, x ragineth] read raigneth. [] 5 wonders] rtad 
works. [3] 6 Fyve] rtad Four. 8 lury] i. e. Jewry. 
[4] 7 healed'l i. e. heal'd. 
( ,o4 ) 

Shir[urn Ballacls, XXIU 
Lvkewise he heald the leapers ten 
Whose bodyes were most fylthy then: 
Yet none but one did turne againe 
his humble thankes to tender. 
And he which sicke of palsey laye, 
With shakinge ioynts, full many a day, 
The lord to heale him did hOt staye 
but strayt his will fulfillèd. 
The halt and lame that could not goe, 
But still remainèd in great woe, 
Out sauiour CnRSX. did pittye show, 
and ruade them whole and lustye. 
The man which was with devills possest, 
And never lyved in peace or test, 
Blz CrRSX'S word at length was blest, 
and the}, were cleane cast from him. 
The widdowe's sonne that dead did lye 
When CHRs'r out Sauiour did corne nye, 
He raysed to lyre immediatlye 
vnto her ioye and comfort. 
When Mary and )lIarlha ruade great morte 
Because their brother was dead and gone, 
Out lord put lyfe in him alone, 
and he from grave came runninge. 
And, more his heauenlye might to showe, 
Vpon the Sea himselfe did goe ; 
And never none coulde yet doe soe, 
but onely crRs'r our Sauiour. 
And when the Souldiers, with great might, 
Did corne to take him in the night, 
They were not able to stande in his sight 
tyll he the saine permitted. 
But yet for ail these wonders great 
The Jet,es v,,ere in a raginge heate, 
Whom noe perswasions could intreat, 
but cruellye they did kill him. 
And when he left his lyfe soe good, 
The moone was turnèd into bloude. 
The earth and Temple shakinge stoode, 
and graues full vide did open. 
[?]  The halt] r, ad To halt. ? Christ'si i. e. Christ his. 
[9]  his sight] omit his. [o] 6 Vague citation of Acts ii. o. 
( xos ) 

Shirurn Ballads, 1[  

Then some of them which stoode thereby 
With voyces lovde beganne to crye, 
'This was the sonne of god, trulye!' 
without ail kinde of doubtinge. 
And, as they sayde, yt provèd plaine 
For, in three dayes, he rose againe. 
Although he suffered bitter paine, 
both death and hell he conquered. 

And after that ascended he 
To heaven in glorious Maiestye: 
With whom God graunt vs all to be 
for euermore reioycinge. 
]'hen prayse lit* lorde, both hye and Iawe, 
IVhich all these wonderous workes did showe, 
]'bat we o heauen at lenKh maye goe 
where he in glorye raineth. 

No. XXV 

O gracious God, look down upon 

Fol. 148 v. Notice the condemnation ofthe stage (stanza 7)- 

To THE TUNE OF Sor$ Wdf. 

OrI gratious god, looke downe vpon 
the wicked deeds that I haue done ; 
And graunt me pardon for this crime, 
which cuts me offe before my tyme. 
Corne to me, JEsts, corne to mee! 
for thow alone can'st set me free. 
fo6 ) 

çirurn Ba]]ads, 
Thus 2r[arre /ldling/an must tell 
his dying ta|e, and dolefull knell, 
Which wil|, in my disgrace, be showne 
to every one that bath me knowne. 
Kinde ffeindes, and my companions ail, 
in time take warninge b}' my rail. 
In /'.am/a was I borne and breade; 
a wanton lyre therein I leade. 
From honest parentes, of good naine, 
by trewe dissent of birth I came: 
But this, m}' hard misfortune, shames 
my kindred, and my parents' names. 
With bloud my hands hath tainted beene, 
which wipes good fortune from me cleene. 
In quarrels, brawles, debate, and strife, 
I spent the springtyme of m}' lyfe. 
The haruest could hOt choose but bee 
vntimel}' fruite, as nowe }'e see. 
In two men's deathes before this tyme 
I l}'fted vp these hands of mine; 
And, though I pardoned was therefore, 
}'et hOt content, but slewe one more ; 
Which was m}' maister, for whose death 
a strangling corde hath stopt my breath. 
With leawd consorts I tooke delight 
to brave it bouldl}', da), and night ; 
And he, that had hOt wicked beene, 
was never in m}' presence seene. 
In great contempt of godly wayes 
I wickedlye consumde m}' dayes. 
God's holy worde I disoba}'de ; 
I carde hot what his preachers sa}'de. 
AIl sacred churches I despizd, 
and Playhowse stages better prizd. 
But god, in Justice, did requite 
m}' shamefull s}'nnes with mortall spight. 
[3] 4 clissent] i. e. descent. [5] 6 hath stopt] read must stop. 
7]  carde] i. e. cared. 
( IO7 ) 

Shirurn tallads, 
/¢ly taverne hunting I repent, 
and drunken crew, I did frequent ; 
Ail ¢ommon Curtizans also 
for wine and women ought my wo. 
Which makes me now lainent, to late» 
my sinfull lyre, and wretched soe. 
For these offences here expresç 
which eve trew man may detest, 
I was enforst to hould my hande 
before the Judges of the lande, 
Where I was soone condemnd to dye 
that I in chaines should hangèd . 
y mournefull soule almost dispares 
to thinke vpon my mother's teares 
That shee, in former tyme, hath shed 
for the leavde lyre which I haue led. 
This doth ail other greifes exceede 
buse to her I tooke no heede. 
y kinsmen alk as nature bindes, 
with greevous grones corne not behind. 
Yet ail in vaine: their sobbing greife, 
in this distresse, yeelds no releife. 
The law is past suredlye; 
and for my synnes I needs must dye. 
Then wash away my spotted shame 
and quite forget my cursèd naine. 
Thinke never more of him ain 
that did with bloude his kindred staine. 
Thus, ending as I did beginne, 
O god, looke downe vpon my synne. 

1-ararrye 4dling¢on, made with his owne hand in the 
.I[arshalsye, after his condemnation. 

[8] x hunting] radhaunting. [xo] 4 ieavde] i. e. iewd. 

Shir#urn Ballads, XX-f I 


The man that sighs and sorrows for his sin 

Fol. I5O: see the companion piece in No. XXVII. Text given in 
Roxburghe Ballads, i. 559, from a Black-letter exemplar. The date I6ol 
is an alteration to make a new ballad of a reprint. The source was, 
as often, a pamphlet which described the circumstances under which 
Eulalia Glandfield of Tavistock married a rich widower, Page of 
Plymouth, although enamoured of George Strangwidge; and, by the 
help of two hired assassins, strangled ber husband. Ail four were 
executed (stanza 4, line 4)- That the murder and quadruple execution 
fascinated readers is shown by the frequent reprints of the ballads 
connected with it. The tune For/une Jty foe bas been called 'the 
hanging tune ' from its constant use in ballads of this stamp. 
The trial and execution took place in March, I589-9 o (J. B. Gribble's 
21Iemorials of BarnstalMe , I83o, pp. 620, 621). Gribble, quoting from 
an unnamed local record, says:'I589, Match. Great provision making 
for holding the Assizes in this towne .... There came hither but I judge, 
Lord Anderson [Sir Edmund Anderson, Lord Chief Justice I582-16o4]. 
He came to the towne the Monday in the afternoon... Wednesday ... gave 
judgement upon those who were to be executed. The gibbet was set up 
on the Castle Green and xviii, prisoners hanged, whereof iiij. of Plymouth 
for a murder.' The Parish Register, cited by Gribble, supplies the names 
needed for the ballad. 
' Here ffolloweth the names of them Prysoners wh/ch were Buryed in 
« the Church yearde of Barnistaple the Syce [Assises] week :-- 
« Marche, 159o .... 
' George Strongewithe, Buryed the xxth daye. 
« Thomas Stone, Buryed the xxth daye. 
« Robart Preidyox, Buryed the xxth daye. 
« Vlalya Payge, Buryed at Byshope tawton the xxth daye. » 

lamentation of George S/rangwidge, 
for t t0nnting t0 t at0 of 
Page of Plimmotlh uffre at[!] at 
tar[n]stable 11501. 

To I Ttr or Fortune myfoe. 

Tlr man that sighes and sorrowes for his synne, 
the corps which care and woe hath wrappèd in, 
In dolefull sort record this Swanlike songe, 
that waits for death and loathes to liue so long. 
( o9 ) 

Shirurn Ballacls, 
0 Glanfl«ld«, cause of my commited crime, 
snarèd 'ith wealth, as birds in bushes of lime, 
What cause hadst thow to beare such secret spite 
against my good, and eke my love's delight ? 
I would to goal thy wisdome had beene more, 
or that I had hOt entred in thy dote, 
Or that thow hadst a kinder father beene 
vnto thy child whose years were yet but greene. 
The match vnmeete, which thow, for mucke, didst make, 
when agèd /)aS« thy daughter home did take, 
Well maist thow rue, with teares that cannot dry, 
which was the cause that fowre of vs must dye. 
l'lalia faire, more bright then summer Sunne, 
whose beauty had my hart for ever wonne, 
My soule more sobs to thinke of thy disgrace 
then to behould my owne vntymely race. 
Thy deed, late donc, in hart I doe lainent ; 
but that I loved I cannot yet repent. 
Thy seemely sight was ever sweete to me; 
would god my death might thy excuser be. 
]t was for me, alasse! thow didst the saine ; 
on me, of right, they ought to lay the blame. 
My worthless love bath brought thy life in scorne-- 
nowe woe is me! that ever I was borne. 
Farwell, my love! whose royall hart was seene; 
would god thow hadst hot halfe soc constant beene. 
Farwell, my love! the pride of plimrnoth towne. 
Farwell, the flower whose beauty is eut downe! 
For twenty yeares great was the cost, I know, 
thy vnkind father did on thee bestowe: 
Yet, afterwards, so sore did fortune lower, 
he lost his ioy and child within an hower. 
lai t Glanfielde] i. e. Mrs. Page's father, a bushes] read 
twigs. [5] i Via]h] i. e. Eulalia (lIrs. Page). [8] I royall] 
read loyall. 

ç/irurn Ba]]ads, YXI 

My wrong and woe to god I doe commit-- 
this was the fault by matching them vnfit-- 
And yet, my guilt I cannot soc excuse; 
I gaue consent his lyfe for to abuse. 

Wretch that I am, that I consent did giue ; 
had I denied, l/la/la still should lyre. 
Blind fancy sayd 'her suite doe not deny; 
'lyre thow in blisse, or else in sorrow dye.' 

[I "] 
0 lord, forgiue this cruell deed of mine; 
vpon my soule let beames of mercye shine. 
In Justice» lord, doe thow some mercy take 
forgiue vs both for Jv.svs CmlST his sake. 


If ever woe did touch a woman's heart 

Fol. xSo': see the companion piece, lqo. XXVI. Text given in 
Roa'b'urg]e Ballads, i. 561, from Black-etter exemplars. 
In Roxburghe Ballads, i. 5, is another Black-letter ballad of twenty- 
four verses which narrates Mrs. Page's objections to her marriage and her 
entreaties hOt to be forced into it. It is a reprint, mentioning James I. 
It is to the saine tune as this, riz. Fortune myfoe. 

e gorrolfull tomplaint of gigtrig Page 
for tauing cr ugban to e murtcre 
for lobe of George S[rangwidg, ÇO cre 
tttutr bot t0gtttr. 
[To sE .E oF Fortune my foc.] 
Iv ever woe did touch a woman's haï; 
or griefe did gaule, for sinne, the inward p ; 
My conscience then, and heauy ha within, 
OEn witnesse well my soow for my synne. 

[1o] a this] r«adhis. 


S/irurn Ballads, XXIII 
When yeares were young, my father forst me wed, 
against my will, where fancy was not led. 
I was content his pleasures to obay, 
although my hart was wone another way. 
Great were the guifts they proffered to my sight ; 
with wealth they thought to winne me to delight. 
But gould, nor guifts, my hart could not remoove, 
for I was linckt whereas I could not love. 
Me thought his sight was loathsome in mine eye ; 
my hart did grudge against him inwardly. 
This discontent did cause my dayly strife; 
and, with his wealth, I lyved a loathsome lyfe. 
My constant love was on yong StranKwidg« set, 
and woe to them that did our welfare let. 
His love to me soe deepe a roote did take, 
I could have gone a-begging for his sake. 
Wrongèd he was even through my parents, plaine ; 
wrongd he was, through fond desire of gaine. 
If faith and troth a perfect pledge might be, 
I had beene wife vnto noe man but he. 
Eternall god, forgiue my father's deede; 
and grant ail maydens to take better heed: 
Il I had constant beene vnto my friende, 
I had not matcht, to make soe bad an ende. 
But, wanting grace, I sought mine owne decay; 
and was the cause to cast my friends awaye. 
And he, in whom my earthly ioy did lye, 
through mine amisse, a shamefull death must dye. 
Farwell, sweete GeorK! my loving, faithfull freind: 
needs must I laude and love the[e] to the ende. 
And, albeit that _Pag'« possest thy due, 
in sight of goal thow wast my husband t-rue. 
[5] 3 toi read in. 

Shirturn Ballads, 

My watry eyes vnto the heavens III bend, 
craving of CHmsx his mercy to extende. 
My bloudy deed, o cImsx, doe me forgiue ; 
and let m}, soule within th}, kingdome lyre. 

Farwell, false world! and friends that fickle bel 
Ail wives, farwell! example take by me: 
Let hot the Devill, to murther, yow intise ; 
praye to avoyde each fowle and filthy vice. 

And now, o CHRIST, tO thee I yeeld my breath: 
strengthen my faith to bitter pangs of death. 
Forgiue my faults and follyes, I thee praye ; 
and, with thy bloud, wash thow my sinnes away. 


My mind to me a kingdom is 
Fol. tSt v. The verses are by Sir Edward Dyer (d. I6O7). Six of the 
first seven, in different order and with many different readings, appeared, 
with musical setting, as No. XIIII in William Byrd's Psalmes. Sone/s, and 
Songs, 1588. We bave here, therefore, an instance of the ballad-press 
annexing the musings of a courtly poet. 

To THE TUNE OF In Creete. 

Mv minde to me a kingdome is, 
such perfecte ioyes therin I finde. 
It farre excells ail worldlye blisse, 
that world affords or growes by kinde. 
Though much I want that all men haue, 
)*et doth my minde forbid me craue. 
Irai a toi read i. 

Shirurn Ballacls, XXFIII 
Content I liue--this is my staye ; 
I seeke noe more then may suffice ; 
I prease to beare no hautye swaye. 
Looke! what I lacke my minde supplyes. 
Lo! thus I triumph like a kinge, 
content with that my minde doth bringe. 
I see how plentye suffers oft, 
and hasty clymers oft doth fall. 
I see how those that syts aloft, 
mishap doth threaten most of ail. 
They get with toyle ; they keepe with care : 
such cares my minde could never beare. 
I laugh not at another's losse ; 
I grudge not at another's gaine. 
Noe worldlye waues my minde could rosse ; 
I brooke that is another's bane. 

I feare noe 
I dread noe 

Some haue to mu¢h, 

foe; I finde noe freinde; 
dearth ; nor feare noe end. 
yet still the crave ; 

I little haue, yet seeke noe more. 
They are but poore, though much they haue ; 
and I ara rich, with little store. 
They, poore ; I, rich : they begge, I give : 
they lacke, I lende: they pine, I lyve. 
My wealth is health and perfect ease ; 
my conscience cleare, my cheife defence. 
I never seeke, by bribes, to please ; 
nor, by desart, to give offence. 
Loe! thus I lyre; thus will I dye. 
Would all did soe as well as I. 
No princely pompe; no wealthy store ; 
noe force, to get the victorye ; 
No wilye wit, to salve a sore ; 
noe shape, to winne a lover's eye-- 
To none of these I yeelde as thrall ; 
for why ? my minde despise them all. 
lai a prease] i.e. press, lai x suffers] aa surfeits. 
a clymers] i.e. climbers. [4] 4 brooke] i.e. put up with, 
bear. [5] x toi i.e. too. the] i. e. they. [7] 6 despise 
them all] read despises ail. 

Shir$rn Ballads, XXVIII 

I ioye hot in any earthlye blisse; 
I waigh hOt Cressus" wealth a straw. 
Nor care, I know hot what it is ; 
I feare hOt fortune's fatall lawe. 
My minde is such as may hOt more, 
for beauty bright, or force of love. 

I wishe but what I haue at will; 
I wander hOt to seeke for more. 
I like the plaine; I elimbe no bill. 
In greatest stormes, I sytt on shore, 
And laugh at those that toyle in vaine 
to get that must be lost againe. 

I kisse hot, where I list to kill: 
I faine hOt love, where most I hate. 
I stretch no steps, to vdn my mill: 
I waite hOt at the mightye's gate. 
I scorne noe poore; I feare noe rich: 
I feele noe wante, nor haue to much. 

The court ne care I, like, ne loath: 
extreames are likd worst of ail 
The goulden meane, betwixt them both, 
doth suerest syt, and feares no fall. 
This is my ioye. For why? I finde 
no wealth is like the quiet minde. 

[8]  Cressus'] i.e. Croesus'. 
[Io] 3 mill] r¢ad will. 6 toi i. e. too. 

3 Nor] #ob For. 

S/irurn Jallads, XXIX 


The miller in his best array 

Fol. 153. An instance of the extreme intricacy of the stanza and 
rhymes required, when a verbal setting had to be provided to go with an 
old dance-tune : cf. Nos. XI and XXXII. 

piratant talIab of tÇe mere milIer' 
t00ing of te atker' baugter of 
Jlf ancAester. 
To TrI. Tldr. OF 2Vutmegs and Kinger. 
TItE miller, in his best array, 
would needs a wooinge ride. 
To 21Ianchester he takes his way ; 
Saint C/eraent be his guider 
tIe can singe, 
he can ring, 
and doe many a pretty thinge. 
He can pipe 
daunce a downe, 
no man better in the Towne. 
His face is fayre, 
and curled his hayre. 
AIiles they this miller call. 


Shirurn tallacls, XXIX 
In tran¢hester a Baker dwels, 
who had a daughter fayre : 
Her beauty passinglye excells ; 
none may with her compare. 
Her he leekes, 
her he seekes, 
and commends her crimson cheeks. 
He would pipe her 
daun«¢ a downe, 
before anye in the towne. 
But she is coye, 
and loveth hOt to toye-- 
beautye makes ber disdaine. 

l'oto Tayler trips Et verye trim, 
with nosegay in his hat. 
Giles Glover, when he vieweth him, 
thinks nothing well of that ; 
In his gloues, 
that he fores, 
he like a true love proves, 
Bordring them 
with bleedinge hearts 
piercèd through quite with darts. 
Then the Tanner swares 
hee'le haue him by the eares 
that doth this Rivall prove. 

It happened on a Holye-daye 
these lusty wooers met ; 
And every party doth assaye 
the Baker's gyrle to get. 
First began 
to fayre Arme 
the Tayler, like a proper man :-- 
'I will make 
' the garments gay, 
' and daunce with thee each holy-day ; 
'In fashions straunge 
'thy clothes I will change.' 
' No !' poynt, the mayden cryde. 

[] S lcekes] L e. likes, t and lovethl orait and ; rtad loves. 
[3] 8 Bordring] i.e. broidering, embroidering. 3 this] rtad 
his. [4] 9 the] i.e. thee. 3 or ' No poynt !' 

Shirurn Ballads, XXIX 

Taylor shall not be my love ; 
and Glover l'le haue none. 
With Tanners I will never toym 
'I love to lye alone. 
« The bucher shall 
'not be my halfe, 
' for feare he dresse me like a calfe. 
' Therefore together 
' get yow gone, 
' for I will mary ne'er a one. 
' But I will be 
' a mayden eertainlye ; 
'I like to lye alone.' 

Away these heavy Suters wend, 
with sorrow in their harts. 
AIiles millet learntd by a friend 
howe they maye plead their parts. 
He is bold, 
nothing could ; 
in his purse is store of gold. 
He purs on 
his Alnimouth cap; 
and, at the doe he lovd, doth top, 
Crying--'god be heere's !' 
At length coins forth his deare, 
bending her petty browes. 

' Fayre mayd,' quoth he, ' I must intreate 
'your eompanye a while.' 
With that, he rudly rushtd in, 
and she began to smile, 
Saying, ' Staye, 
' freind, I praye : 
'none but I keepe howse, I saye. 
' My father 
'and my mother be 
' both in garden certainlye.' 
' The better then for me. 
'I corne to none other but thee,' 
answered the myller playne. 

[5] *u a mayden] read mai& [6] 4 maye] read did. 
x  heere's] read here. [7] â rudly] i.e. rudely. 

Shirurn lallatts, XXIX 
'Here's 4 ° pound in gould, faire mayd; 
'vse yow yt at your will. 
'Besyde, before your feet, be layde 
'the miller and his mill. 
« ¥our fayre eyes 
' doe surprize, 
'and bewitch my fantasies.' 
' Sweete !' quoth he 
{with that he kist}, 
' vse the millet as yow list.' 
The mayde lookt red; 
and, blushinge, hung her hed, 
saying 'I cannot love.' 
' Sweet,' sayd the millet, ' be hot strange 
' but blythly looke on me. 
«Vnto my mill I praye yow range, 
'where we will merrye be. 
'Lad nor lowne 
'in the towne 
' shall better teach yow araunce a dozne. 
«While my mill 
'goes click a clacke 
'I will set yow on a sacke. 
'Sweete, goe with me 
« where we will pleasant be.' 
'Fye !' sayde shee, ' howe yow faigne t 
'I meane to tue your curtesye, 
' and go vnto your mille. 
' l'le keepe this monye for a pawne 
' for feare yow e me iii. 
'In the towne 
« daunce a 
' is loved of sse and lowne. 
« If yow doe teach 
'the saine to me, 
' your trew love I doe vowe to be.' 
' Content ' he sayde, 
'goe with me, gentle maide: 
'yow shall my cunninge see.' 
Now are they in [the] me mill, 
where [iles the daunce doth py, 
And woon the maiden's heart's good 'ill : 
shee could hot soErt awaye. 
( 119 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, XXIX 

So he playd 
that the mayde 
to ber mother plainely sayde, 
' I haue learnd 
« to daun«¢ a dawne, 
' the prettyest sport in ail this towne. 
' The railler hee 
'did teach the saine to me: 
' he shall my husbande be.' 
Thus are the millet and the mayde 
a marryed couple now. 
The matter nothing was delayd ; 
their friends the saine allow. 
Yow that woo 
learne to doo, 
as the railler teacheth yow. 
lleither Gloves, 
nor tokens, bringe ; 
but daun«¢ a dawn¢ teach mayds to sing. 
Else favour none 
vnto yow will be showne, 
although yow dye for love. 

Edwarde Hull i 

No. XXX 
Those gentle hearts that true love crave 
Fol. I55V: see the complement in No. L. Text given in Roxburghe 
'ailads, iv. 42o, from several Black-letter exemplars. 

aat«n, ma ln ia at at t r 
f  eat. 
To THE TUNE OF Ziue with  and be my le. 
THos gentle has which ew loue craue 
where trewe love oen no harbor haue, 
From sheddinge tres tan yow refraine ? 
but morne with me thus lord in vaine. 

Ix] 4 thus] rtad that. 

Shirurn Ballads, XXX 
Sore sicke for love, sore greiud in minde, 
corne, gentle death, my lyre vntwine ; 
For Culid's shaft, and Golden bowe, 
nowe seeks my ioyes to overthrowe. 
Vpon my deathbed I haue spend 
this storye of my dolefull end. 
Vaine worid, behold! I dye, I dye, 
here murthered by Love's crueltye. 
Oh Sara I-Iill, thow art the wight 
that turnes my ioyes to sharpe despite. 
Thow art the causer of my death. 
Farewell, false love ; farewell, fraile death. 
Be warned, young wantons, by my fall ; 
in love their is no trust at ail. 
Although in love yow liue vntrewe, 
their be some maides as false as yow. 
Here beautye dazeled soe mine eyes 
that, in her breast, my hart still lyes. 
I lou'd her, but she loved not me, 
Wherefore, behould! I dye, I dye. 
Oh curs[d eyes! svhy doe yow gaze 
vpon her faire and flattering face? 
Oh! wherefore did myrte armes enfoid 
one framde of such vnconstant moulde ? 
Corne, wrape me in my windinge sheete ; 
and beare me sadlye through the streete, 
That, from her eyes, sait teares may shed, 
v¢hen, for her sake, she sees me dead. 
In outward show we ioynd hands, 
and vowed to liue in wedlock's bands ; 
But shee, vnkind, bath me despizd, 
and broke ber voice, so highly prizd. 
[«[B"} ._ pend] .ad penn'd. [4] « «eath] ad br«ath. 
Here] i.e. Her. [7] I doe] read did. [9] 4 voice] 
r¢ad vow. 
(  ) 

Shir[urn Ballads, XXX 
Oh lord, what greife doe they sustaine, 
which lyre despizd, and love in vaine; 

But, lord, how well 
who hap to choose 

are they appayde, 
a constant maide. 


There is noe lyving wyght that knowes 
the pyninge paine, and endlesse woes, 
That we forsaken loyers byde, 
but such as hath like torments tri'de. 
I needes must yeeld, for lyfe doth fade; 
deat[h]'s comming cannot be denayde. 
Oh reach my Bible booke to me, 
for that my soule's true Love shalbe. 
Goe, tole my passinge Bell, deare friends ; 
for here a Lover's Journey ends. 
But marke what fortune she shall have, 
when death hath closed me in my Grave. 
I doe hot doubt, but yow shall see 
ber body pine in miserye, 
And ruade a laughinge stocke to those 
who now her great vnkindness knowes. 
Yow of the gentle Craft that be, 
shew this kinde favour vnto me, 
That to the world this mournefull song 
be chaunted sweetely you amonge. 
And some of yow I must request 
to beare me to my longest rest, 
And laye my carcasse in the grounde, 
with ringinge Bels' melodious sound. 
To my deere love goe then, and saye 
ber chaunge of minde cast me awaye; 
Bid her hard hart more constant prove 
to him that next shalbe her love. 

[xS] x gentle Craft] i.e. ofshoemakers. 

Shiraurn BaHacts, XXX 
With that he yeelded vp his lyfe, 
where death giue end to further strife, 
Desiring god» that rules in heaven, 
his lover's sinnes might be forgiuen. 
Thus have yow heard tluKh tIils good mind, 
who never prov'd in love vnkinde ; 
But, to his end, continued trewe, 
nowe changinge olde love for a newe. 


England, give praise unto the Lord thy God 

Fol. 156 v. Text 8iven, from this MS., in Roxburoehe BaIIads, viii, p. xi. 
Mountjoy's defeat of Tyrone was known in London on 5 Jan., ,6oI-z 
IState Papers, Domestic. 16o2, p. I42} ; and the surrender of Kinsale was 
known 23 Jan. (ib. p. 150). The ballad faithfully turns into metre some 
news-letter, or pamphlet of the day, which described the operations in 
Ireland. Too tardily for success, Philip I I I had sent an expedition to the 
south of Ireland, to help the insurgent Ulster chiefs (see No. XLII}. 
23 Sept., I6Oi, 4,000 Spaniards, under Don Juan d'Aquila, occupied Kin- 
sale, where, in October, they were blockaded by Mountjoy. Shortly 
afterwards, a second Spanish force, 2,000 strong, under Alonzo riel Campo 
landed at Baltimore, some forty mlles west of Kinsale. O'Donnell, hear- 
ing of the descent, hastened south ; and was followed more leisurely by 
O'Neill {Tyrone). By November, the two chiefs had joined del Campo» 
and were near Brandon, ten mlles north-west of Kinsale. The Irish plan 
was to starve out the English investing force ; but d'Aquila, straitened 
by the blockade, insisted on an immediate effort for his relie£ It was 
then proposed tbat on the morning of 9-4 Dec., 16oI, the Irish should rail 
suddenly from the rear on Mountjoy, while d'Aquila fiercely attacked 
the trenehes. Mountjoy, having intercepted the letter conveying this 
proposal, had his troops on the alert and well posted. To add to the 
lrish discomfiture, their guide missed his way in the night; and when 
they reached the proposed scene of action, they were worn out and dis- 
heartened. They at once fell back, in disorder, harassed by Mountjoy, 
who took riel Campo prisoner. Disgusted at the failure, O'Donnell sailed 
/or Spain, 6 Jan., 16o-2; and O'Neill withdrew to Ulster. Weary with 
the blockade and in bad temper with his allies, d'Aquila, 9 January, 
agreed to evacuate his posts in Ireland and return to Spain. 
With blountjoy in this action, as described in the ballad, were Sir 
Richard Wingfield (stanza 8), who had beea made Marshal of the army 
in lreland, 29 Match, 16oo, and commanded the cavalry ; and Richard 
Bourke, aged 29, who had just (2o May, I6o) succeeded as fourth Earl 
o.( Clanricarde (stanza 29-). From receiving knighthood (stanza 221 on 
the battlefield Clanricarde was afterwards known as ' of Kinsale '. 

[tS] u giue] readgaue. 

[tg] 4 nowe] read hot or ne're. 

Shirturn Ballads, XXXI 

obtaint  m or Iount oy an oug 
rttraptor Tzone 11 ÇiJ tonfetratt, 
pn tÇe 24 f ttemer Iat. Ie f 
tÇt erlingt of tÇt n f Kingsalt, 
it 3 r 4 tÇcr oule,  olt yok 
al Muila, enerall of tÇr @anislt rm, 
t a tcIc p tÇt 0 of anuar lait 

To THE TUNE OF tor¢une my foc. 
ENGLAIV, giue prayse vnto the Lord thy god, 
the which in mercye doth withhold his rod 
From vs, whose synnes deserud haue the saine: 
yet we continewe, Sodome-like, past shame. 
From os, whose sinnes deservkd etc. 
Oh let vs now returne vnto the Lord, 
and to his prayses singe Psalmes with one accord 
Which hath defended little England's right 
from forraigne foes their cruelty and might- 
Oh giue him thanks for that which he bath done: 
in Ireland through him haue England won 
A victory, which doubted was of ail 
till, through god's help, they saw the rebells fall. 

For, on the xx of December last, 
Wyroe, with many çaiards, hyèd fast-- 
Syx iooo foote, fyve hundred horse, in all 
with courtage bold, to worke L[ord] [ogiy«'s fall; 

I. a our] ead her. I. 5.  of December] i. e. in x6ox. 
l. IO 102] h«re s 160!--. 
[t] 5 In every stanza, the last couplet is to be sung twice. 
[]  prayses] r«ad prayse. [ô]  Ireland] i. e. l-er-land. 
[4] x xx oQ read twenty-fourth. 
C ,24) 

Shir$urn Ballacls, XXXI" 
Who had layd syedge that time vnto a Towne, 
t(insayle by naine, with hope to beate it downe, 
Or els to force them for to yeelde at last: 
which to effect his Ordinance plyed fast. 
Kimale that time the Sflaniards did defende, 
till they were forcèd for more sucker sende: 
which came, in number as belote is tolde, 
with hope to beate out forces from their holde. 
It was aeed the Sn#h Captaines should, 
out of the towne, yId all the force they eould 
Against the trenches which we did defende, 
and many Spaniards to their fellowes sendes. 
While we out foes with valour did annoye, 
Sir ichard Wtgfleld came to L[ord] 3lounti£ve, 
Saying--' Tirone, with many rebels more' 
(the number I reported haue before), 
' Are marching hither, and are ver neare.' 
Quoth L[ord] Mountioy, 'And they shall buy it deare, 
'Yf god assist me. I will them withstande, 
'hoping he will defend me with his hand. 
'Courage, braue Marshall for out quoene we fight. 
'Let vs goe forward: 'tis for nglands right. 
' God and S[aint] George for nglandI still we ce. 
'Let vs proceed: methinks the cowards fly.' 
My Lord giue order to his forces straight 
some should the trenches and the townsemen waight ; 
And he himselfe, with fifteene hundred more, 
march to the army whieh was fled before. 
And, when my Lord did sec them to retier 
in such bad order, he had his desire. 
Foq presently, he followed them soc fast 
that he enforeèd them to stand at last. 

['/] 4 sendes] read sende. 
4 march] read march'd. 

[t] t giue] readgaue. 

SAiraurn Ballads, XXXI 
Then, settinge ail his men in order right, 
he presentlye gave onset to the fight ; 
Which was performd with valour and with skill, 
forceing the IrisA dearest bloud to spill. 
The fight did not continue very longe. 
Although Tirone with Saniards' help was stronge 
Yet did out men behaue themselves so weil 
that many S2aMards gaynèd heaven or hell. 
The Rebels, fearing for to lose the daye, 
threw downe their Armor, and tan ail awaye ; 
Which we perceivinge, followed them amaine 
almost two toiles, ere we returnde againe. 
Tirone the Rebell thought yt noe disgrace 
to take his horse, and ride away apace. 
No more did O'doneall, which tan awaye, 
knowing it folly longer for to staye. 
Chiefe of the Spaniards, Allonso by name 
was taken prisoner, vnto England's faine ; 
Sixe Allfaris, and forty Souldiers more ; 
they that were IrisA, hangèd vp for store. 
Three Captaines taken prisoners in that fight, 
eight hundred hurt, t'elue hundred slaine outright, 
Two thousand armes, their drums, and powder-store 
the Rebels lost, the which they had belote. 
Nine Ensignes there was taken at that rime ; 
sixe were the Saniards, whose disgrace did clime 
A higher pitch then willingly they would, 
thankes be to god! which haue their courag coolde. 
Hurt of out side was fowre of accourir, 
whose deeds that day in valour did surmount; 
Syxe common Soldiars in that fight was sine, 
some horses kilde, and some still hurt remaine. 
[] x Alionso] accented A'16ns6 ; hot   Spanish. 3 All- 
faris] Spish aoEéwtz strd-arer. 4 for store] possib 
fourscore. If so, the ballad asses that Moun0o  hanged eight 
Idsh prisonem  rels. [tg] $ then] i.e. tn. [uo] t foire] 
i.  fow-er. 

çhirurn Ballads, XXXI 
There was hOt one, that on that day did fight, 
but gaue the Rebels that which was their right. 
Chiefly my L[ord] AIountioy performd, that day, 
such warlike deeds as never will decaye. 
The Earle Clanri«kard, at that same place, 
did through his valour purchase so much grace 
That my L[ord] Alrountioy knighted him, even there 
where-as the bodyes kilde and mangled were. 
The fight endinge, he cald his forces all, 
and willèd them vpon their knees to fall, 
Praysing the Lord for this great victorye: 
the which they did, kneeling immediatlye. 
'Glory and pmyses be gyven to thee, o lorde. 
'Thy holy name we prayse with one accorde, 
' The which hast kept vs from out enimies ail, 
'and gyven us victorye, with their downefall. 
'Oh god, continue this thy favour still 
'tovs thy servaunts, yf yt be thy wil|, 
'That /'o/e and Spaine, with ail their Irish rout. 
'may alwayes say--The lord for England fought." 
Then, rising straight, and taking vp the spoyle, 
they left the place where Rebels had the foyle; 
And to their trenches came, in all the hast, 
the which they round in order, none displast. 
They had hot stayed there fully yet syxe dayes 
eare Jon Agu{la did out Genera|| prayse, 
Saying he was an honorable man: 
who sayd 'for him l'le doe the best I can: 
' For I doe love him, though naine enemye ; 
' and hate Tiro.e, for all his flatterye, 
' Who being corne with all the force he had, 
'to take their heels the cowards all were glad. 

[24] , pra),ses] n.dpra)'se. 

127 ) 

Shirurn Ballacts, XXXI 
'Wherefore, vpon condition that yow will 
'out condition with consent fulfill, 
'We straight will leave this towne, with many more 
' that any Spaniard had in hould before. 
' And we will leaue the traytor, Earle 
'in IrHand with griefe to make his mone.' 
They did agree: and Spaniards ail depart, 
which was great ioye to good L[ord] 21trountio.e's hart. 
Thus hath my Lord, to Earle Tirone's disgrace, 
possest those houlds; and Spani«rds are defast 
To EnKland's ¢omfort, and L[ord] A[oun'oye's prayse : 
to god above be glory gyven alwayes. 
To god [give praise who us do]th still defende. 
Lord, on this [land always] thy blessing sende; 
Preserve out Queene, her Counsayle grave and wise ; 
confound her foes that doth the truth despise. 


There was a proud brawler, a thief by 
his trade 

Fol. I59. Maldon accounts contain frequent notes of expenses in 
conveying prisoners, and of escapes of prisoners both from the constables 
who had charge of them and out of prison, exactly as described in the 
ba|lad : . g., in  599, ' Ss. paid for men, horses, and dyett in careinge 
[carrying] a prysoner to Colchester the z8 of Marche ; 4os. expenses in 
carrying Jonas Browninge prisoner to London and staying there till he 
was delivered, and Ss. for horse-hire for two horses for4 dayes when Jonas 
Browninge was removed to London by wrytt.' In 567 Peter Jervis, 
constable, was mulcted 12d. for suffering a mariner of Canewdon, prisoner 
for felony, to escape. 7 August, 66, Maldon constables laid out 4,4. in 
forwaxding 'a hew-an-crye [=hue and cry] for one tbat broke out of 

[a9] 3 many] read any. The capitulation induded Baltimore and Berehaven. 
as well as Kinsale. [30] a lreland] i.e. l-er-land. [3] a defast] 
i. e. defaced. [32] x and 2 Lines partly destroyed by damp in blS. Gaps 
filled up by guess. 

Shirhurn Ballads, XXXII 

Colchester towne gayle.' One Assizes case gives, in actual record, 
examples of most points which occur in the ballad. In Maldon, at the 
' first Lady Dalr fait' (s$ March, I $73) William Armotteredinge, glover, 
of London ; Elizabeth Lodge, who professed to be his wife ; and Henry 
Stafford, sadler, of London, were arrested as ' three notorious cuttpurses ', 
at the instance of ' Thomas Frenshe, the spie', whose fee was sod. On 
6 Match the, were examined b, the Bailiffs and Town-clerk, who 
afterwards dined together, the borough pa,ing the ss. 6d. charged for 
their ' diet '. The expenses of maintaining the cutpurses while they lay 
in Maldon prison amounted to I«. 3d. ; and the charges of keeping their 
two horses between arrest and conviction came to ,! 1Ss. 9d. From 
Maldon, the cutpurses were sent to Newgate for securer custode,. Thence, 
at a cost of 1os. 7d. they were brought to Chelmsford Midsummer Assizes, 
where the, were round guilty, Henry Stafford of taking from Edward 
Ste]ewoman, ,eoman, of Stow Maries, a purse worth 4d., containing 
a gold angel, worth Io«. ; a gold ducat, worth M. 4 d. ; and IO«. in other 
coin : the other two, as accessories after the fact. Stafford and Armot- 
texedinge were hanged. The goods of these felons were forfeited to the 
borough, and sold b, auction. Armotteredinge°s white gelding, with 
white saddle, 3 girths, and the teins, brought "ss. Bd.; the woman's- 
pynneon (p:llion), on which he had brought the female prisoner, 2s. 7d. ; 
his black cloak, with velvet cape and lace, I4 s. 6d. ; his sword, 6s. od. ; 
his dagger, «. ; and his white canvas-bag, 13d. Stafford's ba, nag, with 
saddle and teins, fetched 3os. 6d. ; his dagger Inoted as of great length), 
Ss. ; and his cloth cloak, with velvet cape, 13s. The monelr round on the 
prisoners was also forfeited to the borough, riz. Armotteredinge's, os. ; 
Lodge's, 4. ; and Stafford's, Ss. The interest attaching to highwaymen 
is shown b$" the fact that these belongings were purchased b, quite the 
leading men of the borough. 
The punishment of ' pressing to death' attached to refusal to plead 
« guilty' or  hot guilt, '. A criminal sometimes chose to ' stand mute of 
malice" to avoid the confiscation of his properW, and the consequent ruin 
of his family, which would have followed on conviction. Here it is 
represented (stanza 14) as done to make good the offender's boast that he 
would never be hanged. Cowell's ]terret«r (1637) describes the process: 
the criminal, refusing to plead, ' shall be sent backe to the prison... And 
layed in some lowe, daxke, house, where he shall lie naked upon the earth, 
without any litter.., and without any rai, ment about him ... And he sha[l 
l,e vpon his backe, with his head couered and his feet ; and one arme shall 
be drawne to one quarter of the bouse with a tord, and the other arme to 
another quarter ; and in the saine manner let it be done with his legges. 
And let there be layed vpon his body irons and stones, so much as he 
may beare (or more). And the next daye he shall have three morsels o[ 
bafley bread without drinke ; and the second day, he shall bave drinke 
three rimes and as much at each time as he can drinke of the water next 
vnto the prison doore (except it be running water) ad no bread. And 
this shall be his dyet vntill he d,e.' This method of barbarism remained, 
as a tradition, in the Statute-book till s I J une, 1827, when the Act 7 & 8 Geo. 
IV, cap. sS, directed the courts to treat every ' standing mute of malice" 
as a plea of ' not guilty '. 

,,,,.  (Is9) 

S/ir[urn Ballasts, XX'XII 

an It¢ Igf¢ f Phillip Collins aliaa 
Osburne, t0mmtnlgr talI Phillip of 
IVest, Ç0 aa rtt to tatÇ at nffate 
in London te tr of rtrmbrr la 

To THE TUNE OF _PaKnton's rounde. 
There was a proud ]3anker, a theefe by his traide, 
(in 19euenshire he dwelled, as plaine is exprest) 
That in the west cuntry made many afraide, 
and called 'flaunting _Philli, the Devill of the west.' 
Indifferent tall ; 
high-minded withall 
his strength, with stowt courage, did worke his great rail. 
He loathèd to labour ; 
and ail his delight 
was for to pick quarels, to brawle, and [toi fight. 
By this swashing copesmate, ['t]is commonly known, 
the people of 19euanshire were greatly distrest. 
Vpon the high-way he tooke more then his owne: 
in this sort lyvd Phillip, ttxe Devill of ttxe west.' 
Some fashions to see, 
for service sought he, 
and [to take people in, a seruante w]ould be, 
Which looks li_[ke a player, 
with long flow]ing haire; 
[and a l]igtxt Bl[ade] by his syde he did weare. 
At last he met with a Gentleman brave, 
which Gentleman wanted a servaunt or two, 
Of whom he requested a service to bave: 
he askèd of llu'lli 'What things he could do ?' 
Then lhilli did say 
' l'le do what 
'I know how to flaunt yt, and how to obeye.' 
'But canst thow fight stowtly? 
' declare it to me.' 
'Sir, try me,' quoth _Phillip, 'and then yow shall see.' 

Ix] x Banker] readbrawler. 
gaps filled up by guess. 

[ai 7-xo MS. injured by damp and worms: 

S/irurn Bal[ads, XXXII 
The gentleman, seing he was a stout knave, 
said ' Sirra! yf thow will be trusty and trewe, 
'My love and my livery soone shalt thow have; 
'and, for the good service, ail things that is dewe.' 
Then ?illi/ at first 
swore he would be just, 
which causèd the gentleman put him in trust. 
But, ere a full twelmonth 
with him he did stay, 
he robde his good maister, and got him awaye. 
And, spending that loosely, that lewdly he got, 
man), a good budget and purse he did take. 
The cuntry vp and downe still he did trotte, 
while after him hue and cry man), did make. 
Ail cuntryes, in breife, 
were iayd for the theife ; 
in no corner could he finde any reliefe; 
But apprehended 
he was at the last 
And vnder a horse-belly his leggs tyèd fast. 
To Ex«eter Galle convaide he was then, 
along many mountains, both valleys, and hills. 
To guard him full safely was many trimme men, 
with pickstaves and holberts, and good forrest bills. 
When Sessions drewe neere 
that he should appeare, 
he broke the Gaole subtilly, and got away cleere. 
Thus, then he scapt hanging, 
and ruade no more mone ; 
but yet for his presence the gallowes did grone. 
Then closely to Summ«rs«tshir did he runne, 
where he, on a suddaine, at Shipton was tooke, 
After he had done many a shrewd turne when 
when for my daunger the least he did looke ; 
And, with full intent, 
to Gaole he was sent ; 
but, by the way, thilip their spire did prevent. 
He snapt in two peeces 
his hard-twisted bands ; 
and by a slaight, cunningly, losbd his hands. 
[4] 3 iove]readbadge. 4 the]rtadthy. [6]  both] rtadand. 
[7] a Shipton] i.e. Shepton Mallet. 3 J?eadlr°bab After 
he many a shrewd turne there had done. 4 my] r¢od any. 
xo losèd] i.e. loosèd. 
 • ( 3 ) 

Shirurn Ballacls, .::.::XII 
Then, trippinge vp trimly on of their heeles, 
he caught his stafe from him, without any staye ; 
And layd so about him, in middest of the fieides, 
he forcèd his garders to run ail awaye. 
Thus getting from thence, 
to seeke his defence, 
hë came into t?ar/eshire, with little expence. 
When where by his theeving 
he got a good share, 
he coms into .rarlborowgh in midest of the fayre. 
But, being weli knowne by some of the towne 
tobe a false theefe, the Baylyffes came there, 
And many, to take him, came shuffling downe, 
but yet he got from them as smoth as a heare 
When tghillip did see 
his fortune so free, 
that still he escapèd so prosperouslye, 
He gryn'de at the gallows, 
and moad at the moune 
and sayd he wouid spitt in the hangman's spoon 
Then, foilowing his fancy and vicked lewde will, 
watching for purses and robbing for gould, 
He traveled to Kent; and vpon Gad"s-hill 
at last he was taken, and layd vp in hould. 
Within the blacke Beare, 
in RocAester there, 
they layd him vp safely, vithout any feare ; 
And, for to haue him 
forth-comminge in sight, 
they sert syxe watchmen to keepe him ail night. 
But PMllip so lullèd his watchmen a-sleepe, 
that ere they awakèd at breake of the daye, 
And while they lay snorting that had him in keepe, 
out of a high window he gott him awaye. 
Great strife here-vpon 
was raysèd anone; 
but now in Essex false ttilli is gone ; 
And, comming to Clu,ill 
in pittyfull case, 
at midnight he entred a gentleman's place. 
[8]  on] i. e. one. 8 where] i.e. there. [9] 4 heare] i.e. hare. 
9 moad] i. e. mowed, mocked. Il z] 7 in] L e. into. 8 Chirviil] 
! Chelmsford or Chignall. 
( 3 ) 

çAir$urn Ballads. .Y.Y.YII 
But when [by] the mastiues, that barkd full sore, 
this theefe was discryèd, and taken was he, 
Then, brought vnto prison, he had irons store ; 
and there he la), shakled, for all men to see. 
Yet prison he broke, 
as care did provoke, 
and dVoltingAamsAire was then his best ¢loake. 
Where he so behauèd 
himselfe, at the last, 
that he into 2VottinKAam Castle was cast. 
But there he broake prison, as oit he had done, 
and soe into 29euonsAier againe he did goe ; 
But there he was caught, eare away he could run, 
[and] in Exeter Gayole he loclgcl full woe. 
From thence he was sent, 
by commaundement, 
to dVewgat in Zondon, ail shifts to prevent. 
And, being round gilty, 
he would hot agree 
by goal and the ¢,ntry he trycl should be. 
He would hot be hangd, for so he had swome: 
wherefore he had Judgment, to death to be prest, 
To haue his bones broken, his flesh brus'd and tome: 
and thus did PAilliî, the Deuill of the west. 
Though long he had past, 
loe! thus, at [the] last, 
a greeuious affliction vpon him as cast. 
Take heed, all yow roysters ! 
take warning herebye: 
who leads his lyre badly» as badly shall dye. 

England's fair dainty dames 
Fl. 16*; with second part on fol. 163. Cf. No. LXXII. Text given 
in Rocburgke Ballads, viii. 20, from numerous later Black-letter exemplars, 
ail of which bave the woodcut of the monster. The rod (stanza, 1, line 5) 
of this woodcut is the traditional Eton bundle of birch-twigs. Rev. 
JC" W. Ebsworth bas pointed out that on , Aug. 6o8, the Stationers' 
ornpany registered a book, professing t 9 describe God's Judgement 
shewed vpon the wyfe of Andrewe Ringest'eild, a rieh ¢itizen of Jena in 
high-Germany, which happened the Sth of February' [6o?-8]. The 
ballad turned this pamphlet into mette, but blundered over the naine of 
the town. 

SAiraurn Ballads, XXXIII 

]riOe' faR: or a tuarning rg ail Enfflis 
orn of lat in Germany ]h a prou mar-. 
tant' tuif: in t!e :itg of Geneua, 1009. 

To THE TUNE OF All yo'/t.t thatfathers bee. 

EnglanaV fayre daintye dames, 
see here the fall of pride: 
Wantonnes, leave lust in tyme, 
that god ma)' be ybur guide. 
I was a A)uchland froe, 
shining with beauty bright, 
And a brave marchante's wife, 
in whom he toke delight. 

I. 3 proude marchant's wife] B.-L. (bttttr) merchant's proud 
wife. I. 4 Geneua] rrd Jena. 
[] 3 Wantonnes'l i.e. wantons. $ froe] i.e. frau. 

çAir#urn Ballads, XXXIII 
AIl things I had, at will, 
my hart eould wish or crave; 
My dyet, dainty fayre; 
my garments, rich and brave. 
No wife in Germany, 
where I in pleasure dwelld, 
For golden brauery 
my person there exeeld. 
My coaches, richly wrought, 
ail bright with pearle and gould, 
Carried me, via and downe, 
where-as my fancyes would. 
The earth I deemd to to base 
my feete to tread vpon; 
My bloominge, crimson cheeks 
seldome fall winde or sunne. 
My beauty made me thinke 
myselfe an Angell bright, 
Framèd of heauenly moulde, 
and hOt an earthly wight. 
For my soule's happynes 
(God's holy bible booke), 
I hade my lookinge glasse 
where I most pleasure tooke. 
There was no fashion fond, 
that might advaunce my pride, 
But, in my looking glasse, 
my fancye soone espi'de. 
Every vaine, foolish toye 
changèd my wanton minde; 
And they best pleasèd me 
that could new fashions find. 
Yet ail these worldly toyes 
yeelded me small content, 
In that kinde nature had 
ne'ere child to me sent. 
[] 3 fayre] i.e. rare. [3] 5 to toi read too. 8 fall] 
read felt. Cf. Hamlst, Act. i, Sc. ,  winds of heaven visit ber 
face too roughly." [4] 5 For] i.e. instead of. 7 hade] i. e. 
had. [6] 4 toi rsadvnto. 
( lSS ) 

SAirurn Ballads, XXXIII 
For which offence to god 
(that makes rny soule to blee6), 
He therefore greiuosly 
scorgèd me in my seede; 
And, in my tender wombe, 
of soe pure flesh and blou 
Created he, strange to see, 
a most defoèd broode, 
That women of wanton pride 
might take example by, 
Ho they, in fashions fond, 
offended god on hye. 
Before this babe OEme to light, 
and I brought to my d, 
No cost was spafd, that might 
stand me in any stoed. 
y nurses, young and hyre, 
fyt for a royal Queene, 
Gaue ail attennce there, 
as it was dayly seene. 
Never had marchanfs wife 
of Ladyes such a traine, 
That me, in gentle soin, 
at the howr¢ of my pairie. 
Bu, when my swelling wombe 
yeelded vp nature's due, 
Such a straung monster borne 
never man hardly kn¢w. 
For it affright soe 
all the whole companye, 
That each one thought in haï, 
vengeaunce was drawing nye. 
It had two faces strange, 
and two hds ynted fayre ; 
On the browes, curlèd lockes 
such as out wantons we. 
One hand held right the sha 
of a fayre lokeing-glasse, 
In which I toeke delight 
how my vaine uW wm. 
[7] 3 straunge] ad mt sunge. [8] 4 steed] i.e. 
( '3 6 ) 

Siir[urn Ballads, XXXIII 
Right the shape of a rod, 
scorginge me for my synne, 
The other scinde to haue, 
perfectly seene therin. 
Those women's wantonnes, 
and their vaine foolish minds, 
Never contented are 
with that gyft God assignes. 
Looke to St, Zondon dames! 
God keepeth plagues in store ; 
As now the second part 
of this song sbev,'eth more. 

. eetonb part, Or, a tarnint for fapre 
To »tv. TVNE or ,,111yazo thatfaláers be. 
Greife and care kills their harts 
where god offended is, 
As this proude marcharxt's wife 
did worldly comfort misse. 
Strang were the miseryes 
that she long rime indurd; 
And no ease, by man's help, 
could as then be procurd. 
Here-vpon spake the childe, 
with a voyce fearefullye, 
' Mother, your wanton pride 
'brings me this misery. 
' Let your lyre soone amend, 
'or else the mighty god 
'Will scorge your wantormes 
' with a more shapper rod.' 
About the necke, flaunting ruffes 
it had most gallantlye, 
Starchèd with whyte and blewe 
seemely vnto the eye, 
With laces large, and broad 
as nowe are women's bands : 
This heavy wanton pride 
still in god's anger standes. 
[x] 7 semde] i.e. seem'd. [za] z Those] read Thus. 
[4] 8 shapper] rsad sharper. 
( '37 ) 

S/ir[urn Ballads, XXXIII 
The brest was all plated o're, 
as still the Mairmaids be, 
Now as lewd women's are 
to bide adulterye. 
Every part, everye lyrarae 
had hOt trew nature's frarae ; 
But to shewe to the worlde 
this ray great synne and sharae, 
From the head vnto the foote, 
raonster-like was it borne. 
Every part had the shape 
of fashions daylye worne. 
On the feete pinckèd shooes ; 
insteps had Roses red, 
Which in si|ke now are vsed-- 
so vainelye are we led. 
Thus hath my flesh and bloude, 
norisht nowe neere my hart, 
Put me in raind of synne 
and bids me soone conuert. 
Oh let ail woraen, then, 
take heed of cursèd pride. 
Angels have falne frora heaven, 
and, for that synne, haue died. 
No sooner brought to light 
was this fruite of ray youth, 
But to the counsaile howse 
it was borne for a truth: 
Where, to the maiestraites, 
in a raost fearefull sort, 
Began alowd to speake, 
and these words did report: 
'I ara a raessenger, 
'sent here from god on high, 
'To bid yov ail repent: 
'CHRJS'S comming draweth nigh. 
'Repent yow ail with speede, 
'this is ray raessage sure: 
'The world is at an ende, 
'and cannot long endure. 

Shirurn Ballads, XXXIII 
' Pride is the prince of synne, 
' which is your chiefe delight. 
'Mankinde, repent with speede, 
' belote the Lord doth smite. 
'This is my last adewe: 
' repentaunce soone provide.' 
These were his iatest words, 
and soe the monster died. 
Great was the feare of those 
that those saine speeches hard. 
God graunt ail Chrislfans maye 
haue their minds well prepard, 
With trew repentant teares, 
God's mercye to implore, 
That never woman kinde 
may bringe such fruite forth more. 
And yow, fayre Tnglish dames, 
that in pride soe excell, 
my wofuli miseryes 
to your heartes print full weli. 
Let not pride be your guide ; 
for pride will bave a rail. 
Mayde, and wife, let my lyre 
be warninge to yow ail. 

So long have I followed the alewife's cans 
Fol. 165, with sequel on fol. 166 : a most spirited admonition to sobriety 
and thrift, with a good swing throughout, but spoilt hy a farccal ending. 
The frequenter of the ale-house is depicted as reforming, when he finds 
poverty, personified as a beggar-man» dogging his steps and watching 
opportunity to seize on him. 
In stanza Ix mention is marie of old implements for cleaving logs, 
which in Essex are now forgotten except hy the oldest labourers. A 
socket-wedge was a stout iron wedge with a large socket for the insertion 
of a thick wooden haft, to lengthen it. It was driven home by a heavy 
hammer, here called a sledge. Each labourer, until recent years, pos- 
sessed, as in the ballad, a set of tools of his own for generai tarm-work, 
as hedging, ditching, &c. Now the farmer provides the toois, and the 
labourer's stock-in-trade is, in his own phrase» 'a short pipe and a shut- 
knife ' (clasp-knife to cut his tobacco). 
Stanzas 18 and 2o describe Iosses in gambling at ale-houses. Gaines 
of chance in such bouses were expressly forbidden by stature (see No. IX), 
[u3] 4 toi read in. 

but the records of the court at Maldon quite bear out the ballad in it- 
picture of the prevalenee of the practice. Convictions and fines occur 
at every Quarter-sessions. 3 July, 1559, William Loughborough, currier, 
admitted that on Saturday, 27 May, he was paid 9s. by his toaster, and 
on Sunday, 28 May, at Manning's alehouse, playing with the host at 
tables, 2d. a gaine, he Iost 3s. 4d., but Manning gave him back 4d. In 
1567, at Easter sessions, John Horncliffe was fined 6s. Bd. for suffering 
work-people to play at cards in his alehouse (the Bell) contrary to his 
recognizances. At the Epiphany sessions, I58-3, it was shown that John 
Kellingdon, sherman, George Hover, blacksmith, and William Whyskyn, 
ostler, had played at dice at a gaine called novum et eundem, and 
Whyskyn lost 16s. 
In stanza 29 the hue and cry is alluded to. A person whose goods were 
stolen was entitled to senti out a description of the thief and the stolen 
property, to be passed on by messenger from constable to constable in 
the direction which the thief had taken. A Maldon constable's bill-of- 
charges in I616 shows that each parish was expected to contribute its 
groat towards the cost of transmission. * Receiued a hew-en-cry sent out 
from Colchester for two randed geldings (one of them with a waled eye) 
o January, 44. 2o July, 4d. a hew-an-ery carried to Wodham Mortimer, 
which cam from Bentley, and so on to Gravesend.' 
 mcrr ncl alla intitulc:--Ke 
bqtger tome, te begger c0me, rte. 
To & PLE&S&NT NEW "l'UNE. 
So long haue III followed the Alewiue's cannes, 
and so often gone in at the Alewiue's doore, 
It bath caused me for to spend my lands ; 
and now, alasse! I ana growne poore. 
Z'he beKKer coraes ! /he beKKer cornes/ 
loe I ¢ohere the begger doth me aatch / 
.4nd I doe no/ leae tac .41ehowse o, 
the begger soone he mil1 me catch. 
Ix] 5 Refrain sung in chorus at end ofeach stanza. ? And] i.e. if. 
( 14o ) 

Shir[urn Ballacls, XXXIV 
/-/e that bath mony in his purse, 
and will vnto an Alehowse goe, 
There he may learne to sware and eurse, 
and spend his mony and wit also. 

I know a man was very rich, 
and he of many was often sought; 
Yet he had foliowed the pot so longe, 
at length the begger had him caught. 

My mother tould me, long agoe, 
yf I did followe soe much the pot, 
At length yt would cause my overthrow, 
and make me goe in a threedbare coate. 

When I had siluer and gold good store, 
good feilows then thought well of me ; 
But now it is gone, and I haue noe more, 
they are hOt for my companye. 
The brauest lasses in our towne 
I might haue had their company; 
But, now I ara scarce worth a crowne, 
alasse! they looke asquint on me. 
Our hostis at the lF'alnul-lree, 
when I had mony at my n'iii, 
She lovèd weil my company, 
because the shot I payèd still. 
Out hostis' maids did love me well, 
when I had mony to my store, 
t3ecause I gaue them farings still ; 
but now they care for me no more. 

They tell me, now, the begger cornes; 
and show me where he doth me watch. 
They bid me hye me to my worke» 
or ¢ls th¢ begger will me catch. 
C ,4, ) 

ç/iraurn Ballads, XXXII 
Indeed, their counsell I will take ; 
l'le corne no more within their vaine. 
What shift soe euer I doe make, 
l'le get illy monye vp againe. 
l'le get me a shovell, and a spade, 
a flayle, a hedge-bill, and an axe, 
Two socket-wedges, and a sledge; 
I thinke I will haue all illy knacks. 
Fie hedge, and ditch ; l'le cleave out roots; 
l'le thresh ; l'le eut downe woode amaine 
l'le doe ail worke--I care not what-- 
to get illy mony via againe. 
And when I haue mony in my purse-- 
because the Alewiues were so stout, 
I thinke I will keepe it tyll it rush 
ere they shall get a penny out. 
Ail they that to the Alehowse packe, 
and they that spend their mony there, 
The begger may catch them by the backe, 
ere they of him shal be aware. 

zrtmtl} part af .r trggrv tmrz, rtt. 
To THE TUNE OF lallo tOW$ e. 
Ail yow that now haue hard me synge 
'the begger [he] doth corne,' 
Shall here me sing another part 
agreeying to the same. 
T &gger  the egger  
t eKKer  w co, 
And aImost like to catch me: 
'as @ for me to run. 
I went vnto an Alehowse 
fo drinke a pot or two, 
And the bezef he stoode watchinge 
fo see where I did goe. 
O  «gg«r 
Refrai fo b« sng i chorus ai th: :n of ea¢h 


Ballads, XXXIU 

I had but cald my Ostisse, 
a stope of beare to fill ; 
The begger he was eomd 
and their stood watching still. 
I went into another howse, 
and there I playd at dice; 
And there I lost fyve shillings 
therin I was hot wise. 
I openèd the windowe, 
because the light was dymme; 
and I might see the begger, 
where he stoode lookinge in. 
I went into another howse, 
which stood besyde a pond ; 
And there I went to a 'newe cutt' 
tyll all my mony was gone. 
As I was goinge out, 
to run home for more, 
There I might see the begger 
stand watchinge at the dote. 
One day as I was sleepinge 
vnderneath a shade, 
And spent the time in idlenesse, 
which is a filthy tde, 
Then suddenlye I wakèd ; 
and, casting vp mine eye, 
1 spi'de the begger comminge, 
as fast as he could hye. 
Thus I haue tould yow ail 
how troubled I haue beene, 
For to withstand the begger 
the like was never seene. 

[ xT]  i.e. a stoup of beer. 3 comd] i.e. corne. 
r«ad run fo. 

Shirurn Ballads, XXXIV 
If that I doe but looke 
vpon an Alehowse sygne, 
The begger he will watch me, 
to see yf I goe in. 
t begger  ill came, 
nd will be like fo mtch m : 
'tis tim #r me to runne. 
But no that I haue found  slight 
the begger shall hot tch me, 
But I will shiff away from him 
wheresoever he doth watch me. 
l'le take me to my horse 
He ride aaye in hast; 
And then he eannot tch me, 
though he runne never so fast, 
Except he steale a horse, 
he hath none of Ms owne 
And, yf he take another man's, 
the saine shall soone be knowne. 
l'le reare the cunt up 
strayght-wayes, and will hot fable, 
And they shall catch the begger, 
and laye him in the ayle. 
&n t& bezef 
t eKKer cannot ce ; 
For wn tt  is in th« Jayle, 
tn what ne«de 
And when the Syses corne, 
then hangèd shall he be; 
And then 1 neede hOt feare; 
the begger caot tch me. 
or tn t 
t boxer cannot co ; 
For wn tt  is nKèd, 
tn wt nee 
[6] t light] L e. sleight. [a] 4 never] r«ad ne'er. 
i. e. b hue and 

S/ir:mrn Ballads XXXII: 

[3 t ] 
If that he haue some younge ones, 
they are but verye smale, 
And they will fall to stealing% 
and soe be hangèd ail. 
T/tan lhe begger ! lhe &egger ! 
tac begger cannot corne : 
For when they be all hanKèd , 
lhen whal neede I go runne ? 


Your answer to my sad laments 

Fol. 167". Funerals were great functions in Elizabethan and Stuart 
rimes ; and memoriai-verses were a necessary feature at funerais. These 
bailads bave ex,amples of both the high and the low types of such verses. 
lqo. LXII is a good example of a public lainent for a great man, comparable 
to Tennyson's Ode on Wellington; No. LVII is as good an example of 
private eleg),, comparable to In 3Iemoriam. The present ballad is of 
coarser fibre, being such a piece as was stocked by the printers to be 
used by any widow for any husband, as part of the mechanism of mourn- 
ing. The ballad-monger's ingenuity has sought to provide for treble 
custom by making it one of a series :--the Lamentation, the Answer to 
the Lamentation, and the Reply to the Answer. Surely the disconsolate 
would wish to possess Ml three. Churchyards in the VCest Lindsey 
district of Lincolnshire supply an amusing modern parallel to this standaxdi- 
zation of grief. The country-folk desired a' verse of poetry' on their tomb- 
stones; and Mr. Swift, memorial-mason of Gainsborough, having found 
one to their mind, bas set it up everywhere, even several times over in 
the saine churchyaxd :- 
Afflictions sore long rime I bore: 
physicians were in vain; 
TiR God did please to give me ease, 
and rid me of my pain. 
Swift, Gains. 

""- '- ( 45 ) 

Shir[mrn Ballads, XXzYV 

to Çer lamentation. 



¥OUR answere tO my sad laments 
I haue receiu'd, and the contence 
Have well perused; but therin finde 
no salue to swage a greiuèd minde. 
The wisest man that lyves this daye 
with words cannot my woes delaye 
0] ]wne, ]wne an alerga, 
alerga, tararalergo ]wne. 


Vnlesse he could [bring] newes to me 
(which I do never looke to see) 
That my deare Lord doth lyre againe: 
then would I leaue for to complaine! 
But, since he cannot backe returne, 
l'le never cease to weepe and morne, 

What though his soule in heaven doth rest, 
and is of lasting ioyes possest, 
Yet I ara greed at the heart 
that he so soone from earth did part, 
Whereby I ara of ioyes bereft, 
and haue (Mas l) no comfort left. 

[] a contence] read contents. "/ Refrain to be whined at the 
end of every stanza. [] 3 greed] read greeuèd. 
( I4 6 ) 

S]zirurn Ballacls, XXXI/" 
Those which in peace their loves inioye, 
and never tasted griefe's annoy, 
To other can good counsell gyve: 
but where doth any creature lyre 
Should fall from ioy to misery, 
that would hot weepe as well as I ? 

Thinke yow I ara hot vrgd to moane, 
that ara depriued of such a one 
As ail the world can scarce afford 
so good, so sweete, so braue a Lord 
The thought of ,chose vnhappye death 
doth make me loath my vitall breath. 

In vaine (kinde friend) yow counsell me 
to end these plaints, which cannot be 
Dissolu'd with ail the wit yow haue, 
till death bring me vnto my grave. 
The which (I hope) shall be ere longe, 
and then l'le end this dolefull songe. 

Yow wishe me to lay griefe asyde, 
and to reioyce because he dyed. 
lay, more: you bringe examples in 
to prove that weepinge is a synne. 
My friende, 'tis lawfull for to weepe, 
so we in teares a measure keepe. 

13ut, for my griefe doth farre surpasse 
the greatest wo that ever was, 
Therefore, my mones must needs exceed 
those which from smaller cause proceed. 
Then henceforth cease, and say no more ; 
for I will still his death deplore. 

A thing of little worth (god wot) 
full easylye maye be forgott ; 
But, sure, a Lord so deare as he 
cannot soe soene forgotten be; 
And, being he my soule did love, 
his death must needs great sorrow move. 
'- • ( 47 ) 

Shir[urn Ballads, XXX7/" 
Then, yf with me yow will hOt mone, 
nor waile my losse, let me alone. 
For, since the gods haue reft his lyfe, 
and ruade a widow of a wife, 
I neyther can, nor will, refraine; 
But, till I dye, for him complaine. 
The fates haue done the worst theD, ] can, 
in robbing me of that saine man 
Who was the Jewell and the pride 
of ail dame nature's sonnes besyde. 
Then haue hOt I iust cause of wo, 
whom cruel fates hath crossèd so ? 
Yet powers devine, yow know my griefe; 
yet yow will lend me no reliefe. 
Then why should I to men complaine, 
which have no power to ease my paine ? 
Since gods on me no pittye have, 
l'le leave the world, and seeke a grave. 
Oh ]wne ]wne ]wne alergo, 
alaler[g]o tararalerKo hone. 


O mortal man, bedrencht in sin 
Fol. 169. Stanzas i6-i8 are noticeable as testifying to the sumptuous 
lire and the favourite sports of Jacobean county magnates. The chier 
countrysports were hare-coursing, deer-hunting and hawking. Fox-hunting 
was hot yet sport. The fox in old forest law had been 'vermin', and remained 
so at the date of this ballad. Laxton manor, Northamptonshire, in I322, 
was held of the king in tacite by service of keeping dogs to destroy wolves, 
foxes, wild-cats, and other vermin, in the king's forest in the counties of 
Northants, Rutland, Oxon., Essex, Hunts.» and Bucks. Pytchley manor, 
in the saine county, was held in 1339 of the king in tacite, by service of 
destroying wild-cat, fox, and badger, in the above counties. At the date 
of the ballad churchwardens regularly paid a fee for each fox, pole-cat, or 
badger killed, much as the Government of lndia now subsidizes the de- 
struction of venomous snakes. 
By I663 fox-hunting had become established as sport. We find the king 
and his nobles then showing partiality for it (Wood's Lire and Times, i. 
495)- In Roxburghe tallads, i. 360, is a spirited ballad m praise of' The 
Fox-chase', of Charles I l's date. 
Payments for destruction still continued. At Waddesdon, Bucks., the 
rate was 2d. for each polecat, 4d. for each hedgehog, and lS. for each 
fox or badger. In 169 ° (the earliest extant account) payment were made 
for 13 polecats, 25 hedgehogs, and 14 foxes. 
[xa] x Yet] 'ead Ye. 

SAirlurn Ballads, XXXI:I 

neo Salla intitule .ci mprrour or 
looinge ae for ail nner. 
To THE NE OF Quee Dido. 
O MORTALL man, bedrencht in synne, 
rouze vp thy selfe ; 'tys tyme to rise. 
Delight noe more in sluggish slee ; 
the crowinge Cke the day discries. 
ember lhen lkine owne eslate ; 
repent in tyme ;  t to late. 
Nought els thow arç but meate for worms: 
of basest earth god framèd thee; 
And, into that filthy slyme againe, 
thow shall at length convertd bee. 
As thow, by kinde, of claye wert cast, 
so shalt thow turne to dust at last. 

Thy youth is [as] the growinge grasse; 
thine age resembleth withered hay. 
Thy head ere night may lye full low, 
although yow brave yt ail the daye. 
emember then thine owne estal¢ ; 
reent in O'me ; corne hot go late. 
No written lease of lyre thow hast. 
No deed enrold can the[e] assure 
That for a moneth, day, nor howre, 
thy fading fortune shall indvre. 
No rest thow hast to rest vpon; 
but, shortly, hence thow must be gon. 
As, in the twinkling of an eye, 
Jehovah gaue his vitall breath, 
So, in a moment, yow shall feele 
the daunting death of grysely death. 
aemember then thine owne es&te; 
reent in OEme ; corne hot [too] late. 
Iii 6 toi i.e. too. [] ô into] read to. [ô] 6 toi i. e. too. 
['5] 4 death of] read dart of. 

Shirurn Ba//ads, XX.XI 
The softned bed whereon thow lyest 
doth represent the place to thee, 
Wherein the carrion corps at last, 
by course of kinde, interd shall be. 
Then shalt thow lodge within thy grave 
the greatest grace that best men have. 
The crawling worms will welcome thee, 
reioycing at their newcome ghest. 
The dead man's bones will welcome thee, 
and make the tome with them to test. 
Rememer then thine awn estage ; 
re2ent in OEme ; came hot tao late. 
When once thy Carkase is intombd, 
the fearefull trump will sound apace :-- 
'Arise, yow dead! to iudgement come! 
'appeare belote the Iord of grace, 
' Who yeelds to every man his dew, 
' for he alone is iust and trew. 
Arise, yow mighty potentates! 
'Arise, yow poore blind, deafe, and lame! 
'Arise, thow gallant! rise, yow rich! 
'Arise, thow coy and daintye dame! 
'Arise, yow wights of eche estate! 
'Make hast, for feare yow corne to late!' 
Ther's then no restinge place for thee: 
vntrusse yow must, and passe from thence. 
Then will thy soule and body meete, 
expecting their dew recompence. 
As they did ioy in good or bad, 
theyr [future] soe shal| then be had. 
Then Sathan cornes to crave his right. 
'Thow god!' sayes he, 'behould the man 
' That led his lyre in secure synne. 
'His soul in mine: doe Justice than. 
' He never wayld his owne estate, 
'and now repentaunce coins to late. 
[6] 3 th¢] read thy. [7] a ghest] i.¢. guest. 3 man'si read 
rnen's. 4 the rorne] i.e. thee room. [9] 3 fise] read arise. 
6 toi i.e. too. [xo] a yow] read thou. {xx] 4 in] read is. 
5 wayid] in a correc'ot: ma. also be read wa,dd [*weighed]. 
Ci corns toi i. e. cornes too. 

Shirurn Ballads, XXX'FI 
' While late he lyved vpon the earth, 
'he tooke noe care of thy behest 
«But bent himselfe, with might and mayne, 
' each thing [to get] that likt him best. 
' He wore my badge, contemning thee: 
« his soule» therefore, bdongs to me. 
« I know thow art a Judge vpright ; 
'thy doome in Justice cannot swarve. 
OTo iustice therefore I appeale: 
'give each man what he doth deserve. 
'This wretch forgat his owne estate, 
['and now repentaunce cornes too late.'] 
O wofull wight! what wilt thow do, 
When thow doest behold this wofull case ? 
To frame excuse will not avayle. 
Forethinke thee, then, while thow haut space. 
Have good regard to thine estate ; 
[repent in yme ; came hot too laie.] 
No Prince's power tan stand in steade, 
when wrath hath clapt thee in his clawes. 
No Sargiant dares [toi vouch a fee 
before the barre to plead thy cause, 
No friend, no charme, no skyll, no art, 
can comfort then thy heavy hart. 
Thy princely howse, thy stately port, 
thy trim attyre, thy troopinge trayne, 
Thy delicate and thy dainty faire, 
thy badge of gould, will then seeme vaine. 
Remember then thy owne «state ; 
[rt«nt in OEme ; carat hot tao late.] 
Thy curious coach, thy trampling steede, 
thy thrice-rackt rent to presse the poore, 
Thy hungery minde, shall boote the[e] naught, 
that huntes poore Zazare from thy dore. 
Thy plumes, thy fans, thy pleasinge ioyes, 
vnto thy sovle shall breed annoyes. 
[ t4] a doest behold] rmdbehold'st, lrt] 3 Sargiant] i.e. Ser- 
jeant-at-Law. Ix6] 3 faire] i.e. fare. [.XT] 5 ioyes] possibly 
( 5 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, XXXVI 
The beagles f[1]eete that huntes the hare, 
thy deepe-mouthd hounds to chase the harts, 
Thy Spaniels, Hauks, thy chiefe delights, 
will then procure thy bitter smartes. 
l?emember thcn thint awne esate ; 
[re#ent in tyrat ; tome hot too laIe]. 
Arise, therefore, thow sinfull man ; 
behold thy loathsome Leprosye. 
Thy whoredome, pride, and drunkennes, 
thy couetousnes and vsurye, 
Thine enuy, malice, and disdaine, 
will breede thee euerlasting paine. 
Prepare thee, with the virgins wise, 
if thow doest meane thy soule to saue. 
At midnight will the Bridegroome rise 
to let in them whom he will haue. 
Yf thow remembrest thine estate, 
repentaunce cannot corne to late. 
The lord preserve our royall Kinge, 
and graunt him 2Vestor's yeeres to raigne. 
Endew him, lord, with heavenly grace 
thy truth and ghospell to maintaine, 
That he, regarding whence he came, 
eternize may his holy naine. 
Lord, blesse Q[ueen] .4nne, out Soueraine's wife; 
but the ympes that doe from them descend 
Plant Princelye vertues in their hart, 
in them to lyve, in them to end, 
That they, consideringe their estate, 
their auncestors maye imitate. 

[I8] x The beagles] read Thy beagles. 
.[I9] 6 thee] ubtituteddror thy : or vice 
L e. too. [2t] x Kinge] i.e. James 1. 
[]  Arme of Denmark, d. 6 9. 

4 thy] rtad thee. 
f2o] 6 toi 
6 his] read thy. 

( IS2 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, XXX'UII 


In reading merry memories 
Fol. 171*. In t5o John Dot-ne sold at Oxford ' The fryre end boy', 
probably a broadside exemplar of this ballad (Oxford Historical Society's 
Colleclanea, ii. 459)- The full text of The Fryar and lhe Boy is given by 
Dr. F. J. Furnivall in the appendix to Blb. Percy'sfolio MS. : see also Dr. 
Furnivall's Captain Cox, p. lxxiii. 
The ballad presents us with a feature of English rural lire which bas 
long disappeared. Ail over the country were stretches of wood, relies of 
the primaeval forest, the underwood and tituber of which belonged to the 
lord of the manor, but the rough pasture was common to ail who held 
land from him. Daily, therefore, the cattle of each homestead were 
driven to pasture in the wood, under the charge of a lad. Thus, in the 
survey of Fotheringhay Castle, made IO April, 134o, when Edward III 
granted the reversion of it to William de Bohun, earl of Northampton, 
it is stated that the Castle possessed in King's Cliffe forest two woods, 
Erles-wode, 4o acres, and New-haghe, 60 acres; but the pasture of 
these was common to the neighbouring townships, and of no value to the 
Castle, because too distant for the lord's cattle to be driven there. 
The boy is tried for sorcery in the ecclesiastical court, before the official 
(stanza I), i.e. the archdeacon's law-officer. In Elizabeth's time even 
the civil courts took cognizance of such suits. At Maldon, 6 July 1573, 
the jury at the General Sessions presented Alice Chaundeler, spinster, of 
Maldon, as a sorceress and witch, who, on 3 July, by felonious use of 
incantation, charms, and sorcery, had done to death Mary. the eight- 
year-old daughter of Francis Cowper, fletcher. There also, at the 
Epiphany sessions,  577-8, the jury presented Richard Asplyn, alehouse- 
holder, of Maidon, for taking into his bouse Thomas Barker, shoemaker, 
of Great Maplestead, a conjurer, with his books of conjuring and invoca- 
tion of evil spirits. In the Burials Register of Boreham, Essex, under 
date 9 July, 1593, is the entry :--' H. Mother haven suffered at borhame 
for witchcraft the sam day.' ' H.'  hanged. Agnes, wife of William, H aven 
had occurred in 1570. 

fin extrllrnt meree onge of te freier an 

To THE TUNE oF Peggy RamsoE. 
In reading merry memoryes, 
it as my chaunce to finde 
An honest man who had three wives 
whose last was most vnkinde 
For he had, by his first deere wife, 
a goodly, iollye sonne, 
With whom his step-dame could hot gree, 
but thought herselfe vndonne, 

Shirurn Ballacts, XXXIZlI 
But ail shee thought consurnde and lost, 
that did the poore child good. 
His father, that consideringe, 
did sende hirn to the woode, 
Which pleasèd well the stepdame's minde. 
The child, devoyde of care, 
His father's neate did driue to feild, 
and sing tligh hot the mare ! 
Then, as he carne into the plaine, 
he drewe his dinner forth ; 
And quickely put it vp againe, 
it was soe little worth. 
But, rnery pipinge on a hill 
to make his cattell sporte, 
A grave old man appeard to hirn, 
righ[t] fayre, in freindly sorte, 
And said :--' My sonne, god speed the well! 
' or hast thow any rneate ?' 
' Such as I haue,' the boy saide still, 
'a' god's name, corne and eate.' 
The old man, thanking hirn therefore, 
did gladly theron feede ; 
.And sayd, 'My boye, a thousande thanks; 
'thow hast releeued my neede. 
'Now will I giue yt things three, 
'that thow shalt hOt forgett.' 
The boy sayde :--' l'le be ruled by thee, 
'yf such things I rnay get. 
'For, yf I had a bowe,' quoth he, 
'to shoote at birds on bryer,--' 
The old man saide, ' Take here of me 
' the thinge thow dost desire.' 
'Then,' saide the boye, 'a pype also, 
'rne thinks, were very good, 
'As I doe travaile to and fro 
'from home vnto the woode.' 

lai t But] read For. [4] t the] i.e. thee. a or] read oh. 
[5] z I giue yt things'l possibly I giue choice of things, a i.e. that 
-ou may bave omething by which to keep me in remembrance. 
( I54 ) 

Shir$urn Ballads, XXX'II 

The old man sayd, ' Take heere a pipe, 
'that ail that heere the glee 
' Shall never cease, but daunee and leap, 
'while piping thow shalt bee.' 

Then ' aske the third,' he sayd, 'my sonne!  
The boy sayd, ' Nowe inough--' 
The old man saide, 'thow shalt hot bave,' 
At that the boy loud lought. 
Then sayd the boy, ' I haue a dame, 
' that is to me vnkinde, 
'Which many wayes dooth worke my shame, 
' as well I call to miude. 

' And yf my father giue me meate 
'she stares me in the face.' 
The old man swore to make ber rage 
in strange and wondrous case ; 
' ffor when she frownes on thee, my boy, 
' she shall a rappe let goe, 
'which shall soe ringe that she shall raye 
'the place, for verye woe.' 

The old man sayde :--' Farwell, my childet 
'of thee my leaue I take.' 
The boy, that sawe, and well beheeld, 
the sunne began to slake, 
He tooke his pipe, and gan to blowe: 
his neat fast by him springe. 
Thus forwards, homeward, he doth goe, 
as ioyfull as a kinge. 

He found his father in the hall, 
at supper syttinge then. 
Then .]'acke sayde :--' JEstr saue yow all! 
' howe cheere yow, freindly men ?' 
Saying, 'Father, I haue kept your neate, 
'and brought them safely home: 
' For god's sake, therefore, giue me meate.' 
His father threw a bone. 

['/] 3 i.e. I will hot let you cry ' enough ', withottt taking the 
third gfft. 
( xss ) 

S]irurn Ballads, XXXVII 
That greiued the stepdame's heart full [sore], 
but she blewe such a blast 
That ail the howse began to rote : 
the people were agast. 
Then sayd the boye: 'Right well I wott, 
'yf thow shoote such another, 
' I needes must saye it is well shot-- 
'I sware, by Marye mother.' 
But then more cursedly shee lookt, 
she was soe iii content ; 
One rapp annother overtooke, 
her talle was neere-hand rent. 
Then little .]acte sayd 'Fye, for shame! 
'Dame, temper well your bure. 
' Your stuffe,' saide he, ' is good to borowe, 
'for each one shall have some..' 
The next daye after came a freyer 
that laye there ail the night, 
that fed the goodwiffe's oft desire 
and coniured many a sprite. 
This dame, to him, of little .]'acke, 
a great complaint did make. 
The freire saide, 'Dame, be [yow] content: 
'for I date vndertake 
' To beat him v¢ell, in sundrye sort ; 
'and giue him evill rare.' 
With that, vnto the feild he went, 
to v¢orke the poore child's eare. 
'Boy,' he saide, 'god giue the[e] shame: 
'corne! qulckly shew to me 
' What thow hast done vnto thy dame, 
'else beaten shalt thow be.' 
The boy saide: 'Holy father frier, 
'my dame right well doth rare. 
'See yonder birde, that sits on bryer, 
'had neede for to beware, 
'For, though I haue but little skill, 
'yet I ean shoot her head' 
The fryer saide, 'Ail vnpossible! 
'with words thow hast me fed.' 
[15] 6 head] read dead. 

Shirurn Ballads, XXXI/'I[ 
Jack shot, and downe the bird did rail; 
the fryer, amonge the thornes, 
Began to grope to finde ber outq 
which provèd to his battues. 
Then ]acke his pipe began to blow; 
the fryer began to daunce; 
Amidst the brambles on a rowe, 
right braulye he did praunce. 
The thornes prickt: the breyres schratch[t] 
his leggs, also his face. 
His body was with bloud so redd, 
and scratched in every place. 
Then cryed he, 'J'acke, for Christ's sake, 
'cease the pipe that I were gone.' 
With raggd breech and clothes ail tore, 
thus the folish freier went home. 
[Vnto] J'ack's father and his mother 
the story ail he toulde; 
Then home came J'acke, his neat to fother, 
with courage braue and boulde. 
Then saide his father: ' Cursd sonne, 
' how hast thow vsde this frier? 
' This musicke strange now let me heare, 
'for it is my desire.' 
The frier saide: 'T}'e me to a post:' 
some sayde he should hOt rail. 
jracke piped; his mother lookd grim, 
but evermore [them all] amonge 
Her talle let man}, a pellet flye, 
she well perfumed the thronge. 
The}, daunced so sore, they neere were lost, 
the}, caught soc many a fall. 
Tbe s},ll}, frier was neere hand lost, 
though he full fast was bounde. 
He knockt his head so to the post, 
with many a bloud}, wounde. 

[x'/] 5 Christ'si i. e. Christ his. 6 onit the. 8 onit thus. 
[xg] The lines are misplaced : x, 2 should stand as -/ 8. 2 i.e. 
they iaad tied ]aim so eflectually. 

Shirkurn Ballads, XXX'KII 
Some broocke their shins; some hurt their arms ; 
some were so madd and franticke ; 
But never a won escapèd free, 
in dauncinge of this anticke. 

Then jracke, before the officiall, 
was warnèd by the frier, 
To ansv¢ere as a conjurer ; 
but, v¢hen that he came there, 
He tooke in hand againe his pipe, 
and gan to playe so trymme, 
The officiall lept over the deske, 
with many a broken shin. 

Then jracke they hartely doe praye, 
for love of 21Iarye free, 
To cease, and for to leaue his playe: 
and forgiuen he should be. 
'Content,' quoth jracke: so peace was ruade, 
and friends they were in place,-- 
Desiringe God, 'ho reads this iest, 
to graunt him of his grace. 

The wondrous works of God above 

Fol. x74"; with second part on fol. I75". The locality ofthis marvel 
of retributive justice is well chosen to give verisimilitude to the piece. 
The faits of Franlffort-on-Main, held in Match and September, were 
well known as great marts of cloth and books ; and Bonn is a natural 
halting-place for travellers between Antwerp and Frankfort. The date 
of Shakespeare's A PVintes Tale (I611) gives special interest to its 
Act iv, Scene 3, where Mopsa's ' I love a ballad in print ; for then we are 
sure they are true', and Autolycus's ' Five justices' hands at it, and 
wimesses ', agree vdth the attestations at the end of this 6z ballad. 

SAir#urn Ballads, XXXF'III 

To ' rv oF 0 man in desJeration. 
TrIE wondrous works of god above 
man's thoughts cannot conceiue, 
For ail that him doe fear and love 
in daunger hee'le hOt leaue-- 
The proofe of which in holy writ 
most sacredlye is showne ; 
And in this story, wondrous fit, 
his mighty power is knowne. 

( z59 

Shir[mrn Ballads, XXXI/'III 
A younge man, from good parents sprunge, 
in Anewarye liude of late, 
Who[_m] none could ere accuse of wronge, 
and liude in happy state ; 
Did with his loving vncle dwell, 
and was so well beloved ; 
He did behaue himselfe soe well, 
as ail men['s] likinge moved. 
His vncle was a marchant man; 
and put him still in trust 
In every thinge he tooke in hand, 
he was soe trewe and iust. 
He, with his kinsman, lately went 
to l:rankfort mart with wares, 
Not doubting any thinge to come 
to breed them griefe and care. 
From Antwar2# as they travellèd, 
by settinge of the sunne 
Came to an Inne, to lye all night, 
cald the H"hite Swan at Bon ; 
And in the morninge rose betimes 
by breakinge of the daye, 
And went to tZran¥ort, and dispatchd 
their marts, and came their waye. 
But nowe begins the younge man's woe! 
His vncle sent him backe, 
Whilst he at Frankfort staide behinde. 
The youth, hot beinge slacke, 
1Made all the speede time would afford 
that he might soone goe home ; 
And, home-ward, laye each night where they 
lodgd, when from home they corne. 
One night, amongst the rest, he came 
to Bon, vnto the Swanne, 
Where-as his Host did shewe himselfe 
a Deuill in shape of man. 
[2] 2 Anewarpe] i. e. Antwerp. [3] 8 them] substitutedfor 
his. care] read cares. [4] 7 and dispatchd] read to dispatch. 
came] read come. 
C 6o ) 

Shirurn Ballacls, XXXI/III 

For, in his howse, a marchant lay 
who had good store of Coyne, 
The which this theeuish hoast did seeke 
by ail meanes to purloyne. 

Att last, in dead of drowsye night, 
when every one was sleepinge, 
This filthy hoast vnto the male 
of mony vp coins creeping, 
And from the marchant steales the gould 
and then invents a drift 
The yong man might be in suspect, 
for his abhorrèd theft. 

He takes a Beaker of his owne ; 
and, in the young man's male, 
He cuningly convayes the same, 
his falsehood to avayle. 
An obligation, and a ringe, 
he from the marchant had, 
Which he, into the young man's male, 
he there likewise convayde. 

The young man in the morning rose ; 
and vp his horse he gets, 
Suspectinge nothing that could breede 
his hinderance or his letts. 
Who beinge gone, the marchant wakes 
and finds his money gone ; 
In rage a furious noyce he makes, 
and making piteous moane. 

[7] 3 maie] i. e. trunk, bag. 6 drift] i. e. plan. [8] 4 a- 
vayle } i. e. help out. 5 obligation] i. e. a ¢ovenant to pay money. 
7 Which he] rend The which. 
,,,,.  ( 6I ) 

S/irturn Ballads, XXXlrlII 
His hoast perswades him the yong man 
had done this wicked deede; 
And soe in hast they both tooke horse, 
to fetch him backe with speede. 
They haue hot farre rod on their way, 
but they the youth had spi'de: 
For he, suspectinge of no harme, 
did verye softlye ride. 
When straite his false accusing hoast 
attachd him for a theefe ; 
And searched his male--where-as he found 
those things that causde his griefe. 
Although the youth, with vehement words, 
deny'de this guilty act, 
Yet he was rackt, condemnd, and iudgd, 
and hangèd for the fact. 
But now, his vncle's busines don, 
in hast he homeward hyes; 
And, at the wicked catife's howse, 
at night he eates and lyes. 
And risinge in the morne, his hoast 
did tell this wofull thinge, 
Which almost kild his vncle quite, 
his hart it soe did stinge. 
Yet, neveheles, with iefe he went 
his Kinsman's corps to see ; 
Which was soe eat a woe to hi 
 greater none coulde be. 
To whom the executèd youth 
sayd: 'Vncle, praye drawe neere. 
' I ara hot dead, although that hangd 
'I, in your sight, appeare. 
'For why? I stand n a stoole, 
although yow see it hOt ; 
'And for this 5 dayes all my meate 
'I haue from hven got. 

[xx] a attachd] i.e. arrested. 
[t3] x nevertheles] r«ad ne'ertheless. 

8 fact] i.e. crime. 

SAir$urn Ballads, XXXISlII 
'The glorious Angell of the lorde 
'hath brought me foode from heaven, 
' And saved my lyfe, by myracles, 
'which ail men thought bereaven.' 
His vncle, straight-way, cald for helpe 
to corne and take him downe; 
And afterwards they both relate 
this newes about the towne. 
When-as the wicked hoast did sec 
the power of God on hye, 
His guilt he hartylye confest ; 
when, lowe ] immediatlye 
The maiestrats, in iudgement iust, 
awarded him his hire, 
That ata stake, alyve, he shoulde 
consumd be with lyre. 
Though goal longe tyme doth hould his hand, 
and synners spares to strike, 
Yet, in the ende, he them confounde[s], 
and saves whom he doth like. 
The truth of this straung accident 
men neede hot farre to looke, 
For 'tis confirmed by good men's hands, 
and printed in a booke. 


A heavy doleful story 
Fol. 177* : second part, fol. I8o. The first part oirthe ballad is arranged 
in stanzas of 16 lines each, apparently with intention that they should 
be sung to the tune Crimson Velvet. The characteristic metre oi r this tune 
is a uo-line stanza {lqo. XLVI) ; and although a 6-1ine stanza is also round 
(No. LX), that is obtained by arbitrarily writing as 4 linès the first 8 of the 
other form. Clearly, therefore, if Crimson Velvet was used for this ballad, 
there must bave been some device of subdivision or repetition of lines in 
the stanza. I fancy however, that the Crfmson Velvet is an error. The 
Alerchan/ofEmden tune uses an 8-line stanza (as seen in the second part) ; 
and this first part could be sung to it by halving each stanza. 
['5] 8 lowe] i. e.. 1o. 
U z ( 6 3 ) 

Shiraurn Ballads, XXXIX 

Çe fÇarÇfull ugmrnt f almigOt g, 
 tn ta nn  mt n 
natural[ martOr tOir nataraR fatOr. 

To THE TUNE OF .T Marchat of Emden 
or ŒErimxon Veleg. 

,A HEAV'Y dolefull storye 
I ara abovt to wright: 
The like was never hard before, 
nor seene, by any wight. 
A blody murther, I intende, 
the truth for to declare 
Of every and each accident, 
that others may beware. 
A rich marchant-man here was 
their dwelt at Amsterdam ; 
Who had issewèd of h.;s loynes 
two sonnes, that did the saine. 
They both did act this murther vile 
vpon their father deare, 
Even on the high-waye as he rid, 
as after yow shall heare. 
Iii 9 here wa] rtad there was once. fo their] rmd that. 

Shirurn Ballacls, XXXIX 
One of his sonnes was of the age 
of fowre and twentye yeares, 
Who had his portion him allowed 
to spend in good affayres. 
Eighteene yeares was expirèd 
of the other sonne, 
Who had hot moneye at his will 
a ryotous race to runne. 
The younger sonne did cleaue vnto 
his brother for protection, 
And did disdaine his father's words, 
and to lyre in subiection. 
The elder brother did maintaine 
the younger in such pride, 
That he consumèd had his stocke 
before he it espide. 
And when they had consumèd a/l 
in ryotousnes and playe, 
They lookèd that their father should 
the younger's portion paye. 
Their father did perceiue right well 
their great vnthriftines, 
And did keepe backe the younger's part 
[be]cause of his excesse. 
Vpon a tyme the younger sonne 
vnto his father came, 
And did request his porti-on ; 
but he denied the saine, 
Shewing reasons very good, 
saying 'My youthfull sonne, 
'¥ow must not haue your owne desire, 
'till I be dead and gone. 
'But here, for to maintaine thy selle, 
' in ail cyvilitye, 
' Take here my gyft; accept the saine, 
'till more necessitye.' 
Away then went this sonne againe 
vnto his eldest brother, 
And did revaile howe he did speede 
in going to his father. 
So when the elder brother knew 
how smale was his reward, 
And how his father ansv,-erd him 
without ail fond regard, 
[3] x3 Shewing] r«ad Shewing him. [4] 7 revaile] i. e. reveal. 

Shir[mrn Ballads, XXXIX 
Then did he thinke assewredlye 
(these things troubled his head) 
AIl pleasure should ecclipsed be 
vntill that he was dead. 
So both these wicked children 
agre[d to conspire 
To take awaye their father's lire 
to fulfill their desire. 
So they might ail delights obtaine 
their appetytes to fill, 
They would not spare, in blody sort, 
their father's bloud to spill. 
It soe fell out and chauncd 
their father should ride forth, 
To pay great somes of monye 
for marchandize of cloth ; 
For such like things he dealt in, 
to gaine and get for them : 
But they repayed his carefillnes, 
like savage beast[s], againe. 
Intelligence these brethren hard 
of their father's journey, 
That he should ri6e full seven toiles' space 
with great store of money. 
Then did these two, with one accord, 
bloud-thirstily enflame, 
To goe and meete him by the waye, 
and ease him of the saine. 
These brethren, beinge resolute, 
rode one the way before, 
And watcht their father comming by 
with baggs of money store. 
At last he did approach neere hand, 
and came within their sight; 
Then they to meete him ruade great 
which did him sore affright. 
They came close to their father, 
and thus to him did saye, 
'Stand, [and] deliuer vs your coyne, 
' in hast, without delaye : ' 
Who was much amazed to heare 
and see their crueltye, 
That they, in such like manner, 
should use extremitye. 
t children] i. e. childer-en. [6] to one] i. e. on. 
t66 ) 

SAirurn Ballads, XXXIX 

The elder of these brethren, 
more vilder then a beast, 
Did set his pistoll, chargèd well, 
against his father's breast. 
The younger had a milder minde, 
and thus to him did saye, 
Let vs not kill ; but take his coyne, 
' and let him passe awaye.' 

With that, the elders brother's wrath 
did more and more augment, 
and swore, beeause he spooke the same, 
should haue like punishment. 
But thus their good father was 
at length put to great smart : 
The elder, with a pistole chargd, 
did pearce his tender hart. 
Then did their feble father [down] 
fall straight-wayes from his horse: 
They both, with daggers drawne, 
did stabb without remorse. 
Their agèd father's carkaise, 
with deadly blowes, they strooke ; 
And, beinge mangled in this sort, 
they cast him in a brooke. 

on to oe tat muttre tti 
TO THE TUNE OF  Martin/ of Emden. 
The father mangled, in sueh sort 
that no man should him know, 
Even by his owne vnnatural sonnes, 
a hvy sight to show! 
Thus when they had eonveyd him, 
 I haue yd belote, 
They tooke their way dyrectlye 
ch one vnto a whore. 

['/] 9 brethren] i. e. brether-en. 
13 father's] M../ms father's father'S. 

[8] x elders] read elder. 
( 6Z ) 

ç/iraurn Ballaals, XXXIX 
And, beinge corne vnto a towne, 
they for a tyrne did staye, 
Into which place carne great resort 
at length, that le11 in play. 
And being playinge garne soe great, 
the dice against them went, 
That, in smale space of rime, 
they ail their rnoney spent. 
The elder, being destitute 
of rnoney, great or srnale, 
Which, by mischaunce[s] of the dyce, 
full suddenly did fall, 
I-Ie went out of the doores in hast, 
and vp he casts his eyes ; 
]3eing fixèd on the firmament, 
in this rnanner he cryes-- 
' O God ! yf thow wert heare below, 
' I would revenge rny losse. 
'Yea! I would stabbe thee to the hart, 
' and breake thy head a-crosse.' 
And, with blasphemous words and oathes, 
his dagger vp he threw 
Vnto the clouds, rnost vehernently-- 
but marke what did ensewe. 
Yea! rnarke the iudgrnent of the Lord, 
shewed on this creature vile. 
This cruel beast, more worse by kinde, 
from mankind was exild 
And in a traunce full sodenlye. 
Yet, madd in inwarde minde, 
Vnto the feare of 2é/ua/ 
he was noe whit inclinde. 
I-Ie went againe in[toi the howse, 
above the ground he stunke : 
The earth did open imrnediatelye, 
and downe therin he sunke. 
The people rnarveld much to see 
the earth devoure him soe. 
The younger were exarnined well, 
and here began his woe. 
[I¢] 6 Cp. No. LV, stanza ¢4- Ix3] $ full] rad fell. 
were] r«ad was. 
( 68 ) 

Shirurn tallats, XXXIX 
His conscience was soe bitten, 
with the mercilesse worme, 
To thinke of ail his villanye 
which he before had done; 
And also then, beholdinge well, 
his brother's fearefull end 
Did stricke with horror to his hart, 
which could no way be pen'd. 
But marke the wonders of the Lord! 
The murther was revaild, 
Even by the mouth of this young man ; 
there was no thinge conceald. 
He tould a tale substantiallye 
(naye, pitifully rather) 
How he and his brother vilde 
did vse their naturall father ; 
That in so much he as condemnd, 
as guilty of that deede; 
And after, suffered for the saine, 
as lawe and iudge agreed. 
He was first bound vnto a stake, 
being starke naked stript ; 
And then, with red-hot pinsons strong, 
ail flesh from bones was nipt. 
Thus haue yow hard these gracelesse sons' 
wicked conspiracye 
To get them pleasures of the earth, 
and lyre most riotouslye. 
/-Iow god bath dealt with these 
let ail example take, 
]3oth high and low, both rich and poore: 
and thus an ende I make. 

[16] 5 ai rad the. 

pinsons] i. e. plncers. 

( x69 ) 

Shir[urn Ballads, XL 

No. XL 

Jerusalem, my happy home 

Fol. t81". The Black-letter copy in 4to Rawl. 566, fol. 167 (olim 269), 
contains additional stanzas (I I to 2o), which are here appended. 
In Stanza I6 this chorister very quaintly transfers his own art to the 
skies, and counts among the joys of heaven the musical rendering of the 
Psalms and Canticles of the Book of Common Prayer. 

î.Çlr lral0u. £trritrr' 0ngt of Yor/ee, 
in tÇ¢ praet 0f Çrabrn, tu ail faitÇfull 
ngrr an goIpe rrarr in te orl. 
To THE TUNE OF 0 man in desperan. 
]esa&m, my happy hom 
when shall I corne to thee ? 
en shall my soowes haue  end: 
thy ioyes when shall I sec 
Where happy harbour is of Saints, 
th sweete and plet soyle. 
In thee noe soowes ever were found, 
no efe, no OEre, nor toyle. 
In thee no dampish mis are seene, 
no coul nor darksome night. 
In thee ail soules for everltinge: 
there god alwayes ves light. 
Heaven is the spfinge where waters flow 
to quench out heat of synne. 
There  the oece where tth doth grow 
to ld o les therein. 
There CHRIST is iudge that sts ail stfife 
when men's de,ses fe: 
There is the brd tMt feeds the lyfe 
tt death not yle. 
everltinge] B.-L. ever sing. Possibly it should be  er shine '. 
Cp. Dard Dicon's (cire. 63o 
* But eve ul shines 
for God himlf ves ght.  

S/irurn tallads, XL 
The tydings of salvation deere 
cornes to our eares from thence : 
The fortresse of our fayth is there, 
and sheild of out defence. 

Jerusalem, Jerusalem, 
God graunt I once may sec; 
Those endlesse ioyes, with thee, 0 crISr! 
partaker for to be. 
Thy wales are ruade of precious stones; 
thy bulwarkes, diamonds square; 
Thy gates are of right Orient pearles, 
exceedinge rich and rare. 

There lust, nor lucre, cannot dwell; 
there enuye beares no swaye. 
In these no hunger, heate, nor could ; 
but pleasure, night and daye. 
For daye and night to thee are one ; 
noe darknesse maye appeare. 
O God, in CrglSr tovs make knowne 
Those lights that are more cleere 

Then an), man could ever sec 
or mortall eye behould 
That ever yet, since 4dam first 
in blisse he was inrolde 
Within the gares of 19aradise 
to haue free witt and will 
To doe eyther good or euill, which 
his minde vtas bent vntill. 

When God (in Clsr) Adam beheld, 
he sayd, in love soc free: 
' 0 man, thovt shalt hot lyre alone ; 
'A helper l'le give thee.' 
Then, ldant, thow didst, through on sinne, 
at counsaile of thy wife, 
Throw downe thy selfe, and also vs 
From that fayre cytye of lyfe, 

[4] 5 wales] rcadwalls. [5] 3 these] read thee 's. 5 toi 
read in. [6] 3 yet] read was. 4 inrolde] B.-L, infold. 
? eyther] read or. [?] 5 on] i.e. one. 8 cytye] B.-L. 
( ii ) 

Shirurn Ballads, YL 
Tiil CnRtsT himselfe from Heaven came 
to save vs one and ail, 
Redeeming vs from death and sinne, 
as well the great as small. 
Then be hot like the hogge that hath 
a pearle at his desire, 
And takes more pleasure in the trough 
and walloinge in the mire. 

For CrRIST sayth :m, Come, ail yow that will 
' in heaven me behould,' 
Where Carbuncles and Turrits fayre, 
and streets are paved with gould ; 
Where howses ail of Ivorye, 
and windowes christall cleere, 
And tyles of burnisht bright red gould. 
0 CHRIST, that I were there! 

Within in gats nothing can corne 
that is not verye cleere ; 
No spider's webb, nor filthy thinge, 
in thee may once appeare. 
Thy saincts are crownd with glory great ; 
they sec god face to face. 
They triumph all, and still reioyce ; 
most happy is their case. 

[We, that are here in banishment, 
we sob, we sigh, we groan. 
We weep and wail, both night and day; 
continually we moan. 

Our sweet is mixt with bitter gall ; 
our pleasures are but pain ; 
Our joys do scarcely last an hour ; 
our sorrows do remain. 
But there they lire in [such] delight, 
such pleasure, and such joy, 
As that to them a thousand years 
do seem but as one day. 

[9] 3 and] read are. [ toi I in gats] .ead thy gates. [  x ]  
In the printed copy the ' Second Part ' begins here, but without 
heading. To fit the letterpress into theform«, stanza x x has been 
given four lines only, so dislocating the stanzas which follow. 
(  ) 

S/irurn Ballacts, fL 
There Vineyards and their Orchards are 
most beautiful and fait» 
Well furnish'd Trees of pleasant Fruits, 
most wonderful and rare. 
Thy Gardens, and thy gallant wal[k]s, 
continually are green. 
There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers 
as nowhere e]se are seen. 
There is that Nectar and Ambrose, 
with Musks and Civet sweet: 
The greatest joys on earth below 
are trod under their feet. 
There Cinnamon and Sugar grows ; 
the Nard and Balm abound. 
No tongue can tell, nor heart can think, 
what joys in them are found. 
Quite thorow thy streets is Silver round 
where ælood of lire doth flow : 
Upon whose Banks the wood of lire 
for ever there doth grow ; 
As aiso trees, both more and less, 
which evermore do spring. 
There evermore the Angels sit» 
and evermore do sing. 
There 19avid stands, with Harp in hand, 
as Master of the Quiet. 
A thousand rimes ail those are blest 
that might his Musick he[a]re. 
God's prayses there are always sung, 
wlth harmony most sweet. 
Old Simeon and Zachary 
bave hot their songs to seek. 
There M'agdalen bath left their moan, 
and cheerfully doth sing, 
With blessed Saints, whose harmony 
in heaven sweet doth ring. 

Old men and wives, young men and maids, 
and ail that hear this song, 
Print well, and bear this in your hcarts-- 
think hot your time too long. 

[z3] i There] read Thy. their] readthy. 
read thee. [ZT] r their] read ber. 

[14] 8 them] 

Shirurn Ballacls, X'L 

And do hot read these godly lines, 
but with a single eye: hot, but first desire God's grace 
to understand thereby. 
Pray stiil, in faith, with this respect, 
this Heaven for to win, 
That knowledge may bring good effect 
to mortifie ]tour Sin. 

Then happy you in ail Four lif 
what-so to you befalls. 
Yea, double happy shaii FOu be, 
when God by death you ca.Ils. 
God still preserve our Royal king, 
our Queen likewise defend; 
And many happy joyful days, 
good Lord unto them send. 

Thus to conclude, I end my Song, 
wishing health, wealth, and peace; 
And ail that wish the Commons good, 
good Lord, their joys increase. 


[Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and J. Wright. !] 

No. XLI 

I read that many years ago 
Fol. 183*. Text given in Roxburghe Ballads, ri. 685, from iater Black- 
letter exemplars. The Black-letter exemplar (with ,voodcut of Abraham's 
sacrifice) in 4to Rawi. 566, fol. 123 (olim 204), has for colophon ' London, 
printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, and J. Clarke. 1675.' This 
ballad is quoted in tfamlet (I6o2), Act il, scene 2. As in No. XI, allow- 
ance must be made for the librettist fitting words to this intricate tune. 
! Printed] i. e. circ. t675. 
[xS] 3 i.e. no h without first desiring. [t9] 3 double] read doubly. 
5 king] i.e. Charles III in this B.-L. copy. 6 Queen] i. ¢. Catherine of 
C ,74 ) 

Sirurn Bal/acts, XLI 

n eib]a ïulg 0f Israell. 
I R.,D that, many yeares ago, 
when ]eAa, ]udge of Israel, 
Had one faire Daughter, and no moe, 
whom he beloued passinge well, 
And as by lot, God wot 
it came to passe, most like is was, 
Great warres there should be, 
and who should be chiefe but he, but he. 
When Jeha was appointed now 
chiefe Captaine of the Company, 
To god the Lord he ruade a vow: 
yf he might haue the victory, 
At his returne, to burne, 
for his offringe, the first quicke thinge 
Should meete with him then 
from his house, when he came againe, againe. 
It chauncèd so, these warres were doone, 
and home he came with victory ; 
His daughter out of dores did runne 
to meete her father speedyly, 
And, all the way, did playe 
one taber and pipe, with many a stripe, 
And notes full high, 
for ioy that he was so nye, so nye. 
When ]elIm did perceive and see 
his daughter first and formostly, 
He rent his Cloathes, and tore his haire, 
and shrikd out most pitiously :-- 
' For thow art shee,' quot[h] he, 
'hath brought me low, alas for woe! 
'And troubled mee to, 
' that I cannot tell what to doe, to doe. 

[] a when] hot strictly grammatical because the line is 
borrowed from flrst line of an older piece. 4 beioued] rad 
iov'd. 6 is] read it. [3] 6 one] i. e. on. [4]  and 
see] r¢ad with tare. ? toi i.e. too. 

Shirurn Ballach, YLI 
'For I haue ruade a vow,' quoth he, 
'which must hot be deminishd, 
' A Sacrifice to God one high: 
'my promise must be finishd.'-- 
' As yow haue spoke, provoke 
' no further care, but to prepare 
« ¥our will to fulfill 
'accordinge to God's good will, good will. 

'For, sithence God hath given yo might 
' to overcome your enemies, 
'Let me be offered vp, as right, 
' for to performe ail Promises. 
«Ail this let bee,' quoth shee, 
'as yo have sayd. Be hOt afraid. 
'Although it be I, 
'keepe promise with God on high, on high. 

'But, father, doe soe much for me 
' as let me goe to Wildernesse, 
« There to bewaile my Virginitye, 
' three months to moone my heavinesse. 
' And let there goe some moe 
' like maides with me.' 'Content,' quoth hee; 
And sent her away, 
to morne till her latter day, her day. 

And when that time was corne and gone 
that she should sacrifizd bee, 
This Virgine sacrifizèd was 
for to fulfill ail promises. 
And, as some saye, for ay 
the virgins there, three times a year, 
Like sorrow fulfill 
for the daughter of Jepha still, still, still. 

[5]  on«] i. « on. 
i.e. moan. [8] x eome and gone] nad eome to pass. 

çhiraurn Ballads, XLH 


Ring out your bells 

Fol. 184". Elizabeth's sixty-seventh birthday was -7 Sept., 16oo. On 
16 Nov. following, she ended ber forty-second year of reign. This effusion 
is in honour of ber forty-third Accession-day, I7 Nov., 16oo, celebrated, 
as line  says, by bell-ringing. A singular story, vouched for by an in- 
formant of Brian Twyne (d. 1644), the great Oxford antiquary, makes this 
custom of bell-ringing on Accession-day begin in  57I through a jest in 
Ail Saints' belfry, Oxford (Clark's Lincoln College, p. 46J. 
In stanza 5 allusion is ruade to the queen's navy, and its munitions 
of war. It may be of interest to note that in I H96, for the Cadiz 
expedition, ÈIizabeth enforced the old feudal daim  on seaports to provide 
ships for naval service. Henry II's charter to Maldon, given at 
Pembroke, 70ctober, 117, while remitting many feudal claires, retained 
the obligation to furnish one ship when the king personally goes or sends 
on warlike expedition, and to maintain it for 4o days at the charges of 
the borough, as in Henry I's rime. Elizabeth demanded a large man-of- 
war, apparently from the county of Essex, to the charges ofwhich Maldon 
should contribute. The claim was opposed, both by way of petition and 
bribe, but unsuccessfully :--' 74 lOS. laid forth in charges in suynge the 
Privy Counsell to be released of the charge of the shipp : 22s. expenses 
in travelling to Colchester several tymes touching business about the said 
shipp : 47s. Bd. to Mr. Burnell [Vice-admiral] in benevolence * and dyett 5, 
to have his frendlie favor vnto my lord admirall in the behalf of the towne.' 
The actual payment is ',2o paid to Mr. Burnell the vice-admyrall 
towards the settinge forth of a shipp out of Harwich into ber maiestie's 
service according to order of the Lord Admirall and privy Council '. The 
receipts mention '26 6s. collected, by the constables, of the inhabi- 
taunts towards the setting foorth of one shippe out of Harwiche into her 
maiestie's service'. The supply of powder was also imposed on the 
country by the queen. Maldon accounts specify, e.g. 59o, ',7 os. for 
a barrell of gunne-powder bought for the burrowe to be preserved in 
rydynes for her maiestie's service'; and 1597, 'f.9 to pro'ide two 
barrells ofpowder tobe preserved in the [town]-halL' Maldon church-belts. 
and no doubt others, went into the furnace to provide great guns.  565, 
.8 2s. was received, 2 April, ' in full satisfaction of two bells which the 
quene's maiestie had, th'one of the parishe of Seinte Peter's and th'other 
of the parishe of Ail Seints.' 
Stanza 6 describes the queen's armory in the Tower of London. Great 
pressure was also put on the country to have ready (at its own cost 
weapons, offensive and defensive, sufficient to equip the militia. On 
25 April, 1569, the Queen's Commissioners ordered Maldon to find ' t,vo 
çorsletts furnished [i. e. with ail things requisite for their use in actual 
service], with too pikes ; and fower haquebutts furnished Il.e. with powder- 
flask, match-case, &c.], with fower murrions * ' to be kept ' in good saf«ty 

t The bearing of this on Charles I's first ship-money demand is plain. That 
claire was hot so obsolete as is often represented. 
 i.e. money given to him. » i. e. dinners, &c.» at the inl * i.e. motions. 

Shh'$urn Ballads, XLH 
in the storehouse of the burroughe'. For thls purpose 9 Ss. 2d. was 
raised from 78 inhabitants, in sums varylng from 6s. Bd. to l:d. About 
the same rime land-owners in Maldon were called on to supply ! 1 calivers 
furnished; 7 hacquebuts furnished; long-bow and sheaf of arrows, 
with steel cap (or scull), for 9 bowmen ; and 6 pikes, black-bills, or 
halberts, with aecustomed armour for 6 pikemen. Thirty-six inhabitants 
also supplied 'armor of benevolence, for the defence of their own 
personnes ', riz. lo_ longbows, each with its sheaf of arrows ; 4 halberts ; 
1 o blaek-bills ; 1 o_ bills ; with defensive armour (a museum-like miseellany 
of coats of plate, almain ryvetts, payres of splents, jacks, &c.) ; and with 
sword or dagger for every man. 
Early in Elizabeth's reign increase of trade ied to building of new 
custom-houses {stanza 8). In 565, Maldon paid '3, expenses of one of 
its aldermen ' when he went to London to sue for the custom-house ', and 
o-os. ' for two seales of the custom-house '. Maldon custom-house was 
actually built in that year, as appears by the charges for materials and 
work on it. The panegrrist naturally assigns ail the credit to Elizabeth 
The reference in stanza 9 is to the Irish chiefs, the O'Neill and 
O'Donnell. Hugh O'Neill, o-nd eari of Tyrone, recognized as the 
O'Neill, 593, had routed and slain Sir Henry Bagnall, 4 August, 598 ; 
baffled the earl of Essex, 599; and invaded Munster, Iarch, 16oo; but 
later on in that year had fallen back belote Sir George Carew and Moum- 
joy. Hugh Roe O'Donnell, lord of Tyrconnell, made his escape rom 
Dublin Castle, u4 Dec.,  59 : was recognized as the O'Donnell, May, 159u 
wasted Connaught, Jan., 597  defeated Sir Conyers Clifford, July, 1597 ; 
helped Tyrone to tout Bagnall, 4 August, 598; but, early in the winter 
of 6oo, had lost Lifford to the English. 
In stanza 1o allusion is made to embassies from foreign powers, with 
petitions to Elizabeth. Czar Ivan (the Terrible)in I567 had wlshed 
Eglish help against the Poles : Czar Boris Godunoff, at a later period, 
had opened negotiations. The kings of Sweden and Denmark, while 
Eizabeth was still young, had been suitors for her hand. The 'many 
a knight' phrase probably describes the German princes who, atone time 
or other, sent envoys to the queen, e. g. Adolphus of Holstein. 


£bir3urn Ballads, XLH 

l pkaant nl a[[al, of t mot 
ait for tÇ pa of to an fort 
re, an no ntring into t tr an 
fortitÇ to t grat io an omfort of ait 
rr a[irtr'] fatfull ubit. 
To THE TUNE OF T Queengs hun 's v. 
R« out your bels! 
what should yow doe els ? 
$tficke  your Dms for ioy 
The Noblest Queene 
that ever was seene 
In ngland doth Raigne this day. 
 noblest Queene 
In England doth Raigne tkis da)'. 

Shir[urn Ballads, XLH 
Now let vs pray, 
and keepe holy-daye, 
The seaventeenth day of November; 
For ioy of her grace, 
in every place, 
Let vs great prayses Render. 
Three and forty yeares 
her grace writeth heare 
In glory and great renowne ; 
whose lyke on earth 
Wore never the £nglish Crowne. 
To the glory of god 
she hath ruade a Rod 
Hir enemies to subdue; 
And banisht away 
ail Papisticai! play, 
And maintaynes the Ghospell true. 
Such ships for the Seas, 
her foes to feaze, 
She hath ruade as never was seene; 
With powder and shot, 
and Cannon so hot, 
As never did any Queene. 
Such Armor of proofe, 
with picks ail a-loofe 
(Her enemyes to with-stande), 
She hath filled the tower 
so full, at this howre, 
As never was in this land. 
Her stately Bowers, 
ber Castles and Towres, 
She hath kept them vp everye one ; 
That none doe decay, 
but stand goodlye and gay, 
Repayrèd with lyme and stone. 
The custome-howse keyes, 
the fortes by the seas, 
[3] • yeares] read yeare. [5]  feaze] i.e. beat. Cp. 
Tammg of tac Sh,em, lnd. i ; Tro. ad Css» Act i, Sc. 3- 
f6] Such] read With. a pick-] i. e. pikes. $ i. e. Sh'ath fillèd. 
8]  keyes] i. e. quays. 

Sirurn Ballads, XLH 
The blocke-howses everye one, 
Were never so stronge, 
continuing soc long ; 
For cost she hath sparèd none. 
Those Rebels Route, 
that were so stoute, 
She hath quickly ruade them quail 
By  and by lande, 
she th strength at hand, 
To make them stricke their yle. 
The Muscite 
with many a knighç 
The Swesians and enmarke king 
To her goed grace 
send hither, a-pace, 
For many a needfull thing. 
The &ots oen tell, 
the Sanrds knowe wdl, 
The rencn nnot denye, 
But her go grace 
toward every place 
Doth car a gmtio eye. 
Now let vs ke hde, 
inge well we speede, 
That out synnes do hot annoy 
Out blessd ioy, 
and chyefest staye, 
use we haue deserud it so. 
Yet god, that doth see 
ber maiese 
His rvaunt in ail say, 
His grace will giue 
that she maye lyre 
Many prosperous yres and daye 
AIl yow that giue re 
this song to re, 
With dilligent dutye ail praye 
That long vn rth 
Our Queene continue maye. 
TI longe, c. 
[] $ cot] i.oE n't. 

( St ) 

Sbh'urn Ballads, XLIII 

From sluggish sleep and slumber 
Fol. 185". Stanzas -io are expository of the parable of the marriage 
of the king's son, St. Matt. xxii ; stanza II changes to the parable of the 
virgins, St. Matt. xxv. 


t) 5dman' Gool morrol, 
which in our eares doth ring 
]-low we must be preparèd 
for CHRIST our heauenly king. 
To THE TUNE OF M-wake, a-wake, 0 ngland. 
Fot sluggish sleep and slumber, 
good «h4stians, all arise. 
For CHST'S sake, I praye yow, 
lyft vp your drowsye eyes. 
The night of shame and sorrowe 
is parted cleane awaye--- 
God giue yow ai1 good morrowe, 
and send yow happye daye. 
Ix] 3 CHRIST'SI i. ¢. Christ hic. '/ This refrain is to be ung in 
chorus at the end of every stanza. The last word is to be' daye ', 
or'ioye ": as required by the rhyme. In stanzas 3 and $ the 
transcriber bas « daye' in error. 
( ,S ) 

Sbirurn Ballacls, ;(Llll 
The kinge of glorye greeteth yow, 
desiting yow to corne 
Vnto the mariage banquet 
of lais beiovèd sonne. 
Then shake of shame and sorrow; 
put on your best arraye-- 
From ail rags of wickednes 
looke that yow strip yow quite 
In garments of true godlinesse 
see that yourselues delight. 
Shake of ail shame and sorrow 
which doth your soule destroye-- 
And rise not to revenge thee 
for an), trespasse past ; 
Thow knowest hOt of certaintye 
how long thy lyfe shall last. 
Seeke hot thy neyghbour's sorov 
by an), kynd of waye-- 
Forgiue thy brother friendly, 
for CrmlST doth will the so ; 
And let not spite and envy 
within thy stomake grow» 
Least god shoote forth his arro 
thy mallice to destroye-- 
Seeke not, by fraude and falshood, 
for to procure thy gaine ; 
But beare in thy remembrance 
ail earthly tlings are vaine, 
For he that searcheth narrow 
thy secrets will bewray-- 
Vnto the poore and needye 
streteh forth thy helping hand, 
And thow shalt be most happye, 
and blessd, in thy lande. 
From him that fayne would borow 
turne hot thy face awaye-- 

['] 5 of] l. e. oiT. 
[5] " the] i. e. thee. 

[3] 4 dclight] bc dight. 

S/irurn Bal/aas, XLIII 
In whordome, pride, and drunkennes, 
do not thy pleasure frame 
Wish not th neighbour's hindrance, 
nor blemish his good naine; 
And never ke thow soow 
for losses gon away 
Be thankefull to thy maker 
each day, n thy knee, 
For ail the atious benefyts 
he bath towed on thee 
And let the grtest sorrow 
be for thy synn, I 
And, being thus attyrèd, 
yow maye in peace proeeed 
Vnto the hea/enly ble 
of Cnsr our lord indeede, 
Where neyther shame nor sorrow 
Shall yow in ought annoy 
Then loeke your lamps be ready, 
and that with oyle good store, 
To wayte vpon the Bridegroome 
in at the Chamber doere, 
Where neyther sme nor sorro 
yow shall in ought annoye 
Then shall yow rest in bloEoednes 
which never shall haue end, 
Inioying Csr his presence, 
our sweet and surest friend, 
Where neyther shame nor soowe 
shall yow in ought annoye 
Thus, with my bell and nthorn, 
I bid yow ail arwell; 
And koepe in your remembrance 
the sounding of the 11, 
ast that, with synne and sorrow, 
yow doe your selues dtroy 
God ue y ail good rre, 
And send y , ioye. 

çAiru,'n BallaJs, XLIII 
Lord, saue our gracious soveraigne, 
Elizaba by name, 
That long, vnto our comfort, 
she maye both rule and raigne. 
Hir foes with shame and sorrow, 
0 lord, doe thow destroye. 
And thus, with my good morro¢z,e, 
God send yow ha2ly ioye. 

Arise up, my darling 
Fol. 87". The piece is of the nature of Milton's L'Allegro 0645), 
only the speaker is a husband addressing his wife, hot a bachelor musing 
to himself. The music, as tricked in the MS., provides for the initial 
triplets, and, by expansion, for the longer triplets which corne at the end 
of the stanza. In the MS. the lines are arranged 18 to the stanza. 
RoxburgAe Ballads, i. 62, contains the baIlad TAe Bride's Good- 
Morro.w which gave naine to the tune. There the lines are disposed 
4 to the stanza, but an improvement is effected by presenting them as 
six triplets. The theme is a musical reveillée to a bride on the morning 
of the wedding-day. 
The night is passèd, 
and joyfull day appeareth, 
most cleare on every side. 
With pleasant musick 
we therefore salute you: 
Good morrow, mistris Bride! 
From sleep and slumber now 
awake you, out of hand. 
Your bridegroom stayeth at home, 
whose fancy, favour» and 
Affection, stili doth stand 
fixèd on thee aione. 
Dresse you in your best array : 
this must be your wedding-day. 
God Almighty send you happy joy, 
in heaith and wealth to keep you stili. 
And, if it be his blessèd wil], 
God keep you sale from sorrow and annoy. 
A modern parailel is found in the lines I/Vake, 2Waid of Lorn ! as they 
are set in Sir Walter Scott's Lord of trie Isles, canto . 
The ' crooks ' of stanza 4, productive of echoes, I take to be sharp bends 
of the stream caused by the opposition ofa high bank on one side. The 
' echoes' may be the brawling of the stream against the barrier, increased 
by reverberation from the bank. Compare, in a melancholy key, 
a similar thing in chapter i of Sir Walter Scott's Old Mortality 'the 
gentle chiding of the brook ' against ' the steep heathy bank '. 

Shiraurn Ballads, XLIV 

' I 

fl Fltaant ittp, 
which doth pleasantly displaye 
the ioyfull walkes " 
in the month of Maye. 
To THE TUNE OF /]Z t?ride's KO[o]d-morrowe. 

Rise vp, my dading ; 
Abroad let vs be walking: 
the radiant sunne doth show. 
The sweet dwes are mounting ; 
The prety birds are singing: 
the cheerfull Cocke doth crow. 
The gordeous blossoms 
Vpon the tres aboundeth: 
the earth it giues a gallant scent. 
The goodly flowres this Alay 
Do spread themselues in fayre aray, 
your gentle hart for to content. 
[1] t Rise] rtad Arise. 4 dwes] i.e. dew. " gordeous] 
i.e. gor-ge-ous. 8 tres] i. e. tree. 

Shirturn Ballads, XLIV 
Dresse yow in your best attyre ; 
Walke abroad for hart's desyre ; 
leaue the sluggish and the slumbring bed. 
Trase thorow many a medowe greene 
Where Lady, flora, famous Queene, 
so worthyly hir mantels fayre hath spred. 
This is the meriest 
Meet tyme in ail the ,eare, 
and fyt for loyers true. 
The pretty Turtles, 
This pleasing merry moone, 
their wonted ioyes renewe. 
The Nightingale 
Sings Jugge, a-.Irugge, a-.Irugge ; 
the larke, in top of ail the skye. 
The prety Robin then 
Forsaks the company of men, 
and to the forrest doth flye 

an'd so "doth'other birds vpon each bryer. 
Dame Nature's Imps leaue of lainent. 
And so, my Deare, be yow content 
to yeeld vnto the thing I do require. 
The mighty Oakes, 
The hye and stately Beeches, 
do spread about the Wood. 
Each plant yeeldes a pleasure; 
In earth is no such treasure; 
the Byrch growes sweet and good. 

thë famle fdules syts latchig of ther'yong. 
The blacke-bird, with his yellow bill ; 
The Thrush, that hath in musicke prety skyll,-- 
these two do flye from dale to bill, 
Singing tunes melodious 
Vnto out God most glorious ; 
and so do other birds, with one regard. 
The skyes are full of harmonye ; 
The earth belowe doth grorifye 
the lord, that every good thing hath prepared. 

[2] $ moone] i.e. month. Lines x3 and x 4 are missing. 
of] i. e. off. [3] Lines "/and 8 are missing. 9 and I2 « yong ', 
bill,' are a defective rhgme : possibly  brood ', ' wood.' 
grorifye] rtad glorifye. 
( '87 ) 

S/zirurn Ballads, XLIV 
Then ma}, we walke 
Vnto the siluered brookes, 
and rivers that abound, 
Where pleasant Ecchoes 
Retume from sundry crooks, 
which giues a pleasing sound. 
There shail yow see 
The fishers, with their nets, 
how, with their hookes and their line, 
For to deceiue 
The pretye frisking fish, 
wylely wayting their tyme, 
Lye down sweetly on the bancke, 
After many a pleasing prancke: 
but yf yow lyke not of that pleasing sport, 
Through good pastures we may trace, 
And, homewards then, hye home apace, 
and so of every vertue make report. 
And so, in our returning, 
Regard the syly lam 
how he cryes styll 2fay 211"ay. 
The wanton calfe 
Runs whipping by his dam, 
as though that he would stray. 
The Ram he wayts 
Vpon his Lady Ewe; 
the Bull attendeth on his feere. 
Yf every pleasure 
Were to be had or got, 
I do thinke, Madame, yt is heere. 
Then may we to out garden bowers, 
And rest vs there some certaine howers, 
and ther to tast some dainty viands sweet ; 
That, when the Sunne's hot heat is gone, 
About the alleyes we may runne, 
that health and pleasure may together meet. 
And, in the coole evening, 
Where yow please be plucking 
sweet flowers of delight. 
And so at out departing 
To god giue gloryfying, 
as well by day as night. 

[4] 9 how] readwho. 
read ever. 

xa wylely] i. e. wilily. 

l'SI fo every] 

Shir/mrn Ballads, VLIV 
But ),et, at our returne 
Vnto our quiet test, 
thinke, Lad),, there is a Ma), 
The which for ever 
And evermore doth last: 
those pleasures cannot deca),. 
Take to ),ow ),out Bible booke, 
And there for consolation looke, 
but see then that ),our fa),th be firme and pure. 
For ail the test is vanit),e, 
So Salomon hath sa),d to me; 
but heaven'$ ioyes perpetually indure. 

No. XLV 

My heart is in pain my body within 

Fol. x89 ; followed by ' The Mayden's answer' on fol. x9 or. 

KÇe rcmtb part 0f eamye. 
To TIE TIr OF Gigg-a-gogge, or IVoddycocke. 
Me hart is impure my body within : 
because I must tell yow, wheta I do begita; 
For once I loved a mayden fayre, 
but now I ara forced from her to repayre. 
For once I looed a mayden fayre, 
but nowe I ara forced from Aer to retOayre. 
She is gone away: she is taken from me, 
which I loved in my hart full tenderly. 
Her beauty appearèd and semèd to me 
more purer then ever did blossom on tree. 
Her Lillye-whyt hands, and ber fingers so smale, 
(which causeth me nowe for to tell yow my tale) 
When I goe to bed, to take my resh 
my hart doth burne within my brest. 
Ix] x impure] r¢adin paine.  because] readthe cause. 5 The 
last couplet of each stanza is to be sung a second Urne. 

Shirurn Ballaas, XLV 
There is no water this heat doth quench, 
but only the love of this prety wench, 
Considering her behauiour so rare, 
which vnto me hath seemed so deare. 
Hir person so comely to me did appeare; 
hir eyes did shine like the chstail cleere; 
Suising fayre Venus she seemd in eye: 
would I were Adonis, her loue to te. 
I kist; I askt yf that she could love: 
she wishèd me often my mind to remove. 
I vrgèd her often with speaches so fayre, 
and ail was to wine her person so rare. 
Againe I replyed, and thus I did saye, 
'for your sweet sake have I walkèd this way, 
'To win your sweet person in bed for to lye.' 
With speeches vnkindly she did me deny. 
Ail [in] my armes I did her infould; 
I askèd the cause why her loue was so could. 
With words demure she answered and sayd, 
'I haue vowd a virgin, and will dye a mayd.' 
With that in eat wroth from me she did turne, 
as though in great anger her hart it did burne. 
And sayd no man for my sake she could loue, 
and therefore she wishèd my minde to remove. 
Now must I leaue of to woe this fine dame, 
whom nature hath brough[t] ail others to shame; 
And follow my former lyfe, as I beganne, 
and never let loue more breed my payne. 
Ail yow that be loyer, be warnèd by me; 
graft hOt the top on a saples tree: 
The toppe it will wither, the roote it will dye 
then lost is your love in the turne of an eye. 
[4] t doth] read can. [5] 3 Sumising] ad Surpsing. 
4 toi ad for to. [8] a demure] r¢ so demure. 4 vowd] i. e. 
vowèd. [o] x oq .e. off. woe] i.e. woe. [lt] a aples] 
i. e. sapiez. 

Shirurn Ballac/s, XLI/" 
Wherefore I wish ail men to take heed, 
that they set hot love where non will breede. 
For wenches be wantons; some be coy 
vntyll they haue gotten a curle-hedded boy, 
Çome, wenches; tome, wantons; come, listen to me. 
l'le teach yow a play more pleant shall be. 
Come, learne yt: tome, try it; and then yow shall finde 
'ris pleasant and sweeter concerning your minde. 
And for my love no tare will I take, 
for she hath mockèd her faythfull friende. 
l'le never love any so well for her sake; 
and nowe for my love no care will I take. 
& ner [le any so well for &r sahe ; 
aud n,e for n le no tare will I take.] 

If I might intreat vow to alter your minde, 
then should I thinke my selfe behoulding to yow; 
For yow haue intreated me, earnestly, 
To playe with my heynnonye, nonny, nonny! 
For yong men were wauering, which made me mistrust 
that they would offer wrong unto me, 
And when the had but appeasèd their lust 
they would IoEue me at vncertentye. 
Which ruade me to wring, and to turne from thee, 
Ist wrong should come by my hey nony nony, 
for I haue hard it is a prety game, 
but youth doth seldome t the same. 
Go lord, how often mother hath sayd. 
l'le haue a bout to pursue the game. 
l'le haue a bout, do what she can, 
at hye nony nony. Your selfe is the man. 
[]  non] read no love. 3 Forq read Some. 
coy] read and 5ome be too coy. 
is quite at an end. 
read great wrong. 

some be 
[4.] x PossiblyAnd now my love 
[5] a my seife] read me. [6] a wrong] 
3 the] i. e. they. 4 they] read then they. 
( 9 ) 

Sirurn Ba]]ads, XLI/'I 

In the days of old when fair 
Fol. 19 or. 

France did 

Text given in Roxburghe Ballads, i. 309, from Black-letter 
The tune is named from line 6 of stanza io. 

çirurn Ballacts, XLVI 
A Prince of England came, 
whose deeds did merit faine: 
he wooed her long, and, loe! at last, 
Looke! what he did require, 
she graunted his desire-- 
their harts in one were linckd fast. 
Which when her father proouèd, 
lord! how he was movèd 
and tormented in his minde! 
I-Ie sought for to prevent them; 
and, to discontent them, 
fortune crossed Loyers kinde. 

When these Princes twaine 
were thus bax'd of pleasure, 
through the King's disdaine 
which her ioyes with-stoode, 
The Lad), got vp close 
her iewels and her treasure. 
Having no remorse 
of state and royall blood, 
In homely poore ara),, 
she got from Court awaye 
to meete her Loue and hart's delight, 
who, in a forrest great, 
had taken vp his seat 
to waight her comming in the night. 
But, sec! what sodaine danger 
to this Princly stranger 
chauncèd, as he sat alone! 
By Outlawes was he robbd, 
and with Poniards stabbèd, 
vttering many a dying groane. 
The Princesse armd by him 
and by trew desyre, 
wandring ail the night, 
without dread at all. 
.Styll vnknowne she passed, 
m her strange attyre. 
Com.ming, at the last, 
m the Ecchoes' call :-- 
«¥ow fayre woods,' quoth she, 
«honored maye yow be 
'harboring my hart's delight, 

[] 4 her] r¢ad their. [3] x him] rcad lo-e. 3 wan- 
dring'] r¢ad wandred. 
s,,,8, o (9) 

çir[urn Ballads, XLVI 
'which doth compasse heere, 
'[my ioy and only deare], 
'my trusty friend and comely knight. 
'Sweete, I corne to thee. 
'Sweete, I corne to woe thee, 
' that thow mayst hOt angry be. 
' For my long delayinge, 
'and thy courteous staying, 
' amendes for all l'le make to thee.' 
Passing thus alone 
through the sylent forrest, 
many a greeuous groane 
sounded in her eare ; 
where she hard a man 
to lament the sorest 
that was ever seene, 
forst by deadly feare: 
'Farewell, my deare!' quoth he, 
'whom I shall never sec: 
'for why? my lyfe is at an end. 
'For thy sweet sake I dye, 
'through villaines' crueltye, 
'to shew I ara a faythfull friende. 
'Heere lye I bleeding, 
'whyle my thoughts are feeding 
' in thy rarest beauty found. 
'0 hard hap that maye be! 
'Lyttle knowes my Lady, 
'my hart-blood lyes on the ground.' 
With that he gaue a groane 
which did burst in sunder 
ail the tender strings 
of his gentle hart. 
She, which knewe his voyce, 
at this tale did wonder. 
Ail her former ioy 
did to grief conuert. 
Strayght she tan to sec 
who this man should be 
that so lyke her love did speake. 
And found, when-as he came, 
her lovly Lord lay slayne, 
all smeard in bloud which lyfe did bleake. 
[3] 3 missingin the MS. 5 toi read vnto. x6 woe] 
i.e. woo. [4 5 bleedmg] read a-bleeding. 17 in] r«ad on. 
[5] x he] rtad she. 
( x94 ) 

£/irurn a//ads, XLVI 
When this deed she spid, 
lord! how sore she cryd: 
her sorrow cannot counted be. 
Her eyes, lyke fountaines, running, 
while she cryed out 'M}, darling, 
'would Christ that I had died for thee.' 
His pale lyppes, alas! 
twentye tymes she kissed ; 
and his face did wash 
with her trickling teares. 
Everye bleeding wound 
ber fayre eyes bedewed, 
wyping o!: the blood 
with her golden hayres. 
• Speake, my Loue !' quoth she, 
' Speake, fayre Prince, to me! 
'One sweete word of comfort giue. 
' Lift vp thy fayre eyes ; 
• listen to my cryes: 
' thinke in what griefe I liue.' 
Al! in vaine she sued ; 
all in vaine she viewed-- 
the Prince's lyre was fled and gone, 
There stood she styll mooning 
tyll the Sunne approchinge 
and bright day was cornming on. 
' In this great distresse,' 
quoth this royall Ladye, 
'who can [ere] expresse 
'what will become of mee? 
• To my father's Curt 
' will I never wander ; 
• but some service seeke, 
' where I maye placèd be.' 
And thus she made her moane, 
weeping, ail alone, 
all in a dread and dreadfull feare. 
A forrester clad in greene, 
most comely to be seene, 
ranging his woods did find ber there. 
' Round beset with sorrow ! 
'Mayd!' quoth he, 'good morrow! 
' What hard hap hath brought yow here?' 
[6] ? of] i. e. off. x4 what] r«ad what great, x8 moon- 
ing] read more n|ng. 19 approchinge] read returning. [7] 9 
And] read As. 
o 2 ( gS ) 

Shirurn Ballacs, XLI/I 
' Harder hap did never 
'chaunce to Mayden ever: 
Che lyes slayne, my brother deare. 
'Where might I be plac}d ? 
' Gentle foster, tell me. 
« Where should I procure 
Ca service in my neede? 
'Paynes I will hOt spare: 
' but will doe my duetye. 
'Ease me of my care; 
'helpe my extreame neede.' 
The forrester, ail amazd, 
on her beauty gazxl 
tyll his hart was set on tire. 
'If, fayre ma)de,' quoth he, 
'yow will goe with me, 
'yow shall haue your hart's desire.' 
He brought her to his mother, 
and aboue ail other, 
he set forth this mayden's prayse. 
Long was his hart inflamd ; 
at last her love he gayned: 
thus fortune did his fortune rayse. 

Thus, vnknowne, he matched 
with a King's fayre daughter. 
Children seven he had, 
ere she told the saine. 
But, when he vnderstood 
she was a royall Princesse, 
by this meanes at last, 
she shewed forth her fame; 
He cloathed his children then, 
not lyke other men, 
m partye colours strange to see: 
The left syde cloath of Gold, 
the right syde (nowe behould !) 
of woollen cloth styll framèd he. 
Men hereof did wonder; 
goulden fame did thunder 
this strange deede in every place. 
The King of Fraunce came thyther, 
being pleasant weather, 
in these woods the Hart to chase. 

[8]  foster] i. e. forrester. 
( 9 6 ) 

[9] 8 she] rad he. 

S/ir#urn Bal/aaZs, £LFI 
The children then did stand, 
as the]r father willèd, 
where the royall King 
must, of force, corne by; 
Their mother, richly clad 
in fayre crimson velvet; 
their father, ail in gray, 
comely to the eye. 
Then the famous Kinge, 
nothinge every thinge, 
did aske how he durst be so hould 
To let his wife to weare, 

and decke his children there 
in costly Robes with cloth of gold. 
The forrester bold replyed, 
and the cause discryed. 
To the Kinge this did say :-- 
'Wel| may they, by their Mother, 
' weare rich gold, with other, 
' being by birth a Princesse gaye.' 
The King, vpon these words, 
more heedfully behelde them, 
till a crimson blush 
his conceite did crosse. 
[Io] Io nothinge] read noting. 

( I9 ) 

S/ziru/zn Ba]]acts, VLII 

' The more I looke; he sayd, 
'on thy wife and children, 
'more I call in minde 
'my Daughter whom I lost!' 
' I ara that child,' quoth shee, 
falling on ber knee, 
'pardon me, my souemigne Leege!' 
The King, perceiuing this, 
his daughter deare did kisse, 
and ioyfull teares did stop his speech. 
With his traine he turnèd 
and with her sojournd. 
Straight he dubt her husband knight. 
Then marie him Earle of t:launders, 
one of his chier Commaunders. 
Thus was sorrowes put to flight. 


With heart opprest with grief and care 

Fol. I94 v. Two questions arise in connexion with this ballad. First, 
whether the forces of the Crown, under Elizaheth and James I, were ruade up 
of such worthless material as the hallad describes ; and, secondly, whether 
the methods of collecting them are faithfullydepicted in the recruiting scene 
in Shakespeare's Henry IV, Part II. The borough accounts of Maldon 
give a decided affirmative to hoth questions. Whenever the sovereign 
sent out forces, order was given, in the first instance, to the Lords 
Lieutenant, specifying thŒE number of men required of each county ; each 
Lord Lieutenant subdivided his number among the different places in 
his county ; and then the local authorities collected their quota. They 
did so, by ordering their constables to draw together, out of the vagrant, 
or semi-vagrant, population, the necessary number of men. These were 
then given shoes and clothes ; kept in ward or in prison till the muster-day, 
when they were furnished with arms, and sent under guard to the rendezvous. 
Pressed men often got off by influence or payment. The cost of equipping 
these ' soldiers ' ,sas met in boroughs, (a}by the old device of' shot and lot ', 
!. e. a poll-tax of s. on every freeman of the borough ; (b} by 'benevolence ', 
i. e. a rate assessed by the borough officiais on the basis of property and 
goods as shown in the latest subsidy roll ; and (c), if necessary, the deficit 
was ruade good out of the borough-stock. In I589, ,se have at Maldon 
' 3os. Iod., charges of setting forthe of vil. soldyers into Portingale, who 
were delivered at Romforde, over and besicles that ',vas collected for that 
service '. In 159x, ,se have both sides of the account :--' Collected by the 
constables for the setting forth ot iiii. soldyers into the lowe countreys 
in April, gSs. g.d. ; similarly collected, 37s. 7d. tor the setting torthe of 
iii. souldyers into Fraunce in August ; and collected for the provision of 
{ 98 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, XLFII 

new armor [to replace the town-armour given to equip these soldiers], 
,12 6«. 7d.' The expenditure was:--58s. IId. for equipping the four 
soldiers and delivering them at Colchester ; and £4 3s. lori. for the three 
soldiers 'for their prest-moneye, their fynding in the towne, money in 
their purses, and new apparrell, and for charges upon their delivery at 
Colchester'. The new 'armor' bought ('one black corselett, 3 pykes, 
2 callyvers furnished, 3 black gorgetts, a murrean [morion], one musket 
furnished ') cost, with carriage from London, ,5 19s.; and ,4 6s. 9d. was 
spent in repairs of the old armour belonging to the borough, and 
in providing seven swords and seven daggers. The entries of 65 are 
especially clear as to the force employed to conduct the pressed 
men to their destination. We find 9 s. 6d. as the town-officials' charges 
'when they lodged at Chelmsford about the delivery of 6 souldiours in 
January last, pressed in this burrowe for the service of our then kinge ; 
4s. Iod. for the fower constables in their attendance upon the conduccion 
and delivery of the saide souldiors; ls. Bd. paid to those soldiers, for 
their pay, which laye three dayes in the prison-howse before they went ; 
Ius. paide unto 12 souldiours in Maye following to presse them for 
the service of the kinge; 9s. zd. for shooes and stockinges for some of 
the souldiors who were destitute of those thinges; ,5 3s. 4d. for the 
charges of the magistrate and the four constables and three others for the 
conveyinge and deliveringe up of the said souldiours at Burntwoode 
[Brentwood], and watchinge of them here before they wente ; 3s. for the 
diett, fier and candle for the saide souldiours after their impressinge and 
before their departure ; 4d. for ostrey faggots for the soldiors that lay in 
the prison-howse before they went'. Particulars are given of the people 
impressed to supply these 8 places. They included, labourers, 8; 
tailors, 7 ; shoemakers, butchers, 4 each; ostlers, blacksmiths, petty 
chapmen, z each ; collar-maker, fiddler, hatmaker, sawyer, tanner, 
 each. They had wandered from Bristol, Devon, Durham, York; and 
were chiefly lodging in aiehouses. One, the collar-maker, had been 
constantly in the borough-court as a hopeless drunkard (as in stanza I ). 
A labourer 'gives uos. and is discharged because ofhis lameness '. A shoe- 
maker, on the petition of the minister and inhabitants of Chelmsford, gets 
offbecause he supports his widowed mother in that town. One lad escapes 
because of his youth; and another, because he was bound apprentice. 
Another man is excused by favour of aletter from the Lord Lieutenant. 
It has to be added that these waifs and wastrels were not only, in all 
probability, destitute of manly spirit, but certainly ignorant of arms. It 
was expressly forbidden to present in the trained-band, the only school of 
amas, 'servants, nor anie unsettled dwellers, but sufficient householders.' 
On every ground, therefore, we may take the ballad as truthfully depicting 
the poor quality of the queen's soldiers, and the frequency of desertion. 
The wretched personnel of the expeditionary forces counts for much in 
ex.planation of the shameful military failures of Elizabeth's and James I's 
,randing in the hand is mentioned (stanza 4)- In 1573 Maldon paid 
' 4//, for the yron, of the compasse of one inche, for the burninge of roges 
in the gristle of the right eare according to this year's stature'. The 
branding is represented as 'clearing' him on this occasion, inasmuch 
as he was not hanged or this felony, but merely branded and dismissed. 

( 99 ) 

Shir[mrn Ballads, )(LVII 

an tcir Cuntric' Çt : Çcrdn i 
tlart tç lamçntatim of Vill[am lVrench, 
Ço, fr rmming aap ffmn  taptaint, 
it otÇcr to more, crt ctctutc for 
amr fart, iu rbtrall latr about London, 
pon t iii. a of Setemer iat, 

To THE TUNE OF Shore's wiuds Lamentation. 

WITH hart opprest with griefe and care, 
I wish ail youngmen to beware, 
least they in such lyke steps do tread 
and lead the lyfe that I haue led. 
My naine is IVrench, in Zondane borne, 
of ail my kindred held in scome, 
despisde, and ruade an open shame 
vnto my honest parents' naine. 
My friends could never me perswade 
to follow any honest trade ; 
leawd women were my chiefest ioyes, 
and best consorts were Cut-purse boyes. 
( oo ) 

Shirurn Ballads, VLVII 
What I could steale I thought well got ; 
wherefore disgrace fell to rny lot, 
and, for rny synnes, one tyme I were 
burnt in the hand, rnyselfe to cleare. 
Yet could not I be warned by this, 
but dayly led my lyre amisse, 
conternning ail good councell styll 
till I had run to worser iii. 
When I was sent to serue my Queene 
(which seruice had my credite beene), 
a souldiegs lyre I counted bace 
and held yt alwayes in disace. 
An idle lyre was my delight ; 
for which I sooke myselfe to flight, 
and from my Captaine secret carne, 
regarding neyther feare nor shame. 
For which, my selle, with divers more 
vnto the number of thre score, 
were srcht and sought for, farre and neare  
and many of vs taken were. 
Iy selfe, the more vnhappy I, 
with others two, were iudgd to dye, 
to be a warning to ail those 
that will hOt fight 'gainst ngla's fooes. 
In deede, I must confesse, for thuth, 
I haue bene still a des,rate youth; 
and haue, for many a wilfull crime, 
deseruèd death belote this tyme. 
Licentiously I spent my lyre, 
and gaue rny minde to branles d stfe ; 
and he that could best drinke and swill 
I tooke for my companyon styll. 

[7] a sooke] read tooke. 

[xo] r thuth] read truth. 
( OI ) 

Shirurn Ballads, XLVII 

God's holy word I tooke in vaine: 
to go to church I thought much pairie. 
The Ale-howse, quaffing canns of beere, 
was ail the service I would heare. 

For which god's vengance lights on me, 
as, by my fall, all men may see. 
Therefore let ail men haue respect 
how they God's Gospell do reiect. 
Let youngmen ail that liue at ease 
take heed by me how they displease 
their vertuous Prince, as I haue done; 
but, for her sake, no dangers shunne. 
If I had di'de in mother's wombe, 
blest had I beene in such a toumbe; 
but I was borne, with shame to dye 
(breake hart !), the more vnhappye I. 
If in the wars I had beene slayne, 
I should hot then this shame sustaine. 
Then, gallant boyes, make this your hope, 
a bullet's better then a rope. 
Now, Zondon, terme tymes fare thow weli, 
and likewise those that there doe dwell ; 
my last farwell to yow I giue, 
for longer time I may hOt lyue. 
Ail yow that came to see my fall, 
forget my naine and shame with-all ; 
forger that I was ever I, 
which by the law was iudgd to dye. 
Father, farewell: though left behind, 
with greuèd hart and troubled mind, 
forgiue me faultes of me your sonne ; 
forgiue the race that I haue runne. 

[x4] 3 Prince] i. e. Prince_ss. 
( 202 ) 

me] rcad the. 

Srirurn Ballads, /(L/VIl 
Vaine world, farewell, with ail my showes ; 
thy pleasures bring foorth endles wooes. 
I goe vnto a world of blisse, 
where neyther tare nor trouble is. 
Pardone I aske of man and ehild ; 
pardone, of those I haue beguild. 
Pardone, sweete CHIST, of the I craue. 
Vouchsafe, good lord, my soule to saue. 

Made with his owne hand, after his condemnation, in 


ever move a wlgnt 
Fol. 196. In Blomefield's ttistory of 1Vorfolk, iii. 357-8, is a minute 
account of this storm and the damage done by it to the Cathedral spire. 
The Cathedral, though dedicated to the Holy Trinity, was constantly 
called Christ Church by the common people. In a map of Norwich, 
it is called ' Christe-church ', and in another map, 57, ' Christes-church ' : 
)Vorfolk Archaeology, viii. 2, 3- The ballad-measurements (stanza 5) are 
exaggerated: 'pinnacle'----spire (measured from the tower), in the ballad, 
I8O feet, but in fact, I74 feet 7 inches ; 'steeple'=tower (measured from 
ground to base of the spire), in the ballad, 3oo feet, but in fact, I4O feet 
5 inches. The writer perhaps attributed the 315 feet of tower and spire 
together {Blyth's lVotvich Cathedral, 1842, p. IO) to the tower by itself. 
In stanza 14 the night-watch is mentioned. A few details of this insti- 
tution, as it existed in Elizabeth's rime, from contemporary accounts at 
Maldon, may be of interest. Maldon constables every evening gave 
warning to six men, two for each of the three parishes, to watch from 
sunset to sunrise. When they met, the constable on duty gave them their 
charge (apparently according to some traditional form of words), and then 
went home to bed. Each pair of watchmen walked the streets of the 
town in turn, while the others remained under cover in the market-house, 
or in the guard-house at the bridge. Their duties were to ensure the peace 
of the town and the security of property. They were armed with biLls, and 
with bows and arrows. In 157o, I2d. was paid for 4 bolts and strings 
used in the watch ; 2s. 8d. for shafts and arrow-heads, and 4d. for horning 
a bow and for 4 strings for the town-watch. In 1571 , lod. for rive 
watching shafts, and 3 d. for 3 bowstrings for the watch. The service was 
compulsory, and enforced by fine. At Michaelmas sessions, I575, 
[20] x my] read thy. [2z] 3 the] i. e. thee. 
( 203 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, XLFIII 
Augustine Fernham, yeoman, was fined t2d. for refusing to watch when 
called on by the constable. In t57o, et Easter sessions, a mariner and a 
porter were fined 6d. each because, instead of duy keeping their watch, 
they set in an alehouse and played cards. In 57, et Easter sessions, 
Edmund Tyler, surgeon, was fined 4d. for leaving off watch before 
 ntu ll3allab of tÇe mo.t tu0nbcrfull anb 
trangr fM| of Christ's Church pilnatIe 
 tmbr«lap m t 20 f Aprill 1601, 
OEo  ç o inge faine. 
IF ever wors i moue a ight 
to shed a wofull teare, 
Then can no creature choose but weepe, 
this dolefull tale to hre. 
oolke, thow hast great cause to weepe, 
to sigh, and to lement: 
The heauenly god to the (of late) 
hath manye warnings sent. 
But loe a wonder farre more t 
then any of the rest ; 
Ye such a one as never man 
did heare the lyke exprest. 
In orwich cytty, farre renound% 
a famous Chrurch doth stande: 
For beauty and for building, is 
no better in this land. 
What man is he that hath hot seene, 
or els hard of the same ? 
Chds?s Church 'ris cald ; d god aunt, long 
it may reine that name. 
About the middle of this Church 
was a fayre steple placd, 
By which the Church and Cyty both 
are beautyfyed and gracd. 
Ix] 7 e] i. e. thee. lai 6 Chrurch] i. e. Church. 

Shiraurn Ballads, (LFIII 
Vpon which steeple there was built 
a pinnacle of stonne : 
I think in lngland never was, 
[nor] will be, such aone. 
No wood nor Tymber longd therto, 
nor lead to hid the saine; 
But stone was all and every part 
of that most stately frame. 
Some three score yards it was in height 
(I speake within my bound) 
Above the steple, which (at least) 
i.s fyvescore yards from ground. 
The stone, which on the top thereo/ 
(to crowne the other} lay, 
Is thought to be a good Cart-loade, 
as many people say. 
Vpon that stone there stoode a crosse, 
about some three yards hye, 
Vhich bare a stately wether-cocke 
that she,«d most gallan[t]lye. 
The cocke was full an ell in length ; 
and in the breadth (full out) 
Three quarters of a yarde it was 
syxe quarters round abovt. 
Now you haue hard the height thereof, 
beholde the rail likewise: 
A sadder sight was never seene 
with any mortall eyes. 
In Aprill last (oh weepe therefore 
the nine and twentith daye, 
Vpon a suddaine yt grew darke-- 
all light was fled away. 
Then fell a shower of hayle and raine 
(whereof the earth had neede). 
A flash of dreadfull lightning 
did followe that with speede. 
Straight-wayes there came a mighty cracke 
of man-arnazinge thunder : 
The terror of yt was so great, 
that ruade the people wonder. 
[4] 6 hid] i. e. hide. [8] 3 lightning] i. e. light-en-ing. 
( o5 ) 

SAirurn Ballads, XLI/'III 
Nay, more then that, yt did inforce 
the very earth to quake, 
And made Christ's Church, and many more, 
to tremble and to shake. 
It shakt the Church in such a sort 
that many stones did fall, 
In divers places of the same, 
out of the strong-built wall. 
And that same statly Pinnacle 
(wher-of I spake beforeJ 
I/ad her high top quite shaken downe 
a doozen yards and more. 
The test, which stands, is battered sore, 
and to the bottom clyft-- 
A man maye stand a mile from thence, 
and yet see through the slyft. 
O wat a wofull thinge is this! 
Who is it that can heare 
This dolefull raie (to full of truth), 
and yet not shed a teare ? 
What Atheist lyues, or other wretch 
that thinks there is no god, 
And doth not tremble in his hart 
to see his scorging rod ? 
Their service-rime was but new done 
ere this mischaunce did fall ; 
Yet ail were gone, so that no man 
was thereby hurt at ail. 
The stones that fell from of this spire 
vpon the hurch did light, 
And, with the force thereof, yt did 
the roofe in sunder smite. 
lIuch harme by this: and o! much more 
vnto the church befell 
the next day after that againe, 
which I with greife doe tell. 
The thunder and the lightninge past, 
there did remaine a smoake, 
Which smelt of fyre, and was so thicke, 
it semd a man to choake. 
[,,] , wat] i.e. what. 3 toi i.e. too. [u] 5 oq i.e. ott. 
o6 ) 

Shirkurn Ballads, XLFIII 
Great search was ruade: but yet no tire 
could any where be found, 
Although the savour of the saine 
did every where abound. 
No sooner did the watch breake vp, 
mhich mas at breake of day, 
But loe! the Cloyster was on lyre, 
and much mas burnt awaye. 

The winde blewe sore: but yet ere long 
there came such helpe and ayde 
That in tmo boutes that cruell tire 
was quenchèd and allayde. 
Beholde in this what god can doe! 
13y his Almightye powre, 
He can destroy this wieked world 
in minute of an howre. 

Deere brethren, let vs all agree 
for to abandon synne ; 
For synne is certainely the cause 
these iudgements doe beginne. 
Oh let vs nowe, even now, repent ; 
for, even this present day, 
The lord may corne (for ought me knowe), 
and take our lyves awaye. 

Throw dust and ashes on your heads ; 
put sackcloath on, and mourne ; 
And, from ail former wickednesse, 
vnto the lord returne. 
And vnto him (for Ct-mlsT his sake) 
let vs most humbly pray 
In mercy for to looke on vs, 
and turne his wrath awaye. 

( 2o7 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, LIzV 


Mark well my heavy doleful tale 
Fol. x98v, Text given in Roxburghe lallads, ri. 764, from numerous 
Black-letter exemplars. The popularity of this piece changed the naine 
ofits tune, which, as TheLady'sfall, became the universal accompaniment 
of the lugubrious and insincere ballad-preachments which formed so lage 
a part of the 13rownist stock-in-trade. 
I lamntalle tallall tallell The Ladyds 
fall: tOttlaring 113 a mtng gentldmnan, 

To THE TUNE OF _Pt$cood¢ rime. 

]ARKE well my heavy dolefull tale, 
yow loyall loyers ail; 
And, heedfully, beare in your brest 
a gallant Ladye's fall. 
Long was she woo'd, ere she was won, 
to lead a wedded lyfe; 
But folly wrought her overthrow, 
belote she was a wife. 

Too soon, alas! she gave consent 
to yield unto his will, 
Though he protested to be true 
and faithful to her still. 
She felt her body altered quite, 
her bright hue waxèd pale; 
Her fair red cheekes changd colour quite, 
her strength began to fail. 
So that, with many a sorrowful sigh, 
this beauteous Lady mild, 
With grieuèd heart, perceivd her selle 
to be conceivd with child. 
She kept it from her parents' sight 
so close as it might be ; 
And so put on her silken gowne 
none could her swelling see. 
C o8 ) 

Shirurn lallad, XLIX 
Unto ber loyer secretly 
ber greife she did bewray, 
And» walking with him hand in hand, 
these words to him did -ay :-- 
« Behold,' she »a,d, Ca Lad,e'» distress, 
' my love, brought to thé' boe. 
« See how I goe with child by thee, 
' though none therof doth knowe. 
'The little babe springs in m¥ womb, 
'the heare the father'» voice. 
« Let it hot be a bastard cald, 
'sith I ruade thee my choice. 
' Corne nowe, my love; performe thy vowes; 
'and wed me out of hand. 
« It i- hot timeo in these extreames» 
' upon delayes to stand. 
' Thinke on thy former promises, 
'thy oathes and vowes each one. 
« Remember, with what bitter tears 
thow mad'st to me thy mone. 
« Convey me to some secret place, 
'and marry me with speede. 
Or, with thy rapier, rid m' life 
'ere further .hame proceede.' 
'Alas! my dearest love,' quoth he, 
'my greatest ioy on earth! 
' Which way can I conuay thee hence 
'to scape a suddaine death ? 
'Thy friends they be of high degree; 
'and I, of meane estate. 
' Full hard it is to get the foorth 
'out of thy father's gate.' 
' Dread hOt thy life, to saue thy faine. 
'And, yf thow taken be, 
'My selfe will step betweene the swords, 
'and take the harme on me. 
'So, should I scape dishonor quite, 
'yf so I should be slayne. 
'What could they say, but that trewe loue 
' did worke a Ladye's baine? 

[4] 5 Ladye's] ad maid's. 6 boe] i.e. bow. [5] 2 the 
heare] ««ad to hear. [7] 7 the] i. e. thee. [8] x thy] read my. 

Shirurn Ballacls, XLIX 
' But feare hot any further harme. 
'I¢ly selle will so devise, 
'That I will safely ride with thee, 
'vnknowne of mortall eyes. 
'Disguisèd like sorne prettye page 
' l'le rneet the in the darke ; 
'And, ail alone, i'le corne to thee, 
' hard by rny father's Parke.' 
' And ther,' q[uo]d he, ' i'le meet rny deere, 
'yf god do lend me lyre: 
 And this day rnonth, without ail faile 
' I will rnake thee rny wife.' 
Then, with a sweet and loving kisse, 
they parted presentlye: 
And, at their parting, brinishe teares 
stoode in each other's eye. 
At length the wishd day was corne 
wherein this lovely rnaide, 
With longing eyes, and strang attire, 
for her trew loyer staid. 
When any person she espied 
corne riding ore the plaine, 
She thought it was her own trew loue: 
but ail ber hope was vaine. 
Then did she weepe, and sore bewaile 
her rnost vnhappy fact. 
Then did she speak these wofull words, 
where succourlesse she sate. 
'O false, forsworne, and faythles man, 
'disloyall in thy love! 
' Hast thow forgot thy promise past ? 
'and wilt thow periured prove ? 
O hast thow now forsaken me, 
' in this rny great distresse, 
' To end rny days in open sharne, 
'Which well thow rnight'st redresse? 
'Wo worth the time I did beleeue 
' that flatteringe tongue of thine. 
'Would god that I had never seene 
' the teares of thy false eyne.' 
[9] 6 the] i.e. thee [a] a fact] r¢ad fate. 
21o ) 

Shirurn Ballacls, XLIX 
And thus, with many greeuous grone, 
homeward she went amaine. 
No rest came in ber watry eyes-- 
she felt such p6uye paine. 
In travdl strong she fell that night, 
with many a bitter throw. 
at wofull ine the time she felt 
doth each goed woman know. 
She calld up her waiting-maide 
that lay at her bed's feet, 
Who, musing at her mistroEs' woe, 
began full fast to wee. 
' Wee not,' she said, ' but shut the doores 
'and ndowes ail aut. 
' Let none bewaile my wretched state, 
'but keepe ail rsons out.' 
' 0 Mistress, call your mother heere ; 
'of women you bave nee 
"And of me skilfull midwive's help: 
'the beer you shall speed.' 
' Call not my mother, for thy life: 
' nor fetch no woman here. 
' The midwive's help cornes now too late. 
'My death I doe hot feare.' 
With that the babe sprung from ber womb 
no crture being by: 
d, with a sigh tt broke ber h, 
this gallant dame did dye. 
The lovely little infant young, 
the prettye, smiling babe, 
Resignd his new received breath 
to him that had him ruade. 
Ne mominge came her loyer 
affghted with this newes ; 
d he, for soow, slewe himselfe, 
whom each one did accuse. 
The mother, with her new-borne babe, 
were both layd in one gaue. 
The rents, overworne with 
no ioy of them could haue. 


Shirurn Bal/ads, XLIX 
Take heed, you daintye damsels all ; 
of flattering words beware: 
And, of the honour of your naine, 
haue yow a speciall c.are. 
To true, alas! this is, 
as manye one tell. 
13), others' harmes learne to be wise ; 
then shall yow doe full well. 

No. L 
Corne, lovely lasses, listen well 
Fol. 2ol ; see the complement in No. XXX. Text given in Ro'burghe 
17allads, iv. 422, from several Black-letter exemplars. Shakespeare, in like 
manner, puts a marvellous ' ballad against the hard hearts of maids' into 
Autolycus's pack: A Winter's Tale (I61I), iv. 3- 

e rttentant 0nge of Sara Ii//llt0 
To ra rv oF £iue with me and be my loue. 
Co, louely lses, listen well 
vnto the raie that I shall tell; 
For to yow I will vnfould 
amatter woRhy tobe toulde. 
[9] 5 Toi i. e. Too. this is] mad th stor$ is. 

Shirurn Ballatts, L 
ŒEhere was a yong man loved me well, 
a shoe-maker; his name 1-ZuKh Hill. 
His hart with loue did burne amaine ; 
I promisde to loue him againe. 
Then were we sure ruade together ; 
but I, vnconstant as the weather, 
Did him forsake (I was soe nice), 
when, in-the church, we were asked thrice. 
When that he sawe I was vnkinde, 
and that I had a cruell minde, 
For love of me, he left his l,fe, 
because I would not be his wife. 
I never cared what he did say, 
but suffered him to pine awaye ; 
And, when he yeelded vp his breath, 
I quickly had forgott his death. 
But, in my bed, vpon a tyme, 
as many things were in my minde, 
There, smyling, to my selfe I sayde, 
' I think that ! shall dye a mayde.' 
Then man, youthes I thought vpon, 
and loved and fancied many a one. 
I hated some ; yet some reserud, 
to like or leaue, as they deserud. 
But, in the middest of my choyse, 
I hard a lamentable voyce, 
With musicke pleasant to the eare, 
but hot to me, as did appeare. 
For, when I harkned what yt might be, 
and what was cause of this melodye, 
In at a window a voyce did crye 
"I-uKh 1[ill is dead : fie ! Sara» f,e !' 

[3] x sure] i.e. su-er. 

( 2I ) 

Shirurn Ballads, L 

biy conscience then accusèd me 
of my false hart and flaterye ; 
And, evermore, the voyce did crye-- 
'Goe, pine thyselfe ; repent, and dye.' 

Me thought, he was the ghost [of] Arugh, 
of kind ]tuKh Hill, that was so trewe, 
That was soe faythfull vnto me 
yet I vsde him most wickedlye. 


O there he did my faults expresse ;- 
and I the same must needs confesse 
How I kilde him with crueltye ; 
for which I would, but cannot, dye. 


And, since that time, my head is light, 
and all my body altred quite ; 
My eyes are sunke within my head, 
which makes me looke like on that's dead. 

My face, that was so fresh and fine, 
as cleare as [is] the claret wine, 
ls now transformed to another hew, 
both grymme and loathsome to the view. 


My skin is withered ; my flesh is gone, 
and nothing left, but skin and bone ; 
And then I pine most dolefullye ; 
wishing for death, yet cannot dye. 


Therefore, sweete mayds that suters haue, 
yeeld vnto them that trew loue craue. 
O doe hOt cast a man awaye, 
least that your selues go to decaye. 

( I4 ) 

1"13] 4 OI'I'] i.e. oae.. 

Shiraurn Ballads, L 
If vnto yow a yongman corne, 
yow are soe fine yow will ne're haue done ; 
Vntill your beautye fade awaye, 
yow scorne most men, yow are so coy ; 
Fye ! fye ! remember what yow are ; 
doe not refuse whilst yow are fayre ; 
Vnto trew loyers be hOt coy : 
'tis good to take them while yow maye. 
As yow be coy, soe I haue beene ; 
but see what miserye I liue in, 
That, were it not for my soule's health, 
I could be willing to kill my selfe. 

Therefore, fayre mayds, anaend in tyme, 
least that your woes be like to naine; 
And pray to god to ease my greife, 
or els to rid me of my lyfe. 

No. LI 

Henry, our royal king, would go on 

Fol. 2o2*. See the sequel in No. LXXVI. Text given in Roxburghe 
Ballads, i. 539, from later Black-letter exemplars. 
The references (in stanzas 8 and 9) to the passport probably refer to the 
statute of 5 Elizabeth cap. 4 § 7 ('563) :--that no servant shall depart out 
of any parish to another unless he have a testimonial of the constable and 
two other honest householders declaring his lawful departure. A toaster 
employing a servant without such 'passport' was liable to a fine of ,£5- 
At Maldon sessions in 1567, William Lyving, butcher, was indicted for 
retaining ' to his service a servant traviling the country without passport '. 
Similarly, in ,568, William Cornyshe, linen-draper, was fined SS. for 
taking into his service a maidservant without a certificate, contrary to 
statute 5 Eliz. 
[XT]  yow will] r«adyou'll. 

Shirlurn Ballacls, LI 

To THE TUNE OF r'/l/¢ lrench Zauata. 

HnRV, 0ur r0yall Kinge, would go on hunting 
to the greene forrest, most pleasant and fayre, 
To haue the hart chasèd, the daintye Does trippinge, 
vnto mery Sherewood his nobles repayre. 
Hawke and hound was vnbound; all things prepard 
for the same to the game, with good regard. 
All a long Summer's day rode the Kinge pleasantly, 
with ail his nobles and princes each one, 
Chasing the hart and hinde and the Bucke gallantl¥, 
tyll the darke Evening inforct them tume home. 
Then at last, riding fast, he had lost quite 
all his lords in the wood, late in a darke night. 
Lauata] Levalto (in B.-L. copies). [2] 6 in ai omit a. 
C 16 ) 

Shirurn Ballaas, L1 
Wandring thus warylye, ail alone, vp and downe, 
with a rude Myller he met at last. 
Asking the readye wa)' to fa)'re 2Vattingham, 
'Syr,' quoth the M)'ller, 'your ,.va), ),ow haue lost: 
' Yet I thinke, what I thinke ; truth for to say% 
'yow doe not lightly goe out of your waye.' 
'Wh), ? what dost thou thinke on me ?' q[uo]d out K[ing] meryl),, 
'passing thy, iudgement vpon me soe breefe.' 
' Good fayth ! q[uo]d the millet, ' I meane hot to flatter ; 
' I gesse thee to be but a gentleman-theefe. 
' Stand thee backe, in the darke: light not a-downe, 
'lest that presently I cracke th), knaue's-crowne.' 
' Thow dost abuse me' q[uo]d the Kinge, 'sa),ing thus. 
' I am a gentleman, and lodging I lacke.' 
' Thow hast hot,' .q[uo]d the millet, 'a groat in thy purse 
'ail thine inhentance hangs on th), t3acke.' 
'I haue gold to discharge ail that I call ; 
' if yt be fort), pence, I ,.viii paye ail. 
' If thow beest a true man,' then answrede the Miller, 
'I sware, b), m), tole-dishe, l'le lodg thee ail night.' 
'Heere's m), hand,' q[uo]d the King, 'that I was ever.' 
'Na),, soft ! 'q[uo]d the millet, 'thow ma),est be a theefe. 
'Better l'le kno,.ve thee ere hands I will shake: 
'with none but with honest men hands I will shake.' 
Thus the went ail along vnto the miller's howse, 
where the), were seething of puddings and so,.vse. 
The Millet first entred in ; after him ,.vent the Kinge: 
never came he in soe smoak),e a howse. 
' Now,' q[uo]d he, ' let me see heere what yow are.' 
Quoth our king, ' Looke yow styll, and do not spare.' 
' I well lyke th), ¢ountenance ; thow an honest face ; 
with m), sonne Ritha'd this night thow shalt lye.' 
Q[uo]d his ,.vife, 'B), m), troth, 'tis a good hansome youth 
'yet itis best, husband, to deale waryelye. 
' Art not thow run awa),? I pra), thee, ),outh, tell. 
' Shew vs th), pasport, and ail shall be ,.vell.' 
[3] x warylye] i. e. wearily, a at last] read at the iast. 
3 toi read unto. [4] 3 flatter] read flatter thee. 5 light not] 
read light thee hOt. 6 presently I] read I presently. [5] 
me] read me much. [6] 3 that I] read that true I. 4 theefe] 
read sprite. S hands] read hand. shake] read take. [7] 
x the] i. e. they. 
( 2x7 ) 

Shir[urn lallaas, LI 
Then our King presently, making low curtsye, 
with his hat in lais hand, thus he did saye: 
'I haue noe pasport nor never was serviture, 
' but a poore Courtier rode out of my waye, 
'And for your kindnesse, now profered to me, 
' I will requite [it] in every degree.' 
Then to the Miller his wife whispered secretlye, 
saying: ' It seemeth this youth's of good kin, 
' both by his appareil, and eke by his manners: 
'to turne him out, certainlye, were a great sin.' 
'Yea,' q[uo]d he, 'yow may see he bath some grace, 
'when he speakes vnto his betters in place.' 
. [ii] 
'Well,' q[uo]d this miller's wife, 'yongman, welcome here 
'and, though I say it, well Iodged shalt thow be. 
' Fresh straw I will haue layd in your bed so braue ; 
'good browne hempen sheets, likewise,' quoth she. 
'I!' quoth the good man, 'and when that is doone, 
' Yow shall lye with no worse than our own sonne.' 
'Nay, first,' quod lichard, 'good fellow, tell me true-- 
'Hast thow any creepers in thy gay hose? 
'Or art thow hOt troubled with the Scabado?' 
'I pray yow,' q[uo]d our King, 'what things are those?' 
'Art thow not lowsye, nor Scabbèd ?' q[uo]d he, 
' If thow beest, surelye thow lyest hot with me.' 
This causèd our K[ing] sodainlye laugh out most hartelye 
tyll the teares tricklèd downe from his eyes. 
Then vnto supper were they set orderlye, 
with hote Bag-puddinge[s] and good Apple-pyes, 
Nappy Aie, good and stale, in a blacke bowle, 
which did about ail the borde meryly trowle. 
' Here!' q[uo]d lbe Miller, 'good fellow, I dinke to tbee, 
'and to ail tbe courtnoales tbat curteoas be.' 
'I pledg tbe,' q[uo]d our Kinge, 'and thanke tbe bartelye 
' [or my good welcome in everye deee; 
'And bere, in lyke manner, I drinke to tby sonne.' 
'Do so,' q[uo]d Richard, 'and quicke let t corne.' 
Ix x] 5 I !] : Ay ! Ix3] x laugh] ,ead to laugh. 5 nappy] 
r«ad and happy. Ix4] 3 the'] i. e. thee. the] i. e. thee. 

S/irurn Ballads, LI 
Wife I' q[uo]d the Millet, 'now fetch me forth lighOeoot, 
' that we of his sweetenes a little maye tast.' 
A fayre venison pastye she brought foorth pren[t]lye. 
'te,' q[uo]d the Miller, 'but, sir! make no wast.' 
'Here is go ligh¢oo6 in fayth !' q[uo]d out Kinge ; 
' I never fore te so intye a thinge.' 
ci wis,' raid gi«rd, 'no daintye at all it is: 
'for we doe te of it evee daye.' 
I' what place,' said our King, 'may be bought like to this ?' 
' We never paye penny for it, by my fay 
'From merye Seewood we fetch it home heere. 
' Now and then we make bould with the King's deere.' 
'Then I thinke,' q[uo]d our Kinge, 'that it is venison.' 
'Each foole' quoth Richard, ' full well may see that. 
Never are we without two or three in the ruffe, 
've well fleshèd and excellent fat. 
' But I pmy thee y nothing where ever thow go ; 
'We would hot, for two nce, the K[ing] should it know.' 
Doubt hot," q[uo]d out King, 'my promisd secrecye: 
' the King shall never know more on't for me.' 
cup then of lambs-wol they drunk then vnto him, 
and so to their beds they past presen[t]lye. 
The noble, next morning, went all vp and downe, 
For to seeke out the King in evee towne. 
At last, at this miller's howse, some did espy him plaine, 
as he w mountinge vpon his fayre Steede: 
To whom they tan presentlye, falling downe on their knee, 
which ruade the myller's hart wofullye bleede. 
Shing and quing, before him he stade, 
thinking he should haue bin ngd, by the roode! 
The klng, perceiuing him fffull and oeembling, 
drew out his sword, but nothing he sayd. 
The Millet downe did fall, cing before them ail, 
doubting the king would haue cut of his head. 
But he, his kind cuesye to ruite, 
gaue him grt lyving and dubd him a knight. 
[]  ruffe] i.e. roo£ [o]  rhap8 Down did OEe millet rail 
o0 L e. off. 5 to] r¢ for to. 

Shir/urn Ballads, LII 

No. LII 

Ail in a garden green 

Fol. o4 v. An imitation of the 27th Idyll of Theocritus, in 4 stanzas of 
28 lines each (the first stanza being two lines short). A ballad of this 
name was registered in 1563, and gave title to a tune (Roxburffhe t?allads, 
viii. p. xxxv). 

q mrrre¢ nrt balla, of a tountree tentl 
an a tlotne. 

ALL in a garden greene, 
where late I layde me downe 
Vppon a banke of camemeyle, 
where I sawe vpon a style, 
sitting, a countrey Clowne, 
howldinge within his armes 
a comelye countrye mayde: 
courting ber with ail his skyll, 
'orking her vnto his will. 
Thus to ber he sayd :-- 
' Kysse me in kindnes, 
'sweet hart,' quoth he. 
' Syr, hOt for twenty 
'good pounds,' quoth she. 
He sayd 'Saye hOt soe.' 
She sayd ' Let me goe.' 
'Staye, sweet hart,' quoth he. 
'Fye! how yow ruffle me.' 
' What a lyfe is this :- 
'Lord, how I love thee, 
'sweet hart,' quoth she. 
'Fye for shame, I saye: 
' take your hand awaye.' 
' Sweet,' quoth he, ' be styll ; 
'Though against thy will, 
'I must haue a Kysse. 
[]  she] read he.  and 3] two lines seem to 
bave dropt out. 
220 ) 

S/irurn lallaats, LII 
« Sweete, l'le forsake my holde 
'yf thow will tarrye styll ; 
« And here I make a vowe to thee 
' thow shalt hot be toucht, for me, 
'more then thy good will.' 
'Hands off, for shame!' she sayd, 
' In fayth, yow are to blame. 
' Yf any body should vs see, 
'what a blemish would it be 
' to my honest naine.' 
' Syt but a lyttle, 
'by me, on this style ; 
'and I will bringe thee 
« on thy way a toile.' 
There she sate her downe 
by this lovely Clowne. 
' Sweete ! ' then quoth he, 
'Wilt thow wed with me ?' 
' No ! good fayth, hot I !' 
'Let me but laye 
'my hand upon thy knee.' 
'Fye!' quoth this bony lasse, 
'That may hot be.' 
'Sweete corne kisse me then.' 
'Maydes must kisse no men: 
«Fye for shame! I say.' 
'yf yow say me nay, 
' Then for love I d'e.' 

'Lord, how yow hurt my hand 
'for god's sake let me goe: 
By my fayth and my troth, 
' I did little thinke, forsooth ! 
'yow would haue servd me so.' 
'Graunt me my suite ;' quoth he, 
'and then /'le let the goe: 
' I praye thee, doe me not denye, 
'gentle sweeting, but say 
Styll she answered 'No !' 
' Let me but lay 
my hand vpon thy knee.' 
'No! let me goe. 
' I must be gone,' quoth she. 
' If my mother knew 
' that I were ith yow, 

[3] 7 the] i.e. thee 

9 I] i. e. Ay. 

Sirurn Ballac[s, Lll 

'Woe should be my part.' 
'Stay ! ' quoth he, ' sweet hart! 
' she shall never know.' 
Then did he carrye her 
behynd a tree. 
What they did there 
is unknowne to me ; 
:But I hard her say, 
when she came awaye, 
making low curtsye, 
' Once againe,' quoth she, 
'kysse me ere yow goe.' 

Then the went hand in hand, 
a furlong and more ; 
Where, as they parted lovinglye 
She put her finger in the eye, 
and did weepe full sore. 
Sighing, 'Sweete hart,' she sayd, 
' Since now yow haue me won 
' To yeeld and let you haue your b-iii, 
'if yow would hOt love me styll, 
' I were quite vndone.' 
'Sweete !' then quoth he, 
' I praye thee be content.' 
'If this be knowne,' quoth she, 
' I am sure I shal be shent.' 
' Hie thee home,' quoth he, 
'for I doe sware to thee 
'long it shall hOt be 
'ere [ corne to thee 
'to heare what thow wilt saye.' 
Lord, how her colour 
went and came for shame, 
As other mayds 
having done the saine. 
Though they make a showe, 
and say ofien 'No !' 
yet, before yow goe, 
they will take it, tho 
they crye 'fye awaye !' 

[4] x the] they. 


Shirurn Ballads, LIII 


Away, I will forsake ber company 
Fol. =o6 v. Itis perhaps the remembrance of the tune naine, or of the 
seventh line of stanza 2, of this ballad which oemes to Falstaff (King 
tt«nry 1F, Part 11 (597), Act I, Sc. ii), when he mocks the majesty of 
the law. 
Ch. Jusl. There is hot a white hair on your face but should have his 
effect of grvity. 
Fa/. His effect ofgravy,ravy, gravy [me]. 

&wav, I will forsake her company, 
yf that I be delayde; 
And yet her modest kinde Civilitye 
maketh me not dismaide: 
For when I dally, kysse, and play with her, 
harç lyfe, and ail, is spent; 
Then she, with a pleasant, pretty, pret, pretty, grace, 
prayeth me to be content. 
C  ) 

Shir/urn tallaas, LIII 
She sayth she loues: I know that I do love: 
yf yt were well exprest, 
My hart, my will, my soule, testifye 
that I doe love ber best. 
But, when I thinke of mine owne vnwor[thi]nes, 
o then I faint and dy, 
And with a short gasp of--pitty, pitty, pittye me, 
'pytty, sweet loue !' I crye. 
I could endure ten thowsand miseryes, 
were I but halfe assured 
Thy constant loue, by my long penury, 
therby might be procurd; 
But when I thinke on woman's ficklenes, 
love then I courir as a toy ; 
Let hOt the sweet sence of a pretty, pretty, pretty soule, 
hinder a wise man's ioy. 
Yet when, my selfe, I walked alone, 
ail in my minde sollace, 
Then should I thinke vpon thy beauty bright 
that I might thee imbrace. 
Finding the absence, how I pine away; 
remedye non I can spye. 
Therefore .this alwayes shalbe my song 
'graunt loue, or els I dye.' 
If thou denay, ail women l'le deny, 
because I am refusd; 
The fervent loue I alwayes bore to thee 
thow greatly hast abused. 
Therefore this alwayes shalbe my song 
'heigh ho! my heart will breake.' 
Therefore my pretty, pretty, pretty, loving hart, 
one word vnto me speake. 
If I had ten thousand pound of golde, 
ail of yt shalbe thine, 
So that thow wilt my truc love be 
and yeeld vnto my minde. 
Then say vnto me, the comfort of my ioy, 
what answer dost thow make ? 
Wilt thow be styll my pretty, pretty, pretty one, 
ail other to forsake ? 
[4] 5 the absence] read thee absent. [5] i denay] prhaps 
-ay nay. 4 abused] i. e. abus'd. [6] 5 the] read thou. 
C 224 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, LIII 
So shalt thow make ainends therein 
the losse of ail int" t/inc ; 
For proufe whereof, soine token shew 
from those sweete lips of thine. 
If not--Adew! Though loth for to depart, 
[he] bids thee full oft farewell, 
Who wlshed thy weale thow willedst 
tongue, hart, and ail, can tell. 
M)' labour is lost! Heigho, in)' heav), hartl 
iny fal'thles friend is gone! 
She hath int" iewels, and in)' hart hath stollen, 
with other things inanl" a one.-- 
To inorne for ber (who siniles to think on ine) 
would but auginent iny paine : 
Therefore farwell, iny pretty, little, subtile one, 
tyll we two ineete againe. 
AIl l"ow that heare, and listen to in)' song, 
inarke inl" words very well ; 
The proverbe ouide on me is verifyed, 
the saine l"ow know full well, 
For she that inaye, and often will say ha)', 
(thus reason bath concluded) 
Shall be denayde (as proof the saine shall shew} 
because she once refused. 

No. LIV 
In this town fair Susan dwelleth 
Fol. 2o7". Text given, from this MS., in Roxburghe lallads, viii. p. clxiii. 
qn ,rrdln[t] nlI lialla af a nll man 
in pra af li Ibdb. 
Is this towne fayre Susan dwelleth : 
I love her and she loves me. 
ellen's buty she excelleth : 
white her forehead, browne her eye. 
[7]  the losse] readfor los.  for toi omit for. 7 thow 
lledst] 8ubstituU oasib how feently, [8]  morne] i. . 
mourn, [9] 3 o] nad in. 
-,.-  ( 2S ) 

Shirurn Ballacts, LII/" 
Her Ivory hands more soft then silke, 
and ber fingers, longe and slender. 
Ther's neuer a Lady in thys lande 
is by nature halle so slender. 
My love can sport, my love can playe ; 
my love can tricke, [and] daunce, and syng. 
My love can sytt with me all daye, 
and tell me many a prety thinge. 
Like pretty birds, and turtles true, 
each other still we delight: 
Ve spend the tyme in pleasant sports, 
from the morning to the night. 
When she meetes me, she will kysse me, 
and will take me by the hand, 
Protesting that she will hot misse me 
for the wealth of Tagus land. 
Then, lyke Venus, she will bring me 
to some pleasant place of pleasure, 
And give my hart the whole commaund 
of ail her beautye's pleasing treasure. 
When she bath ruade this courteous offer, 
I must needes fulfill ber minde. 
Who can refuse a mayden's proffer? 
maydens loue hOt men vnkinde. 
Like 21fars I thus my Venus greete, 
and her champion doe I prouue. 
There is no pleasure halle soe sweete, 
as my Susan's in her loue. 
Thus love and beautye are agreed 
to giue bot-h me her hart and hand. 
She's true to me in word and deede, 
and I am her's for to commaund. 
At last she sayd, 'good syr, alas! 
'oh, my hart is wondrous iii. 
'¥our love hath made your Susan sicke. 
'Death will shortlye haue his will.' 

Ix] 5 Restore the rhyme by reading : More soft then silke, her 
Ivory hand. 8 slender] r¢ad tender, la] 6 we delight] 
read we do delighL [5] a both me] r¢ad me both. 
( 226 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, LIF 
But now she is beeomd a woman, 
and of death is hot afrayd. 
She is my wife ; and I, ber husbande; 
and noe longer liues a mayde. 
13ut, as a mother, she hath prou'd 
a lusty soldier, good and tall. 
The stoutest champion in the world 
she nothing feareth now at ail 
Thus of my Sert, I make an end, 
my darling, and my turtle trve. 
No young man eare lound dearer lriend 
then I haue round of my seet Sew. 
¥o maydes that fayne ould married be, 
of her and me this lesson take: 
When kindnes once is offered yow, 
vnkindly do it hot forsake. 

No. LV 

You noble minds, and famous martial 
Fol. =o8 v. Text given in Raa'burghe Ballacls, il. 544, from Black-letter 
exemplars. The interest of tbis ballad lies in its relation to the play Titus 
ndronicus, x594, written, as is supposed, by Shakespeare in conjunction 
wit h Robert Greene or Thomas Kyd. The ballad bas the ferocity character- 
istic of many Italian novelle: cf. No. LXXI. The common source of 
the ballad and the play must therefore be sought in some early ltalian 
collection of tales. 

Tilus A ndronicus'  mnplaint. 
To rue xtrrE or" Fortune [my foe]. 
¥ow noble minds, and famous martiall wights, 
that, in defence of native Countrye, fights, 
Giue eare to me, that ten yeres fought for Rome, 
yet reapt disgrace when I returnèd home. 
[7] x Sew] . e. Sue. 

S]zir[urn Ballads, LI r 
In Morne I li,d, in lame, full threescore yeres, 
/us by naine, beloud of ail his Peeres. 
Full fy'e and twentye ,aliant sonnes I had, 
whose forward verrues ruade their father glad ; 
For, when Romds foes their warlyke forces feR, 
against them still my sonnes and I were sent. 
Against the Gothes full ten yeres weary warre 
we spent, receiuing many a bioudy scarre. 
Just two and twentye of my sonnes were slayne, 
before we did returne to Rome againe. 
O[f] fy,e and twentye sonnes I brought but three 
alyve, the stately Towers of Morne to see. 
When wars were done, I conquest home did bringe; 
and did present the Prisoners to the Kinge, 
The Queene of Gothe, her sonnes, and eke a g[oore, 
which did such murders, like was ne're before. 
The Emperor did make this Queene his wife, 
which bred in Roome debate and deadly stryfe : 
The Mroore, with her two sonnes, did grow so proud, 
that non lyke them in Roome was then allowd. 
The Mroore so pleasd the new-ruade Empres' eye 
that she consented with him, secretly, 
For to abuse her husband's marriage bed; 
and so, in tyme, a blacke-moore she bred. 
Then she, whose thoughts to murder were inclinde, 
consented with the Mroore, with blodye minde, 
Against myselfe, my kin, and ail his freinds, 
in cruell sort, to bring them to their ends. 
So, when in age I thought to liue in peace, 
both woe and griefe began then to increase. 
Amongst my sonnes I had one daughter bright, 
which ioyd and pleasèd best my agèd sight. 
[3] r felt] read sent. 2 sent] read bent. [7] 4 blacke- 
moore] read blackamoor. [8] 3 his] read my. 
( 28 ) 

Shirurn Ballacls, LI  
Iy deare £iuinia was betrothed, as than, 
to CesaFs sonne, a young and Noble man, 
Who, in hunting, by the Emperofs wife 
a her two sonnes, bereavd was of lyfe. 
He, being slaine, was OEst in cmell wise, 
into a dismall den fm light of skyes. 
The cruell aare did tome that way, as then, 
with my two sonnes, who fell into that den. 
The A[aare then fetcht the Emperor with speed, 
for to accuse then of that murdrus dee : 
And, when my sonnes within that den were found, 
in wrongfull prison they were OEst and bound. 
But now, behold what wounded most my minde 
The Emperor's two sonnes, of tiger's kinde, 
My daughter ravishèd, without remorce ; 
and tooke away her honour quite perforce. 
When they had st of so sweet a flower, 
tearing their sweet would shortly tume to sour, 
They cut her tong, whereby she should hOt tell 
how that dishonour vnto ber befell. 
Then both ber hands they falsly eut ol quite, 
whereby their wickednes she could hOt ite ; 
Nor, with her needle, [in] her sampler sew 
the bloudy work[er]s of her direfull woe. 
My brother [arcus found her in a wood, 
sining the grassie ground with purple bloud 
That tck[l]ed from her stumps and handles armes: 
no tongue at ail she had, to tell her harmes. 
But when I saw her in that wofull OEse, 
with teares of blood I wet my èd face. 
For [my] Lauinia I lamented more 
than for my two and twenty sonnes belote. 
[]  then] adthem. [3]  Emperor's] adEmpress's. 
[5]  o i. e. off. [ 6J  handi i.e. handles. 

Shirurn Ballads, LI" 
Wher-as I saw she could hot write nor speake, 
with griefe my aged hart began to breake. 
We sp[r]ed a heape of sand vpon the ground, 
whereby those bloody tirants out we founde. 
For, with a staffe, without the helpe of hande 
she write these words vpon the plot of sande :-- 
' The lustfull sons of the proud Emperes 
'are doers of this hatefull wickednes.' 
I tare the milke-white hayres from of my head, 
I curst the howre wherein I first was bred ; 
I wisht my hand, had fought for country['s] faine, 
in cradle's rocke had first beene stroken lame. 
The l[oore, delighting still in villanye, 
did say, to set my sonnes from prisone free, 
I should vnto the King my right hande giue, 
and then my two imprisoned sonnes should liue. 
The _&[oore I causd to stricke it of with speed, 
whereat I greevèd hOt to see it bleed; 
But, for my sonnes, would willinglye impart: 
and, for their ransome, send my bleeding hart. 
But, as my lyfe did linger thus in paine, 
they sent to me my bloodles hands againe, 
And therewithall, the heads of my two sonnes, 
which fil'd my dying hart with fresher mone[s] 
Then, past reliefe, I vp and downe did goe 
and, with my teares, writ in the dust my woe 
Then towards heauen I shot vp arrowes two, 
and for revenge to hell did sometimes crye. 
The Emperes then, thinking [that] I was mad, 
lyke furyes she and both her sons were clad 
(She namd Revenge; and rape and murder, they) 
to vndermine and knowe what I would saye. 

[ao] x of] i. e. off. 3 had] read that. [a3] a hands] 
read hand. [a4] 3 Reztore the rhyme by reading: Then 
shot two arrowes vp towards Heaven high, Cf. No. XXXIX, 
stanza xa. How he could use the bow, without his right hand, 
of course, a triviality in a ballad. 
( 230 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, LI/" 
I fed their foolish raines a certaine space 
vntill my freinds and I did finde a place 
Where both ber sonnes vnto a post was bound, 
where iust revenge in cruell sort was found. 
I eut their throats: my Daughter held the pan 
betwixt her stumps, wherein the bloud then ran. 
And then I ground their bones to powder small, 
and ruade a past for Pyes straight their-withall. 
Then with their flesh I ruade two mighty pyes ; 
and at a banquet, serude in stately wise, 
Before the Empresse set this loathsome meate- 
so of ber sonnes' owne flesh she well did eate. 
My selfe bereaude my Daughter then of lyfe ; 
the Empresse I slew with bloudy knife; 
I stabd the Emperour immediatly; 
and then my selfe--even so did 2"t/us die. 
Then this reveng against the 21[oar« was found :-- 
alive they set him halfe into the ground, 
Where-as he stood vntill such time he sterude 
and so god send ail murtherers may be serude. 

No. LVI 

A greater fall, envy, you cannot require 

Fol. 21o" : one startza brought in between the end of No. LV and the 
beginning of No. LV I I. Both the subject rnatter, and its anapaestic rnove- 
ment, dissociate it frorn the iarnbics of No. LV. It seerns to be L'Envoy of 
a missing ballad, which possibly was given elsewhere on leaves now eut 
out. I bave looked through Bagford, Roxburghe, Wood, 4to Rawlinson, 
and Douce Collections, but failed to identify it. 

k GREATER fMI, Envie, yow cannot require 
then from a King's pallace to be a brickmaker's tire. 
Ail yow that have pleasure and riches at will, 
seeke not by fowle enuye your brother to kill. 
If he haue successe, enuye not his state, 
least that yow repent (with the steward) to late. 

t "6] 3 was] read were. 
[LVI] a to bel oma be. 

E9]  Empresse] i.e. Emperess. 
5 state] read estate. 6 toi i. e. too. 
( 23 ) 

Shirurn Ballacts, LI/'11 


Come, sisters three, with fatal knife 

Fol. zo . This piece may be compared with Edmund Spenser's 
Elegie (1591) on the wife of Arthur Gorges. Stanza 2 suggests also 
Spenser's Teares of the 2lluses (159). See introductory note to No. 

F--Ie tl.obrr, bring orrot0full for 
of i. tap E. C. t0rittet ti 
CoME, sisters three, with fatall knife, 
and cut the threyd in twaine, 
That spunne and twisted was by lyfe, 
but pineth nowe in paine. 
Yow muses nine, do now complaine ; 
let sorrowe be your songe. 
Sound forth your dolefull tunes amaine, 
rny haplesse haps arnonge, 
That I rnay morne a space ; 
that I rnaye sighe rny fyll; 
That I rnaye waile my heavy case, 
as reason doth me will. 
For duetye binds me soe, 
I can it hOt denye. 
bly bitter woe no wight doth knowe, 
but J'ove that sits on hye. 
Woe worth to me the howre, 
when heavy newes was tolde! 
Woe worth the wight, that, with his power, 
the carefull bell hath knold 
For her that was rny freinde, 
the cornfort of rny hart, 
bly ioye whilst J'ove her lyfe did lend, 
the easer of rny srnart ! 
[5] 8 the wightl i.e. Death. 

( 23 ) 

Sfiirurn Ballads, LVII 
Woe worth the man, with strife,-- 
her father I doe naine-- 
Of two who hath bereft the lyfe, 
by his soe open shame. 
Shall this, his fylthy fact, 
forgyven be of god ? 
He shal be scorgèd for his act, 
even with an Iron rod. 

This cannot helpe my case, 
or cure me of my smart, 
Sith she is gone, that onely was 
the comfort of my hart. 

Nowe, small is my comfort ; 
nowe, may I make my moane ; 
Now, may I sigh, in sorrowe's sorte, 
sith my sweet C. is gone. 

No mortall eyes can see 
the dolor and annoye, 
Of him, that was as trew to C. 
as Troylus was in ïroyt. 

Whilst C. aliue was left, 
I ioyed to see her face: 
But being, I am bereft 
of this soe sweet solace. 

Now she is closd in claye, 
now she is tarte me fro, 
My pleasure nowe doth quite decaye ; 
my hart now bleeds for woe. 

With blubbered eyes, I wayle 
this, ber vntimely, end, 
Whose lyfe to saue, yf I might vaile, 
my breth I, wretch! would spend. 

Shir[urn Ballacts, LIII 
The absence of her face 
full oft hath greeud me sore ; 
But nowe, the losse of her, alas! 
doth greeue me ten tymes more. 
Yow virgins ail, who did 
frequent her companye, 
Let not your wotull plaints be hid, 
but powre them forth with me. 
And yow, that brought her vp 
soe well in vertue's lofe, 
Of sorrowes mine, I praye yow, sup, 
ber death for to deplore. 
Farewell ! my C., farwell ! 
adewe, againe, my C! 
To shew my loue, the carefull bell 
of Bow shall ring for thee. 
And I will morne amayne, 
in sorrowe, care, and greefe. 
I will not test, but plunge in pairie, 
tyll death lend me releefe. 
I will not sleepe in bed; 
dispare shall dwell with me, 
Tyll death awaye my carkasse lead 
to bring my soule to thee. 
And I will ioye no more, 
my sorrowes will hot swage; 
Each wight shali know I morned for 
a loyer of thy age. 
No pleasure shall appease 
the greefe I take for thee: 
From sorowes soute I will not cease, 
tyll death shall set me free. 
[2tl 3 I morned for] #«rha#s I mourn full sore. 
234 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, LFII 
What pleasure tan prevaile, 
to abrogate my mont? 
What ioy tan be, my tare to quaile? 
sith my sweet C. is gant. 
Adue, my C! farwell! 
whereso thy body lyes, 
Thy vertues rare haut raisd from hell 
my saule vnto the skyes. 
Though death hath dont his worst 
to shrine thee in the claye, 
Yet he, by vertue, is accurst, 
syth thow shalt liue for aye. 
Thy saule shall still remaine 
with god, from miserye, 
Though my poore hart dot plung in paine 
for my iniquitye. 
Thy saule shall dwell in ioye, 
where yt no blisse shall want, 
Though I, poore I! liue in annoy, 
where eomfort is full scant. 
A world of woes is past 
from thee, my C ! aliue ; 
But, by thy death, sowre sops I tast, 
wherebye I cannot thriue. 
Therefore, I faut request, 
to mitigate my paynes, 
That I, at length, may liue in test 
where my good C. remaines.  

[a4] 4 my] read thy. 

a The metre and the movement are those much affected by 
George Turberville in his elegies, but the piece does hOt corne in 
his works as coilected by Chalmers. 

Shirlurn Ballacls, LI/'III 


My dear, adieu! my sweet love, farewell 

Fol. 2x3 ; has no title, and is incomplete, the next leaf after it having 
been cut out, prior to foliation. The music is noted in the MS. The 
soprano part is put first at foot of fol. 212 v. Then, at top of fol. 213, the 
'bassus: Orlando'es musique', i.e. by Orlando Gibbons (I583-I625), 
organist of the Chapel Royal in x6o4. This soldier's farewell to his dear 
belongs to one of the many over-sea enterprises of Elizabeth's reign, as 
e.g. x597, when Maldon contributed ' towards the setting foorth of xv. 
souldiers vnto the shipps' for the futile Azores expedition, and also 
' towards the setting forth of certeyne souldiers for ber maiestie's service 
into Pycardie '. 


Shirhurn Ballads, L[/'III 

In these her proceedings yf I should be slacke, 
the lord would through vengance and wrath on my back. 
Her foes, most iniuriously, grudg at her grace ; 
corne hell, and consume me, yf I turne my face. 

[4] WOMAN. 
My loue's delight, yf thow wilt goe wander 
from her that loues thee soe well, 
My hart shall mount her, on her loue's wings, 
and ioyntly with thee shall dwell 
On raging billowes, mounts, plaines, and medowes, 
in sorrow and and annoye. 
Packe hence, my pleasure; my soule's treasure, 
yeeld me my former ioy. 
Meane-whilewill I peirce the bright heavenswith my prayer 
that god will permit, in short rime, thy repayre. 
Sweet frein& in thine absence, wright home to me still, 
and weare this my favour, in pledg of good will. 

[5] MAN. 

My sou[l]diers call me, and I must leaue thee; 
once more, my sweet loue, aflewe! 
Great charg was gyven me that I should hye mee ; 
I know hOt what maye ensewe. 

No. LIX 

What if a day, or a month, or a year 

Fol. zI4. The MS. copy begins with the second stanza, the first stanza 
and title having been on the leaf that was cut out at this point previous to 
foliation. Full text given in Roxburghe Ballads, L 348, from Black-letter 
copies. From the Black-letter copy in 4to Rawl. 566, fol. 199 (olim 3o9}, 
1 have added the trie and the missing first stanza. 1 have not added 'The 
second Part [in rive stanzas] : to the same tune ', because the blank space 
at foot of fo/. z14 v shows that the copyist left it out. It is given in 
loxburghe lallads, i. 351. The verses are found also in a Bodleian MS., 
M S. Rawlinson poet. 1 I2,fol. 9, and are thele attributed to ' Eof E.' ? Robert 
Devereux, second earl of Essex. 

[3] xo through] i. e. throw. [4] 6 and and] read and in. x x wright] 
i. e. write. [SJ 4 The piece is unfinished a leaf being cut out. 


Srirurn Ballac/s, LIX 

[fl .rienb'a abrite, in 
t0nerning t]je ariable 

an rellent tDitte, 
anga in tia lift. 


[WHAT if a day, or a moneth, or a year, 
crown thy delights, with a thousand wisht contentings ? 
Cannot the chance of a night, or an hour, 
cross thy delights, with as many sad tormentings ? 
Fortune, in her fairest birth, 
are but blossoms dying. 
Wanton pleasures, doting mirth, 
are but shadows flying. 
Ail our ioyes are but toys, 
idle thoughts deceiving. 
None bath power of an hour, 
in our lives bereaving.] 
What yf a smile, or a becke, or a looke, 
feede thy fond thoughts with many a sweet contentinge ? 
May hot that stalle, or that becke, or that looke, 
tell thee as well they are but vaine deceauinge? 
Why should beauty be so proude, 
in things of no surmountinge ? 
Ail her wealth is but a shrowd 
of a rich accounting. 
The[n] in this repose no blisse, 
which is vaine and idle. 
Beautye's flowres have their howres ; 
time doth hould the bridle. 

What yf the world, with allures of his vealth, 
raise thy degree to a place of high aduancing 
May not the world, by the checke of this wealth, 
put the againe as lowe despisèd chancinge? 
While the Son of wealth doth shine, 
thow shalt bave friends plentye ; 
But corne want, then they repine; 
hOt one abides of twentye. 
Wealth and friends houlds and ends, 
as your fortunes rise and fall; 
Vp and downe rise and frowne-- 
certaine is no stay at ail. 

[!] 5 Fortune, in her] rtad Fortunes, in thcir. 
¢onceiving. to is vaine] r«ad is so vaine. 
againe as] r¢ad againe to as. 5 Son] i. e. sun. 

contentinge] read 
4 the] i.e. thee. 
fise] read smile. 
239 ) 

ç/irurn Ballacls, 

What yf a gripe, or a straine, or a fitt, 
pinch the with paine, or the feeling pangs of sicknesse ? 
Doth not that gripe, or that stra]ne, or that fitt, 
shew thee the forme of thine owne perfect likenesse ? 
Health is but a glimse of ioy, 
subiect to ail changes ; 
Mirth is but a sillye toy, 
which mishape estranges. 
Tell me then, syllye man, 
why art thow soe weake of wit 
As tobe in ieopardye, 
when thow rnaist in quiet sit? 

Then ail this haue declard thine amisse 
take it from me as a gentle friendly warninge. 
If thow refuse, and good counsell abuse, 
thow maist hereafter dearly buy thy learninge. 
Ail is hazard that we have ; 
there is nothinge bidinge. 
Dayes of pleasure are like streames 
through the meddowes glidinge. 
Weale or woe, rime doth goe ; 
thete is no returninge. 
Secret fates guide our states, 
both in mirth and morninge. 


If ever woeful tale moved man to pity 

Fol. 2t5. Calais was taken by the Spaniards, 7 April, I596. The 
capture was effected while Elizabeth was engaged in tedious and discredit- 
able haggling for its delivery to England by Henri IV, who consoled 
himself for the mishap by the epigram that it was better to be beaten out 
of the town by his enemy than to be cheated out of it by his ally. The 
news that a port so favourable for a descent on England had become the 
possession of Spain produced consternation at Elizabeth's council board. 
The ballad seems written, under suggestions from Court, to enflame the 
national courage at this crisis by old animosity against, and ever present 
fear of, Spain. The stanzas are hot presented in the form they have in 
the M S., but in a form in which the structure of the stanza is better seen, as 
in lqo. XLVI. 

[4] « the] i. e. thee. 
i. e. mourning. 
( 4o ) 

[5] x Then ail] read Then if ail. 

xa morninge] 

S/zirurn Ballads, LV 

ca//is,  tu0ful[ amtntati0n for ltt 

To [THE TUNE OF] CFim$o veluet. 

IF ever wofull raie 
movèd man to pittye, 
or oppressèd greefe 
vrgd a mornfull songe, 
Then lett those lainent 
which doe heare this dittye, 
made in mornefull plaintes 
and distressèd wronge. 
Callis doth complaine, 
ruade a slaue to Saine: 
ail ber streets with bloud doth runne. 
Her babs heer murthered lye; 
in vaine ber virgins crye, 
helpleslye they are vndone. 

Title : his] r«ad ber. 
 ( 24I ) 

S/irurn BallacA, 

Death and horror fearefull, 
cryes and clamors dolefull, 
doe in everye corner sounde. 
Buildinge[s] downe are fallinge; 
mangled men lye sprawlinge, 
horses tread them on the grounde. 
Fathers see their sonnes, 
sonnes their mother[s] dyenge; 
husbands to their wiues, 
wiues to husbands call; 
At dead nurses' teats 
lyttle babes lye cryinge ; 
steeples kisse the earth, 
strongest towres rail. 
My walles are battered downe ; 
warre hath wonne my towne, 
warre, that sheweth no remorce-- 
The warre of tyrants fell, 
whose horror doth excell-- 
I meane, the bloudy Spaniardd force. 
'Kill, kil, kill, and spare not! 
'murther still and care hOt!' 
thus the cruell Spaniards crye-- 
'Braine the feeble old man; 
'slay the kneeling woman; 
'ail shall feel our crueltye.' 

When the worthy pow-er 
of the English nation 
wonne my mayden walles, 
and did enter me, 
In my conquered streets 
no such lamentation ; 
no such fearefull sights 
did my people see. 
They, like gentle fowes, 
pittyeng our woes, 
did our heavy harts relieue. 
When we did faint for breade 
they our hungers fed, 
suffering none our harts to greeue. 

lai 8 towres] i.e. tow-ers. [3]  Edward III took Calais 
a 9 August, 34"/. The writer is dlscreetly silent as to Eustace de 
St.-Pierre and the deputies of the town, with bare heads, and 
ropes in their hands for their own hanging. 6 no] r«ad was no. 
9 fowes] i. e. foes. 
( 242 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, LV 
Our lyttle babes they nurrisht ; 
our beauteous virgins cherisht ; 
mercy did fayre 2England vse. 
They comforted out ould men ; 
they spared our feeble women; 
noe state they did abuse. 
But the cruell foe, 
never traind ti pyttye, 
lyke a Tyger fell, 
spoyld his conquered praye. 
It helpt hot to be fayre, 
to be wise or wittye; 
beautye stainde with bloude, 
learning murthered, laye. 
The face that late was fayre, 
deckt with golden heare, 
nowe looke bloudlesse, pale, and wan. 
The bodyes, whyt as milke, 
clad in gould and sylke, 
nowe bath nothing to put on. 
Naked they deflower them; 
death doth then devoure them, 
when the Saniards" lust is serude. 
In the streets they trayle them ; 
then to death they hale them, 
or to further vse reserude. 
Lyke these wretched men, 
in the lyes conquered, 
dogd ech daye to death, 
and with dogs devourd, 
So is Cllis nowe, 
and ber people, hamperde. 
God his heavye plague 
doth vpon vs power. 
If faythlesse Turkes had wonne 
what prowd Spaine bath done 
mercye more they would extende. 
The Lo.we Countryes long 
haue indurde their wronge; 
S2aynds oppression hath no end. 
Where the S2aniarde winneth, 
theire ail griefe begynneth-- 
God confound his haughtye pryd! 

[4] a th¢] read this. xo heare] i.e. hair. x x Iooke] 
r«ad Iooks.  a bodyes] read body. [$] 8 power] i, e. 
pour. xa long] rtad for long. 6 their¢] i. e. there. 
-  ( 243 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, LX 
Late I did hOt minde it ; 
now too soone I finde it: 
never greater woe was tri'de. 
England, kinde and fayre, 
God preserue and blesse thee! 
For thy royall Queene, 
Lorde prolonge her dayes! 
llanders she hath holpe, 
and poore tranc« distressèd, 
to her endlesse lame 
and eternall prayse. 
She stands, like Sion's hill, 
vnremo[v]èd still, 
in despite of pop« and Spaine. 
Their most accursèd hate 
styrreth not her state, 
for the Lord doth hir maintaine. 
Happye be shee ever; 
ende hir glories never :-- 
wofull Callis humblye prayes-- 
Jrstr styll defende her, 
and in England« sende her 
manye yeeres and happye dayes. 

No. LXI 
As I went to Walsingham 
Fol. 216 v. This singular dramatic sketch consists of four acts, each with 
its own tune, and its own distinctive stanza. The last three acts bave also 
initial stage-directions. In ail four acts the stanzas are oddly broken up 
by distribution between the four dramatis lbersonae. The personal substi- 
tution, on which the plot turns, may be compared with that in Mreasure 
for Measure (16o4). The text seems defective, calling for frequent inser- 
tion of syllables to fill up the metre, and of interlocutors to carry on the 
dialogue. The latter insertions I bave ventured on, in square brackets : 
the former I bave relegated to the footnotes. As regards the title, a « jig ', it 
may be noted that in the Roxburghe Collection there are several Black-letter 
ballads, which are called by this naine, and are carried on by dialomae 
between two speakers :--e. g. 'Clod's Carroll, a proper new jigg to be sung 
dialogue-wise between a man and a woman that would needs be married' 
(Roxburghe Ballads, i. 2ol); and 'a mery new Jigge', between a man and 
a maid (Roxburghe Ballads, il. Iol). A 'jig', therefore, must be, specifi- 
call¥, a dramatl-C ballad, or ballad-drama, written to dance-music, and 
capable of presentment by riante-action on the stage. The title applies 
[5] z9 soone] p¢rhaps sore. 
C 244 ) 

Shirhurn Ballads, 

to the whole piece. But the tune, which pre£edes the title, and is at foot 
of fol. z16"» belongs only to Act I. 
' Mr. Attowel,' who is named as author (or at least actor)of the piece, is 
in all probability Hugh Atwell (Attawell, or Attewell), who died in 162I. 
Pie had been one of the ' children of her Majesty's revels', and in 
Elizabeth's reign a memher of Edward Alleyn's Company of actors. He 
acted in Ben Jonson's EliCoene in 16o9. It is singular that a piece hy 
him, after being buried for three centuries, should now corne to light. 
At Little (or New) Walsingham, Norfolk, in the priory of Black or 
Austin Canons, was a chapel of the Annunciation with an image of Our 
Lady which, from Henry III to Henry VIII was as noted a shrine for 
East Anglian piigrimage, as was Loretto for Italian; see Chappeli's 
to#ular ztlusic of the Olden Time, pp. 122- 3 ; Biomefieid's t/istory of 
.IVarfalk, ix. 274-82. The music of the tune M/'alsinoeam is, of course, 
connected with the pilgrimage days, and is far older than the present piece. 
No stage directions for the first act are given in the MS. 1 take 
the first four lines to he by way of prologue, and to helong to the old copy 
of words which went with the tune. The action begins, between the fourth 
and fifth lines, by Master Francis entering Richard's bouse, and finding 
Bess alone. The fifth line, apparently spoken hy Bess, is hot in character, 
but carries on the prologue into the piece: so also the sixth line, spoken 
by Francis. At the seventh line the actual drama is begun. 
In stanzas I to 4, attend to the archaic use of the 2nd personai pronouns, 
as in modern French and German. The gendeman, speaking to a person 
of inferior social position, uses thau, tee, ty; the farmer's wife, addressing 
a superior, empioys yau, your. In stanza 5, line 7, on the establishment of 
intimate relations, Bess slips into the familiar 'thee'. Similarly, in 
stanza 7, the wife usesyau ; hushand, as head of the bouse, uses tee. 
The tune Gafram my winde, go, to which Act IV is set, was familiar in 
Scotland early in Eiizabeth's reign. In The Gude and Godie Ballatis, 
printed in I567, there is a pious effusion sung to this tune and with this 
burden, supplying an exact parallel to No. XVIll :see A. F. Mitchell's 
edition for the Scottish Text Society, 1897, p. 133. 

Yflr. A ltowef s ïigge : 
Fraucis, a (3entleman ; 
Richard, afarmtr ; 
anl teir t0ibt. 

[ACT Il 

To THE TUNE OF IValsingham. 

Shirurn Ballacls, 

IS -la14 "-- " - J I  --J--,-  r----m 
-,,--'- i- I  -  j_] - i I ="  
--; -1   «- 
As I went to alsingham, 
to the shrine, with speede, 
Mett I with a Jollye palmer, 
in a pilim's weede. 
[Enter rais] 
[esse, Ricr$s wife] 
Nowe, God saue yow, iolly Palmer ! 
ran[ ds ] 
Welcome, dye gaye  
Oft haue I su'de to thee for love. 
Off haue I sayd yow naye. 

My love is fixed. 
And soe is mine i 
but hOt on yow. 
For, to my husband, whilst I liue, 
I will ever be trewe. 
l'le giue the gould, and rich araye-- 
which I shall bye to deere. 
Naught shot tho wantl then say not naye 
Naught would you make me, I feare. 

What though yow be a gentleman, 
and haue land and good store: 
I will be chast, doe what yow can, 
though I liue never soe poore. 

lai " hot on] read hot, be sure, on. 4 will ever] read ever 
will. 5 the] i.e. thee. 6 toi i.e. too. 8 Naught] Note the 
characteristic Elizabethan repartee» by means of a play on a word. 
[3] 4 never] i. e. ne'er. 
( 246 ) 

Shir3urn Ballads, LX[ 
Thy beauty rare hath wounded me, 
and pyerst my hart. 
¥our foolish love doth troble me ; 
pray yow, syr, depart. 
en tel1 me, sweet! wilt thou consent 
vnto my desyre? 
And yf I should ; then tell me, syr! 
what is it yow require ? 
For to enioye thee as my love. 
Syr! yow haue a wife. 
Therefore» let your sute haue an end. 
First will I lose my lyfe. 
Ail that I haue thow shalt commaund. 
Then my love yow haue. 
l6ancis ] 
Your meaninge well I vnderstand. 
I yeeld to what yow craue. 
But tell me, sweet! when shall ! enioye 
my hart's delight. 
I praye the, sweet-hart, be hot coy, 
even soone at night. 
My husband is rid ten toiles from home, 
money fo receiue. 
In the eveninge see yow corne. 
Tyll then I take my leaue. 

[5]  yow 

[3] 6 pyerst] i.e. pi-ereèd. 8 pray] read I pray. 
desyre] read my fond desyre. 6 Syr !] read Fye syr ! 
haue] read yow shall haue. 6 hart's delight] read hart's so 
wish't delight. 7 the] i.e. thee. 8 even soone at] read even 
this very. [6J x husband is] i. e. husband's.  money] 
rcad ome money. 3 In the] read 

Siirurn Ballads, LXI 

B[ess soliloquizeth] 
Thus haue I rid my husband full well 
of my amorous love ; 
And my sweet husband will I tell 
how he doth me moue. 

Çnter Richard, ]ess'es uabanl. 
To THE TUNE OF '/ Jewishe dance. 
ey dne, a dne ! 
ey d, a dne, a dne ! 
There is never a luse fariner, 
in all our towne, 
That hath more oeuse 
to lead a mee lyre, 
Than I, that am maed 
to an honest wife. 
I thanke yow, gentle husband 
yow prayse me to my face. 
I ce thee mers, Besse 
I knewe the hOt in place. 
Beleeue me, gentle husband] 
yf yow knew  much  I, 
The words that yow have spoken 
yow quicye would denye : 
For, since yow went from home, 
a suter I haue had, 
Who is soe fae in love with me 
that he is almost madde. 
He'le give me gould and Jewels store, 
and money for to snd ; 
d I haue promist him therefore, 
tobe h lovinge ffiend. 
Beleeue me, gentle wife 
but this mak me to frowne. 
There is no gentleman or knight, 
nor rd of high renowne, 
[6] 5 my husband] ad my lf. 8 how he] mad how 
iii he. [7]  pa Hey doe» a doe, a doe downe l 
 ere i] i. e. ere' tu the] i. e. thee. 
( 248 ) 

Shir[mrn Ballac[s, L(I 

That shall enioye thy loue, girle, 
though he were ne'ere so good. 
Before he wrong rny Besse so, 
l'le spend on hirn rny bloud. 
And therefore, tell me who it is 
that doth desire thy loue? 
Our neighbour, rnaister 'rancis, 'tis, 
that often did me moue ; 

To whom I gaue consent, 
his rnind for to fullfill; 
And prornist hirn, this night 
that he should haue his will. 
Nay, do hot frowne, good 
but heare me speake my minde; 
And thow shalt see, i'le warrant thee, 
l'le use him in his kinde. 
For vnto thee I will be trewe, 
so long as I doe liue: 
l'le never change thee for a new, 
nor once rny rninde soe giue. 

Goe yow to rnistris Frands, 
and this to her declare; 
And will her, with ail speed, 
to my howse to repayre: 
Where shee and l'le devise 
sorne prettye knauish wile, 
For I haue layd the plot 
ber husband to beguile. 
Make hast, I pray yow! tarry not: 
for long he will hOt staye. 
Feare not! i'le tell her such a tale 
shall rnake her come awaye. 

Make hast sweet Francis, 
what thow hast to doe. 
Thy loyer will corne presentlye; 
and hardlye will he wooe. 


[xx] xa swsy¢] readstraightway. [xa] x rtad Make baste, 
then, mysweetRichard, a what] readin what. 3 Thy] read 

Shirurn Bal/ads, LY! 

I will teach my gentleman 
a tricke, that he may know 
I am to craftye and to wise, 
to be ore-reachèd soe. 
But here he cornes! now, nota word: 
but fall to worke againe. 
Ft[ands] [ She sozoes 
How now, sweet hart ? at work so hard ? 
I sir] I must take paine. 

But say, my louely sweetinge, 
thy promise wilt thow keepe ? 
Shall I enioye thy love, 
this night with me to sleepe ? 
My husband is rid from home: 
here safely yow may staye. 
And I haue ruade my wife beleeue 
I rid a-nother waye. 
Goe in, good syr! What-ere betide, 
this night, and lodge with me. 
t;' a nc is ] 
The happyest night that ever I had! 
thy freind styll will I be. 


OEnter [it]ri Francis Iit Richard. 

To THE TUNE OF BuKKle-boe. 

I thanke yow, neighbour Richard, 
for bringing me this newes. 
Nay, thanke my wife that loues me, 
and will hot me abuse. 

[xu] 5 I will] read But I will. 7 toi i. e. too. to solos. 
i. e. sews. xu I sir !] i. e. A),e, sir ! [t3] 5 husband is] 
read husband, he ix 
( So ) 

Shirurn Ballacts, LVI 
But see whereas she stands 
and wayteth out returne. 
Yow must goe cole your husband's heat, 
that soe in love doth burne. 

Now, 19icky«, welcome home; 
and, mistris, welcome hither. 
Greeue hot, although yow find 
your husband and I together. 


For yow shall haue your right, 
nor will I wronge yow soe. 
Then chang apparrell with me, 
and vnto him doe goe. 

No fayth, my louelye Bessee! 
first I will lose my lyfe 
Before I breake my wedlocke bonds 
to seeke to wrong my wife. 


Now thinks good toaster 1"rancis 
he hath thee in his bed: 
And makes account he is grafting 
of hornes vpon my head. 

But, softlye! stand asyde. 
Now shalt we know his minde; 
And how he would haue used thee, 
yf thow hadst beene so kinde. 

[aS] z stands] tad stands alone. 3 cole] i. e. cool. 

S/ir[urn Ballads, 

nter I)ater Francis, Iit]j ] otne tife 
(Çabint a maRe befer¢ 
er to bC essee. 
To TE TUNE OF Goe from my 
Farwell, my ioy and ham's delight, 
tyll next we meete aine. 
Thy kindnesse to requite 
for lging me ail night, 
here's ten pound for thy payne. 
And, more to shew my loue to thee, 
weare this finge for my se. 
WRbou you ouI o ee, 
yo sbaU bue moe of e, 
Xr[ ands ] 
No doubt of that I make. 
Then let your loue continue still. 
[ acis ] 
It shall be till lyre doth ende. 
Your wife I grtlye feare. 
r[ ands] 
for ber thow needst hot oere, 

But you'le suspect me, without cause, 
that I ara false to yow; 
And then you'l cast me of 
and make me but a scoffe, 
since that I prove vntrue. 
Then never trust man, for my sake, 
if I prove soc vnkinde. 
So, often, haue yow sworne, syr! 
since that thow were borne, 
and haue soone changd your minde 
[22] $ A line is missing. 8 of'J i. e. off. [23] 3 omit syr ! 
thow] read yow. 
252 ) 

S/ir/urz tallacts, 
t r a n cis ] 
Nor wife, nor lyfe, nor goods, nor lands, 
shall make me leaue my loue. 
Nor any worldlye treasure 
make me forget my pleasure, 
nor once my mind remoove. 

But soif a while! who is yonder? do yow see? 
my husband ! out, alas ! 
And yonder is my wife! 
now shall we haue a lyre! 
how commeth this to passe? 
Corne hether, gentle esse ! I charge thee, do confesse 
what maks maister rancis heere ? 
Good husband, pardon me; 
i'le tell the troth to thee. 
Then sake, and doe not feare. 

Nay, neighbour Richard, harke to me: 
i'le tell the troth to yow. 
Nay, tell yt vnto me, 
that I may quickly see 
what yow haue here to doe. 
But yow can make no scuse, to colour this abuse : 
this wrong is too too great. 
Goed syr! I take great scorne, 
you should proferre me thee home. 
Nowe must I coule his heate 

[u4] I possiblv who's yonder ? see ! Cf. stanza u 5. 6 possiblv 
Corne hether, lesse, and do confesse. Cf. stanza 5- [5]  
Francis must here be supposed to whisper his confession to 
Richard ; and is overheard b.v Bess, still disguised as Mrs. Francis 
and speaking ber sentiments. 6 The line is too long, being 
modelled as if it came as third and fourth lines : cf. stanza 4- 
9 thee'] i. e. the. io Wife is disguised still as Bess : this line 
is asid«. 
( 2s ) 

Shirurn Ballads, LXI 

t3ntcr il)ater Francis, toifÇ i Olte toile 
er t bt essee. 
To TE TUNE Or Goe from my windo. 
Farwell, my ioy and hart's delighh 
tyll next we meete aine. 
Thy kindnesse to requite 
for lodging me ail night, 
here's ten pound for thy payne. 
And, more to shew my loue to thee, 
wre this finge for my sake. 
Without your gould or fee, 
yom sll haue more of me, 
No doubt of that I make. 
Then let your loue continue still. 
It shall be till lyfe doth ende. 
Your wife I grtlye feare. 
for her thow needst hOt oere, 

But you'le suspect me, without cause, 
that I ara false to yowi 
And then you'l cast me of 
and make me but a scoffe, 
since that I prove vntrue. 
Then never tst man, for my sak 
ff I prove soe vnkinde. 
So, oftcn, haue yow swomc, s! 
since that thow wcrc borne, 
and hauc soonc changd your minde 
[] 5 A line is missing. 8 oQ L «. off. [3] 3 oma s  
4 thow] nad yow. 

Shirurn Ballacts, LXI 
Nor wife, nor lyfe, nor goods, nor lands, 
shall make me leaue my loue. 
Nor any worldlye treasure 
make me forget my pleasure, 
nor once my mind remoove. 

But sort a while! who is yonder? do yow sec? 
lrandsmyj husband ! out, alas ! 
And yonder is my wife[ 
now shall we haue a lyfe[ 
how commeth this to passe? 
Corne hether, gentle esse  I chaNe thee, do confesse 
what maks maister Frands hoere ? 
Good husband, rdon me; 
l'le tell the troth to thee. 
Then speake, and doe not feare. 

Nay, neighbour Richard, harke to taxe: 
l'le tell the troth to yow. 
Nay, tell yt vnto me, 
that I may quickly sec 
what yow haue here to doe. 
But yow can make no scuse, to colour this abuse : 
this wrong is too too great. 
Good syrt I take great scorne, 
you should proferre me thee horne. 
Nowe must I coule his heate 

lu4] x possiblv who's yonder ? see ! Cf. stanza u 5. 6 possibly 
Corne hether, lesse, and do confesse. Cf. stanza 2 5. [uS] 5 
Francis must here be supposed to whisper his confession to 
Richard ; and is overheard by Bess, still disguised as bits. Francis 
and speaking ber sentiments. 6 The line is too long, being 
modelled as if it came as third and fourth lines : cf. stanza u 4. 
9 thee] i. e. the. xo Wife is disguised still as I3ess : this line 
is asld¢. 

SAirurn Ballads, LXI 
Nay, neighbour Richard, be content! 
thow hast no wrong at ail 
Thy wife hath done the right, 
and pleasurd me this night. 
[ Frands ] 
This frets me to the gall. 
Good wife, forgive me this offence ; 
I doe repent my ill. 
I thanke yow, with my hart, 
for playinge this kynd part 
though sore against my will. 
[ w,] 
Nay, gentle husband, frowne not so, 
for yow haue made amends. 
I thinke itis good gayne 
to haue ten pound for my paynes ; 
then let vs both be freindes. 
[ Francis] 
Ashamed I am, and know hot what to say. 
Good wife, forgiue me, this tyme. 
Alas: I doe repent. 
Tut! I could be content 
to be served so many a tyme. 
Good neighbour Richard, be content! 
l'le woe thy wife no more. 
I haue enough of this. 
Then ail forgiuen is: 
I thank thee, 1)icke, therefore. 
And to thy wife l'le giue this gould, 
I hope you'le hOt saye no. 
Since I have had the pleasure, 
let her enioye the treasure. 
[ Francis ] 
Good wise, let yt be soe. 

[26] I Wife unmasks. 3 the] i.e. thee. 5 Spoken aside. 
6 Addressing his ife. 13 MS. begins Wife's reply here; 
no doubt rongly. These three lines corne better, as spoken hy 
Francis to his ife.. [u7] 4 to haue] i.e. t'haue, paynes] 
i.e. payne. 7 forgiue me] omit me. [8] io wise] rtad wife. 
( 254 ) 

Shirurn tallaets, LX11 


We go to brave buildings of fair brick 
and stone 

Fol. 22I. Francis Russell was born 1527; succeeded as 2nd earl of 
Bedford, 14 March, 1554-5; was placed on the Privy Council by Elizabeth 
on ber accession, and much trusted by ber. He died at Bedford House 
in the Strand, 28 July, 585. Arthur Collins, leerage, i. 25 , describes 
him as 'a person of such great hospitality that Queen Elizabeth was wont 
to say of him that he ruade ai1 the begffars ". 
The opening lines of the ballad had, for contemporaries, an intensity of 
meaning which is lost for us moderns. Remembrance was still fresh of 
the monasteries, in which the abbot (or prior) lived with his monks in a 
community, and the almoner gave bread to poor pilgrims. In the place o[ 
such a community was now round a courtier living 'lordly alone', either 
(as Sir Thomas Audley's heir, at Walden abbey l) in the transformed 
monastery itself, or (as Lord Rich, at Leez Priory) in a new mansion * 
erected on its site and partly out of its materials ; and in place o[ the 
almoner, the ' proud porter' was ready (No. XXXVI, stanza I7)to ' hunte 
poore Lazare' from the door. 
The loss of common by poor people, several times mentioned in these 
ballads, here receives great prominence. It was an incidental result of 
the confiscation of monastic estates. In the old land-system, each arable 
acre, or group of acres» had attached to it proportionate grazing rights 
over the unenclosed lands and the [allow, and often over the woodland 
and the meadow and pasture, of the manor. In Northamptonshire, e.g., 
Yardley Hastings manor (I348) had 4o0 acres arable, one third o1: which 
yearly lay fallow and was common of pasture ; Wakerley manor (347), 
had IO actes pasture, common from 1 August to 3 May; Gretton manor 
(1347, 40 acres meadow, common for pasture from hay-lifting till 25 
March ; Weekley manor (I345b a wood of 2o actes, common for pasture ; 
Fotheringay manor (34o), 9 ° actes of rough pasture, common in every 
third year. It was a vexatious and waste[ul system, and austere lords 
must often have grudged such privileges to their poor copyholders. In 
monastic times these were protected by the fact that there was hardly a 
manor in the country in which some religious bouse did hot hold land and 
rights o[ common. The lord of the manor, who then wished to take 
away common, was confronted by the formidable power of the church. 
After the dissolution, there was no such curb on the covetousness o1: the 
great landowners, and rights of common were everywhere taken away, 
without compensation ; hence the bitter cry of the dispossessed in this 
and other ballads. 

I Audley End, the great mansion which replaced the abbey, was hot begun 
till ,6o 3. 
* Of brick ; now partly in ruins, partly till oc¢pied. 

( u55 ) 

Shirkurn Ballads, LXII 

U.Çe poore pçople' tomplant : çtaling 
te eat of tÇir famou brnfattor, 
tort OEarle of tedford. 
To THE TUNE OF Zîght a Love. 
WE goe to braue buildings of fayre bricke and stone, 
Where men of great calling liue Lordly alone. 
We aske yt for God's sake, but non will corne neaxe vs. 
We crave yt for CHIST'S sake, yet no man will heare vs. 
Lord helpe vs, Lord helpe vs, Lord helpe vs with speede. 
Corne no'a,, lord, and hele thy poore eole that neede. 
For good hospitalitye was kilde longe agoe ; 
And out good howse-keepers haue felt the like woe. 
lor vsurye hath gnawed, and eaten them, as rust ; 
And never would leave them, till leaue them he must. 
Now charity is choaked with picking bare bones ; 
And povertye compelled to lye on could stones ; 
And good men that give are soone dead and rotten ; 
But god, that doth giue ail, is soonest forgotten. 
Thow gau'st vs a helper, while here he did liue, 
Whose hands was hot empty his aimes for to giue ; 
But now, lord, we lacke him; he is clothed in clay; 
And woe be to the, death, that tooke him awaye. 
Out good Earle of tedford--that man itis he, 
Which causèd this weeping and wayling tobe. 
And blame vs hot, brethren, we beare him in mynd: 
Such good men as he was, fewe we can find. 
He was no such Courtier, ail dayes of his lyfe, 
That ever begd living from poore man or wife: 
Though some would haue done yt, and sought for to get them, 
Yet no man soe ready as he was to let them. 

Il] 5 Refrain tobe sung at end of each stanza, la] x hospitalitye] i. e. 
hospital'ty. [4] 4 the] i.e. thee. [5] 4 fewe we] read few» few, wc. 
[6] a from] i. e. to deprivc them of it. 
( 256 ) 

ç/iraurn Ballads, L](II 
Methinks yet he lyveth, and standeth in place, 
Preferring the poore man to corne to ber Grace, 
To talke and to tell ber, she rnay vnderstand 
Sorne Courtyer hath beggèd his howse and his land. 
Then corns the poore widdow, and she 'rings ber hands :-- 
' My good Lord of t?earforar, now thus out case stands: 
' Out cornmons are caught vp, where we fed out beasts. 
' Lord t?edford, now helpe vs the saine to release.' 
Then, like a kind father, ' Good people,' sayth he, 
' I am very willing youre helper to be. 
' Out Queene is so gracious and loving in deed, 
' That what I aske for yow, I know I shall speed.' 
Her Highnesse then hearing his honour was there, 
Sayth to him, 'My Lord, I pray yow corne neere. 
'What writing haue yow there ? may I understand ?' 
He kisses it most humly, and giues it in her hand. 
Her rnaiestye reads it, and sayth 'Who doth owe it ?' 
He tels ber ; she thanks hirn that would let her know yt. 
Then sayth she 'My good Lord, I pray yow proceed; 
' For herein your honour shall doe a good deed. 
' My Lord, now I thank yow : what will yow haue more 
' Yet, good rny Lord, spare non tbat hurteth the poore.' 
' I thank your gmce,' sayth he, ' both now and alwayes 
' And god of his goodnesse long lengthen your dayes.' 
What man is he lyving, that now this songe heares 
And bath his eyes open, can keepe them from teares 
To think how few good men there dwels on this land, 
And how soone they happen to corne to deathe's hand 
Yet le[ vs hot marvaile yf death will hot staye: 
For when the Lord sendeth, then lyre must away ; 
And lyre is vncertaine in this world to men, 
But death is most certaine--What shall I say then ? 

[toi 4 humly] i.e. humbly. 

[3] 4 The earl died aet. 58. 

Shir[urn Ballacls, LXII 
But now who is ready to ride for the poore ? 
Nay, who is not ready to shut vp his doore, 
And gleane from him, cunningly, his howse and his land 
But non of god's chosen takes such things in hand. 
But rime overtakes me ; and I eannot show 
So much as I would, nor halle that I knowe. 
For many men wealthy do giue vp howse-keeping ; 
And many poore widdows sit wayling and weeping; 
And many that misse him do earnestlye pray 
That god of his goodnesse would fetch them away ; 
And many poore children cryes out they haue wrong; 
And many poore ploughmen sits singing this song :- 
' He is our provider of money and corne ; 
' He was the best man that ever was borne.' 
For sicke and sore folke, for hale and for lame, 
His purse was a plaster, or salue, for the same. 
For who bath hot seene in everye streete 
What flocks of poore people his honour should meete? 
He, mindful of mercy, then wayling their griefe, 
With hands of compassion, did giue them releife, 
And bad them returne, and give god the prayse. 
This gond Earle of t?edford thus ended his dayes : 
The earth was now ready en yeeld him a grave ; 
The heavens were as ready his soule en receiue. 
Now let out rich stewards take heed how they liue: 
For, though hOt in this world, account they muse giue. 
When god hath in Justice their conscienc appealing, 
Their iudgement is ' Sathan, take them for their dealing.' 
And then this gond steward the Lord ealleth neare, 
And sayth ' Thow art blessèd ; thy conscience is cleere 
'For thow has[t] had alwayes a care and regard, 
' And now thow art corne en receiue thy reward. 

[xS-I x to ride'l i.e. to Court, to presenta petition. Ix8]  is] 
rend was. [zg] 3 wayling] teritadbs waying» i.e. weighing. 
( 258 ) 

ç/iraurn Ballads, LXII 


' The crowne of ail glory I giue vnto thee, 
' With lyfe eveflasting ; receiue them of mee.' 
A blessed receiuing, good people, is this ; 
And thus the Lord dealeth with all that be his. 


As for our rich worldlings that liue without shame, 
There is a place also preparèd for them. 
No heaven, but hell ; no friendship, but tire; 
No mercye, but Justice, their deeds do require. 

Their gould, and their goods they so greedely got, 
They leaue here behind them to rust and to rot. 
They take nothing with them--and that they know well-- 
But onely their Conscience» to heaven or [toi hell. 

Now god, of his goodnesse, giue vs of his grace 
That, whiles we liue here, we may run the saine race 
Our good Earle of Bedford hath done heretofore, 
To liue with CHRISa" JEsts in heaven evermore. 

And, Lord, with thy mercy hould vp with thy hand 
Thy faythfull handmayd, the Queene of England. 
Lord blesse her, Lord keepe ber, Lord lengthen her dayes. 
And, Lord, vnto thee be ail honour and prayse. 

Shirurn Ballads, LXIII 

As I walked forth in a morning tide 
Fol. «««v. The ballad is prior to the Authorized Version of 161I, the 
quotations from The Wisdom of Solomon being taken from one of the 
numerous issues of either the Genea or the Bisholbs" Bible, the text of 
these two being identical in the passages here cited. 
The only remarkable point in this exceptionally dull effusion is the 
recognition (stanza Io) of the vileness of much contemporary verse. 
£ littifull lamrntati0, of a l,un.r 
Inquisition shalbe made for the thoughts of the Vngodly ; and 
the sound of his words shall corne vnto god for the correction 
of his iniquityes. Sap[ientia] I, vers[us] 9- 
But the soules of the righteous are in the hands of god, and no 
torment shall touch them. In the sight of the vnwise they 
appeared to dye ; and their end was thought greeuous, and their 
departing from vs destruction ; but theyare in peace. Sap[ientia] 
3, vers[us] x [-3]- 
As I walked forth in a morninge tyde 
I hard a voyce which bad me abyde, 
And ever (me thought) to me it cryde-- 
Alas for woe that I did not repent! 
for I am dampnèd by god's iust iudgment. 
I was afrayd such wofull words to heare-- 
They sounded so geuouslye in faine eare: 
Yet I tooke bouldnesse, and drew neare. 
I demaunded what he was that did so lament, 
and that was dampnèd by god's iust iudgement. 
I ara (quoth he) a soule in geat paine, 
That, before, in great pleasure did here remaine. 
I sought for nothing but for fylthy gaine. 
My tyme I past in synne, and did not repent ; 
but now I ara dampnèd by god's iust iudgemenL 
I tooke whoredome for pastirae and pleasure; 
To robbe other men, I did styll procure, 
In theft and couetousnes, I did styll indure, 
Till death, all sodenly, awaye rae hent; 
and now I am dampnèd by god's iust iudgement. 
la] 3 drew] read drew at last. 
( «6o ) 

Siraurn Ba//ads, LVIII 
I thought blasphemye to be a good sport; 
I hated them that to goodnesse would exhort ; 
And to wicked company I did evermore resort. 
Alas for woe! how evill my tyme I haue spent; 
for now I am dampnèd b 3, Kod's iust iudKement. 
Without ail care (alas !), I did evermore liue ; 
I did disdaine to poor men ought to giue, 
Letting ail passe through a bottomlesse syve ; 
To ail kind of wickednesse I was vtterlye bent: 
therefore I ara dampnèd by Kod's iust iudKement. 
To poule the poore I never thought it synne; 
To scrape by extortion I could never lin; 
I was a gentleman of great birth and kyn. 
To liue in worldly pleasure was ail my intent: 
but now I am damnèd by Kod's iudgment. 
Take heed, ye lords and gentlemen ail; 
Take heed, ye Ladyes soe proper and small; 
Take heed, ye rich men, or death do ye call ; 
For, yf ye be taken before ye repent, 
yow shall be dampnèd by Kod's iust iudffmen/. 
Ye filthy whoremongers, by me take heede ; 
Swarers and blasphemers, repent [you] with speed; 
iV[urtherers and theeves, Gog's vengeance dread; 
Whores, fylthes, and drunkards, your synnes lainent 
els shall yow be dampnèd by god's iust iudgment. 
Ye traytors and slaunderers, repent in tyme ; 
Ve muttering Papists, repent your crime; 
Ye wanton writers, leaue your fylthy rime. 
Ye carnall Gospellers, yf ye doe not repent, 
ye shalbe dampnèd by God's iust iudgmenL 
I thought to haue mended in mine old age: 
Therefore, in youth, with pleasure I did rage: 
]3ut sodenly I was taken amyd my voyage; 
And thus, being vnreadye, away I was hent 
but now I am dampnèd by God's iust iudgrnenÆ 
[7] I poule] i. e. pillage. 5 god's] read gd's best. 
or-I i. e. before, i9] 3 Gog's] read God's. 
( 26I 

Shirhurn Ballads, LXIII 

As I walked forth in a morning tide 

Fol. zzz*. The ballad is prior to the Authorized Version of 161 I, the 
quotations from The 14/isdam o./" Solomon being taken from one of the 
numerous issues of either the Ueneva or the Bishois' Bible, the text of 
these two being identical in the passages here cited. 
The only oemarkable int in this exceptionally dull effusion is the 
recoition (stanza o) of e vileness of much contempora verse. 
e pittifull lamrntati0n 0f a 
lnquisition shalbe ruade for the thoughts of the Vngodly ; d 
the sound of his words shai corne vnto god for the correction 
of his iniquityes. Sap[ientia x, vers[us] 9- 
But the soules of the righteous are in the hands of god, and no 
torment sha touch them. In the sight of the vnwise they 
appeared to dye ; and their end was thought eeuous, and their 
departing from vs destction ; but they are in peace. Sap[ientia] 
3, vers[us] z [-3]. 
As I walked forth in a morninge de 
I hard a voyce which bad me abyde, 
And ever (me thought) to me it cd 
Alas for woe that I did not repent 
for I ara dampnd by god's iusl iudgmenl. 
I w afrayd such wofull words to hee 
They sounded so euouslye in mine ee: 
Yet I tooke bouldnesse, and drew neare. 
I demaunded what he w tt did so lainent, 
and that was dampnèd by god9 iusl iudgement. 
I ara (quoth he) a soule in eat paine, 
That, before, in great pleasure did here remaine. 
I sought for nothing but for fylthy gaine. 
My tyme I past in synne, and did not repent ; 
but now I ara mpnèd by god's iusl iudgement. 
I tooke whoredome for pastime and pleasure ; 
To robbe other men, I did styll procure, 
In theft and couetousnes, I did styll indure, 
Till death, all sodenly, awaye me hent; 
and now I ara mpnèd by god9 iust iudgenl. 
[] 3 drew] read drew at lt. 

çhiraurn Ballads, LXIII 
I thought blasphemye to be a good sport; 
I hated thern that to goodnesse would exhort ; 
And to wicked company I did evermore resort. 
Alas for woe! how evill my tyme I haue spent; 
for now I ara dampnd by god's iust iudgement. 
Without ail care (alas !), I did evermore liue ; 
I did disdaine to poor men ought to giue, 
Letting all passe through a bottornlesse syve ; 
To ail kind of wickednesse I was vtterlye bent: 
therefore I am dampnèd by god's iust iudgement. 
To poule the poore I never thought it synne ; 
To scrape by extortion I could never lin ; 
I was a gentleman of great birth and kyn. 
To liue in worldly pleasure was all my intent: 
but now I arn darnnèd by god's iudgment. 
Take heed, ye lords and gentlemen all ; 
Take heed, ye Ladyes soc proper and small ; 
Take heed, ye rich men, or death do ye call ; 
For, yf ye be taken before ye repent, 
yow shall be dampnèd by god's iust iudgmenl. 
ge filthy whoremongers, by me take heede; 
Swarers and blasphemers, repent [you] with speed 
Murtherers and theeves, Gog's vengeance dread ; 
Whores, fylthes, and drunkards, your synnes lainent 
els shall yow be dampnèd by god's iust iudgment. 
Ye traytors and slaunderers, repent in tyme ; 
Ye rnuttering Papists, repent your crime ; 
Ye wanton writers, leaue your fylthy rime. 
Ye carnall Gospellers, yf ye doe hot repent, 
ye shalbe dampnèd by God's iust iudgment. 
I thought to haue rnended in mine old age: 
Therefore, in youth, with pleasure I did rage: 
But sodenly I was taken amyd my voyage ; 
And thus, being vnreadye, away I was hent; 
but now I ara dampnèd by God's iust iudgment. 
[73  po,t«] i. «. tittag«. S goûs] reaà gboes 
or] i. e. belote. [9] 3 Gog's] read God's. 
( 261 

Shir$urn Ballads, LXIII 
&_las! what paynes I surfer in this place. 
Alas! I am vtterly cast from God's grace. 
Alas for woe! I shall never see his face, 
But remaine here ever in extreame torment, 
condemnèd to paynes by God's iust iudgment. 
Fye on whoredome, couetousnes, and pride, 
Fye on sloth, and lying, wherein I did abide ; 
Fye on gluttonye eke, at every tyme and tyde ; 
Fye on envye also, whereto I was sore bent. 
Fye on myselfe, for God's iust iudgement. 
Wo worth the tyme of my first creation. 
Wo worth the tyme of my generation. 
Wo worth my wickednesse and abhomination. 
Wo worth my synnes which lnaks me shent: 
Wo worth my selfe, for God's iust iudgment. 
Why did not I avoyd my synfull infection ? 
Why did I not labour to corne to perfection ? 
Why did I refuse my Parents' correction ? 
Why did I so wickedly to all synne consent? 
Why did I not rather avoyd God's iudgment? 
No man is able to expresse the pairie 
That, with the Divils in hell, I do sustaine. 
Wo vnto him that there shall remaine! 
Take heed, ye worldlings! in tyme repent, 
least ye be dampnèd by God's iust iudgment. 
With that, the voyce did vanishe awaye, 
With an horrible crye that did me afray. 
My heare stood vpright; I stood in a staye. 
Oh pittyfull case, to heare him thus lament, 
and to be dampnèd by God's iust iudgment ! 
Ail you that be here, I giue yow warning ; 
Be hot slacke in your lyves amendinge, 
For even hard at hand is the world's ending, 
Wherby Goal gyveth vs this waming to repent, 
who graunt vs mercy at the day of iudgment. 
[xs] S Godes] rêad GoaPs [6] a with the] omit the. 
[7] 8 heare] i. e. hair. 
( 262 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, LXIV 


Ail such as lead a jealous lire 
Fol. 224". A realistic novel, powerfully depicting the madness of 
jealousy in its inception and progress, with an intensity anticipatory of 
Zola's La Conquête de Plassans. 
Ke t0t'ment of a ta[i0u minet, tlt' 
bV te tSragitalI an trtt¢ itrve 0f nc 
t0mm0nIe tallt 'tÇ 3tal0u man 0f 
Alarffel" ill enL 
To THE TUNE OF offeO. 
Acc such as lead a Jealous lyfe, 
as bad as paines of hell, 
Bend downe attentiue eares to this 
which I shall brieflye tell; 
And, thereby, learne to liue content, 
in quiet peace and test, 
And harbor hOt suspicious thoughts 
within a troubled brest. 

Vnto ail maried men I write, 
the which doth lead their liues 
With proper women, fayre and fine, 
their loyall wedded wiues: 
]3eare hOt a bad conceite in them; 
suspect hot without cause; 
And, through a furious jealosye, 
breake hot true loyers' lawes-- 

As this olde man of rargat did, 
whose wife was yong and fayre, 
And hot soe fayre as vertuous round, 
yet still opprest with care. 
Abroad, god wot! she could not goe, 
but he would watch ber styll, 
And follow her in everye place, 
for feare she did some yll. 

[a] 5 in them] read of them. 

( 263 ) 

S/zirurn Ballads, LXIV 
If any man cast eye on ber, 
the iealous foole would sware 
That she ruade him, in shamefull sort, 
a payre of bornes to weare. 
And,. by this meanes, the woman liu'd 
in dayly woe and strife; 
And, in the flowre of ber youth, 
waxt weary of ber lyre. 
Thus, having long suspected her, 
in torment did he dwell-- 
For why? the minds of iealous men 
are lyke the paynes er hell. 
At last, behould! what hap he had 
to set his thought on fyre; 
,qaat smale occasion he did take 
ber downfall to conspire. 
It was his chaunce, vpon a daye, 
some of his poynts to spye 
Set to a servaunt's hose of his, 
which he markt presently. 
And, knowing them to be his owne, 
he chargd his wife full iii 
That she had gyven them to his man, 
in token of good will. 
' Thow faite and wicked wretch,' quoth he, 
' that beares so smoth a face ; 
'Now is thy lewdnesse brough[t] to light, 
'vnto thy fowle disgrace. 
'Durst any servaunt in my howse 
' be halle soe bould with me, 
'As, for their lyves, to take one poynt, 
'but that 'twas gyven by thee? 
'No! No! 'twas thow, decembling Drab, 
'by lust most lewdlye led, 
'That makes no conscience for to creepe 
'to every rascal's bed. 
'My aged yeares fyts hot thy youth-- 
' so every Jacke can saye-- 
' And therefore yow must range abroad 
'to find more pleasant play.' 
[4]  flowre] i.e. flow-er. 
( 264 ) 

S/ir[urn Ballads, LXIV 
' O husband, what meane yow?' quoth she, 
' thus to accuse me heere. 
'God knowes that I haue evermore 
'esteemd my credit deere. 
' Because your man hath got your poynts, 
'yow iudge that I ara naught, 
'And that I wronge yow wickedlye-- 
« which thing I never thought.' 
With that, her husband star'de on her, 
with eyes as red as tire. 
Quoth he:--' Confesse the deede to rne, 
' as I doe thee require ; 
'And I will freely pardon ail 
' which thow hast donc amisse, 
'And plague that villaine, for that fowle 
'and wicked fact of his. 
'But, yf thow seem'st to cleare thy selfe 
'by any quaint excuse, 
' And seeke by oathes for to denye 
' this long-begun abuse, 
' I will no whit beleeue thy words, 
'nor oathes, in any case: 
'But, presently, I doe protest, 
'i'le kill thee in this place.' 
Now iudge, all vertuous maydes and wiues, 
in what a case was shee, 
That falcely must accuse her selfe, 
else murdred shall shee be. 
Her conscience, and her credit both, 
bids her denye the deede, 
And willes her rather dye the death 
then thus ber shame to breed. 
But feare of death doth turne ber straight ; 
and, for to saue her lyfe, 
Doth wish her to accuse her selfe, 
and soc to stint the stryfe. 
X herefore, vpon her knees she fell, 
her cheeks with teares besprent, 
Saying :--' Husband, I confesse my fait ; 
'and my bad lyfe repent.' 

S/irurn Ballacls, LXIV 
' Ha! nowe I doe beleeve thee well,' 
the iealous foole did saye. 
'But tell me, with how many knaues 
' didst thow the harlot playe.' 
' With non but our man,' quoth shee 
' whom I intist thereto : 
' And long yt was, ere he agreed 
' with me this deed to doe. 
' Therefore the blame doth wholy rest, 
'vpon my selfe,' quoth shee. 
'Wherefore, according to your word, 
' I trust you'l pardon me.' 
'Well, wife!' quoth he; 'my word is past; 
' thy faites I doe forgiue ; 
' But on that roge l'le be revengd, 
'yf god doth let me lyue.' 
The woman, hearing him say soe, 
ruade meanes for to bewray, 
Vnto her servant, what was don ; 
and wil'd him get away, 
For feare he should receiue some harme: 
but yet the foolish youth 
This warning wayèd hOt at ail, 
but stood vpon his truth. 
Away this old man turnd his wife, 
and to her friends she went ; 
And, of this matter past before, 
she shewd the whole event. 
To reconsile these grudges great 
his freinds took wondrous paine, 
And made such meanes that he receiud 
to him his wife againe. 
And, vnderneath a countenance fayre, 
great mischeife did he hide ; 
Yet seemd to her, and each one else, 
contented to abide. 
Most sugred words to her he gaue, 
and to his man likewise. 
Receauing hir into his bed, 
this mischeife did devise: 
[14] 5 non] read no one. [rT] 6 his] read her. 
( z66 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, LVII 
The next day, being sunday morne, 
his folkes he sent out ail, 
To goe to ehureh, ail but his man, 
whom he his mate did eall. 
A gallant peeee to him he gaiue, 
and bad hirn eharg the same; 
And, when that he the saine had donc, 
to bring yt him againe. 
The youth, whieh nothing did mistst, 
his maister's will obayed; 
And did with hayle-shot stuffe the me, 
as hec belote had yd. 
' Goe nowe vnto my wife,' quoth he, 
'to pieke those raysons small. 
' Abroad I will some Pigions kill, 
'to make a pye with-all.' 
The youth, to helpe his mistris, went, 
the sooner to haue donc. 
Her husband, through the window, shoot, 
and kyls them with his gun. 
Then in he runs, incontinent, 
as they y fetching breath ; 
d, with his dagger, stabs them both, 
to hasten so their death. 
A pen, and Inke, strayght-waye he tooke, 
and left in writinge playne, 
How he him selle, for meere revenge, 
had both these persons slayne. 
Then came he vp a ehamber hye; 
him selfe he threw out then : 
And soc fell downe, and broke his necke, 
in sight of sunde men. 
Loe heere, the end of ilousye, 
sprung vp 'twixt youth and age, 
whieh eoupled were through vaine desire, 
and both vndone through rage. 
To true, alas this store is, 
as many a man ean tell. 
Of iealosye, therelre, take heed, 
hee lyre is like to helL 
[] S  ] read vp fo. []  Toi i. ¢, Too. 
he¢d] read take gd heed. 

7 take 
267 ) 

Shir#urn Bal/ads, LXV 

No. LXV 

Wit, whither wilt thou ? 

Fol. 227*. In this plece an odd effect is occaslonally obtained by re- 
peating, at beginning of fifth line, part of contents of fourth line. This piece 
so caught on as to give a new name to the tune to which it was set: cf. 
no. LXIX. 
In each stanza the fifth and sixth lines are sung a second time, so 
making an eight-line stanza, with an echo-like effect. 


WIT, whither wilt thow? woe is mee ! 
alwayes musinge, fye for shame! 
Sorrye I ara the saine to see, 
that love hath brough[t] the out of frame-- 
Out of frame and temper too; 
This can Love and fancye doo! 
Out of frame and retaper too ; 
7"his tan love and fancye doo ! 
Once I knew thee well aduizd; 
but now, I ara sure, 'tis nothing so. 
Loue thy sences hath disguizd, 
and her beautye bred thy woe-- 
Thy woe, thy time, [and] thy downefall ; 
This can love and fancye doo! 
Pale, and wan, and worne with care, 
and all to melancholly bent-- 
Thus doth mad-men vse to fare 
when their witts with love are spent-- 
Content with discontentments too ; 
This can love and fancye doe! 

Ix] 4 the] i.e. thee. 
268 ) 

ana] i.e. l'm. 

çir[mrn Ballaa!s, L)(I e 
Those humors purgd that stops thy breath ; 
purge those fancyes from thy head. 
Such conceypts will breede thy death-- 
she will laugh when thow art dead-- 
Laugh she will and lye downe too; 
These conceypts will wemen doo! 
A Bird in hand's worth two in bryer; 
why then should I say 'Woe's mee!' 
Because the things that I desire 
are true and constant vnto mee? 
Therefore, I say, cast tare from thee, 
And never more saye 'Woe is mee!' 
Therefore, I saye, [cast tare from thee, 
And never more say ' Woe is mee !'] 


Shall I wed an aged man 

Fol. 228. The evils incident to marriage between January and May 
form one of the commonest themes of the ballad-writers : cf. no. XXVI, 
stanza 4 ; no. LXIV stanza =3- 

Çe comp{aint of a oilloo againt aa 
o11 man. 

To TRE TUNE OF Trenlam's Toy. 

SH&LL ][ wed an agèd man, 
that groaneth of the Gout, 
And lead my lyre in miserye, 
within doores and without? 
No! I will haue a Batcheler, 
of lyvely bloud and bone, 
To cheare me in my latter dayes, 
or els I will haue non. 

[4] t purgd] read purge. 
read are not constant. 

[5] 4 are truc and constant] 
( =69 ) 

S/irurn tallacls, L2TI 
For yf I take a Batcheler 
that can both skyp and springe, 
Then he will be my comforter, 
to giue me every thinge. 
If I be sad, or sorowfull, 
at boord or els at bed, 
A youngman will be pittyfull, 
and help to hould my head. 
An aged man is testye, 
and set to hoorde and hyde; 
With lame legges and restye, 
bewayling back and syde. 
A young man he is beautyfull, 
couragious, trick, and trim; 
And looketh with a merry cheere, 
when aged men looke grim. 
Better is a Batcheler, 
of bone and body sound, 
Then is an olde leacherer 
with twentye thousand pound. 
Who is so bad a market-man, 
that buyeth flesh or fishe, 
But lightly choseth for to haue 
the yongêst in his dishe? 
Young bloud renueth olde, 
as Phisicke doth expresse ; 
And age is iii to be contrould, 
but cursse where they should blesse: 
But yf I haue a young man, 
and chaunce to catch the quacke, 
He will provide me delicats, 
and cheare me vp with sacke. 
An aged man is quaffinge 
in every cup or can, 
with ioynts and synnewes shakinge, 
much like a deadly man. 
But looke vpon a young man, 
in him yow shall espye 
A good face, and a iollye cheere, 
a pleasant rowlinge eye. 
[3] 6 trick] i.e. trig. [5] 6 quacke] i.e. ague, quaking 

Shir[urn Ballads, LJ(VI 
Itis countenaunce is chearfull, 
at bed and eke at boorde ; 
His talke is never sorrowfull, 
but Heigh! at every word. 
An oid man's coate it is beraide, 
all overthwart the brest. 
A young man is well-favored, 
well-browed, and finelye drest. 
An aged man cornes drooping home, 
as on that wanteth lyfe. 
A young man sayes, when he cornes in, 
'Corne, kysse me, gentle wife !' 
And yf I take a young man, 
although his wealth be smail, 
If that he ,'se me honestlye 
he shail be lord of ail 
Behould the little Spanniell, 
and every beast in briefe, 
Will iikke, and leape vpon, their feete 
by whom they find releife. 
Much more then will a witty man, 
whom natur's worke hath wrought, 
Must loue the woman faythfullye, 
that maried him of nought. 
Therefore I ara determined 
I cannot liue alone, 
But I will haue a Batcheler, 
or els I will haue none. 


That gallant prince, Graaf Maurice 
Fol. 29. The music is noted in the MS. The strongly fortified town 
of Rheinberg, then commonly called Berg, 24 toiles NNW. of Diisseldorf, 
was of considerable military importance, as allowing, or checking, the flow 
of reinforcements and supplies from central Germany to the Catholic 
forces operating against the Dutch. It was taken and retaken several 
times by Dutch and Spanish. In x6o Prince Maurice approached it, 
with an army of x2,oo% on Io June ; greatly damaged the works by 
[8] a on] i. e. one. 
( 2t ) 

S/irurn Ballacts, L(lrlI 
explosion of a mine, Il July; and obtained the town, 30 July, allowing 
the garrison to withdraw. The Cardinal-Archduke Albert (stamas 12, 
had been too bus)" knocking his head against Sir Francis Vere in Ostend, 
to send succour. The ballad simply turns into metre a pamphlet of the 
day. The interest of the Ostend siege has banished Berg from most 
histories of the period. 
I true bitou[r] of tÇ toinnin of 
brirgrl tle am 0n tl 12 laç of ttne 
1O01, anl t0ntinurl aaulting an 
To T8g XUSg OF All /hose /ha/ are good ll,es. 
t c [  i j I I 1-- !   

Tax gallant prince, Graue J[aurfce, 
whose fame for Chiualrye 
Throughout ail parts of Christendome 
is blazèd far and nye, 
Having conferrèd with the S/a/es 
and let /hem understand 
The enimye by keeping 1?erre 
did hurt the netherland 
(For, by possessing of that towne, 
they vnder tribute brought 
Both Oer-yssell and 1;reseland, 
which their great damage wrought). 
Wherefore yt was by them decreed 
he should beseige the towne, 
And eyther wine yt from the foe 
or els to beate yt downe. 

S/irurn Ballads, LXIII 
The enimye from comminge 
whereas the campe did lye, 
Without the loss of manye, 
both men and harse, thereby. 
Two ships likewise were taken, 
which did to them belonge, 
]3oth fraught with things most needfull 
to make their towne more stronge. 
Then came there men to skirmidge 
in such a furious sort, 
Bringing soe many fresh supplyes» 
'ris strange for to report! 
A troupe of renchmen, which did then 
within the towne remaine, 
Came forth, and fought tyll, on their syde, 
there were a number slayne. 
Don Zewis arZerdinandis, 
who (I before did saye) 
Was govemour of that saine towne, 
whilst we did fight this fray 
I)id vp into a turret get 
which they the round-hou'se call, 
On which he might most plainely 
stand and behould vs ail. 
Now, whilst he thus stood gazing 
vpon out eager fight, 
A bullet flew cleane through his cheek, 
and forcibly did smight 
Some of his teeth out of his iawes, 
and also hurt his tongue. 
But, whether it were friend or foe 
by whom he was thus stung, 
It is unknowen; but let that passe: 
nowe must he wright his mind-- 
For speake he could not--to expresse 
what was by him assignde. 
Some of out horsmen after that, 
being forth ranging on a day 
I)id take 2 men, which from their towne, 
with letters, swame awaye. 
[6] 4 harse] i. e. horse. [toi 2 wright] i. e. writeo 6 being 
forth] omit heing. 

Shirurn ttallats, LXtrlI 
Zamb«rt de II'it v¢as on of them, 
a man of mighty strength, 
Who pul'd a horseman from his horse ; 
yet was he tooke at length, 
And by his fellow hangd, 
because he had tooke paye 
And serud the slales before that tyme 
(as man), soldiers saye). 
By those saine letters they did beare, 
the Grave perceiud plaine 
In v¢hat estate the towne of Berke 
did at that tyme remaine. 
Their Captaine wrot they could not 
indure past thirteene dayes, 
Vnlesse the Duke did send some ayde 
this mighty siedge to rayse. 
Grave raurt'« then gaue order 
out Cannons should be layd 
Vpon a mount, and there shote of 
to make thern more afrayd. 
Then once more dfd they sally foorth, 
and fought with us amaine, 
In which most bloudye conflict 
their Admirall was slaine. 
And now report did tell abroad, 
the Cardinall wa. at hand, 
With syxteene thowsand soldiers, 
well-armèd, in his band. 
But when out foes perceiuèd 
this newes did not prove true, 
They did dispare of succour, 
and bad their hopes adyev. 
A parlé then the Graue did sound 
in v¢hich they did agree 
That, vpon some condi-ti-ons, 
the towne should yeelded be. 
On which conditions graunted, 
out foes, without delaye, 
Each man, v¢ith bag and baggage, 
departed straight awaye. 
J on] i.e. one. 5 by] i.e. beside. 6 bel trhaps they. 
ol3 i. e. off. 
x 2 ( 575 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, LXIZII 
Thus hath Grave 2]araurice gotten terke 
to his eternall faine, 
Slaying a thousand enimyes 
ere he obtaind the same. 
O Lord, still prosper his attemps, 
so shall thy church increase. 
Destroy ail those that hate thy truth, 
and send fayre IEngland peace. 


When Troy town for ten years' wars 
Fol. 231". Text given in Roxburghe Ballads, vi. 548, from numerous 
Black-letter exemplars. 
The story told in the ballad is singular by reason of its divergences from 
classical tradition. In Ovid's lfferoides the invective epistle to Aeneas is 
written by Dido, before ber death ; here, by ber sister Anna, after Dido's 
suicide. In Vergil (len. v. 3-5) the mighty tire which consumes Dido's 
corpse lights up sea and land ; here (stanza 13), she is given an English 
'earth to earth' burial. Again (len. vi. 469-72, Dido's shade meets 
Aeneas in the under-world and refuses him look or word; here, her 
'ghastly ghost' appears to him in a Grecian isle, and roundly scolds him. 
In Horace Aeneas is, bar excellence, 'castus Aeneas,' lauded in the Carmen 
Saeculare; here, he is dragged down to hell, as the libertine in Mozart's 
Don .uan (1787). It would be interesting to discover the threads of 
folk-lore which connect the ballad with the seventeenth-century Spanish 
story to which Otto Jahn, in his Lire of Mozart, traces the opera ; and 
with Thomas Shadwell's Libertine Destroyed (I676), whose similar 
ending caused men (D. E. Baker's Biogra#hia Dramatica (I812), ii. 37o 
to esteem it ' little less than impiety to represent it on the stage'. The 
childlike simplicity of the ballad-writer is well seen in his finding no 
incongruity between the forgiving death-bed prayer of stanza 16 and the 
ghost's unrelenting hate in stanzas 19 and 22, nor between the ' ghastly" 
of stanza 18 and the ' lovely ' of stanza 2o. 
â prprr n1 alla intitulr U. 1anring 
trinte of Troye. 
To rnE rVNE OF Queene 19ido. 
WHEN Troye towne for ten yeers' wars 
withstood the Greeks in manfull wise, 
Yet did their foes increase soe fast 
that, to resist, non could suffice. 
Wast lye those walles that were so good, 
and corne now grows where 2"roy towne stood. 
[16] 5 attemps] i.e. attempt. 

Shiraurn Ballads, LXTIII 

«tï_neas, wandring Prince of rroye, 
when he for land long time had sought, 
At length, arriud with great ioye, 
to mighty Carthage walles was brought, 
Where Dido Queene, with sumptuous feast, 
did intertaine this wandering guest. 

And as, in Hall, at meate they sate, 
the Queene, desirous newes to heare-- 
' Of thy vnhappye ten yeeres' wars 
'declare to me, thow Troyan deere, 
'Thy heavy hap, and chaunce so bad, 
'that thow (poore wandring Prince) hast had.' 

And then, anone, this comely Knight, 
with words demure (as he could well), 
Of this vnhappy ten yeeres' war 
so true a tale began to tell, 
With words so sweet, and sighes so deepe, 
that oft he made them all to weepe. 
And then a thowsand sighes he fet, 
and every sigh brought teares amayne, 
That, where he sat, the place was wet, 
as he had seene those wars againe. 
So that the Queene, with ruth therefore, 
sayd :--' Worthy Prince, enough ! No more 
[4] 3 this] i.e. these. 

Shir[urn Ballads, LXtIII 
The darksome night apace grew on, 
and twinkling stars in skyes were spred, 
And he his dolefull tale had tolde, 
and every one was layd in bed, 
Where they full sweetly tooke their test, 
saue onely Z)ido'es broyling brest. 
This sylly womau never slept ; 
but, in her chamber, ail alone, 
As one vnhappy, alwayes wept; 
and to the walles she ruade ber mone 
That she should styll desire in vayne 
the thing that she could hot obtaine. 
And thus, in griefe, she spent the night, 
tyll twinckling stars from skyes were fled, 
And Phoebus, with his glystering beames, 
through mysty cloudes, appeard red. 
Then tydings came to her anone 
that ail the 2royan ships were gone. 
And when the Queene, with bloudy knife, 
did arme her heart, as hard as stone ; 
Yet, somewhat loath to lose her lyfe, 
in ruthfull wise she ruade her mone; 
And, rowling on her carefull bed, 
with sighes and sobs, these words she sayd :-- 
' O wretched Z)ido, Queene!' quoth she, 
'I see thy end approcheth neere: 
'For he is gone away from thee, 
' 'hom thow didst loue and hould so deere. 
'Is he then gone and passèd by ? 
'O hart! ptepare thy selle to dye. 
'Though reason would thow should'st forbeare 
'to stay thy hand from bloudy stroke, 
'¥et fancy sayes thow shouldst not feare 
' whom fettereth thee in Cuid"s yoake. 
' Corne death !' quoth she ; ' resolue my smart ;' 
and, with those words, she pearst her hart. 
6 [3] ,,a] ,oarre. [93 x ,he,] r,,,ath«,,, fq 4 ,ho,] 
rmd wh° (i. e. faacy. 

Shirhurn Ballads, LXI/'III 

Ke rtonl part of Ke tanlering Orinte 
of Troy. 
To TaE TUNE 01 Queene Dido. 
When death had pierst the tender hart 
of Dido, Carthagenian Queene, 
And bloudy knyfe did ende the smart, 
which she sustained in wofull teene, , 
neas being shipt, and gone, 
whose flatter), causèd ail her mone ; 

Her funerall most costlye ruade, 
and all things fashioned mour[n]efully, 
Her body fine in mould was layd, 
where yt consumèd speedylye. 
Her sister's teares her tombe bestrewde; 
ber subiects' griefe their kindnes shewd. 
Then was .rneas in an Ile, 
in Greda, where he lay long space ; 
When as her sister, in short while, 
writ to him of his vile disgrace. 
In phrases, letter to his minde, 
she tould him playne he was vnkind. 
[4] 5 letter] read little. 


Shir3urn Ballads, LXT/'III 
' False-harted wretch,' quoth shee, 'thow art ; 
' and traiterously thow hast betraide 
'Vnto thy lure a gende hart, 
'which vnto thee such welcome made-- 
'My sister deare, and Carthaggs ioy, 
' whose folly bred her dire annoy. 
'¥et, on her death-bed when she la),, 
'she prayed for thy prosperytye, 
']3eseeching god that everye day 
'might breed thy great felicitye. 
'Thus, by thy meanes, I lost a friend; 
'heavens send thee such vntimely end.' 
When he these lynes, full fraught with gall, 
pervsd had, and wayde them right, 
His lofty courage then did fall ; 
and straight appearèd in his sight 
Queene dgido'es Ghost, both grym and pale, 
which ruade this valiant Souldier quaile. 
'.4Eneas,' quoth this ghastly Ghost, 
'my whole delight when I did liue; 
'Thee of ail men I lovd most; 
'my fancye, my good will, did giue: 
'For intertainment I thee gaue, 
'vnthankfullye thow digdst my grave. 
'Wherefore prepare thy flyghting soule 
'to wander with me in the ayre, 
' Where deadly griefe shall make it ho'le, 
'because of me thow tookest no care. 
'Delay no tyme ; thy glasse is run; 
'thy date is past ; and death is corne.' 
'O stay a while, thow lovely spright! 
't3e not so hasty to convaye 
'My soule into eternal night, 
'where it shall ne're behould bright daye. 
'Oh do not frowne! Thy angry looke 
' hath made my breath my lyre forsooke. 
[xS] 5 Carthage's] read Carthage'. Ix9] x flyghting] i.e. 
fleeting. 4 tookest] i. e. toolt'st. 
( 28° ) 

Shirurz Ballacts, LXIIII 
'But wo is me! It is in vaine; 
'and booteles is my dismall cry. 
'Tyme will not be recald againe; 
'nor thow surcease, before I dye. 
'Oh let me lyre, to make amendes 
'to some of thy most dearest friendes. 
' But seeing thow indurate art, 
'and will no pitty to me show, 
'Because from thee I did depart, 
'and left vnpayde hat I did owe, 
'I must content my selfe to take 
'what lot to me thow ilt partake.' 
And thus, like one being in a traunce, 
a multitude of vgly fiendes 
About this woefull prince did daunce 
no helpe he had of any friendes. 
His body then they tooke away, 
and no man knowes his dying daye. 


What greater grief than loss of love 
Fol. 234. Notice the repetition effect in fifth line, as in No. LXV. 

Ee etripti0n an qualite of an 
To THE TUNE OF Il'iA u,hither will thow. 
WrAT greater griefe then losse of loue 
can happen to a constant minde? 
What greater paines can any proue 
then for to meete with one vnkinde ? 
Vnkinde she is whom I did love. 
Her falsehood I too soone did prove. 
[2ai 6 tO me] read with me. 
( 28 ) 

çirurn Ba]]ads, LXIX 
I livd in loue a certaine space, 
and hopde of guerdon for my paine ; 
_At length my love did me disgrace ; 
for my good will, did me disdaine. 
Disdaine she did, as now I finde. 
Who would think maydes would prove vnkinde ? 
She 'hom I lovd is vell compact ; 
ber stature, of a middle size. 
Nature in framing did not lacke ; 
the 3Iuses nine did make ber wise. 
Yea, wise she is; shee'le licke and leaue ; 
shee'le twenty honest minds deceiue. 
Her hayre is of an _Abronne hve, 
both cleare and comelye on her head, 
Which argues ber a loyer truc-- 
but constant minds in mayds be dead. 
Yea, dead indeed (I ara sure)in shee; 
for ffom ber word shee'le dayly flee. 
Her eyes, like sparklinge coales of lyre ; 
ber forehead fayre, yet not to hye, 
Which kindled much my firme desire. 
A skarre she hath above her eye-- 
A scar indeed. Whoso will prove 
slall finde ber great deceit in love. 
Her cherrye lips, that are so red; 
her Ivory teeth, like Pearle within; 
This causeth oft my hart to bleed 
when I thinke on her dimpled chyn-- 
Her dimpled chyn and lyps so fine, 
disgrast by ber vnconstant minde. 
Now for ber cheekes, vhat sha]l I say ? 
the Lillye white, and Rose soe red, 
Strives which of them shall beare the svay, 
or haue in her the supreame-head. 
For supreame-head these flowrs strive : 
yet she as false as one alive. 
[]  hopde] i.e. hoped. I'm [3] 5 licke] i.e. like. 
[4] t Abronne] i. e. auburn. 5 I ami . [5] a toi i.e. too. 
[] 4 supreame-head] i. e. supremac2f. 5 flowrs] i.e. flow-ers. 
( 8 ) 

Shirhurn Ballads, LXIX 
Her necke a stately towre of love, 
where Venus doth delight to dwell ; 
Her brests, like Alablaster cleare, 
with Azure raines, they do excell. 
Excell they doe, in all men's view: 
yet of her words she ne'are was trew. 
Her tender body, and ber skin 
as soft in handlyng as is silke. 
Well cleerd is she tobe seene, 
like Roses that be stept in rnilke. 
The rnilke so white, and Roses red, 
shewes ber to haue a changing head. 
The parts vnseene I will let passe, 
bêseerning secrets not to shêw ; 
Yet muse I rnust why Nature plas't 
in such a corps. Yet this I knowe, 
That Nature us'd ber chyefest frarne, 
for vnconstant minds to worke their sharne. 
In greenest grasse the Serpent lyes, 
and painted pots doth poyson hould; 
The fayrest faces whosoe tryes 
haue falsest harts. Of this be bould 
Be bolde indeed; for who will trye 
shall find ber full of flattee. 
My love, Camelion-like, will change; 
as he his shape, so she ber rninde. 
This day, shee'le seeme as though she lord ; 
to-morrow, will she prove 'nkinde 
Vnkinde indeed, and eke vntrewe: 
Camelion-like, shee'le change her hewe. 
A toung she bath, to traine one in; 
and eyes, for to allure the sente ; 
Teares bath she also, to excuse ; 
and faynd oathes, to hid offence. 
Her teares are like the Crotadile, 
that weeps when-as she will beguile. 
[9] 4 stept] i.e. steept. [xo] 3 why] read what. 6 minds] ad 
mind. their] re ber. [x] x traine one in] i.e. inÇeigle. 
4 hid] i. e. bide. 
( 83 ) 

SAirurz Ballac:s, LXIX 
Imbracements hath she, to provoke; 
and flattering smyles she doth hOt want ; 
And, yf yow seeme to be but strange, 
with kisses sweet she will enchant-- 
Enchant she will, with word and oath ; 
and, in the end, prove false of both. 
And, when yow thinke yow haue her sure, 
she farthest is from your intent. 
Well may she becke; shee'le from your lure ; 
her onelye minde to change is bent. 
Yea, change she will, and from yee flye; 
and what she spake, shee'le fiat denye. 
Yet this l'le say, for her sweet sake-- 
although my love so much she scorne-- 
She onely doth a conscience make 
of that which she bath cleane forsworne. 
Forsworne some thing she hath, I say ; 
but words are winde that fleets away. 
If maydens by these words are greeud, 
and know not how to mend the saine, 
Let them henceforth take better heed 
least false deceit do breed their shame-- 
Their shame, yea, and discredit to: 
'tware pittye that it should be so. 
Thus will I end, still wishing well 
vnto the sexe of female kinde; 
For some their be that will prove trewe, 
and some ,,viii waver like the windem 
Yea, like the wi,ade, their minds will change: 
'tis maydens' vse ; therefore, not strange. 
Yow youngmen ail, that meanes to prove 
the quirkes and tricks of I/'enus' schoole, 
Beware how first yow set your love, 
least at the last yow prove a foole-- 
A foole, indeed, you may chance prove, 
yf that yow trust to mayden's love. 
[7] 5 toi i. e. too. [8] 3 their] i.e. there. 
( 84 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, LXX 

No. LXX 
In Christmas time, as it befell 
Fol. 235 v. A specimen of a semi-nonsense, improvised song, with 
swinging four-line chorus, thoroughly representative of the coarse humours 
of an Eliabethan tavern : cp. the similar, but far better, piece in No. XXI. 
l)ildo, as a song-burden occurs in ,4 Wiltter's Tale, Act iv, Sc. 3- 
Stanza 5, line 4, gives high antiquity to the line, which elicited Burns's 
song 'O whistle and I'll corne to thee, my lad'. It seems to be quoted 
from some well-known ditty, as also are stanza 5, line 2, and stanza 
8, line 4- 
l nel 0ng intitull : 0 toapp toitl a toill0. 
Ir Christmasse tyme, as yt befell, 
the couldnes of the weather, 
A bonny lasse, and ber maister both, 
the would go ligge together. 
With--h o, dildedo, hoe dildedo, 
hey dildedo, dildelg'e ! 
The bravest sport that a man can devise 
is to wap ith a widdow, berladye ! 
The first good deed that Rowland did, 
Rowland lope into the street ; 
He brooke a spare on a Scotchman['s] head: 
si's'Take thow this for my maister's sake !' 
The mother got in at one side of the bed; 
the daughter, in at the other. 
And Lusty Rowland lope between; 
si's ' wee'le ligg ail together.' 
Peggye is blinde, and cannot see; 
and what she heares she date not tell. 
Blow out the candle that burnes so cleare, 
for i'le haue Rowland to my selfe. 
Rowland gaue ber a taffata bat, 
and'Bony lasse, canst thow love me?' 
She did him as good a turne for that, 
and--'Whistle, and l'le corne to thee.' 
[z] 4 the]i.e, they. 8 berladye!] i.e. By Our Lady. 
[] 3 spare) perhaps spear or spar. 4 si'si i-e. sabs. 
[4] 4 selle] read sell the pieee is in north-country dialeet). 
( 85 ) 

S/irurn Ballatts, LV) 
My father he is gone from home ; 
my mother is blinde and cannot see; 
And I am a bonny lasse left alone, 
and here is a bed for thee and me. 
If yow will buy a filly Nagg, 
or a mare to win the bell, 
Let them listen vnto me, 
and fie tell yow v;here one is to sell. 
l.owland bought him a filly mare; 
she would hOt be watered in a well, 
But in the Chamber priuily ; 
and--'What they did I cannot tell.' 
My husband is to Zandon gone, 
the great god be v;ith him 
l'le make him a Cuckold before he cornes home-- 
he had better had taken me with him. 
Rose is white and rose is red, 
and rose is wondrous bonny, 
And rose hath lost her mayden head 
by playing with so manye. 
Wist my mother that I were here 
in playing with the v;iddowe's sorme 
She would set ail the towne on tire, 
but wee'le be dooing till she corne. 
If she had playd with one or two, 
or yf she had playd with two or three, 
The countrye would have borne her on; 
but she hath playd with twentye. 
I-Iorne beasts are corne to towne 
and pastures must be eaten : 
And, maydens, be content a while-- 
your buskins must be beaten. 

[io] 4 manye] i. e. mony (north-country dialect). 
( 86 ) 

ç]irurn Ba]]ads, L)) 
Rowland he is a high tall man, 
the height of a wenches racket. 
As I suppose, an elle of cloth 
will make him hose and Jacket. 
Wide inough, and syde inough, 
they 'ill corne downe vnto his knee. 
I pray thee, Lasse, make no more beds but one, 
for we doe meane to lye ail with thee. 
I haue no more of my song to sing, 
but Rowland did these wenches woo. 
He gaue them many a pretty knack, 
and thus must yong men vse to doo. 
With--]2ey dildeda dile, 


Mark well this story strange and true 
Fol. 237 : a long narrative, of the nature of a modern novel ; drawn 
from, and too faithfully imitating the horrors of, some Italian no'vell, t. 
q m0.t [amrntal[t 0r o[efull ittt, 0f an 
To HE TNE Or  Zadyds Fall. 
MARKE well thys storye strange and trew, 
yow wicked loyers all. 
Retyre yow from the loathd liues 
for vice will haue a fall. 
Ix6] 5 de. Ix] 3 the] read your. 

S/irurn tallacts) LXXI 
Shun ail incestuous, lustfull pathes, 
which do direct to hell ; 
And giue attentiue eare a while 
to this which I shall tell. 
There was a worthy Gentleman, 
of good account and faine, 
Which had to wife a Lady bright, 
a gal|ant worthy dame. 
In great tranquilitye and peace 
the lyvèd from annoyes. 
And, in three yeares, God blessd them 
with three sweet pretye boyes. 
It was the special care they had 
to teach them holy truth, 
That they might honour gaine in age 
by that they learnd in youth. 
(;od dayly blessd their increase, 
and they did growe in grace. 
Dame Fortune never durst attempt 
to shewe her frowninge face. 
Full XX yeares this ioy remainde, 
and they did well agree. 
Ne» crosse nor grieuous sicknesses 
could work their povertye. 
At length she waxèd great with child : 
it was her hart's desire. 
The lord had sent the wishbd ioy 
which she did oft require. 
The child that norisht in her wombe 
was of the famale kinde, 
Which ruade ber, in her deepe distresse, 
great comfort for to finde. 
But weaknes in her laboringe tyme 
had overcomd her so 
That all the ioy which she conceiued. 
was turnèd into wo. 
Fier husband came to comfort her, 
but helpe was ail in vaine; 
Fier vitall breath, being gon and spent, 
would hot be called againe. 
I'] 6 the] i. e. they. 
( -SS ) 

Shirurn Ballads, LXXI 
ttis lovinge armes full faste he twinde 
about her middle small, 
And, for to case her wofull sma 
to god he lovde did call. 
' Deale hot extreamly, lord,' he sayd, 
'with me, which ara but dust: 
' Take hot awaye my loving wife, 
'the hope of ail my trust. 
' First let me dissolve in Earth 
'from whence I did proceed. 
'For why ? the groning paines she feeles 
'doth make my hart to bleed.' 
'Farwell, my husband deere !' q[uo]d she, 
'and eke my children three; 
' With mortall eyes your mother here 
« yow never more shall sec. 
' Oh praye for me, my loving freinds : 
'for why ? my lyfe is donc, 
' And weaknes will not surfer me 
'to end what I begunne.' 
And, there-with-all, she fetcht a sighe 
that pained her inwardlye: 
Then, turning ber to the wall, 
she, like a Lambe, did dye. 
The new-borne infant by her syde, 
that had receiuèd breath, 
Referde it to her maker's handes, 
even at ber mother's death. 
And then this wofull gentleman, 
with hart full sore dismayde, 
At this unlookte for heavy chaunce 
was wondrous ill apayde. 
I-Ie wrong his hands in greuous sort ; 
he strocke his painèd breast :-- 
'My ioy, my loue, my dearest wife! 
' whose soule is now at test, 
'Thow, and the ofspring of thy wombe, 
'are flyed away in hast; 
' And I remayne, lamenting still 
'my pleasures that are past. 
[9] 3 her to] readher face to. 
U ( 8 9 ) 

Shir[urn Ballads, LXXI 
'But, seeing it is rehouaye's will 
'to keepe yow in his power, 
' Farewell, my s¢ife and Infant sweet ! 
'farwell, my fancye's flowre!' 
The mother, and her Daughter, then, 
they buryed speadelye, 
For to conuaye them from the sight 
of sorrowe's carefull eye. 
Both in one graue they were inclosed, 
to take their quiet rest: 
The pleasures that their soules inioy 
by non tan be exprest. 
But, as the world's acustomed course-- 
she being layd in moulde, 
Her husband had forgotten quite 
his love that was of olde. 
For scarse 3 months were past and gone, 
after his wiue's discease, 
But his affections entertainde 
a quyet lovinge peace. 
His fancy on a woman fixt, 
which he tooke to his wife. 
In short time after he was wed 
did end his wretched lyre. 
His yongest sonne was ail her ioy: 
with him she fell in love; 
And from his father, whom she wed, 
her hart she did remove. 
She vsd many craftye wiles, 
to trap him in her trayne. 
She sent him many loving lines, 
which he would not retaine. 
And, for he never could enioye 
his father's lands by birth, 
Shee poysond his brethern twaine, 
at supper, in their myrth. 
Then, speaking to him, on a daye 
these wordes she did expresse: 
'Oh, drive me not of with delaye: 
'but let me final redresse.' 
[I6] 3 of] i.e. off. 
( *gÇ ) 

çhir[urn Ballads, LXXI 
'My loving mother,' then quoth he, 
' solicite me no more. 
'I will hOt yeeld to your request, 
'though I were ne're so poore.' 
With heavye hart awaye she went 
vnto ber loving suse: 
Hee'le 'graunt whatsoever she requests,' 
with faythfull hart, he vow. 
' I would hot faine, my deare,' q[uo]d she, 
'ere yow did end your life, 
'Out sonne, with ioy, we both might see 
'be maried to a wif« 
'Here is a kinswoman of mine, 
'a fayre and propper mayde. 
' Let them in wedlocke's holy weede 
' be speadylye arayde.' 
'This damsell to my soone,' q[uo]d he, 
' do presentlye convaye. 
' And ail the speed that may be ruade 
' shall st their wedding daye.' 
This wicked woman had made knowne 
the secrets of her minde 
Vnto this gossip, whom she craved 
to be to her thus kinde 
As for to let her lye one night 
betweene her husband's armes, 
And she would keepe her sale and free 
from ail iii thrtned harmes. 
She graunted what she did require ; 
and then the mariage daye 
Drew on, and was solempnized 
in gallant so ech waye. 
The bridgrome, being somewhat ill, 
to bed then straight went he. 
His mother in the Chamber hid, 
that no man could ber see. 
The Bride did faine a slight excuse 
out of the bed to go. 
Vnto his mother then she went, 
to ease her paynd wo. 
[xT] 5 not] ad now. 


Shirhurn Ballads, LXXI 
Who, being naked to ber smocke 
into the bed did slyde. 
And then the Bridegrome laye with ber, 
thinking it was his bride. 
They past the time, till midnight cam, 
in pleasing sport and playe. 
They fell asleepe, as loyers vse, 
vntill the breake of daye. 
lier cousen, that should waken ber, 
slept fast, and closde her Eyes. 
At length the Bridegrome did awake, 
when yt was rime to fise. 
But when he had, with steadfast eye, 
beheeld his mother there, 
His cherye cheekes were pale and wan, 
his hart was full of feare. 
Alovde he scrikt most piteouslye, 
and wakte his wretched Bride, 
Who, with a fearefull countenaunce, 
came neere to his bed syde. 
'0 wicked woman!' then he sal'de, 
'whl' hast thow me deceaued ? 
' And lai'de ml' mother in ml' place, 
' whom I, vnknowne, receiued ? 
'Therefore both for l'out wickednes 
'l'our hire I sure will pal'e; 
'And all l'out soules shall take the flight, 
« ere we depart awaye.' 
Then with a knife, which he did vse 
to carry in his sheath, 
Himselfe, his mother, and his wife, 
he wounded vnto death. 
His father, hearing of the crye, 
forth of his Bed did runne ; 
And, when his wife beheelde his face, 
theise wordes she straight begun :-- 
'O pardon me, my husband deare! 
'forgiue thy wicked wife, 
' For murder[ing] thy children three'-- 
there-with she left her life. 
[oe3] S scrikt] i. e. shriek'd. [oe4] 3 in my] read in thy. [oe6] 3 
murdering] word writtea imperfectly in a smurched correction. 
292 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, LXXI 
When he had hard her speake these words, 
and knew how all things stoode, 
Even with a knife, that they were slaine, 
he shed his dearest bloud. 
This is no forgd, faind tale; 
but trew it is indeede. 
In Chronieles of Italy 
the story I do reade. 
Be warnd, yow lascivious folke, 
and ail such ill despise; 
For it seemes hatefull to the worlde, 
and to .Irehoua's Eyes. 

Good Christians all, attend a while 
Fol. 24I. The mention of Elizabeth in stanza I4 fixes the date as 
March 16, 16oi-2. 
From lines 5 and 6 of stanza 9 it is plain that this ballad was copied 
from a printed example, which had a woodcut o the monster, exactly as 
No. XXXIII. These monstrous-birth ballads were in great demand. 
Accordingly, Shakespeare purs one of them into Autolycus's pack, in 
A IVinter's Tale (6)» Act iv, Sc. 3- In connexion with stanza 8, it 
may be noted that William Prynne, who was to denounce ' the unloveliness 
of love-locks', was just over a year old at the date of this ballad. 
 mot trange an trm balla of a mon 
t[r]ou til borne in Sou«hamp«o 
tueape teing te 1O. tap of A/arch [at, 
1602, a it i erilie bp te maietr[a]t 
an oter of te ame tonne, itner 
of ti mot fearfull 
To rnz rçsz oF T& dye's rail. 
Goo Christians ail, attende a while 
to that which I shall tell, 
Which was a matter ve strang 
yet knowne to manye well. 
It is hot faind, nor devisde, 
but certaine 'tis and trewe, 
As many men OEn witnesse beare: 
then marke what doth ensewe. 
[6] 7 with ai read with the. 

293 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, LXXI 
Who, being naked to her smocke 
into the bed did slyde. 
And then the Bridegrome laye with her, 
thinking it was his bride. 
Th.ey past the time, till midnight cam, 
in pleasing sport and playe. 
They fell asleepe, as loyers vse» 
vntill the breake of daye. 
Her cousen, that should waken her, 
slept fast, and closde her Eyes. 
At length the Bridegrome did awake, 
when yt was rime to fise. 
But when he had, with steadfast eye, 
beheeld his mother there, 
His cherye cheekes were pale and wan, 
his hart was full of feare. 
Alovde he serikt most piteouslye, 
and wakte his wretched Bride, 
Who, with a fearefull countenaunce, 
came neere to his bed syde. 
'O wicked woman 1' then he sayde, 
'why hast thow me deceaued? 
«And layde my mother in my place» 
« whom I, vnknowne, receiued ? 
' Therefore both for your wickednes 
'your hire I sure will paye ; 
'And ail your soules shall take the flight, 
' ere 'e depart awaye.' 
Then with a knife, which he did vse 
to carry in his sheath, 
Himselfe, his mother, and his wife, 
he wounded vnto death. 
His father, hearing of the crye, 
forth of his Bed did runne; 
And, when his wife beheelde his face, 
theise wordes she straight begun :-- 
'O pardon me, my husband deare ! 
'forgiue thy wicked wife, 
' For murder[ing] thy children three'-- 
there-with she left her lire. 
[3] S scrikt] i. e. shriek'd. [4] 3 in my] read in thy. [6] 3 
murdering] word written imperfectly in a smurched correction. 
( "9" ) 

Sirurn Ballads, LXXI 
When he had hard her speake these words, 
and knew how ail things stoode, 
Even with a knife, that they were slaine, 
he shed his dearest bloud. 
This is no forgd, faind tale; 
but trew it is indeede. 
In Chronicles of taly 
the story I do reade. 
Be warnèd, yow lascivious folke, 
and ail such ill despise ; 
For it seemes hatefull to the worlde, 
and to Jehoua's Eyes. 

Good Christians all, attend a while 
Fol. 24x. The mention of Elizabeth in stanza x4 fixes the date as 
Match x6, 
From lines 5 and 6 of stanza 9 it is plain that this ballad was copied 
frorn a printed example, which had a woodcut of the monster, exactly as 
No. XXXIII. These monstrous-birth ballads were in great demand. 
Accordingly, Shakespeare puts one of them into Autolycus's pack, in 
A IVinter's Talc (16), Act iv, Se. 3- In connexion with stanza 8, it 
may be noted that William Prynne, who was to denounce 'the unloveliness 
of love-locks'» was just over a year old at the date of this ballad. 
 mot trang anb trt ballab of a 
st[r]ou tl orn in Soutamp/on 
tatouage ting tt 1O. ag of AIarcA last, 
1002, a if ig trifie  tt maittr[a]t 
of t mot farfull gt. 
To rue rur or T& dy«'s fall. 
Goo ChrisKans fil, attende a while 
to that which I shall tel 
Which was a matter ve strang 
yet knowne to manye well. 
It is not faind, nor desde, 
but ceine 'ris and trewe, 
As many men n witnesse beare: 
then marke t doth ensewe. 
[6]  with ai read with the. 

293 ) 

Shirhurn Ballads, LXXII 
In Southampton tbere dwelling is 
a man of good report, 
AnthonA'e Savadge cald by naine, 
who lyved in honest sort; 
A Sayler, that doth vse the saine, 
and thereby doth maintaine 
Himselfe, his wife, and ail the test, 
that vnto him retaine. 
Vpon the syxeteene day of lllarch, 
his mire with child was great. 
She, knowing that her rime was corne, 
her husband did intreat 
The midwife should be sent for straite, 
to helpe at such a neede. 
Who came vnto her willinglye, 
to stand her in some stead. 
The woman then, immediatlye, 
vnto her labour fell, 
Whose gryping paynes increast so fast, 
yt greeves my hart to tell. 
At last, the wishèd tyme was come-- 
she was deliuered quite, 
Not of a maie or female kinde, 
which did them much afryght, 
But of a monster, and no childe ; 
which did increase her woe, 
And greeved the mother, and the rest, 
before that they did goe. 
For, still as they beheeld the face, 
the fashion for to see, 
His countenance like a munky was: 
no nose at ail had he. 
A mouth be had, without a tongue, 
which stood right where it should. 
Also, a mouth on ether cheeke, 
which helpe noe waye they could. 
A tongue in eyther of these mouths, 
the which is strange and trewe, 
With turfes of heare on eyther syde, 
a wofull sight to vewe. 
[6]  turfes of heare] i.e. tuf fs of hair. 
294 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, L((II 
Fowre eares he had vpon his head, 
two of them grew vpright ; 
Much like a cat's eares they did seeme, 
which was a greevous sight. 
A hole vpon his crowne he had, 
descending to his backe. 
Quite through his bodye it did goe, 
but yet a vent did lacke. 
Alonge his necke and shoulders hung 
blacke lockes of curld hayre, 
Much lyke the locks that many men 
vpon their heads do weare-- 
Which sight is growne soe odious, 
as good men yt detest, 
Because it makes a man to seeme 
as yf he were a beast. 
Dead was it borne ; with eyes wide ope 
(most gastlye to behould), 
Which fyer seemd to sparkle forth-- 
none but the truth is tould. 
Thus haue your hard, and here may see 
his trewe proportion plaine. 
Take warninge by this wofull sight, 
and from your synnes refraine. 
For god is angrye with vs ail, 
as dayly doth appeare 
Ry manye signes and tokens sent 
vnto vs which are heere. 
His favour lately to vs shone 
may more vs to amende 
If we consider how the lord 
his blessinges to vs send. 
Where is the man that lires this day 
that ever yet hath seene 
A yeere more forward then this same-- 
I knowe haue never beene. 
Of late ail things were very deare, 
and sould at prises hye, 
But god above regarded haue 
the poore's ¢omplaint and crye. 
[9] 5 your] adyou. 6 his trewe proportion] i. e. in the wood- 
cut at the top of tlae printed ballad. [ Io] 5 shone] i. e. shown. 

Shirurn Ballads, LXXII 
And yf the lord had styll withhelde 
his favour from the poore, 
Ere this had many a needfull soule 
starvd at the Richman's doore ; 
As £azarus did at Dives' gate, 
yet none but crummes did crave, 
And could not haue them at his hands, 
though they his life might saue. 
Wherefore, with speed, repent yow of 
that synne yow loved so long ; 
And nowe abandon ail those wayes, 
and do the poore no wronge. 
Ail men, repent ; and nowe giue prayse 
vnto the lord above: 
And, for his favour to yow shone, 
his prayses see yow love. 
And pray vnto the Lord out god 
to blot out of his minde 
Those synnes which yow committed haue, 
that yow maye favour finde. 
Thy servaunt Queene Elizabeth, 
Oh lord, guide with thy hand, 
That peace and plentye, ail her reigne, 
maye flourish in ber lande. 


0 what a plague is love 

Fol. 242 v. Text given in Roxburhe l?allads, vi. 46I, from a Black-letter 
exemplax. This piece is a particularly good instance of the uncertainty of 
ballad texts, lqot only does the order of stanzas in the MS. differ from 
that in the printed copy, but the printed copy leaves out six of the MS. 
stanzas, and brings in three which the MS. does hot have. There are 
also continual differences of readings. 
( 296 ) 

SSirurn 1]allaas, L;(X111 


To THE TUrE OF 19ainly came lhazo la me. 
O WH,T a plague is love! 
how shall I beare it ? 
She will vnconstant prove, 
I greatly feare it. 
She so molests my minde 
that my wit fayleth. 
She wavers with the wind, 
as the ship sealeth. 
Please her the best I may, 
she looks a-nother way. 
Alacke and weladaye t 
_Phillida flouts me. 
At the fayre, yesterdaye, 
she would not see me, 
But turnd a-nother way 
when she came nye me. 

Ix] 8 sealeth] i.e. saileth. 

Shirurn Ballads, LXXIII 
Dick had her in to dine ; 
he might intreat ber. 
Will had ber to the wine ; 
I could hot get her. 
With .Daniel did she dance; 
on me she lookt askance. 
0 thrice vnhappy chance! 
d°hillida flouts me. 
I cannot worke and sleepe, 
both at al season : 
Love vounds my hart so deepe, 
without all reason. 
I do consume, alas! 
with care and sorrow, 
Even like a sort of beasts, 
pinde in a medow. 
I shall be dead, I feare, 
within this thousand yeare ; 
and ail for very care-- 
19hillida fleurs me. 
She bath a clout of mine 
wrought with good coventree, 
Which she keepes for a signe 
of my fidelitye ; 
But, in fayth, yf she flinch, 
she shall hOt weare it; 
To Tyb, my t'other wench, 
I meane to beare it. 
Yet it will kill my hart, 
so quickly to depart. 
Death, kill me with the dart! 
_Phillida fleurs me. 
Yesternight, very late, 
as I was walking, 
I saw on in the gare, 
with my love talkinge. 
Every word that she spooke, 
he gave ber kissinge, 
Which she as kindly tooke, 
as mother's blessing. 
But, when I corne to kysse, 
she very daintye is. 
Oh what a hell is this! 
_Phillida flovts me. 
[4]   the] read thy. [5] a on] i.e. one. 
( z98 ) 

çAirurn Ballads, LXXIII 

Faire maide, be not coy! 
never disdaine me. 
I ara my mother's boy; 
sweet ! intertaine me. 
She'l giue me, when she dyes, 
ail things befyttinge, 
Her poultrye and ber bees, 
with ber gose sytting, 
A payre of mattrice beds, 
a barrell full of shreds.-- 
And yet, for all my goods, 
thillida flovts me. 

I saw my face, of late, 
in a fayre fountaine. 
I know ther's non so feat, 
in ail the mountaine. 
Lasses do leave their sleepe 
and flocke a-bove me; 
And for my love do weepe, 
and flocke above me. 
Maydens in every place 
striues to behold my face ; 
and yet, o heavy case! 
thillida flouts me. 

Virgins haue stony harts : 
who would haue thought it ? 
I know their subtill arts ; 
deare haue I bought it. 

Farwell, fayre hillida ! 
I dye with sorrow, 
For I begin to faint, 
and tremble every ioint ; 
help me to lose a point 
'hillida flouts me. 

[6] z not coy] readnot so coy. 8 gose] i.e. goose. 9 mattrice] 
i.e. mattress. B.-L. copy has «mallards', which might mean 
stuffed with ducks  feathers. o shreds] i. e. for patchwork. 
[3] 5 sleepe] readsheep. 6 a-bore] readabout. [8] 5 and 6, 
two lines are missing, t t lose] i.e. loose. 
( 299 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, LXXIII 

Maide, looke what yow doe, 
and in tyme take me; 
I can bave other two, 
yf yow forsake me: 
For l)oll, the dyrye maide, 
laught on me lately, 
And wanton IVinifride 
favours me greatly. 
The on threw milke on my clothes ; 
the other playes with my nose ; 
what loving signs be those! 
2ATlida flouts me. 
Corne to me, prety peate! 
let me imbrace thee. 
Though thow be fayre and feate, 
do not disgrace me ; 
For I will constant prove, 
" (make no deniall) 
And be thy dearest love-- 
proofe maketh tryall. 
If ought do breed thy paine, 
I tan procure thy gaine; 
yet, bootelesse, I complaine-- 
2hillida flouts me. 
Thow shalt eat curds and creame, 
all the yeere lasting ; 
And drinke the christall streame, 
pleasant in tastinge: 
Whig and hey whilst thow burst; 
and bramble berryes ; 
Pye-lids and pasti-crust, 
Payres, plumbs, and cheees. 
Thy garments shalbe rhin, 
ruade of a weather's skyn-- 
yet all hot worth a pin: 
_Phillida flouts me. 
I round a stock-dove's nest, 
and thow shalt haue yt. 
The cheese-cak, in my chest, 
for thee I save yt. 

[9] x Idaide') read Idaiden. 5 dyrye] read dayrye. 
one. [xx] 8 Payres] i. e. pears. 
( Soo ) 

9 on] i.e. 

S/ir[urn Ballat¢s, LXXIII 
I will giue the rush-rings, 
key-knobs, and cushings, 
Pence, purse, and other things, 
bels, beads, and bracelets, 
My shepe-hooke, and my dog, 
my bottell, and my bag-- 
yet ail not worth a rag: 
29hillida flouts me. 
Thy glorious beutye's gleam 
dazels my eye-sight, 
Like the sunne's brightest beam 
shining at midnight. 
0 my hart! o my heeles! 
fye on ail wenches! 
Pluck vp thy corag, Giles; 
bang him that flinches. 
Back to thy sheep againe, 
thow sylly shepherd's swain ; 
thy labour is in vaine: 
29hillida flouts me. 


Now draws on the fruitful time 

Fol. :44. Possibly by re.action against the exaltation of celibacy over 
matrimony in conventual rimes, there was in the Elizabethan age a violent 
prejudice against spinsterhood. The Black-letter ballads inveighing against 
girls who bave hot mated are surpassed in number only by the contradictory 
ballads, which dilate on the unhappiness of ill-matched couples. The most 
that be said of the present specimen is that it is hot quite so bad as 
many of its set. A modern parallel, on a higher plane of feeling, is round 
in Alexander Rodger's (d. 1846) song of the smith's daughter's acceptance 
of her ragged wooer's offer of a runaway match : 
Deed, lad, (quo' she,) your offer's fair: 
I really think I'll tak it. 
Sae, gang awa ; get out the mare, 
We'll baith slip on the back o't; 
For, gin I wait my father's rime, 
I'll wait till I be fifty; 
But ha! I' marry in my prime, 
An' mak a wife most thrifty. 
M. C. Aitken's Scottish Song (1874), p. z2o. 
The refrain belongs to an older song and has a lilt which is absent from 
the rest of the piece. One is tempted to change ' lovlye ', of the title, into 
' lonely '. 
[a] 5 the] i.e. thee. 6 cushings] i.e. cushions. 
C3o ) 

Shir[urn 15allads, LXXI1/" 

¢ lobl¢ amtntation of a altr' 
augÇt¢r for laRt of 
To THE TUNE OF .,4zt Oyster t)'e, or Robinson's Gai/lard. 
Now drawes on the fruiffull tyme, 
when flowres sweetly springe 
And v¢hen, on everye biossom'd bough, 
the Cuckoe merrye sings, 
And also when the blushinge buds 
of virgita's chastyty 
Do flourish forth, but beares no fruite 
vntill they married be. 

This summer tyme maydes take delight 
to steale the sports of love, 
To their sweet harts making vowes 
as true as Turtle dove ; 
And everye on assistance makes 
to her fidelytye. 
IVttat shall I doe ? shall I dye for love, 
and never maried be ? 
[I']4 Cuckoe] readCuckoes, sings] readsing, lai 3 
making] read each making. 5 on assistance] 'ead one 
assurance. 6 toi 'ead of. 7 Refrain tobe sung at end of 
al| stanzas, except the first and 
( a « ) 

S/zirurn Ballacts, LX'XII 
But I, poore mayde, haue iyvd longe, 
and many summers seene, 
Yet fortune never yeelded me 
a iovely gowne of greene, 
Nor yet (alas '.) any lusty youth 
wouid never smyle on me. 
Ail my thoughts and industr3,e 
is youngmen for to please. 
When they do talke on Cupid's toyes, 
I am at setled ease ; 
But, yf they chaunce to looke a-syde, 
I pyne in iealosye. 
I am now thirteene yeares oid. 
Goal wot! I thinke it long, 
And marvaile much that chastytye 
in me shouid be soe stronge. 
But now 'tys rime to make asaï 
of my virginitye. 
My father is a Counselior, 
and hoordeth mony store ; 
In pleadings of his cryents' cause, 
doth labour very sore. 
And I, poore peate, will him reward 
that wouid pleade soe to me. 
Love still resteth in my minde ; 
love perceth sore my hart. 
Love many times increaseth ioyes ; 
love sometyme breedeth smart. 
And thus doth love, in lovinge weyghts, 
shew great extremitye. 
My neyghbours maydens rounde abovt 
suters enowe doe finde, 
Waiking with them in summer nights; 
but I am ieft behinde. 
There never a youth in our streete 
that once regardeth me. 
[6] 3 cryents] readclients. [7] 5 weyghts] i. e. wilhts. [8]  
neyghbours] i. e. neighbour. 5 never] read is nevcr. 

çir[mrn l:;allal G LA)IIiL [9] 
My Cossen liesse, with great delight, 
is nowe a marryed wife ; 
And, with her husband, ioyfullye 
doth lead a maryed lyre. 
But I, poore I! vnmaryed am; 
yet full as fayre as she. 
bIy gowne is made of the finest stuffe 
that is in cheape-syde Shops: 
To keepe my breath as sweete as muske, 
I feede on sugred sops. 
The Taylor, on the fashion rare, 
hath ruade yt cunninglye. 
My shoes are made of the finest syze 
with purple-coloured hose; 
My handker-chefe is readye styll, 
to puryfye my nose ; 
My pettycoate is marie so short, 
that yout[h]s my legges may see. 
Every Sundaye I goe to church, 
for no devotion sake, 
But onelye to spye out one 
I might my true-love make. 
Alas! I wish, but dare hot speake ; 
my blushinge letteth me. 
With tare I thinke on marriage state, 
as I lye in my bed. 
So feede my selle with fond delayes 
till I am almost dead. 
I wishe and wishe, a thousand tymes, 
I once that daye might see. 
My aged parents, dotinglye, 
from wedlocke keepe me styll ; 
But I would haue a lustye youth, 
yf I might haue my will. 
Would goal they were but once in grave, 
then--farwell, chastytye ! 

[1o] Lines 3 and 4 should precede lines x and . 
o4 ) 

Shirkurn Ballads, LXXIF 
Some do vowe virginitye ! 
but I thinke nothinge soc: 
For the thoughts of such fond fooles 
doth breed my extreame woe. 
Alas! to Cupid I must yeelde, 
and Venus, curtesye. 


I am sprunge of a gentle stoeke, 
indewde with nature's grace. 
The fruitfull tree, virginitye, 
stands buddinge in my face. 
I smyle, with lovlye eountenaunce, 
on them that looks on me. 


My love-sicke heart doth dye with greife; 
evill fortune, doth deplore. 
My breath is spent with lyngring speach, 
that I tan speake no more. 
Send ye, oh g.ods, some harts' delight 
to me in mlserye. 
I4"hat shall I doe ? shall I dye for love, 
and never maryed be ? 

Reviue my sports, o Venus bright, 
thow marron of my woe. 
Renewe my hart ,aith some delight ; 
kinde favour to me show. 
Send then some faythfull on to me 
that love will offer free, 
That yt at length, in sollace bower, 
I maye once maryed be. 

[8]  marron] IaerhaIa$ patron. 

s,,,,, x ( 3os ) 

Shir/urn Ballads, LXXF 


It fell upon a Sabbath day 

Fol. 46. As far back as Chancer, the officer who aeted as jackal to 
the archdeacon's lawyer was rnarked out as a scoundrel of the deepest dye 
and a pestilent blackmailer: see in Prologue to the Canterbury Tales 
the description of 'the Somnour' (i.e., in later terre, the apparitor). Some 
of Chaucer's brandings can stili be traced on the unabashed forehead of 
the Elizabethan representative of the class. Of Latin he had (carum 
nomine.O 'a fewe termes.., leamed of some decree'; he couid wink at 
the offences of every one who could be ' y-punished in his purs' ; of ail 
young people, he 'knew hir counseil', by spying. Corporations are round 
protecting themselves against this vile creature, by straitly limiting his 
interference to the jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical court over clerics and 
over wills. At Maldon, Aprii 18, 1496, a by-law was made, allowing a 
' peremptorius ' to serve a citation on any executor, or on any rector, vicar, 
curate, or licentiate ; but providing that if he serve a citation on any other 
person, it shall be at his own risk of being beaten or wounded, without 
remedy of law from the magistrates of the borough. Elizabeth's legislation 
gave fresh powers to this odious system ; and in Charles l's rime accumu- 
lated indignation against the ecclesiastical courts was one of the most 
powerful influences tending to the overthrow of both monarchy and church. 
The Civil War suspended the abuses of the Ecclesiastical Courts, but 
they returned with the monarchy, and continued till the Revolution. In 
I68o there appeared a quarto pamphlet of 24 pages, vigorously denounc- 
ing such oppressions as excommunication lot refusal to pay fees 
(stanza 13) : 
' A discourse concerning excommunication as executed by Officiais... 
discussed in a letter.., by one who is a friend to the English liberty. 
Wrote before the Parliament which sat from Match 1678 to the end of 
May 679 .... London, Printed for Tho. Parkhurst at the Bible and 
Three Crowns at the lower end of Cheap-side, 68o.' This pamphlet 
begins ' To his highly honoured friend, J. B. Esq. Honoured Sir, The 
charitable design of this paper is... to shew you one species of prisoners 
hom no Parliament bath had leizure as yet to take notice of.' 

.çl nctu talla of t!le ti)arrat0r an 
ŒEO THE TUNE OF "]tt I[iller wauld a wooing ride. 
IT feil vpon a Sabaoth day 
The Divell he would a hunting ride ; 
To rang and ravine for a praye, 
He beat the bushes that were so wide. 

[I] t Sabaoth] i. e. Sabbath. 
( 3o6 ) 

3 rang] i.e. range. 

Shirhurn Ballads, LXXV 

At last he tufled on a bush; 
A provd Parritor out did rushe: 
His corum nomine ready had he, 
His pen and inkehorne standinge by. 

With that the Divill amazèd was. 
' What fellow art thow ?' the Divill did say. 
' I waite for profyt of ail that passe, 
' Of ail that walke the feilds this waye. 
' I am a Parrator by my art, 
'As thow shalt know ere thow depart. 
'My ¢orum nomine here yow see, 
' And penne and inkehorne standing nye.' 

The Divell desired him, courteouslye, 
His whole Authoritye for to tell. 
'I am an Instrument,' quoth he, 
'To punish those that liue hot well. 
' For yf I see to clyppe and kysse, 
' Although they doe nothinge amisse, 
'My corum nomine is ready heere. 
' l'le cause them soone for to appeare. 

'And this is a place that fits me 
'There is none but that I tan see; 
'¥ong men with mayds a-milking goe, 
'That thinke full little I ana so nye. 
'Although they doe no other thinge 
' But chang a glove, or (say) a ringe, 
'My ¢orum nomine is readye there, 
' l'le cyte them at ZytchfleM to appeare. 

'And, when the sunne is gone to test, 
'At owlight, when the harlots walke, 
'To the Towne I goe, and thinke me blest, 
' Wher I heare manye laugh and talke. 
' When they haue drunken hard ail day 
« They little care then what they say. 
'My corum nomine is ready then ; 
'I note their names with my penne. 

[t] 7 corum] i.e. quorum. Part of the formula of the citation 
to appear belote the Archdeacon's officiaL [3] 5 toi i. e. tv¢o. 
[5] 8 names with] read names down with. 
x2 (307) 

Shir[urn Ballads, LXXV 
'Then I corne in: for drinke I call, 
'And rosse the pot as others doe. 
'1 note their names, and summon ail, 
'For drinkers and for Swarrers too. 
'Then, in their Aie, they will vpbraid 
'Each other with some wife or maide. 
'My corum nomine is ready then ; 
'I note their names downe with my pen. 
'And thus I spende the Sabaoth day. 
'For that ys the cheefest of our gaine.-- 
'If ail the weeke I find no praye, 
' I must devise, I tell yow plaine. 
' If one a-nother's howse doth vse 
' I say him selfe he doth abuse. 
'My corum nomine is ready heere, 
' I summon them straight for to appeare. 
' If a man or a woman strike awrye, 
'Though yt be fortye yeares agoe, 
"If I it heare, then hastylye 
' I never rest but I worke them woe. 
'Although the marry and 'mends doe make, 
' Yet must they pay, for fashion sake. 
'My corum nomine is readye heere ; 
' I summon them straight for to appeare. 
' If worke be scant, as seldome is, 
' I practize to set shrowd queanes at bate; 
'I tel1 one what another is 
'And soe do breede a deadlye hate: 
' At whore and whore then will they bee. 
' Citations then abroade must flye ; 
'My corum nomine is verye neare 
'For to correct what I doe heare. 
' And when the court daye draws neere, 
'I must be sure to call to minde 
' That none within the court appeare 
' But such as haue their purses linde. 

[6] 4 Swarrers] i.e. swearers. [7] 6 him selfe] r«ad his wife. 
[8] 5 the] i.e. they. [9] 3 is] r¢ad says. 8 correct] read collect. 
[ toi t draws] r¢ad draweth. 4 But such] r¢ad Of such. 
( 3 °8 ) 

S/irurn Ballads, LXXV 
' The rich will paye a double fee ; 
' The poore will yeeld something to mee. 
' My corum nomine beares such swaye, 
'They'le sell their clothes my fees to paye. 
'Many esteeme soe much good naine, 
'¥ow would laugh to see their pitteous looks; 
'Thei'le paye me well to staye the saine, 
'For feare they corne within my books. 
'But those that agree with me for feare, 
'My toaster of those shall hOt heare : 
'My corum nomine makes no show 
' That any such persons I doe know.' 
'In fayth,' quoth the Divell, thow art to blame, 
'To punish those that be innocent. 
'The guiltlesse therby loose their name, 
'Besyde the mony that is spent. 
'But, sure, those people pay no fee, 
'But answere, and dischargèd bee.' 
'My corum nomine sayth hOt so, 
' For ail pay fees belote they goe. 

'The lawier's fees must needs be payd, 
' And every clarke in his degree ; 
'Or els the lawe cannot be stayd, 
'But excommunicate must they bee. 
'For, yf they corne within the courts, 
' Full largely it will cost their purse 
'(My corum nomine telleth me), 
' How free from synne so ever they be. 

'Well!' quoth the Divell, 'where I doe dwell, 
' The lawes in sharpnes doth exceed ; 
' But yours excell the paines of hell, 
'To punish men for no misdeedes.' 
--' Why, fe|ow !' quoth he, ' I tan thee stay 
' For traveling on the Sabaoth day-- 
'My corum nomine doth say so-- 
' Thow shalt pay fee befoore thow goe.' 

[ * *] 5 agree] read 'grec. 6 My toaster of those shall] rtad 
Of those my toaster shall. [xu] u punish] read summon. 
3 loose] i. e. lose. Ix4] 4 misdeedes] read misdeed. 
( 3o9 ) 

Shirlurn Ballads, LXXV 
The Divell he thought his money to save, 
And thrust vnto his horse his spurres 
And loath to be troublèd with a knaue; 
But downe they were amongst the furs. 
'Thow art no eonstable ;' quoth the Divell. 
' l'le plage thee, knaue, now, for the evill.' 
His corum nomine could not stay; 
The Divell he carried him quite awaye. 
Thus this Parritor is gone to hall ; 
I wishe the test for to take heede. 
If they amend not--I can teil-- 
But styll on poore men pray and feede, 
The Divell will haue an-other thrush; 
And all he findeth in the bush 
(Their wrum nomine cannot staye), 
For better and worse, hee'le carry awaye. 
But I doe wish ail maydes take heede, 
And young men, that in fields do walke; 
Beate well the bush ere yow proceede, 
For feare the Parrator heare your talke. 
Ahhough this Parrator be gone to hell, 
Ther's others as bad--not farre they dwell; 
With corum nomine they will ye greete, 
If that yow talke in open streete. 
If every man now would beware0 
And liue in compasse of the lawe, 
The Parrator long might lay his snare, 
And, in the ende, might prove a dawe. 
Of all the plagues that may befall, 
The Parritor's plague is worst of ail ; 
From corum nomine vs defende, 
Sweet JEsus CHRIST, vnto our end. 

[ I5] 3 And Ioath] read As Ioath. 4 were] read went. furs] 
i.e. furse. 6 plage] i. e. plague, for the evill] mad for thy evill. 
[16]  this Parritor is] read this apparritor s. 4 pray] i. e. pre). 
[i 7] 5 Parrator bel aubstituldfor Parrator's. 

( 3,0 ) 

Shiriurn Ballads, LXXISI 


When as our noble king came home 
from Nottingham 

Fol. 248 v : a sequel to No. LI. Text given in Roxburghe Ballads, i. 543, 
from later Black-letter exemplars. 
As in the companion piece {No. LI), the writer describes the events he 
narrates, in terms derived from the circumstances of his own time. The 
pursuivant (stanzas 3, 7 ), from the frequency of his visits, must 
have been a familiar figure in Elizabethan and Jacobean rimes. He 
brought with him his bundle of official orders printed in English on 
paper-sheets, and a MS. slip of parchment, directed to each local authority, 
containing commands in Latin to have the orders read in public places 
and then set up so that ail might read. At Maldon, in I565, we find 
• payments of 3s. 4d. to the queen's pursevant, when he brought the procla- 
mation for gould ; 2d., for nails and lether to nail up the proclamations' : 
and in  566, ' 3s. 4,L to the queen's pursevant bringing proclamations for- 
bidding the export of corn; 4d. for nailing these proclamations to the 
posts of the market-cross.' The fee paid to the messenger is, generally, 
3 s. 4d. ; but occasionally Ss., 2s 6d., or even 2od. Several ot these p o- 
clamations, with the nail-marks and weather-stains on them, are preserved 
at Maldon. The most interesting is that given at Westmmster, April 2, 
4 Jac. I (16o6), ordering ail ships of Great Britain to 'beare in their 
maine-toppe the Red Crosse commonly called S. George's Crosse, and 
the White Crosse commonly called S. Andrewe's Crosse, joyned together 
according to a tortue made by out Heralds'. Eut, to distinguish the 
shipping of the two kingdoms, ships of South Britain are to wear the Red 
Cross in their fore-top ; and those of North Britain, the White Cross in 
their fore-top, as they were accestomed. 

Hen W tÇe a¢tonb ; Ç¢in 0¢ 
in an tem. 
To xn xç o The rench Zauata. 
WHE as our noble king came home from 
and with his nobles an lestminster lay, 
Recounting the sports and the pastimes that they had ne 
in his late progresse along the way, 
Of them ail, great and small, this he profest 
the miller of anelde's sport likèd him best. 
[] 3 tt ey] omit that. 4 ong the] readalong by the. 

ç/irurn Ballads, LXXFI 
'And now, my lords,' quoth out King, ' I ara determined 
'against s[ain]t georges next sumptuous feast, 
'That this old millet, your youngest confirmed knight, 
'with his sonne Richard shall both be my guest: 
'For, in this meriment, 'tis my desyre, 
'to talke ith that ro)all knight and the young Squier.' 
When-as the noble Lords saw the king's pleasantnesse, 
they were right ioyfull and glad in their harts. 
A Pursevant there was sent strayght on this business, 
the which had often tymes bin in those pattes: 
When he came to the place where he did dwell, 
his messag orderlye then he did tell. 
' God save your worship,' then sayd the messenger, 
'and graunt your good Lady her ovne hart's desire, 
' And to your sonne Ric/ard good fortune and happynesse, 
' that sveete yong Gentleman and gallant Squire. 
' Out King he greets yow ail and thus doth say-- 
'yow must corne to the Court on S[ain]t Georges day. 
'Therefore, in any case, fayle hOt to be in place.' 
' I wis,' quoth the millet, ' this is an odde lest. 
' What should we do there ?' he sayd, ' faith ! I am halle afrayd.' 
' I doubt,' quoth Richard, 'hangd vp at the least.' 
'Nay,' quoth the messenger, 'yov doe mistake; 
'our King he prepares a great feast for your sake.' 
Then sayd the millet, 'Now, by my troth, messenger! 
'thow hast contented my worship full well. 
'Hold, here is three farthings to quite thy great gentlenes 
• for this happy tidings which thov dost me tell. 
'Let me see; hem'st thow me? tell to out king 
'wee'le waight on his maistership in every thinge.' 
The purservant smild at this their simplicytye, 
and, making many legges, tooke their revard ; 
And, taking then his leave vith great humilitye, 
to the King's Court againe backe he repaird, 
Shevinge vnto his grace, in each degree, 
this Knight's most liberall gift and great bountye. 
lui , determined] rtad determincd quite, u ncxt] rtad next our 6 royall] 
rtad loyall. 

Shirurn Ballads, 
When he was gone his waye, thus did the railler say:-- 
'Here cornes expences and charges, in deede ! 
'Now must we needs be braue, though we spend ail we haue ; 
'for of new garments we ail haue great neede. 
'Of horses and servingmen must we haue store, 
'with brydles, and saddles, and twenty things more. 
' Tush, Syr ohn ' quoth his wife, ' neyther do fret nor frowne ; 
'yow shall be put to no chargs for me; 
'For I will trurne, and trim vp, my old russet gowne, 
'with eve thing as fine as maye be; 
'And on our mill-horses full swift will we ride, 
' with Pannyels and Pillions, as we shall provide.' 
I n this most stately so rode they on to the Cou, 
their lusty sonne ichard the formost of ail, 
Who had set, by good hap, a Cock's feather in his cap; 
and so they ietted downe through the King's hall 
The merry old railler, with hands on his syde ; 
his wife, like 3layd arrian, did mince it that tide. 
The king and his nobles, that hard of his comming, 
meeting this gallant Knight, with his brave traine, 
'Welcome, syr knight,' quoth he, 'with this your y Lady. 
' Good Sir hon Cockle, once welcome againe ; 
' And sois this Squire, of courage so free.' 
Quoth icke: 'A bots on yow do yow knowe me.' 
Quoth our King, gently, 'How should I forget thee? 
Thow w my owne bedfelow, well I do wot ' 
• But I do thinke on a tricke?' 'Tell me that, prethee, Di,-k." 
' How we with farting marie out bed hot.' 
'Thow horchet happye knave,' then quoth the knight, 
'Speake cleanly to our King, or else go and shite.' 
The King and his Councellors hartely laft at this, 
while the King tooke them both by the hand. 
With Ladyes and their mayds, lyke to the Queene of Spades, 
the milles wife doth most mannerlye stand 
A milkemaye's cursye at eve worde, 
and downe these folkes were set ata syde-boord, 

[9] 3 trurne] radturne. 

( 33 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, LXXISI 
Where the King royally, in princely maiestye, 
sat at his dinner, with ioy and delight. 
When he had eatten well, to iesting then they fell. 
Taking a bowle of wine, [he] drunke to the Knight : 
'Heere's to yow both,' he sayd, ' in wine and beere, 
'thanking yow for my good countrye cheere.' 
Quoth Sir .Irhon Cockle: ' l'le pledge yow a pottle, 
'were yt the best aie in 1Vottingham shire.' 
'I but then,' sayd our King, 'I do thinke on a thing-- 
' Some of our Zightfoot I would we had heere!' 
'Ho ho!' quoth Richard, ' full well may I say it: 
' 'tis Knauery to eate yt, and to bewray it.' 
What! art thow angry?' quoth our Kinge merylye, 
'in sooth, I do take yt very vnkinde. 
thought thow wouldst pledge me in wine or in aie hartely.' 
'¥'are like to stay,' quoth Dicke, ' till I haue din'de. 
'¥ow serue vs twatlinge sweete dishes full small ; 
"Swounds! a blacke pudding were better then ail.' 
'I, mary!' quoth our King, 'that were a dainty thing, 
yf that a man could get it to eate.' 
With that Diche straight arose, and pluckt on out his hose, 
that, with heat of his breech, 'gan for to sweat. 
The King ruade a proffer to snatch it awaye. 
"Tis meat for your maister;' quoth iDiche, 'yow shall stay.' 
Thus, with great meryment, was the rime wholly spent, 
and the Ladyes preparèd to daunce ; 
OId Sir .irhon Cochle, with Richard, incontinent, 
vnto this practise the King did aduaunce; 
Where, with the Ladyes, such sport they did make, 
that the Nobles, with laughing, did make their la,arts ake. 
Many thanks for their paines did our King give them then, 
asking young Richard yf he would not wed: 
'Among these Ladyes free, tell me which liketh thee.' 
Quoth he, '.IrugKe Gramboll, with the red hed. 
' Sheel's my love ; sheel's my lyfe ; shee I will wed, 
'for she hath sworne I shall haue ber mayden head.' 
[4] 3 When he] read When they. [x5] 3 I but] i. e. Aye but. 
6 and toi read and then to bewray it] i. e. blab the secret oi rit. 
1613 orin]omitin. [17]x 1] i.e. Aye. 3on]i.e. one. 
[9] 5 sheel'sJ i. e. she's. 
( 34 ) 

Shirurn £allacls, LXXVI 
Then Syr Jhon Cockl« the kinge calld to hym, 
and of merry Sherwood ruade him overseer, 
And gaue hirn, out of hand, three hundred pound yearely-- 
' But now, take heed yow steale non of rny Deare! 
'And once a quarter let's here haue your view, 
'and thus, Syr jrlzon CocMe, I bid thee adyew.' 


England, with cheerful heart, give ear 
Fol. 25o*. Text given, in Roa¢burghe Ballads, viii. 758, from a Black- 
letter exemplar. Elizabeth died Match 4, 16o-3. Stanza :3 of the ballad 
expresses the surprise which was felt that. in spite of continual plots for 
her assassination, ber reign had extended to 44 years 4 months 7 days. 
Henry VI, coming to the throne as an infant, and Edward II1, as a boy, 
had longer nominal reigns ; but Elizabeth, first of English sovereigns, had 
attained the 7oth year of lire. 
The ballad gives voice to two feelings, general]y entertained, which 
procured James I a warm welcome in the southern kingdom, (al the 
feeling (stanzas I, z} that the throne was more fitly occupied by royalty 
than by an ex-subjeet ; (b) the apprehension (stanza 19) of a war of 
succession between any English claimant, and the Scottish claimant 
supported by a strong following in England. It shows aiso the tierce 
indignation which was sure to arise when James developed his policy of 
seeking accommodation with the Pope and with Spain (stanzas 4, 6, 9, 24). 
The classical allusions are, for these ballads, inexplicably recondite. In 
stanza 5 the month of March is said to be 'by the oid world to wisdom 
dedicate '. The reterence must be to the Quinqualrus, festival of Minerva, 
goddess of wisdom, which was held at Rome, March 19 to 23. Professor 
J. E. B. Mayor (note on Juvenai, x. II4) points out that when Church 
commemorations supplanted Pagan festivals, March 19 was appropriately 
assigned to St. Gregory, because he was the great patron of schools. In 
stanza 8 Saturn is treated as a gnome, the lord of mmes and their wealth. 
in Rome Saturn aithough the patron of agriculture, was also the guardian 
of the treasury ; and hence, perhaps, the ballad infers his connexion with 
mining. In Grimm's TeuIonic zI[ylhology (English translation, i. 248 
mention is ruade of a 'burg' sacred to Saturn on the Hartz mountains, the 
centre of mines and gnomes. 
The geography of the ballad is not free from obscurity. Stanza 7, from 
the separate mention in stanza 8 of Ireland and the islands, must describe 
Great Britain. The ' halt' specified is probably England. We are to 
think of England (on the map), as a standing temale figure, whose 'bosom' 
is thc dimension from Flamborough-head to Fleetwood. 'The Virgin's 
sea' will thus be the Irsh sea. The Black-letter version bas 'the 
Virginian sea'. In stanza 8 the writer's enthusiasm spurns geology, and 
makes the chalk-cliffs of the Wight do duty also for the sterner granite of 
the Channel Islands. 

Shiraurn Ballads, LXX-FII 
From stanza 22 itis plain that the piece was written immediately upon 
Eiizabeth's death, March 24. James left Edinburgh, April 5, I6°3, and 
reached London May 7- The ballad, however, was hot registered at the 
Stationers' Company till June x6, x6o 3. 
Black feathers (stanza 23} had been worn in bats as Court mourning for 
Elizabeth. The yeliow and red ribbons, by which they were now displaced, 
were in compliment to the blazoning ol r the royal arms {England, gules, 3 
!eopards passant or; but especially Scotland, where 'the ruddy lion ramps 
In gold '). Change oir the royal arms in official places seems to have been 
deferred. It is 6o6 beirore Maldon pays '4-r. Bd. for blasinge oir the king's 
armes and armes of the towne in the moote-hali '. 

fin ertdlent ndu balla, ÇeIuing tÇe pctigrct 
af attr rai, ai tMng Iames, tle litt af tlat 
Iltlllle iil EnfflamL 

To THE TUNE OF Galhnls al corne mourne wilh mee. 

TN;z.,v», ech cheareful hart giue eare 
to that my muse shall now declare. 
'Tis no bace thing I take in hand, 
but what brings comfort to this land-- 
The Petygree of a noble king 
whose naine to thee doth honour bring. 
0 hone, honinonero, larrararara, 
larrararara home. 

The dreadfull sting of cruell death 
hath stopt lliza's princely breath, 
And, to her ioy, she now is gone 
to heauen for an angel's throne, 
Leaving her honors and ber crowne 
to princely fames of great renowne. 

She ruld hath 'mongst vs longe tyme, 
in spite of those that did repine 
And sought to stop ber princely breath, 
but yet she dyed a naturall death. 
And to our comfort god did send 
King James, his Gospell to defend. 

[] x eeh] rtad with. 

7 Refrain to be sung at end of every 

reckoning. .6] 6 that] read when. 
hisown. [8] x lreland]i.e, l-er-land. 

S/zirurn Ballads, 
The Romish Pope, who many a day 
hath lokèd for a violent praye, 
Frustrate by wisedone's power and care, 
is readye now for to dispare; 
And in a sound he sincketh downe, 
now noble James hath got the crowne. 
With his raigne doth the spring begin, 
as vsher, for to bring him in, 
Which in consent doth well agree, 
with yeere, the incarnate word to bee; 
And in that month greeing, by fate, 
by the old world to wisedome dedicate. 
And I devine thus, by the yeere, 
.EnKland shall haue no other peere; 
But in his lyne yt shall remayne, 
in spite of Poe and crueIl S/aine, 
Even vntyll the day of Doome 
that CHRIST to iudgment downe shall corne. 
Eyght hundred myles his Empyre goes 
in length, [in] spight of ail his foes. 
From Cornewall to past Calidon 
is know[n]e to be King James owne, 
Halfe which her beosome foorth doth lay 
from German to the Virgin's sea. 
A fertyle soyle is Ireland, 
now subiect to his glorious hand. 
Yea, ail the Iles from famous Fraunce 
their chalkye tops to him advaunce. 
Saturne to him resignes his charge, 
making the wealthy mine's way large. 
My Pen, why stay'st thow to report, 
to latisfye the vulgar sort, 
The Petigree of James our King, 
whose fame throughout the world doth ringe? 
The Inflddl and romish Spaine 
shall tremble when they heare his name. 
sound] i.e. swoon. [5] t begin_ i.e. on March 5. 
4 Annunciation of Mary was New Year's Day in the old 
['/III 4 James owne] i.e. Jamcs 
i"9] 2 latisfye] read satisfye. 

Sirlurn Ballads, LXXVII 
Frorn stanza 2- it is plain that the piece was written irnrnediately upon 
Elizabeth's death, Match 24. James left Edinburgh, April 5, 16o3, and 
reached London May 7. The ballad, however, was hot registered at the 
Stationers' Cornpany till June 16, 6o 3. 
Black feathers (stanza 23) had been worn in bats as Court rnourning for 
Elizabeth. The yellow and red ribbons, by which they were now displaced, 
were in compliment to the blazoning of the royal arms (England, gules, 3 
!eopards passant or; but especially Scotland, where 'the ruddy lion rarnps 
m gold '). Change of the royal arms in official places seerns to bave been 
deferred. It is 6o6 belote Maldon pays '4s. Bd. for blasinge ofthe king's 
armes and armes of the towne in the rnoote-hall'. 

n trtlltnt ncl ballal, Çtling tÇt petigrt 
of Oltr rt, al ting !ames, tÇt lïrt of tÇat 
Ildlllg il Enffland. 

TO THE TUNE OF Gallants all corne mourne with mee. 

LvctAv», ech cheareful hart giue eare 
to that my muse shall now declare. 
'Tis no bace thing I take in hand, 
but what brings comfort to this land-- 
The Petygree of a noble king 
whose narne to thee doth honour bring. 
0 hone, honinonero, tarrararara, 
tarrararara hone. 

The dreadfull sting of cruell death 
hath stopt Eliza's princely breath, 
And, to ber ioy, she now is gone 
to heauen for an angel's throne, 
Leaving her honors and her crowne 
to princely ./rames of great renowne. 

She ruld hath 'mongst vs longe tyme, 
in spite of those that did repine 
And sought to stop her princely breath, 
but yet she dyed a naturall death. 
And to our comfort god did send 
King James, his Gospell to defend. 

[x] x ech] read with. 
( 36 ) 

7 Refrain to be sung at end of every 

6o 3. 
r¢konn. [616 ha] r«adwhen. 
hsown. [8] , lreland] Le. l-er-hnd. 

Sirurn Ballaas, LXXI/[[ 
The Romish Pope, who many a day 
hath lokd for a violent praye, 
Frustrate by wisedome's power and care, 
is readye now for to dispare; 
And in a sound he sincketh downe, 
now noble rames bath got the crowne. 
With his raigne doth the spring begin, 
as vsher, for to bring him in, 
Which in consent doth well agree, 
with yeere, the incarnate word to bee; 
And in that month greeing, by fate, 
by the old world to wisedome dedicate. 
And I devine thus, by the yeere, 
EnKland shall haue no other peere; 
But in his lyne yt shall remayne, 
in spite of/ope and cruell Spaine, 
Even vntyll the day of Doome 
that CrRISX to iudgment downe shall corne. 
Eyght hundred myles his Empyre goes 
in length, lin" I spight of all his foes. 
From Corneuall to past Calidon 
is know[n]e to be King rames owne. 
Halfe which ber beosome foorth doth lay 
from German to the l/irgin's sea. 
A fertyle soyle is Ireland, 
now subiect to his glorious hand. 
Yea, ail the Iles from famous Fraunce 
their chalkye tops to him advaunce. 
Salurne to him resignes his charge. 
making the wealthy mine's way large. 
My Pen, why stay'st thow to report, 
to latisfye the vulgar sort, 
The Petigree of rames out King, 
whose faine throughout the world doth ringe ? 
The Infldell and romish Spaine 
shall tremble when they heare his name. 
sound] i.e. swoon. [5"1 = begin'l, i.e. on Match 5, 
4 Annunciation of Mary was New Years Day in the old 
[314 James owne] i.e. James 
[9]  latisfye] readsatisfye. 

Shiraurn 13allaas, LAA i/II 
O let my Pen your eares inchaunt 
to looke vnto braue drCn a Gaunt. 
Of Edzvard the third fovrth son was hee, 
from whom we draw this petygree ; 
For he behinde him issue left, 
l/mn, the Earle of Somerset. 
Which likewise left a sonne behinde 
called J/mn, of a noble minde, 
The which was Duke of .çomerset, 
so ruade for his atchiments great, 
The which did wine him great renowne 
but here I leave to set them downe. 

Which Duke had issue, gentle Reader, 
Mrargaret, matcht with Edmond 2"uder. 
Which Edmond Tuder had a sonne, 
called ttenrye, Earle of Richmon: 
Which tfenrye, after Richard's death, 
espousèd fayre Elizabeth. 
This Elizabeth, of famous worth, 
was daughter to k[ing] Edward the fourth ; 
.And thus, by their predestinate bed, 
they ioynd the whyt rose and the red, 
To Englanans great unspeable ioy 
and to our enimyes' sore anoy. 
By which most blest and happy vnitye 
they had a daughter cald 21Iargaret, 
First mateht to ScotKsh James the fourth, 
which was a man of mickle worth; 
Which Mrargaret, to .lames, did bring 
the fyft of that name, Seotland's king. 

f o] 3 the third] omit the. 6 Jhon] tronounced here Johan. 
He died t4to. [tx]  Jhon] pronouncedhere Johan. He 
died t444- 3 Duke] so created in x443. 4 atchiments] 
read atchivments. [I] Margaret ] pronounced em Ilargret She 
died 5o9. 4 Richmoa] i e. Richmond : afterwards HenryVll. 
5 Richard'si i.e. Richard III.. [t3] x Elizabeth] i.e. El'zabeth. 
 the fourth] omit the. 3 predestinate]i.e, predest'nate. 5 un- 
speable I i.e. unspeak'ble. [t4] t happy vnitye] read happy mate, 
i.e. match.  Margaret] i.e. Marg'ret. 3 James IV died xSi 3. 
5 Margaret] jronounc¢d ter¢ Marguerite. 6 James v died x549. 

Shirburn Ballads, LXXtII 
This jrames a Daughter did possesse, 
whose birth out sorrowes doth redresse, 
Called lt[arye, by her naine, 
a very fayre and princelye dame, 
The more her faine for to advaunce, 
was matcht with Frauncis, K[ing] of traume. 
But leaue we her in traun¢e a whyle ; 
and nowe corne backe vnto the style 
Of I-[enrye's daughter J[argaret, 
whose blessèd wombe brought our delight: 
For lr«heball Douglas she did wed, 
/nguff braue Earle, whose issue bred. 
By her, he had a Daughter btight 
cald hy naine of J[argaret; 
To the Earle of Lenox wedded was shee, 
and borne a son namèd t[enrye, 
The which was called the Lord Z)arlye, 
and af ter wedded to Scottis Mai'e. 
13y ,chose most sweet and happy bed 
our sorrowes nowe are quight stroke dead; 
For to Lord Z)arlye she did bring 
olde t?rittan's hope, and James our Kinge, 
As next of tfenryds lyne, both other, 
Comming both by father and mother. 
JEngIand, reioyce and now giue prayse 
vnto the Lord, that so did rayse 
Our sorrowfull harts with hops of ioy, 
when we were drownde with sad anoy 
For losse of sweete liza'es lyfe, 
looking for nothing more then stryfe. 
Yet god for vs did soe provide, 
and held vs vp when we did slyde ; 
And, as liza she is gone, 
he sent an-other to ease our morte. 
King James is hee, by whose sweete breath 
we still possesse Queene lzabeth. 
Ix5  3 ber naine] readlbossibly her own sweet naine. 6 matcht] 
in 1558. [6.} 3 Margaret] pronouncd hre Marguerite. 
$ Archeball] i.e. Arch'bald 6 whose] read who. [lTJ 2 caid] 
i.e. ealièd. 3 the Earle] i.e. th' Earle. wedded] r«adwed. 
4 borne] r«ad bore. 5 Darlye] i.e. Darnley. 6 wedded toi 
omit to. [18] $ both] read 'bore. [I9] 3 hops] i.e. hopes. 
( 319 ) 

Shir[urn lattads) L3f3fl/11 
For, though ber corps be lapt in IoEde, 
and never on this earth shall troEd, 
Yet do her veues styll remaine, 
without lai blot, blemish or staine. 
I[n] noble ]ames ber vertu liue, 
to whom god doth ber honours giue. 
O noble King, to nKland hast, 
that our full pleasures we may tast. 
For nothing now breeds our despite, 
but that we want our Prince his sight. 
Which yf we had, we more should ioye 
then Liza'es death wrought our annoy. 
Now, »li, leaue of your grefe, 
fo oble am« bfing vs elefe. 
Pull morninge feathers from your bed, 
And flourish ow i yeallow ad red. 
Sing ioyfull Poems of his prayse, 
that god may lengthen long his dayes. 
God grant him amogt v long to taige, 
to be a corge to Rame and 
That, hating them and all their wayes, 
he styll may stryve god's word to rayse, 
And to defend the poore man' right 
that they  not otecome by mgh 
O Lord, make thow hi Cousell wise, 
that the may ve him good advise. 
Blesse the Commons, and ail those 
that seeke the ruine of bis foes. 
And may he dye a thowsand hame 
that wRh his hart fores hot k[ing] 
0 ne nMonero larrararara 
arrararara hone. 

[3] t of] i.e. off. 3 morninge] i.e. mourning, bed] r¢ad head. 
[4] t amongst] r¢ad 'mongst. {_5]  the] i.e. they. 3 Blesse 
the] r¢ad Blesse thou the. 
( 3 0 ) 

S/irurn Ballacls, LXXFIII 


Of joyful triumphs I must speak 
Fol. 253 v. Essex was definitely given the command in Ireland, with 
16,ooo foot and 1,3oo borse under him, on Match 25, I599. He set out 
from London, blarch 27, with a great attendance, and amid popular 
expectations of speedy success; and reached Dublin, April 5" There 
was thus ample time for him to arrange a ceremonial parade of troops on 
the festival of the militant patron-saint of England, Aprii 3- This was a 
natural thing for him to do ; and is, therefore, possibly hOt a mere ballad- 
fiction. On the other hand, we need hOt assume that the writer had any 
actual report of a 'grand review at Dublin'to versify from. He just 
described what might be seen on any general muster-day of the trained- 
bands of an English county. If Essex held a review» no doubt it proceeded 
on the saine lines. 
The ballad is interesting as showing the composition of an English army 
at the end of Elizabeth's reign ; and is, in this respect, fully borne out by 
contemporary documents. Stanza 5 describes the brave, lace-bedecked 
array of the non-coins. Maldon accounts indicate that, until soiled by 
campaign in Irish bogs, even the privates were gayly attired. In  599 we 
have charged 'for xii. yeards of cloth at ixs. vid. the yarde to make viii. 
souldyers' coats for the towne; and for a grosse of lace, xviiis.; and for ix. 
dossen rybbon, xvs. ; and for the making viii. souldyer's coates, xviiis." 
The destination of the coats is fixed by ten shillings paid 'in Prest-money 
to souldyers that went into Ireland, which' (forgetful Elizabeth !) 'was 
hot repayd agayne'. Stanzas 6 and 7 pass from gay uniform to (more or 
less) the stern equipment of war. It is to be noticed that special appeals 
must have been ruade by the queen to set out the horsemen who 'did 
praunce about'. Maldon 1598 account notes ' 2s. towards setting forth of 
iight horse into lreland, being wanting of that was to be collected for that 
service'; and the 599 account, in a general bill of charges, includes 
expenditure 'for careinge [carrying] the money collected in this towne 
vnto Chelmesforde when the light horses went into Irelande'. 
Two kinds of fire-arms are specified. Tbere are (stanza 6) muskets, a 
heavier sort of fire-arm, discharged from a rest. Ailusions to these are 
frequent in the Maldon papers. On January 29, 587-8, Elizabeth called 
on tlae inhabitants to provide ten muskets in addition to what they had 
already, and a graduated tax was imposed to comply with the requisition. 
The chier piece of the musketeer's defensive armour was a morion. When 
he attended on the training day, he brought with him powder, match, and 
bullet to be spent in exercise of his arms': March 625-6,  lb. of powder, 
2 bullets, I  yard of match ; May 627,  lb. of powder, 6 bullets, 2 yards 
of match. The calivers (stanza 7) were lighter pieces, fired without rests, 
apparently with the arm extended (like pistols). They also were sent to 
the county muster-day, with powder, for exercise: e.g. 1573, 'ha|f a pound 
of gunpowder to s hoot off the callivers, M ay 9,. 7d.'; and in  596, 'Ss. 5d. 
for powder, match, and wages, for a man servmg with a calliver, at the 
treyning at Chelmsford.' In Elizabeth's reign the ca|iver seems to go out 
of fashion, in favour of the musket. In January, 6o2-3, lJaldon armoury 
eontained 'i. caliver furnished, with bead-peece, [powder-]flaske,..touch- 
boxe, molde [to cast bullets], etc.; il. ould reicted callyvers; u. ould 
barrells of cailyvers '. But John Aubrey (Brief Zives. il. 32o-I) gives 
calivers, in Charles I's wars, renewed employment, as carbines for cavalry. 
In stanza 8 we corne to another main dis'ision of the foot-forces» the 

Shirurn Ballads, LXXFIII 
pike-men, who were equipped in full body-armour, and were equal in 
number to the musketeers. The bill-men, in stanza fo, represent lighter 
troops, armed with the bill, now going out of fashion. Along with them 
tank the archers (stanza fo). The relative importance of these items is 
perhaps shown in the Maldon armoury return (6oŒ-3), 'viii. long pykes ail 
armed, [with] viii. corsletts whole and complete, with coates [=uniform], 
swords, daggers, gyrdles, and what other things therto belonging; iii. 
holbeards, wherof i. brocken ; ii. black bills ; ii. ould bowes and i. ould 
shieff of arrowes.' 
The drums (stanza 9) were a regular feature of the county militia review- 
day. In  598, I2d. was paid to a man 'for playing on the drum when our 
trayned men did show themselves in their fumiture'. In 62, Ss. was 
paid for wine and sugar (on the muster-day) ' for the muster-master and 
his drummer and fluter '. 
The panegyric on the long-bow, in stanza t t, is especially characteristic 
of Elizabeth's reign. Constant efforts were made to enforce the statute, 
33 Henry VIII, cap. 9, which required every able-bodied man to possess 
bow and arrows and to practise with them once a month. In April, 56, 
Maldon constables were ordered to make search, 'yea or no,' whether 
every man and his sons had bow and arrows, according to the statute. In 
563 at the Epiphany, and again at the Easter sessions, the two chier 
magistrates, the four aldermen, and thirty-four others were indicted for hot 
shooting monthly with the bow. In 566. on market-day, Saturday, May 
 I, the statute was recited when the market was fullest. Maldon rebuiit 
its archery-butts, under pressure from the Crown, in $74, and again in 
596. In 58, there was paid 'to John Fletcher, her maiestie's comys- 
soner for the view of artylerie, 3s. 4d. ; and for his paynes in trayning of 
the archers in Pottman mershe [the town common], and for i. kilderkyn 
of beere given to the archers» os. Bd.' 

11 nrt ballate 0f tÇe trgumprg tM'pt in 
Ireland ppll aint Georg Bag la, 
tr nlr Carie f Essex all  fdler, 
it tÇrir rrllutin againr 
To THE TUNE OF umflA and ioy. 
OF ioyfull triumphes I must speake, 
Which our englisA friends did make, 
For that renownèd mayden's ke, 
that weares the crowne of Englanà. 
In frda S[ain]ct Georgds day 
Was honored brauelye eue waye, 
By lords and knights in rich array, 
as though they had been in Engla. 
rore let all trew English mn, 
tf2h eve faythfull subiect tn, 
Vnto my ray-ers say Amen  
 God a s[ain]a George #r England 
Title. rellution] refeing to the vow to fight fiereely, 
in stanz m, 6, % and 9- III $ Irdand] i.e. l-er-land. 9 to 
These four lines are to be sung in chocs at e end of 

Shirurn Ballacls, LXXIe'III 
The Earle or ssex, by report, 
That day did keepe a gallant Court, 
Most loyallye in seemely sort, 
in honour of famous EnKland , 
Attended on by many a Lord. 
Lyke subiects trewe, did there accorde, 
With pining, famishing, tire and soord, 
to scorge the foes of 2England. 

Full many a bould renownd Knight, 
Well trainde to armes and martiall fight, 
Were seene that day, with great delight, 
to honour S[ain]ct George of England, 
With gent|emen of high degree, 
Our choycest flowres of chyualrye, 
As brave a sight as one might see 
to honour S[ain]ct Geore of 2England. 

Who had been there for to behold 
Our Captaines and leiftenantes bolde, 
Attird braue in cloth of golde 
to honour S[ain]ct George of England, 

Shirurn Ballads, LXXVIII 

Might truly then report and say 
Out Champion bolde, S[ain]ct Georges, da), 
Was nobly gracèd every way 
to the honour of famous ngland. 

The Seargeants there that day were seen 
In purple veluet, red, and greene, 
In honour of that mayden Queene 
which weares the crowne of England. 
The corporals, with gallant grace, 
In rich aray did keepe their place, 
With. garments deckt with sylver lace, 
n honour of famous 2England. 

The horsemen they, with courage stoute, 
Vpon the free steeds did praunce abovt, 
Resoluèd brauelye, out of doubt, 
to conquer the foes of England. 
The valour of the musketyeres, 
Whom death['s] alarum never feares, 
Reioycèd ail the English Peeres 
which went to fight for England. 

The nimble quicke Caliver-shot 
Resolveth hOt to styrre a lot, 
Although the fight be never so hot 
against out freindes of 
And there-vpon immediatelye 
With thundring shot they dynn'd the skye 
S[ain]ct Georg's day to gloryfye 
to the honour of famous ,ngland. 

The Pikemen there, like souldiers good, 
In glistering corslets stoutlye stood, 
Protestinge for to spend their bloode, 
to the honour of famous tEngland. 
The insygne-bearers there likewise 
Did waue their colours in the skyes, 
And still 'S[ain]ct George for tEngland!' cryes, 
lyke souldiers braue of tEnKlaid. 

[6] a Vpon the free] read vpon their. 
( 3z4 ) 

6 feares] i. e. affrights. 

Shir/urn Ballads, LX)(VIII 

The drummes and fyfts, with ioyfull sound, 
Did make much musicke on that ground, 
Wherby no feare[ful] heart was round 
amongst out souldiers of 
But every one doth hope soe well 
Ere long to sound these rebels' knell, 
And send them posting downe to hell 
that troubles the peace of .En, gland. 

The bilmen bolde stoode next in sight 
Attirèd braue in armour bright, 
And there protested mortall fight 
against the provd foes of England. 
The Bowmen bmue oeme not behind; 
Of stomackes stout and liant minde, 
A Place amongst them they did finde 
to show their trew loves to ngland. 
For many a warlyke £nglish King 
Most noble conquestes home did bringe, 
Obtaind by the ry goose winge, 
the auncient fight of EnKland. 
[9] x fyfts] i.e. fyfes. Ix I] 4 fighq i. e. national wpon. 

Srirturn Ballads, LXXI/'III 

Then bowes for England. t bowes, we see, 
Doth bring home fame and victorye. 
For one Gun-shot, they will shoot three 
against the proud foes of nKland. 

S[ain]ct Geozge's day thus had an end; 
And those which did it nobly spend-- 
The lord preserue them, and defend 
our gratious Queene of 2EnKlanà; 
And that the Traytor, base 2"erone, 
May hOt be conquered ail alone, 
But ail the rebels everye one 
by noble ssex of 2EnKlanà. 
7"herefore, let ai1 true [2English men, 
lVtth eery faythful subiect then, 
IYnto my prayers say ,4men ! 
2Vow God and Saint Gearge [or 2England !] 


Ail you that cry O hone! O hone! 

Fol. 255. A lament for Robert Devereux, 2nd earl of Essex, beheaded 
February 2, 16oo-! (Ash Wednesday). Text given in Roxburghe Ballads, 
i. 571, from Black-letter exemplars. The popularity of the piece changed 
the naine of its tune : see No. XIV. 
Stanza 2 enumerates variou» 'traitors' who had vexed Elizabeth. In its 
first line a naine occurs which is absent from the B.-L. copies. It is 
apparently ' Sauit', but it might be read as ' Saint'. It may be a mis- 
reading by the copyist. But, reading ' Saint ', William Sterrell, alias Henry 
Saint Main, was an active intriguer.--State Papers (Domestic) 59-4- Of 
Elizabeth's other enemies, with disyllabic surnames, Nicholas Sanders 
(d. 581) cornes nearest in lettering. Edmund Campion was executed 
Dec. I, 1581 ; and Anthony Babington, 1586. Charles Neville, 6th earl of 
Westmorland, revolted Nov. 1569, was attainted 157o, and died in exile 
16oI. Ballads in Campion's praise, singular among the one-sided verses 
of the period, are given in Furnivall and Morfill's tailadsfrom zllS. il. 157. 
Stanzas 3 to 5 describe the Quixotic exploits which had endeared Essex 
to the unreasoning populace. Decamping from court in April, 1589, he 
joined the fleet offtbe Portuguese coast on May 13. He rushed to be the 
first to wade ashore, May 16; and when the troops were preparing to 
attack Lisbon, he went up to the gates and offered to fight any o[ the 
garrison in the name of his mistress. In July, 1591, he commanded a force 
[xa] $ Teron¢] i. e. Tyrone : see No. XLII. 
( 3 6 ) 

Shirurn Ballads, LXXIX 
of 4,000 men who were landed at Dieppe to help Henri IV. He rode, 
with a handful of followers, through the enemy's country, to interview 
Henri. l-le took Gournay, Sept. 7, 1591 ; and, in the following November, 
unsuccessirully besieged Rouen. Essex, in 1596, was joint-commander of 
the great armada sent against Cadiz. Essex dashed ashore with 3,000 
men ; pressed on to the market-place, June 1 ; and received the surrender 
oi r the town, June , 1596. Tbe capture of the town was remarkable for 
the absence of outrage. What little pillage took place was ascribed to our 
Dutch allies. Stanza 11 says that Derick, an offender against the orders 
of the day, was pardoned, on condition of hanging his twenty-three ae- 
complices ; and that he, four years later, was his general's executioner. 
Essex's wife {stanza IO) was Frances (Walsingham), widow of Sir Philip 
Sidney; his children, Robert (restored as 3rd earl, by James I, 16o3b 
Frances (afterwards duchess of Somerset)» and Dorothy (afterwards wife 
of Sir Henry Shirley, bart.). 
Essex's rising took place after lO a.m. on Sunday, Feb. 8, I6oo-I. 
When it failed, be fled by boat to Essex House ; and surrendered himself 
there the same night. The news of his outbreak was spread throughout 
the country next morning by the galloping of messengers sent out by the 
Privy Council (beirore his surrender was known) to prevent his escape 
by sea. 
In 1589 Essex had been elected ' High Recorder' (i.e. High Steward, 
in modern parlance) of Maldon, at a yearly salary of Z'5- In the archives 
of Maldon we find (1) an official copy of the warrant against Essex, with 
Maldon endorsement ' Receyved this warrant the ixth of Februarie, about 
x. of the clock ', and () appended note by the county magnate who trans- 
mitted it. 
I. Whereas the Earle of Essex hath shewed himself an open Traytor, 
and it is greatlie to be dowbted that he will seeke the meanes to escape 
beyond the seas, Theis shall be therefore in her ma[ies]tie's name to 
requyer yow, that yow will take speciall order that no shippe departe out 
of that harbore or any the portes adioyning. Hereof see yow fayle not, as 
yow will answere the contrary at your perill. From the Courte at Whitthall 
the viiith of February 16oo. To our loving freindes the blaiors and officers 
of the Portes of Essex. 
Tho. Egerton, C[ustos] S[igilli]; G. Hunsdon; Will. Knollys; Ro. 
Cecyll ; Jo. Popham ; J. Herbert. 
[i.e. Sir Thomas Egerton, blaster of the Rolls and Lord Keeper ; George 
Carey, 2nd baron Hunsdon, Lord Chamberlain; Sir William Knollys, 
Comptroller of the Household ; Sir Robert Cecil, Secretary of State ; Sir 
John Popham, Chier Justice of the Queen's Bench ; John Herbert, perhaps 
Clerk of the Council.] 
2. Forasmuche as, this mornyng erly, being mundaye and the ixth of 
feabruary 16oo, a pursevantt browght vnto me, Sir Thomas Lucas, knyght, 
a warrant vnder the hands of these above-named, being ail of his szc] 
magestye's moste honorable privye councell, wherof this is a trwe copye ; 
and forasmuche as the pursyvantt hym selle is gone forward with all speed 
vnto the ports of Suffolke and Northfolke, with the warraunt it selle, for the 
lyke service to be done; these are therfore, in his [sic] magestye's name 
to see this sayde warrantt, with the effecte, to be by you (the Baylyffs and 
officers of the porte of Malden) to be executed accordingly. 
Sir Thomas Lucas had been High Sheriff of Essex, 1568, and was 
probably now a Deputy-Lieutenant. He died, aet. 8o, August 9, 16I I. 
The obedience of Maldon authorities to this order is seen in the accounts 
for 16oI, where zs. 4d. is paid to John Smalwood 'for carrying letters to 

Shirkurn Ballads, LXXIX 
Burnham[-on-Crouch] and Lee [Leigh-on-Thames], February 9, touching 
the late earle of Essex '. 
The earl's personal popularity, and the unexpectedness of his rail, 
enlisted general sympathy, as is shown by numerous other ballads on this 
subject : e.g. a Black-letter one, in Wood 4or, foi. 75* (' Sweet Engtand's 
prideis gone ] Welladay ! Welladay! '), printed in RoxburgkeBallads, i. 564; 
and two from MS. in Furnivall and Morfill's 2alladsfrom MS. il. z4 oiT. 

là tamentah[e net allah hp0a t]e (at[e 

To THE TUNE OF .hg ingas last Goodnight. 
ALL yOW that crye 0 hone 0 hone 
eome now and sing 0 lord with me. 
For why ? our Jewell is from vs goone, 
the valient Knight of Chile. 
Of rich and poore beloued was he 
in tyme an honorable Knight-- 
Who by out lawes condemnd was he 
and late take his last good-nigh. 
[,] a 0 lord]  0 hone (i. e. Oeh hone), a in some B.-L. 
copies.  r«ad But by our }aws condemn'd to die. The mis- 
reading in the text is round al in B.-L exempla. 8 late 
r« late did e. Some B.-L. exemplars bave ' htdy toeke '. 

SAirurn Ballads, LXXIX 
Count him hot like to Sauit, nor Campion, 
these traytrous men, or Babbinton, 
Nor like the earle of Westmerlande, 
by whom a number were vndoone. 
He never yet hurt mother's sonne ; 
his quarrell still maintainde the right; 
Which makes the teares my cheekes downe runne 
when I thinke of his lasl good-night. 
The 2Porlingals can witnes be 
his dagger at Zishone gare he flunge, 
And, like a knight of chevalrye, 
his chane vpon the gare he hunge, 
Would god that he would thither corne 
to fetch them both in order right, 
Which thinge was by his honour doone; 
yet lately tooke his lasl good-night. 

The 1;'ren«hmen they can testifye 
the towne of Gaurney he tooke in, 
And marched to l?aane immediatlye, 
hOt caring for his foes a pinne: 
With bullets he persed their skinne, 
and ruade them flye farre from his sight : 
He, at that time, did credite winne ; 
and nowe hath tane his lasl gaad-niKM. 


And stately Cales can witnesse well, 
even by his proclamations right, 
He did commaund them ail straytlye 
to haue a care of infants' liues, 
That non should ravishe mayde nor wife, 
which was against their order right 
Therefore they prayed for his longe life, 
which lately tooke his last good-nighl. 

[3] u Lisbone] in x589. 5 Would] read Vowed. [4] u 
Gourney] in x59 ]. 3 Roat] i.e. Rouen, in 1591. 5 bullets 
he persed] rem bullets then he pierc'd. [5]  Cales] i.e. 
Cadiz, in 1596. x and u and 4: the MS. reading are wrong. 
For 'well " read * be ', to rhyme loosely with line 3- Read * pro- 
clamation strong and *infants young' in 11. u, 4, which ought 
to end differently from 11.6, 8. 6 theirJ read his. right] 
tead quit¢. 
( 329 ) 

Siirlurn 15allads» LI 
Would god that he had ne'ere Ireland knowne, 
nor set his feete in launders ground, 
The[n] might we well inioyde out owne 
'here noe out Jewell will hOt be found; 
Which makes out woes still to abound, 
trickling with salt teares in my sight, 
To heare his name in our eares to sound-- 
Lord Z)eureux tooke his last good-night. 
Ashe-wenesday, that dismall daye, 
v¢hen he came forth of his chamber-dore, 
Vpon a Scaffold there he sawe 
his headsman standing him before. 
The Nobles all that did deplore, 
sheading their salt teares in his sight. 
He bade farwell to rich and poore, 
at his good-morrowe and Koad-nigh/. 
lXly Lords, (quoth he) yow stand but by, 
to see performance of the lawe; 
It's I that haue deserued to dy, 
and yeeldes my selfe vnto the blowe. 
I have deserved to dye, I knowe ; 
but never against my cuntrye's right, 
Nor to my Queene was never foe ; 
vpon my death, at my good-night. 
Farwell, tïlizabeth, my gracious Queene! 
God blesse thee and thy counsell ail. 
Farwell, my Knights of chyvalrye; 
farwell my souldiers, great and tall; 
Farwell, the Commons, great and small. 
into the hands of men I light; 
bly lyfe shall make amends for all, 
for ssex bids the world good-nighl. 

Farewell, deare wife, 
farewell, my yong 
Comfort yourselues ; 
although your fall 

and children three 
and tender sonne. 
morne not for me, 
be nowe begun. 

[6] x that he] omft that. 2 Flaunders] ' Flanders ' is wrong : 
read « blunster's ', the scene of the futile expedition May a 9. to 
July 3, 599, which caused his dise'race. 3 well inioyde.-I read 
still enioy. 8 l)eureux] i. e. Dev'reux. [7] x Ashe- 
wenesday] February 25, J6oo-r. [9] 4 great] rcad stout. 
( o ) 

ç/ir[urn Ballads, LXXIX 
My tyme is corne; the glasse is runne. 
Comfort yourselues in former light. 
Seeing, by my fall, yow are vndone, 
your father bids the world good-niKM. 
Z)ericke .t thow knowst, at statelye Cles I saude 
thy lyre, lost for a tape there done, 
Which thow thyselfe canst testyfye-- 
thy owne hand three and twenty hung. 
But now, thow seest, my tyme is corne; 
by chaunce into thy hands I light. 
Stricke out the blow, that I maye knowe 
thow .Essex lovedst at his good-nigM. 
When .England coutated me a Papist, 
the works of Papists I defye. 
! never worshipe S[ain]ct nor angell in heauen, 
nor to the Virgin 3larye, I ; 
But to CaRls'r, which for my synnes did dye. 
Trickling with sad teares in his sight, 
Sp[r]eading my armes to goal on high, 
Lord J.strs receive my soule this night. 


Rest thee, desire ; gaze not at such a star 
Fol. 57. This is a singular piece to be round in a collection of ballads. 
Stanzas 3, 5, 7 are, in origin, a condensation of the delicately tripping 
verses of Anacreon :- 
as ma), be seen in Robert Herrick's version. This version of them (with 
some differences of reading) is one of the poems brought into Robert 
Greene's romance of Orlbharivn { 588). I-lere, to Greene's version an initial 
stanza bas been prefixed, to convert the piece into the musing of a married 
man on an ideal beauty beyond his reach. Further, to extend the piece 
to the length requ!site for a half-sheet, and to adapt it to the vulgarity 
of ' the vulgar sort , stanzas 2, 4, 6, 8 introduce the scoldings of the wife, 
whose jealousy bas been stirred by the husband's restlessness. Stanza 9 
expresses their re¢oncil¢ment. 
[xo] 7 Seeing] read Since. [xx] x Cales] i. e. Cadiz. [xz] x When] 
read Though. counted] rtad counteth.  defye] read denye. 3 otnit in 
heau¢n. 4 t°l r¢ad yet. 5 But toi omit to. 

ç/irurn Ballads, LXXX 


REST thee, disire ; gaze hOt at such a starre: 
sweete fancy, sleepe: love, take a nap awhile. 
My busy thoughts that reach and tome soc farre, 
with pleasant dreames the length of tyme beguile. 
D[e]are Venus, cool my overheated breast, 
and let my fancy take her wonted rest. 
[2] Wo[man.] 
Aqacke, good syr! what troubleth so your minde? 
yow cannot sleepe, for being over kynd. 
Sure yow are vexed with fancyes 11 the night: 
yow naught but dreame of ber that's your delight. 
But, take good heed she coms hOt crosse your nose, 
for here lyes shee that now weares yellow hose. 
[si Man. 
Cuid abrad was latèd in the night; 
his wings were wett with ranging in the raine. 
Harbour he sought; to me he tooke his flight 
to drye his plumes. I hard the boy complayne ; 
My dore I opte to graunt him his desyre, 
and rose my selle to make the wag a lyre. 
[4] Wo[man.] 
Are yow so great growne with that little goal, 
that in your breast he maketh his abode? 
It had beene better sure he had from hence be gone; 
ther's other matters, syr, for yow to thinke vpon. 
Are yow soc idle, syr, yow dreame of naught but loue? 
I know a meanes that will those things remove. 
Looking more nearer, by the fyre's flame, 
I spi'de his quiver hanging at his backe. 
I feard the child might my misfortune frame-- 
I would haue gone, for feare of further wracke: 
And what I durst, poore man, did me betyde: 
for forth he drew an arrowe from his syde. 

Title. any] read a 
colour of jealousy. 
narrow {in Greene). 
Greene bas drad'. 
( ss ) 

[ai 3 vexed] i.e. vext. 6 yellow] i. e. the 
[3] • abrad] i. e. abroad. [$] t nearer] 
lyre'si i.e. ff-er's. 5 durst] i. ©. dreaded. 

Shirurn Ballac/s, LXXX 
[6] Wo[man.] 
Had yow such eyes yow can so clearly see, 
and had no eares to listen vnto me? 
I haue a bow, syr, more fytter for your bent, 
where yow ma), shoote your fill and hOt be shent. 
But yf yow range, syr, to mysse yow shalbe sure; 
The buzzard neere will stoope to grant your lure. 

[7] Man. 
He pierst the quicke, that I began to starte: 
the wound was sweet, but that it was to hye. 
And )'et the pleasure had a feeling smart. 
This done, awaye he flyes (his wings were dry); 
But left his arrow styll within my brest, 
that now I grieve I welcomd such a ghest. 

[8] Wo[man.] 
Your wound, good man, is dangerous and deepe. 
It needs insic-i-on (poore soule) your health to keepe. 
Be ruld by me ; and I your griefe will ease. 
Turne this way quickly ; here's help for your disease. 
Leave of your dreming: vse yow more delay. 
To mend your maladye, this is the readye way. 

[9 L'Envoy.] 
The goodman and his wife they both so well agree: 
'This is the only meanes, sweet hart, indeed; 
'to keepe me walking.' 'Then, prethe, be content; 
let's end this dreaming with this night's meriment.' 
Thus then yow see that dreams somtyme prove true. 
Conceit their pastimes, and byd them both adew_ 

HORACE [Elbist. ,. xi. 27] : 
« Coelum, non animum mutant, qui trans mare currunt." 
[End of the MS. as now ruade up. End, as I assume, of the 
portion first written.] 

[6] 6 grant] r«ad grasp. ET] a to hye] read too nye. 
6 now I grieve] sore I greeude (in Greene). [8] 5 of] i. e. off. 
yow] rad no. [9] 3 walking i. e. waking: sec n. x, p. 43- 
prethe] i.e. prithee. 

333 ) 


Trie Bodleian has a small oblong MS. (shelf-mark MS. Rawlinson 
poet. 185) , written in 1589 or i59o , of the same type as the Shirburn 
MS., and supplying a most interesting supplement to it. This volume 
now contains twenty-four leaves of paper (leaf 25, as foliated, being 
the old back-cover of the MS. and of thicker paper), but a leaf has 
been torn out after fol. 24, and a leaf or leaves between fol. 5, 6. 
The writing is in a good, scholarly hand, which uses English letters 
for the body of the text, and Roman letters for titles, refrains, &c., 
exactly as the scribe of the Shirburn MS. (see pp. i, 2). Three 
names are found in the book ; but, to my mind, they are ail later 
than the text, say of date 16oo to 62o. ' Dorothy Halford' occurs 
at the top right corner of fol. i : cf. Richard and William Halford 
(p. 2). 'William Wagstaffe' is written between the columns on 
fol. 9; and ' William Wagstaffe' and 'Thomas Wagstaffe ', among 
scribblings, on fol. 5. The leaves are 6 inches high by 8 inches 
wide. This oblong form seems chosen to allow the longer lines to 
be written continuously across the page. Where the pieces are in 
short lines, they are written in double columns. 
The MS. has several points of interest. It affords additional 
indication of the surprising amount (p. 2) of printed matter, which 
people in Elizabeth's rime thought it worth while to transfer from the 
perishable printed Broad-sheet to the more lasting MS. notebook. It 
supplies also ballads descriptive of important features of Elizabethan 
life (country pursuits, street cries, the apprenticeship system) which 
are absent from the Shirburn MS. It furnishes a quaint additional 
example of the ballad-drama. 
The volume had hOt escaped the search of the pioneers of ballad- 
studies. To Furnivall and Morfill's Balladsfrom MS. it has yielded 
two lengthy panegyrics on Queen Elizabeth, comparable to, but 
without the individualities of, No. XLII, riz. the piece (on fol. 137 
beginning :-- 
Zondon I london I singe and praise thy lord, 
to the tune of 2"arleton'$ caroll (Ballad$jrom J/S. il. 9 2) .; and that 
(on fol. 11") beginning :-- 
Prepare with speed: 
CRXST['S] comming is at hand. 
to the tune of 2"he JIedley (ibid. ii. io9). 
( 4 ) 

Ippendix I 


-birches green or fresh and green. 
verse. [6] x place] i. e. plaice. 
big ones. 

Appendix I 
you buy any broom-birches green 
Fol. x of the Rawlinson MS. 
,çI 0une 0f te gui 0f t0nb0n. 
WILL you buy any broome birch and greene, 
The finest Broome that euer was seene, 
Broome of the best, you knowe what I meane-- 
Vill you buy any Broome, Airistr¢s ? 
Will you buy any brushes that be stronge, 
Brushes shorte and Brushes lounge, 
Lylie-white Brushes, this is my sounge-- 
Will you buy any Brushes for your Cotes, 
To brush away dust, and allso motes, 
Very fine Brushes for gownes and Clokes-- 
Will you buy any Rods or holly-wands; 
Pyes the best that euer came in your hands: 
I haue the daintiest puddinges in ail these lands-- 
What lacke you, goodwife ? What do you seeke? 
A goode neate's foote ? or a good hogg's Cheeke ? 
My ware is the best that you saw this weeke-- 
New place, new, as new as the daye ; 
New whittings, new, here haue you maye. 
Come, buy ail my fishe, and send me awaye-- 
Mackrell new, Choppers longe and greate ; 
Walflett oysters, they be very good meate ; 
Fishe of the best and scant to gett-- 
Title. guise] rradcries. [x] x birch and] r«adpertmps 
4 Refrain to follow each 
[7] z Choppers] i. e. 

( 33s ) 

Shirkurn Ballads 

Will you buy any flory that is blacke ? 
Worke for a tinker? Mistres, what do you lack ? 
Haue you any olde Bellows to mend that be in wrack-- 
Will you buy any milke and firmetie ? 
A good sawsedge, a good, comme buy of me, 
Fine Oranges, the best you did see-- 
Pippins fine, the best in the streat ; 
Quinces and wardons, the best you tan meete; 
Nutts of the best, both smale and great-- 
Haue you any old Iron to sell ? 
Old broken silver ? I pray you tell. 
An old btoken goblett would do very well-- 
Old pasles or Cunneyskines, maides ; 
Good shomakers heres, or good all blades. 
In Smithfleld is to sell good horses and Jades-- 
Chimney sweep, maides ! Chimney sweepp ! 
Aqua-vite of the best, to spend or to keepp. 
Callis sande of the best between london and dee22-- 
Kitchen stufe, maids! haue you any to sell? 
Shirte laces and bottons that bere the bell ; 
I haue other thinges that will like you well-- 
Hard young letuce, faire and white! 
A ripe Cowcumber, a ripe! 
I haue all fine herbes that you tan resite-- 
Will you buy any t?roome, mistres ? 

[8] I tlory] hOt in the Dictionaries. [lai i pasles] Mc. 
heres] i.e. hairs, ail] i. e. awl. [i3] 3 Callis sandeJ 
white sand for scouring, deett ] i.e. Dieppe. 

( 336 ) 

.dlppendix H 

Appendix II 

These passions here which you profess 
Fol. t v. The antithesis of No. LXXIV and its kidney. 
The last ballad in the MS. is also :-- 
.q a0ttnge in iraie of tÇe ingle lire. 
To the tune of The ffosle's hearse alias 
œeeke volet of the earl]t, 
a drear' piece in six lS-lined stanzas, beginning 
Some do write of bloodie warres; 
Some shewes the sundrie iarres 
'twixt men through en,de raised.... 

To THE TUNE OF legoranto. 
THESE passions here which I professe, 
good sir, requires great cost. 
I pray you make hOt to much hast 
lest that your loue be lost. 
When sommer is goinge then winter is comminge 
I you advise, if you be wise, 
in tyme to stay your chase 
Lest that you run, as J°he&us did 
who 19aphne did persue 
With flyinge flyght, yet naught avayld 
although his loue was trew. 
For she desired rather Peneius ber father 
to tourne this wench Jove's loue to quench 
into a lawrell tree. 

[]  I] rmdyou. 

Shirburn 13allads 

I pray you therfore stay your steppes; 
your sure is very co|de. 
To loue to soone without advise, 
I date not be so bolde. 
The tymes they do varry, and I cannot tarry 
or staye. 
Your sure, or prayer, I will not here ; 
for needs I must awaye. 
29iana'es Love I doe embrace, 
from which I will not change. 
I meane as yet to locke my love 
least frowardly it range. 
The thinge you requested to grant I detested 
for why ? 
I will be said to liue a maide 
till a/rapos drawe nye. 
Your foresaid love and sure I scorne ; 
from Cupid I ara free. 
In Baies I boste, with Daphne faire; 
I loue the lawrell tree. 
Then who can remove me, although ye do love 
me so dere. 
For Cupiars lawe I passe nota strawe: 
his shafte I little feare. 
What Cankered care and Jelowsie 
the maried wiues sustaine: 
What fancie[s] fond the husbands haue, 
to show it were in vaine. 
If I should be maried my Corpes should be Caried 
For stormes of stryfe would end my life, 
and close me fast in Claye. 
Behold how ./ove most cunnyngly 
did take the shape of Bull; 
Who, though he maried ./uno faire, 
deceiued many a trull. 
Seeth gods have abused the thynge that well vsed 
should bee, 
I '11 not be ruade, but very glade 
to love the Lawrell tree. 
[4] I Love] r¢ad Lore. 
( 338 ) 

ippendix II 

The silly soule, poor _Prochris, once, 
who was a maried wife, 
the Crooked carlle Jelowsie 
did cause her end her life. 
For when her spouse Cephall, in huntyng thus 
call.., for ayre, 
With leveled datte, he perced her harte, 
thinking she was a dere. 

A virgin hath none of these harmes 
her daintie minde to cloye. 
A maiden hath noe Jelows thoughts 
to kill her with anoye. 
A maide bath no moninge, in Childbed no groninge, 
but still 
she lires in Joy; far from anoye 
she houldes ber ease at vdll. 

Yet surely I am sorye, sir, 
because such paines you take. 
In lovinge her that loves hOt you, 
who doth you quite forsake. 
Yet reson pretendeth, and wisdome intendeth 
a med'cine pure your wittes to cure, 
the which you do refuse. 

Let reason rule the raginge loue 
of Cupid's flaming tire. 
Let wisdome haue the vpor bande 
of this your fond desire. 
Let hOt loue dismaye you ; sweete freend, I pray 
you, remalne 
in wisdome's power and reason's bower, 
then shall you be whole againe. 

[8] 5 Margin frayed. [zx] 3 vpor] i. e. upper. 

z  ( 339 ) 

SAirburn Ballads 

Appendix III 

It was a maid of Islington 
Fol. 5 v. The beginning of a ballad which harps on the saine theme as 
1o. LXXIV. 
The tune-title possibly connects with Zady Jane Grey's Lamentation 
in Furnivall and Morfill's tallads from 1gIS. i. 47, or Lady Jands 
Zament, ibid. 49. 

1 rctie ittie. 
TO THE TUNE OFF ladre Jane. 
IT was a maide of !sKngton, 
and her wheell tan very rounde ; 
and many a waton web she spun, 
and it cost her many a pound-- 
Alas! (she saide) what hap had I 
run round, run round, my whele ! 
I fere a maiden I shall die, 
before my web I rele. 
My mistres is a daintie dame, 
and bravely she can iet it ; 
and if my whele runs out of frame, 
she will say 'wanton letts it.' 
Thus man)" a Check and taunt haue I 
run round, run round, nty w]tele / 
I fere a maiden I shall die, 
before my web I reele. 

Appendix IV 

An art whose end was never known 

Fol. 6. The first line of the last stanza is taken to name this ballad, 
because the title and beginning are wanting, a leaf or leaves having been 
torn out before fol. 6. To judge by the length of the companion piece 
(Appendix V), a stanza and a half are missing here. The theme is ' the 
Admonition of a Father to his Son, whom he is binding apprentice' to a 
weaver (stanza 9)- His text is the great advantage that a man has who 
III 3 waton]  
( 34,, ) 

./Ippendix I7 
is a capable craftsman (stanza 7), much in the strain of one of Thomas 
Tusser's (d. 151:'o ) Good husbandly/essons : 
The greatest preferment that child we can give 
is learning and nurture to train him to lire. 
The Iother's/ldmonition (Appendix V) takes a less exalted point of 
view, and describes the social arts by which the apprentice may escape 
too much stick. 
It is impossible for us to take in the full extent of the social difference 
which the abandonment of the apprenticeship system has ruade between 
Elizabeth's days and our own. The statute which codified the system 
was 5 Eliz. c. 4 (562-3) - By this no one might open shop or practise 
trade unless he had become free of the traffic or trade by having served 
his seven years of apprenticeship. Hence, a very large number of lads were 
taken from home at tender years to live for a protracted period in a 
master's house. Iir they ran away, owing to home-sickness, weariness, or 
even ill-treatment, the law and the constable sent them back. The terre 
of years was usually seven, as in the statute (5 Eliz. c. 4, § 24) ; but much 
longer periods are known. Thus, at Maldon, bIovember oE, 593, John 
Loffe was apprenticed ' for twelve years with Thomas Bennett, musicion, 
of Maldon, to learn the art of a musicion or mynstrell'. The indentures 
by which lads were bound apprentice contained these stipulations by the 
toaster :--() he is to instruct the apprentice ' in every feate, cunning, and 
skill, app.erteyninge to the science, mistery, or trade ' in question ; (2 (and 
this recetves as much prominence as is given to instruction) he is 'to 
chastise and correct him for his faultes and offences charitably and 
moderately'; (3) to supply him with board and clothing; (4) and, at the 
end of his time, to give him an outfit of ' double apparell, that is to sale, 
one good sute for the Lord's daye, and the other for the workinge dayes, 
meete and decent for such a servant to have and weare'. 
Stanzas 8 and 9 speak of the weaver's craft as a somewhat dignified 
one. This is round even in the cold style of the Statute. 5 Eliz. c. 4, 
§ 23, enumerates twenty-five trades (bricklayers, &c.) which may take for 
apprentices boys whose parents have no lands ; § 2o forbids merchants 
taking apprentices unless of parents who have lands oi r yearly value of 
,'2 ; but §25 forbids woollen-cloth-weavers taking an apprentice except 
irather or mother have lands of yearly value of ,3- 

And he that hath the heverly skill 
of Lerning's lore attaind, 
a Jewell rare, a perle of price, 
that happie man hath gaind. 

Though now to thee the frutes therof 
doth not so fully growe, 
the profit of so rare a tree 
thow shalt hereafter knowe. , 
For why ? by learninge first the trew 
and livinge god was knowne, 
v¢hose perfect truth from falshood vile 
therby is plainly showne. 
(341 ) 

Shirurn Ballatts 

The verrue eke of Sune and Moone, 
the stares, and plannets seven, 
and each thinge els that beareth life 
and dwelleth vnder heaven. 
Yea, every beast and fethered foule, 
the fish in fominge flood, 
each plant and tree in Summer tyme 
that one the earth doth bood. 
Then, sith it is so rare a thinge 
with lerninge to abide, 
forsake hOt thou that gratious guest 
which is so good a guide. 
And, last of ail, my loving sonne, 
haue thow in heedfull mynde 
the perfect knowledge of the trade 
herto I shall thee binde 
That thou maist be, in tyme to corne, 
a worthy workman deemd, 
and, for thy skill in Curious arte, 
amonge the best esteemd. 
lelles and tigmalion both 
examples well may be 
whose faine doth live though they be 
and florish still we see. 
Then thinke no scorne, my lovinge sonne, 
a handy-craft to learne, 
though yet the profit of the saine 
thy witts do hot discerne. 
1o one thinge in the world so sure, 
by ail men's just consent ; 
for skill doth stay when goods be gone 
and riches ail be spente. 
No Tyrant's traine, nor furious foe, 
can reeve thee of thy skill, 
except that they by envie seeke 
thy guiltles life to spill. 
Besides it is no triflinge trade 
that I would haue thee vst, 
but such a one as worthit weightes 
to do did not refuse ; 
[4] 8 one] i.e. on. bood] i. e. bud. 1"8]  reeve] i.e. 
reave, deprive. 7 weightes] i.e. wights. 
( 4  ) 

.,4ppendix IF" 
An arte whose end was never knowne, 
a curious arte and fine, 
even such as Pallas, hevenl), dame, 
did practis many a tyme. 
Therfore, to doe thy father's wili 
thy paines do thou imploye: 
so shalt thow be a common-welth 
a raember of geat ioy. 

Appendix V 

My father having rnoved his rnind 

Fol. 6". See introductory note to Appendix IV. Stanza 4 reakes 
mention of the boy's ' fellows' in his master's bouse. Many weavers had 
quite a large household of apprentices, the only statutable restriction 
being (5 Eliz. c. 4, § 26) that one journeyman must be employed for every 
three apprentices. Maldon records suggest that there were occasions on 
which telling of raies was not uncal]ed for. /vlay, 1623, alderman John 
Rudland, webster (i. e. weaver), asked the borough authorities fo control 
his unruly apprentices. They (four in number) slept in a room which 
was supposed fo be entered only through their master's bedroom. They 
had found that, by pushing up the ceiling-boards oftheir room, they cou]d 
pull themselves up into a loft which tan the whole length of the house, 
and so» by again shifting some loose boards, let themselves down into 
empty rooms at the far-end of the house. On Thursday, May I5, having 
been locked in their room by their mistress, their master being then in 
London, the four left the house ai IO p.m. and went down fo the harbour, 
where they did much damage to the salt-pit and sali-bouse, threw goods 
from the quay into the Channel, and, on their way home, broke ]atches off 
people's doors. Unsatisfied with this mohawking, the elder three came 
out a second time, threw down the stocks, and cast fish-stalls into the 
cart-way. When this came out, the youngest apprentice submitted to 
' sufficient correction' at his master's hands ; but the three others were 
defiant, and had fo be bound over to the Sessions fo answer for their 
By the Statute 33 Henry VIII c. 9, § Il, p]aying at cards (stanzas 6 
and 7) was expressly forbidden fo apprentices» under penalty of 6s. Bd. 
for each offence, except during Christmas-tide t when they might play in 
their master's house or in his presence. 

[9] 7 a] read in. 

Shirburn Ballads 

aBmonition 0f i otOer, anB Ber 
tounaiIe at lis bepartintI. 
My father having moued his minde 
that now his raie was done, 
with watery eyes my mother dere 
vnto me straight doth tourne; 
and takinge oft my hand in holde, 
when teres were wipte awaye, 
her inward thoughtes she vtterd, 
and thus she gan to saye-- 
Marke well (quoth she) the sage precepts 
thy father lately taught ; 
and set hOt thow thy Mother's words 
and counsell cleane at naught, 
but ponder well within thy brest 
the things I shall declare ; 
and evermore in redie minde 
thy mother's saings beare. 
Although thie father, with great care, 
hath well instructed thee, 
yet, eare thow parte, my lovinge sonne, 
somme counsaile take of me. 
When to thy master thow arte bound, 
apply thy busie vaine 
in each respect to plese him well, 
his favour to obtaine ; 
So shalt thou be in happie case, 
and live in quiet rest. 
But yet, to be in ioyfull state, 
plese thou thy Mistres best: 
for why ? thy meirth is very smale, 
wheras her friendshipp fayles. 
And of thy fellowes in the house 
take heede thow tell no tales. 
Thus breefly haue I tould the summe 
of that I had to say; 
but why thou shouldst observe the saine 
I will somme resons laye. 
The london dames be hasty shrowes ; 
and therfore it is best 
to win ther favour first of all ; 
soone shalt thow haue the rest. 
5 oit] read of. [5] 8 the reatJ i. e. (the favour of) the rest 
the household). 
344 ) 

lppendix I r 
For, if that stubborne thow rernaine 
against thy mistres rnynde, 
thow shalt be sure, of all the test, 
the hardest rnache to finde. 
If thow shouldst chance in christmas tyme 
the knaue of clubes to playe, 
she wilbe sure the Queene of trumpes 
vpon thy trycke to laye. 
And if she see, by course of Cards, 
her porposse do hot frarne, 
she will hOt sticke to steale a Carde 
but she will win the garne. 
But if thy rnaster chance to Chide, 
and she rernaine thy freend, 
the wande shall hOt corne nere thy backe 
before she hould the end. 
And if intretance rnay prevayle 
thy suretyshipe to crave, 
then maist thou make thy full accompt 
thy pardon for to haue. 
Thus rnaist thou lire in good accornpt, 
if thou regarde dost take. 
These resons, from an hundred more, 
I vtter for thy sake. 
Now, if thow hast thy maister's love, 
thy rnistres eke as well, 
yet, if thy fellowes bere thee spight, 
thow art hOt far from hell. 
And therfore, seeke, with willinge mynde, 
to plese thy fellowes all; 
so shalt thow be esteernd well, 
and loved, of great and smale. 
And thus I end for want (quoth she) 
of longer tyrne and space, 
beseeching hirn that rules the heavens 
to sheeld thee with his gmce. 

[6] 3 the test] i. e. the inmates of the bouse. 
match. [9] 3 bere] i.e. bear. 

4 maehe] i. e. 

SAirburn Ballads 

Appendix VI 

Prepare yourselves to fast this Lent 
Fol. 7 v. Thomas Preston (d. I598) , to whom the MS. assigns the 
ballad, Master of Trinity Hall, Cambridge, occupies a niche in the 
Temple of Fame by reason of Shakespeare's allusion (I Henry IV, ii. 4) 
to the ranting style of his Tragedy of Cambises (1569). There are several 
contemporary allusions to him as a writer of ballads ; so it is pleasant, 
after so long a time, to recover one of these. The theme of the ballad is 
the spiritual discipline which ought to accompany the Lenten fast, and 
without which the material observance of Lent is nothing worth. We are 
at once reminded, in the next generation of Englishmen, of Robert 
Herrick's To keb a true Lent, in his Noble Numbers:-- 
Is this a fast, to keep 
the larder lean 
and clean 
from fat of veals and sheep ? 
Laying the two pieces side by side, we are helped to judge of the gulf 
whic_ h separates the parson who versifies from the poet who preaches. 
The occasion of the ballad was the recent tightening of the Statute 
enforcing the observance of Lent. The Statute, 5 Eliz. c. 5, § 12 (1562- 3, 
had subjected to a penalty of [3, or three months' close imprisonment, 
ail persons who {without licence) ate flesh-meat in Lent, and to a penalty 
of [2, any householder who connived at their doing so. Licence could be 
purchased by a peer for 26s. Bd. yearly ; by a knight, for I3S. 4d. ; by a 
commoner, for 6s. 8d.--the fees to be paid to the poor-box ofthe parish in 
which the person so licensed lived. A later Statute, 27 Ehz. c. xI, § 5 
(1584-5) , provided that 'noinholder, taverner, alehousekeeper, common 
vitteler, common cook, or common-table-keeper, shall utter or put to sale, 
upon any day in the time of Lent, any kind of flesh victuals' under 
penalty of [5 and ten days' imprisonment, one-third of the fine to go to 
the Crown, one-third to the lord of the leet in which the offence was com- 
mitted, and one-third to the informer. Henceforward, right on to the out- 
break of the great Civil War, yearly, at the approach of Lent, printed 
proclamations enforcing the Statute were issued by the Privy Council to 
the Justices of the Peace. These justices, or, in the case of the privileged 
boroughs, the corporations, then bound over butchers, innholders, and 
victuallers, themselves in [IO each and two sureties in [5 each, to observe 
the regulations. Every Easter Quarter Sessions there was a good deal of 
business in inquiring into, and inflicting fines for, breach of the Stature. 
A definite instance occurs at Maldon, February 14, 1586-7, when Sir 
Arthur Herrys, High Sheriff of Essex, sent to the borough the Privy 
Council orders about ' the restraynt of kyllinge, utteringe, and eatinge of 
fleshe in Lente '» with Il covering letter, enjoining their due execution. 
Occasionally the Privy Council added special reasons for enforcing the 
orders. In 158{? 8) the Council's letter states that the Queen requires 
last year's orders to be very strictly observed this year, ' the rather in 
respecte of the late greate mortallitie of sheepe and other kinde of great 
cattle, generallie, almost thoroughowte the realme, and of the dearth and 
scarcetie also of other kinde of victualls at this tyme.' The signatures 
are :--Jo. Cant., W. Burghley, H. Darbie, T. (?) Cobham, T. Buckhurst, 
( 346 ) 

.4ppendix 171 

F. Knolls, Jamys Croftys, Jo. Wolley--i.e. Arbp. John Whitgift; 
William Cecil, baron Burghley, Lord High Treasurer; Henry Stanley, 
earl of Derby; (probably} William Brooke, baron Cobham; Thomas 
Sackville, baron Buckhurst; Sir Francis Knollys, Treasurer of the 
Household; Sir James Croft, Comptroller of the Household; and John 
Wolley, perhaps Clerk of the Council. No doubt the authorities had 
intimated to the courtly clergy that the Crown would be grateful if they 
could persuade the people to ready acceptance of the orders about Lent. 

tm{lab from tÇe t0untrie ent 
To THE TUNE OF the trainC. 
Prepare yourselves to fast this lent, 
as princesse law hath willed ; 
to obay the saine be you content, 
and let it be fulfilled. 
Submit yourselves, most humbly, 
to the hyare powers hartely ; 
for cons[c]ience sake, doe hot denie. 
And, seeth a fast commanded ys, 
I wish you to obay it, 
and fallow ther precepts in this: 
seeme hot once to denay yt. 
And though from flesh restrayned ye be, 
observe a greater fast must we, 
for Christ and pall ruade that decree. 
It is hOt for to fast from meate, 
of yt to make a sparinge ; 
but fast above that, and more great, 
for this we must be caringe. 
Out hands, and feete, and members ail, 
must fast this fast, as tell I shall, 
as all should fast in generall. 
With ail our power, to fast from sinn, 
and keep vs vndefiled; 
this lent therfore let vs begine, 
lest that we be begyled. 

[z] a princesse] i. e. queen Elizabeth's. 
higher. [2] z seeth] i. e. sithl since. 
follow. "] lOall] i. e. Paul. 

6 hyare] i. e. 
3 fallow] i. e. 


çirburn 13ll'ds 

For feet be redy, at this day, 
to go for to do wrong a; 
to run to law, each weeke and day, 
feet thinkes no iorney long a. 
And feet can go, for to beguyle 
another man, an hundred myle. 
Ea.res, mouth, and feet, worke many a wyle. 
For eyes see, loung time before, 
what afterward will hap a. 
The mouth can speake, and eares can heare, 
and hands canit vp snap a. 
And feet can run before it fall; 
mouth, hands, be ope to swallow ail: 
this fast is kept of great and smale. 
From whordome, drunckennes, and such, 
we all should fast and leaue yt. 
And covetousnes is vsd much; 
each one doth still receaue yt. 
From vsery but few will fast ; 
in pryson still the poore they cast: 
oppression setts them on the last. 
Thus few or none, lernes the trew fast, 
and few ther be will vse yt. 
Away from vs we do it cast, 
and styll we do refuse yt. 
Yet every man can fast amysse ; 
and every man hould fast this, 
and eeke that keep, that's none of his. 
Each man fasts from restoring that 
which wrongfuily is gotton. 
They feed still of I wot hot what ; 
all serues, be it ripe or rotton. 
God grant vs the trew fast to leame, 
to driue the fox out of the fearne, 
the wolves from lambes for to descerne. 

~inif : ¢[uo]d THO. PRESTOI. 

( aso ) 

Ippendix 1711 

Appendix VII 

Regard my sorrows, you lasses that love 

Fol. xo. This lainent raises difficult questions as to who is the sweet 
Willie here rnourned over, and what is his kinship to Edrnund Spenser's 
#leasant IVill¥ in TAc Teares of tac zlIuses (159o), 11. 2o5-2Io :- 
And he, the man whorn Nature se|fe had ruade 
to rnock ber selfe, and Truth to irnitate, 
with kindly counter under Mirnick shade, 
our pleasant Willy, ah! is dead of late: 
with whorn all ioy, and iolly meriment 
is also deaded, and in dolour drent. 
The piece is assigned (p. 353) to Richard Tarlton, Elizabeth's favourite 
jester, died I588. If that attribution be correct, we are thrown back 
upon an older explanation of #leasant Willy, riz. that Sir Philip Sidney 
d. 1586)is rneant, and is thus cornrnemorated because of the masques 
he had conducted at Court. On the other hand, the points touched on in 
the ballad are ail consistent with what we know rnainly from John Stow 
of Tarlton's lire. He was (stanza 2) a rnaker of rnirth of the greatest 
popularity. He was a special favourite of Queen Elizabeth's (stanza 8J, 
even in ber bitterest rnoods. He was an original member of ber company 
of twelve actors (constituted 1583), who received pay and allowances as a 
groom of the charnber (stanza 9). His forte was irnprovising doggerel 
verses (stanzas I2, 13) on subjects suggested to hirn by his audience. On 
the whole, therefore, it seerns that we should set aside 'quod Richard 
Tarlton', and take the verses as a larnent, by an unknown pen, over the 
farnous jester, singer of ballad-drarnas, and comedian. In that case, 
strong support is given to the suggestion that by 2bleasant Willy Spenser 
rneant Tarlton. 

q pretie netu tallat, intitule wi//ie 
To TI-IE TtlNV- OF tarlton's carroll. 
RE«.«RD my sorroes, you lasses that loue ; 
for now I haue cause to complaine. 
The weight, whome I loued in harte aboue all, 
is now away from me tane-- 
My trewest loue, he is gone: 
mv nowne sweete willie is laide in hi grave. 
Ay me/ wAat comforte may peggie now haue: 
sweel lasses, then ayde me lo waile and lo moone. 

Ix] 3 weight] i. e. wight. 


S/2irburn 13allads 

I morne for to here how, in bower and hall, 
men say 'sweet wil!ie, farewellt' 
His like behinde him for merth is not left: 
ail other he did excell. 
But now he is dead and gonne : 
my nowne sweet willie is laide in his Krave. 
lye me ! IVhat conoEorte may peggie now bave : 
sweet lasses, then aide me go waile and to moone. 
Commended he was, both of great and smale, 
where-soever he did abide, 
in courte or in cittie, in countrie or towne-- 
so well himselfe he could guide. 
His lookes and his gesture, his tornes and his grace, 
each man so well did delight 
that none would be wery to see him one stage 
from morning vntill it were night. 
ldmelu$ to loee$t was never more trew, 
sweet willie, then thow arte to me ; 
and as akest for admetus her life would give, 
so would I haue donne for thee. 
Rest[s] naught for peKgie but sorroe and care, 
to waile the losse of her frend. 
Seeth Death he hath taken my willie away, 
would god my life it would end. 
Dead is my willie whome one peKgids white hands 
bestowèd perfumèd gloves, 
his silver, himselfe, and his gaye gould ring, 
as token of our trew loues. 
Tyme caused my willie to corne to the courte, 
and in favour to be with the Queene: 
wher oft he made ber grace for to smile 
when she full sad was seene. 
A groome of her chamber my willie was ruade 
to waight vpon her grace, 
and well he behavèd him selfe therin 
when he had obtaynèd the place. 
[] 5 Refrain to follow every stanza, exc'.pt the two la_st. 
[] 3 one] i. e. on. [6] 3 seeth] i e. sith, since. [7] t 
whome one] rtad who on. 3 i.e. in the marriage ceremony. 
C 35 ) 

./Ippendix l/'II 

Regarded he was of gentelmen ail 
that in the corte did remaine, 
and ladies desirèd his companie oft 
because of his plesant vaine. 
Lyke argoes my willie had eyes for to see 
least any he might offend ; 
and though that he iested, his iestes they weare such 
as vnto reason did tend. 
To rich and to poore my willy was round 
so meeke, so courteous, and kynde; 
to singe them their themes he never denied, 
so that it might plese their minde. 
O poets, now aide me with your grave style 
to deck his toome with your verse, 
seeinge, whilst he was living, on themes so hard 
the meaning he could well rehersse. 
NOW farewell my wil#, my ioy and delight ; 
my rurale so trew of love. 
Though dead be thy bodie, thy soule yet (I hope) 
in heaven is dwelling above. 
And seeth thow arte dead and gonne, 
sweet wil# now farewell and adew. 
I will never forgett thee for no new 
but like the turtle still will I moone. 
[. L'Envoy] 
Thus eg bewailèd the losse of her freend 
whom rates had taken away, 
and wishèd her bodie intoombèd with his 
in graue wheras he y. 
But seeth thy willr is gonne, 
What needs thow }or to waile and moene. 
Be mers, I say ; let sorro alone. 
Some other will love the as he hath done. 

.illi : q[uo]d IICHARD TARLTON. 

[xx] x argocs] i.e. Argus. 

353 ) 

Appendix VIII 

Tell me, John, why art thou so sad 
Fol. 15 v. Another example of a four-act ballad-drama, similar to 
No. LXI, but of simpler construction, having only one tune and one form 
of stanza throughout. There are three dramalisbersonae ; stage directions 
are absent, but easily be supplied. The subject is the risky one of a 
husband wronged, beaten, and duped by his faithless wife and manservant. 
This is a stock piece in ltalian novelle (e. g. Boccaccio, 19ecameron, 1352, 
day vii, novel 7 ; Bandello, 1554) , and French fabliau(Brabazon-Méon, 
Fabliau (18o8), iii. 161). See a long listof analogues and imitations 
in Henri Regnier's Œuvres de f. de la Fontaine (1887), iv. 83-5. 
Granted the situation, the ballad steers clear of further offence. 
The title ' Rowland's godson" is peculiar. When taken in connexion 
with No. LXX. it seems as though Rowland in Elizabethan folklore were 
a generic naine for a libertine or Don Juan. 
Notice again (cp. p. 45) the 'you' of the servant speaking to the 
mistrêss, and of the wife speaking to the husband ; and the plain ' thou' of 
mistress to servant, and husband to wife. 


[] 4 misteries] i.e. mis-ter-ess, mistress. 
['2] 7 maist] rtad (flerhaps) must. 
( 354 ) 

pr01er nrt ballrtt, irrfitulr low[and' 
To ZHr. ZJNE Or Loth ¢0 departe. 
[Act I : Bess ; to ber enters John.] 
Tell me, fhon, why art thow soe sade ? 
Tell me, ./thon ; tell me, ./thon, 
what is'te will make thee glade ? 
Thow knowest thy misteries loues thee well, 
soe dearelye as I shune to tell. 
Tell me, I praye thee ; 
lett nothinge dismaye thee ; 
but let mee inioye thy loue, thy loue 
O misteris myne, I cannot be merrye. 
Tell mee, ./thon ; tell me, fhon, 
why lookes thow soe heauylye ? 
1V[y master carries a Jealous eie, 
and wames me from your companie. 
Heauens forfend 
¥ou maist amende it ; 
or ells farewell to our loue, our loue. 
5 shune] i.e. shun. 





.lppendix I/III 

Why, .]'hon, thy toaster mis-trustes not thee. 
Wo is me! wo is me! 
much he mistrusteth me, 
and sayes he sawe me kisse your lippes, 
suspectinge other secrete slippes. 
I will excuse thee. 
I will refuse thee, 
except you excuse out loue, Jour loue.] 

Why tell me, .]'acke, and be not afrade ; 
tell me, .[acke ; tell me, .]'acke ; 
haste thow not hard it saied 
that weomen in loue haue witt at will ? 
I praye you, misteries, show your skill; 
heare cornes your husband! 
Hid thee, my leaman ; 
and I will goe plead for our loue, our loue. 
[Exit John.] 

[Act II : Husband; to him cntcrs Boss, looking sad.] 




How now, sweete wife! what, all amorte? 
I! my deare; I! my deare; 
I haue no lust to sporte. 
Although I was tempted very late 
to abuse your bed and my mariage state, 
yet, in my tryall, 
I made a denyall. 
How happie am I in my loue, my loue! 

:But tell me, wyfe; who tempted thee. 
Be. John, your man; .lrohn, your man, 
Vrginge me shamfully ; 
and, had I not graunted to meete him at length, 
he would have forst me with his strength. 
Hu. Out one him, villaine! 
Be. Not for a millaine 
of gould, would I loose my loue, my loue. 

[4] 7 hid] i. e. hide. 
8 Ioos¢] i. ¢. losc. 

[6] 6 one] i. e. on. 7 millaine'] i. e. million. 
.,, a • (355) 

Stir3urn Ballads 





Hu. 0 Besse, the knaue is growne to proude: 
take him downe ; take him downe ; 
such twiges must needs be bound. 
Be. But in the Orcharde, where I should meete him, 
there, in my appareil, yourselfe shall greete him. 
Gett thee a coudgell-- 
Hu. l'le pay the young losell 
for offering to tempt my loue, my love. 
Thou didst appoynte to meete him there. 
Be. Out, alas ! out, alas ! 
I did it all for feare. 
Hu. How didst thow say thow wouldst corne attired ? 
Be. In my blacke silke gowne, for soe he desired. 
Hu. That will I put on. 
Be. Looke to thy selfe, John ! 
Hu. l'le course him for tempting my loue, my loue. 
But when did he point this sporte should bec ? 
Be. Ail alone ; all alone, 
vnder the holly tree. 
Hu. Then of that tree l'le get [me] a wande. 
Be. I would you had a stronger hande 
to chastise the treacher. 
Hu. Out on him, leacher ! 
that v¢ould have defielèd my loue, &c. 
0 what a wife haue I of thee. 
Praise thy god, praise thy god! 
'Tis he bath blessèd thee. 
Would all my neighbors were so sped 
with such a trew loue in their bed. 
Good wives are daintie. 
Not one amongest twentie 
so constant as thow in thy loue, &c. 
Vppon what boute did you agree ? 
By and by, [by] and by, 
after the stroke of three. 
Then it is tyme that I were gone-- 
I! if you meane to meete with John. 
Lay him one sowndlye. 
l'le beat him profoundly, 
for offeringe to tempte my love, &e. 

[] x to ] i. e. too. 
. e. treacherous one. 
( 356 ) 

3 bound] r«ad bowed (i. e. bent). 
[z*] 6 one] i.e. on. 

[9] 6 treacher] 


.Ippendi.v I/III 

[ I9] 
But hide your bearde in any case. 
Hould thy peace, hould thy peace, 
a moufler shall hide my face: 
and, when he cornes, and thinkes to settle, 
his flowre shall prowfe a stinkinge nettle. 




Then goe and make you readie straight. 
Now I goe, now I goe, 
for .]o/n tolie in waight. 
The goose is betraide vnto the fox. 
The ase will prowfe himselfe an ox. 
What sayest thow, my sweetinge? 
I say, in your meettinge 
you will course him for tempting your loue, [your loue.] 
[Exit Husband: Bess moralizes.] 


Thus doe the weeds overgroe the corne, 
alunseene, alunseene, 
with laughing and great scome. 
l'st hOt a world to heare vs speake: 
then doe your vessels soonest leake. 
Men are importune ; 
then blame hot our fortune, 
out sexe were ordainèd to loue, to loue. 



[Act III : Bess ; to her enters John.] 
Say, mris, which wayes blowes the winde 
Towards the cost, towards the cost 
which we too strive to finde. 
Oh that I could that cost descerne! 
Playe thow the pylat at the stearne ; 
and feare hot aryving, 
no winde is dryvinge 
to hinder vs of out loue, out loue. 

[a] 5 stinkinge] rtad stinginge. 6, 7, 8 Blank left in MS. for the three 
missing lines. [I8] 5 Spoken by Bess aside, and imperfectly heard by 
husband. [I5] a ¢ost] i. e. coast. 3 too] i. e. two. 5 pylat] i.e. pilot. 
( 357 ) 

Shir$urn Ballads 

Jo. What sayes my toaster to this geare 
Be. Now the mouse, now the mouse 
sleepes in the catt's eare. 
Jo. But tell me, mris; what doth hee say 
Be. That he will incke while ,e to playe. 
Io. Is all this veritie ? 
Be. I! of my honestye. 
Io. But tell me how, my loue, in), loue. 
Be. 0 John! I haue complayned of thee, 
Blamynge thee, blamynge thee 
ail for thy leachery. 
Jo. Out alas! why did you soe? 
Be. Thow knowest hot how the winde doth blowe. 
It was my pollicyel 
Jo. to kyll his Jelowsie ? 
Be. Onely for that, my loue, my loue. 
Jo. I stande accusèd in this case-- 
Be. Be content ! be content ! 
l'le keepe thee from abuse. 
Within the orchard looke thow staye, 
and when thy master comes this waye 
in my apparell-- 
Jo. Wili he not quarrell 
with me about out loue, out loue ? 
Be. Thow must suppose him to be me: 
raile one me, raile one me ; 
blame my dysloyaltie. 
And, to make his loue to roote the faster 
and, in your talkinge, 
let biowes be walkinge, 
and call him a whore in his loue, his loue. 
Jo. The finest device that euer I harde1 
that so soone, that so soone 
my loue hath got a bearde! 
Therefore, mris, get you awaye. 
Be. Looke, in the orcharde see you staye. 
Jo. I do conceyte you. 
Be. I will aaight you, 
and see how you handle out loue, out loue. 
[i8"] 3 abuse] read disgrace. [I9]  one] l. e. on. 5 Line dropped ; 
something like - rail hot to protest thou dost honour thy malter ; '. 

./lppendix l/III 

[Act IV: Husband finds John in the orchard, and is dr,ibbed by him.] 









Now, John, we will pay the score-- 
Fye one thee! fye one thee! 
thou art an arrant whore. 
John, I know thou doest but iest. 
I know thou art a filthie beast 
to fawne one a leaman, 
and leaue thy good husbande. 
0 John! it is for loue, for loue. 
The devill in hell take such a wife! 
Hearest thou me ? Hearest thou me ? 
'tys pittie of thy life. 
Why wilt thou wound, and give no plaster ? 
Why wilt thou haue me wroung my toaster ? 
Thou saidst thou didst loue 
I did it to proue thee; 
and therefore, take this for thy loue, thy l[oue.] 
[Beats him.] 
[Bess emerges from her hiding-place.] 
Be advisd and hould thy hand. 
See'st thou hot, see'st thou not 
where thy toaster doth stand ? 
What makes my toaster in your weede? 
He came to rate thy filthy deed. 
0 John ! I loue thee ; 
for now I have proved thee: 
thou wilt hot fleet in thy loue, thy loue, 
0 busban! you ill not take il: soe ? 
Yes, my love ; yes, my love, 
and ioy in every blowe. 
Master, my mris is very light. 
No, John! my wife is pure and right. 
Now I haue try'de 
Knave, I defie thee 
for callinge me light in my loue, my lo[ue]. 

[ax] 6 one] i.e. on. [a4] x Bess hypocritically remonstrates vith 
Husband, for putting up with the beating. 
( ss9 ) 



S/zirburn 13allaars 

0 John ! thou art my seruant trew 
and my love, and my love; 
l'le change the for no new. 
A seruant's dewtie prict me one-- 
Now JEsus blese thee, gentle John ! 
O ioy out of measure 
to haue such a treasure 
of such a seruant and loue, and loue. 
Goe, wife! goe, make vs merrie cheare 
of the best, of the best : 
let nothinge be to deare. 
Be. I will, seeth you will haue it soe. [Exit Bess.] 
Jo. About your business I will goe. 
Hus. Doe soe, good rohn ! [Exit John.] 
How happie I am 
That haue such a seruant and loue, and loue. 

Appendix IX 

A prince doth sit in slippery seat 
Fol. I9". This tuneful piece may well bave suggested Robert Herrick's 
similar rnusing on The Cottnlrff dLie in his ttesîberides :-- 
Sweet country life, to such unknown 
whose lives are others', hot their own ; 
but, serving courts and cities, be 
less happy, hot enioying thee. 
blost of the stanzas have sorne detail of interest. In stanza 3 we have 
the long winter evening by firelight, ail hands at some profitable work, 
and all rninds interested by story or song. When I was a boy in Scotland, 
old labouring men used to relate their reminiscences ofjust such evenings. 
Candles were dear ; reading-rnatter, and the power to read, were scarce. 
The farnily had no other light than the tire of wood or turf. Every one 
had some work in hand. The rnother and the older girls had whorl or 
spinning-wheel to make flax-thread or woo|len thread. The father and 
the older boys split wood with their knives to form pegs for shoernakers, 
or, when dipped in brimstone, lucifer matches. The younger children 
peeled r,,shes, that the pith-stalks might be dipped in tallow to make 
candles. Stories were told of ghost, and witch, and fairy, of brownie, and 
kelpie, and Satanic visitation; of ornens dire, and second sight, and 
presentiments of death, ail with local attribution of person or place. 
Here, in the same way, the wife peels hemp, and the husband pegs his 
[25] 3 the] i. e. thee. 4 one] i. e. on. 5 blese] i. e. bless. [a6] 3 toi 
i.e. too. 4 seeth] i. e. sith, since. 
( 3 6o ) 

ippendix IX 
clogs; and tale is not lacking. The mixture of apple-pulp and aie 
made the lamb's-wool of No. LI, stanza 18. 
In stanza 5, and again in stanza fo. tabor and pipe are mentioned as 
the staple of country music. John Aubrey relis us {BriefZiles, ii. 39) that 
this continued till the great Civil War, when ' the drumme and trumpet 
putte that peaceable musique to silence '. 
Stanza 7 dilates upon the feast which rewarded the labour of sheep- 
washing and shearing. Tusser gives this See-sAearing due notice among 
his Te PlougAmen's Feastinoe days :-- 
Wife, make us a dinner: 
spare flesh, neither corn. 
Make wafers and cakes» for 
our sheep must be shorn. 
Stanza x* shows that the piece is from the pen of a parson-poet, as was 
Herrick ; but an optimist, not a realist. Neither his contemporaries, nor 
any of their successors, bave round, or final, that cheerful alacrity in the 
payment of tithe. Thomas Tusser {d. 58o) lays down, as a general 
maxim of husbandry, that ' some in their tithing', i.e. payment of tithe, 
' be slack ' ; and, from his painful personal experience as a collector of tithe 
at Fairstead, Essex, recounts how :-- 
The tithing lire, the tithing strifeç 
through tithing iii of Jack and Gill, 
... too long I felt. 
Stanza ,2 describes riding at the Quinten (quintain) as a sport associated 
with the mounted escort of the bride at a country weclding. John Aubrey 
(Brief Ziles» ii. 33 o) records how this continued to the Civil War and then 
ceased. In Aubrey's rime the rider used a club, and gave ' a lusty bang' 
at one of the swinging arms of the apparatus, and, if his horse was too 
slow, got a knock on the head from the other arm. According to the 
ballad, the sport had at the earlier date more resemblance to the exer¢ises 
of the tilt-yard, the rider thrusting with a spear, and, if he missed the right 
point, suffering the penalty of his arm being jarred by the splintered wood. 

ife of tOç ountriman, 
r i tontcntc miner, a {aour 
omr to{r mirb it p{caurr: mot 
lraauntr an clifftflfll: to 
A Prince dothe sit a slippe W seate, 
and beares a carefull minde: 
the Nobles, which in silkes doe iet, 
do litle pleasure finde. 
Our fegard and safetie, with many great matters, 
they soen ; 
and non liues mener, in my mynde, 
than dothe the plaine countm. 
[z] i ai reud in. 

Shiraurn Ballads 

Although with patchtd dothes he go, 
and stockinge out at heele, 
he litle knowes the greife and wo 
that mightie men do feele ; 
But merrely whistles, and plowes vp the thistles 
a pace. 
When sunne goes downe so rounde as a crowne, 
his oxen he doth vnbrace. 
When they are in stall, his wife he dothe call :-- 
' Corne hether, my owne sweete megge, 
' and peele the hempe at the chymney wall, 
'while I my shewes do pegge.' 
Then, by good fier, he merrely tels ber 
a tale. 
And then, with delight, to quicken their sprite, 
they drinke of their apples and aie. 
When springe rime cornes, his pleasure he turnes 
about his grownd to go, 
to see howe trime his corne dothe springe, 
which he did lately sowe. 
Which when he perceiueth bothe forwarde and fruitfull 
to bee, 
vpon his toe he turnes him tho, 
so pleasant as any see. 
And then in may, by breake of day, 
with morrice daunces trime 
his men and he dothe quickly agree 
to fetch their may-powle in. 
With pipe and with tabor, in very good order, 
you knowe, 
throughout the towne, bothe vp and downe, 
their may-game they will sho. 
And though they do great toyle abide, 
and labour, ail the weeke, 
of a sommer lorde, at whi¢sonlide, 
they will not be to seeke. 
The lorde and the lady, so merry as may be 
all day, 
like kinge and queene, will there be sene, 
ail in their best array. 
[3] 4 shewes] i. e. shoes. [4] 4 lately] i.e. in the winter 
wheat-sowing. 7 i. e. h¢ cuts a caper, for joy. 
( 3 6a ) 

_/lppendix IX 

At sheeringe of sheepe, which they do keepe, 
good lorde! what sporte is than. 
What great good cheire, what ale and beare, 
is set to euery man. 
With beefe and with baken, in wooden brown¢ platters, 
good store, 
they fall to their meate, and merrily eate: 
they call for no sawee therfore. 
When midsommer cornes, with bauens and bromes 
they do bonefiers make, 
and swiftly, then, the nimble yong men 
runnes leapinge ouer the saine. 
The women and maydens together do couple 
their handes. 
With bagpipe's sounde, they daunce a rounde ; 
no malice amongest them standes. 
When sommer's day hath dry'de the hay 
that growes vppon the grownde, 
they merrily iet, their sythes fo whet ; 
and downe they cut it rounde. 
Their wiues and daughters, with forkes and with rakers, 
do corne, 
in petticotes gay, to spread out the hay, 
with a strawne bat for the sunne. 
When corne is ripe, with tabor and pipe, 
their sickles they preçare ; 
and wagers they lay how touche in a day 
they meane to eut downe there. 
And he whieh is quickest, and eutteth downe cleanest 
the corne, 
a garlande trime they make for him, 
and brauely they bringe him home. 
And when in the barne, without any harme, 
they haue layd vp their corne, 
In hart they singe high praises to him 
that so increast their gaine. 
And vnto the parson, their pastor and teaeher 
With harts most blyth, they geue their tyth-- 
their duties full well they knowe. 
[8] z bauens] L e. bavins, loppings of hedges, brushwood. 
u fiers] i.e. ff-ets. [9] 8 strawne] i. e. straw-¢n, ruade of straw. 
( 363 ) 

Shirburn Ballads 

But when they ride to fetche home a bride 
the bagpipe's not forgot ; 
Nor bridecakes fine, to beare with them, 
whether cut do amble or trot. 
And then, at the Quinten, the yongemen prepare them 
to ride, 
and manly their they break a speare 
in honnour of mistris bride. 
When Ch[r]istmas drawes neare, to make good cheare 
they nede hOt to market go, 
for brawne and souse they haue in the house, 
with goose and capon also. 
For brewer and Baker they care hOt a couple 
of flyes, 
Y-et will they haue aie, bothe happy and stale ; 
yea, white loues and Ch[r]istmas pyes. 
And thus },ou heare, throughout the yeare, 
the merrie Countrieman's lire, 
how pleasantly they do spende the da},, 
with litle trouble or strife. 
For backe and for belly if that they haue redie 
in store, 
and rent to pay at the quai'ter da},, 
they never desier more. 
But with a quiet contented minde 
he spends his time till deathe; 
yet beares away az touche as they 
that liues like lordes on earthe. 
And allwayes continewes to god and his princesse 
most true, 
and geueth plaine, without disdaine, 
to euery man his due. 
Whose harte is hOt ambitiously bent 
to clinke to high estate ; 
but, ail his life" is well content 
to liue in simple rate. 
Through faith in CH[R]SX Jv.sus his soule is saud 
from thrall, 
and plast in ioy, where CHIST, we pray, 
bringe vs bothe great and smale. 
[2] 4 eut] farm-horse. 7 their] i. e. there. [r3] 8 loues] 
i. e. loaves. [5] 5 princesse] i.e. Queen Eliabeth. 
[t6] 2 clinke] read climb. 7 plast] i. e. placd. 
( 364 ) 


IT seems desirable to bring together, under a few heads, some 
characteristic features of grammatical construction which appear in these 
ballads. It is to be borne in mind that the copyist of the Shirburn MS. and 
the copyist of the Rawlinson MS. were by no means illiterate persons. It 
is plain from their respective handwritings (pp. I, 334) that they were of 
scholarly attainments. For this reason, their grammatical eccentricities 
are not blunders, mere and positive, but expressions of a general care- 
lessness as to inflexions which was afterwards corrected and curbed by the 
influence of printed matter. 
tlural subject witA singular verb. This is of frequent occurrence. 
e. g. with the inflexion -th, we have :--men who doth, 26 ; some riseth, 68 ; 
climbers doth, 114 ; foes that doth, 128; blossoms aboundeth, 186; 
stories hath, I92 ; streets doth, 24I ; bodies bath, 243 ; thoughts doth, 
305 ; laws doth, 309 ; fruits doth, 341- 
With the inflexion -% we have :--things that is, 27 ; pleasures is sought, 
5I ; wonders foretells, 80 ; those sits, I 4 ; things is, I3I ; beagles that 
hunts, I52 ; years was, I65 ; fowls sits, 87 ; sons was, 23I ; graces binds, 
237 ; causes wills, 237 ; friends holds, 239 ; hands was, 256 ; men dwells, 
257 ; children cries, 258 ; men sits, 258 ; years fits, 264 ; humors stops, 
u69; maidens strives, u99 ; buds bears, 302; them that troubles, 325 ; 
passions requires, 337- 
In several cases, rhyme is a motive for neglect of pure grammar, as in 
these instances :-- people bestows, 69 ; they craves, 70 ; friends makes, 
70 ; lires lies, 79 ; lips misses, 87 ; those knows, 122 ; wights fights, 227. 
In still other instances, the construction may be glossed over (i) by the 
subject being two-membered and of only cumulative plurality :--e. g. 
heaven and earth doth, 86; care and woe hath, o9; theft and robbery 
follows, 23 ; shaft and bow seeks, I2I ; grief and care kills, I37 ; clnnamon 
and sugar grows, I73 ; conscience and credit bids, 265 ; thoughts and 
industry is, 3o3 ; lily and rose strives, u82 ; milk and roses shews, 283 ; 
men and he doth, 362; or (ii) by the subject being collective, e.g. 
news was, 7, 232 ; tidings cornes, I7I ; or (iii by inversions, e.g. doth 
madmen use, 268; was men, I3I ; is nectar and ambrose, I73; was 
sorrows, I98 ; is others, 31o ; cornes expenses, 33- 
Conversely, singular subject witA 201uralverb occurs :--e. g. nature seeke, 
58 ; the which (thing) were, 7o; safety do abide, 99; mind despise, 1,4 ; 
the younger (brother) were, I68 ; fortune are, u39 ; face look, 243 ; year 
have, 295 ; god have, 295. 
This is sometimes disguised by ad sensum construction :-e. g. myself 
(with others) were, zoo, 2oi ; myself (with more) were, 2oi ; or by in- 
version, e.g. have England won, 124. 

Peculiar uses of te lbronouns. (i) There is carelessness in attaching 
person- and number-inflexion-marks to pronouns :--e.g. I yields, 330; 
thou was, 313 ; thou were, 252 ; looks thou, 354- (iii The archaic use 
in which tkou was spoken by superior to inferior, and you by inferior to 
superior, is still prevalent, 245. (iii) Confusion is creeping in, e.g. thy 
and you, in the saine connexion, refer to the saine person, 149 , 15o. 
(iv) She occurs for the objective case (her), 282. 
Double com#arison is frequent :--e. g. more sharper, 137 ; more vilder, 
167 ; more worse, 168 ; more purer, 189 ; worser, 2oI ; more nearer, 332 ; 
more fitter, 333. 
Doublenegativeis equally frequent :--e.g. no... hot, 45 ; nor.., never, 
73, 303, 330; nor.., hOt, 83, 12, 171 ; nor.., no, 


The number of the ballad is given. P.M. refer to William Chappell's Popular 
Music of/Ae Oiden Time, I855- 7 ; O.E.D. to Oxenfoord-Macfarren, Oid English 
ZX'ttit» [188t] ; and R.B., to 2oxburghe Ballads, edited by J. W. Ebsworth. 

AIl in a garden green (LII}: P.M. 
IIO ; O.E.D. il. 84. 
Ail those that are good fellows(LXVl I) : 
P.M. 15L 
Ail you that fathers be (XXXIII)-- 
Ail you that love good fellows : 
P.M. 149. 
Awake, awake, O England (XLIII)=; 
O man in desperation. 
Beggar cornes, the (XXX|V'). 
Bragandary (I, V) : R.B. viii. 
Bride's good-morrow, the (XLIV): 
R.B.i. 61. 
Buggleboe {.LXI, act III}. 
Cramp, the : Appendix VI: O.E.D. 
ii. 184. 
Crimson velvet (XXXlX, XLVI, LX) : 
P.M. 178 ; O.E.D. ii. 168. 
Dainty, tome thou to me (XVIII 
LXXIII) : P.M. $x7. 
Down Plumpton Park (II). 
Dul¢ina (XI, XII» XIII) : P.M. 14a 
O.E.D.i. uo8. 
Essex's (= the King's) last gvvd-night 
(XIV) : P.M. 174 ; O.E.D. ii. 19u. 
Flying lame (XXIII, XLVIII): P.M. 
Fortune my foe (XV, XXVI, XXVII, 
XXXI, LV): P.M. I61; O.E.D. 
ii. 188. 
French lauata (=levaitv), the (LI, 
LXXVI) : P.M. 169. 
Gallants ail corne mourn with me 
(LXXVII}: R.B. viii. 758. 
Galliard, s,e Robinsons, Wigrnvre's. 
Ghvst's hearse, the, p. 337. 
Gigg-a-gvgg (XLV)-- Over the water 
fain wvuld I pass. 
Glass dvth run, the (XVI I} -- Wigmore's 
Go from my window (LXI, act IV): 
P.M. I40  
Heart's ease (LXV): P.M. 2o 9 ; O.E.D. 
il. 17o ,Wit whither wilt thou. 

In Christmas rime as it befell (LXX). 
In Crete (XXVIII). 
Jewish Dance, the (LXI, act lI) : cp. 
the eighteen-lined ballad fo the tune 
of TAc Je,visA Cotanto, R.B. ri. 420. 
Jovial Tinker, the (XXlI) : P.M. 187. 
King's ( = Essex's last good-night, the 
(LXXIX) : P.M. 174. 
Labandalashot (IX) : R.B. vil p. xx. 
Lacaranto : Appendix IX: oe, Lego- 
Lady Jane : Appendix II1. 
Lady's fall, the (III, X, XVI, XLIX, 
LXXI, LXXII) : P.M. i96. 
Legorantv : Appendix II : see Lacor- 
Light o' love (LXII) : P.M. 22I; O.E.D. 
i. 84. 
Lire with me and be my love (XXX, 
L) : P.M. 213. 
Loath fo depart : Appendix VIII. 
Medley, the: p. 334- 
Merchant of Emden, the (XXXlX): 
P.M. 179. 
Millet would a wooing ride, the 
Nay fie ! Nay fie ! (IV). 
Newton fields (IV). 
Nutmegs and Ginger (XXIX). 
Oh hone (XXXV) : P.M. 369. 
O man in desperation (VI, XXXVIII, 
XL): R.B. viii. p. xxi-Awake, 
awake, O England. 
Oyster pie, an çLXXIV). 
Pagginton's round (XXXII): P.M. 
X2 3. 
PeascÇd rime (XLIX : P.M. 196. 
Peggy Ramsay (XXXV]I): P.M. 
218 ; O.E.D. il. 172. 
Phillida flouts me çLXXI]I): P.M. 
182 ; O.E.D.i. 
Pity, pity me (LIII). 
P|umpton Park (I I). 
( 6 ) 


Queen Dido (XXXVI, LXVIII) : P.M. 
Queen's hunt's up, the XLII) : P.M. 
60, 6. 
Rest thee, desire (LXXX3. 
Robinson's gaillard (LXXIV). 
Rogero (Vlll, LXIV) : P.M. 93, 96; 
O.E.D. il. 26. 

Shore's wife (XXV, XLVII): P.M. 
So ho (XX). 
Stand thy ground, old Harry (XXI) : 
P.M. 365. 
Sweet Gardiner (XIX). 
Tarleton's carol: p. 334: Appendix 
Trentaines toy (LXVI). 

o./ ".l unes 
Triumph and joy (XXIV LXXVIII) 
P.M. 229 --Green sleeves, P.M. 2a 7 : 
O.E.D.i. 32. 
Voice of the earth the : p. 337- 
Waisingham ÇLXI) : P.M. 
Wanton wife If. of Westminster] the 
(I, part Il) : R.B. viii. 4. 
Watton town's end: (XXXIV part 
II) : P.M. 29, 220. 
What if a day or a month (LIX): 
P.M. 3o, 3 ; O E.D.i. t58. 
What shall I do . Shall I die for love 
(LXXIV) : R.B. ri. 236. 
Wigmore's galliard (VII): P.M. 
= The glass doth t'un. 
Will you buy any broom : Appendix I. 
Wit, whither walt thou (LXlX). 
Woody cock, the (XLV) : P.M. 793- 


A greater rail, envy, you cannot require : 
A heavy doleful story : XXXIX. 
A hundred shephcrds corne with him : 
XIII, part II. 
Ail careful Christians, mark my song : 
All Christian men, give ear awhile : XV. 
Ail in a garden green : LII. 
Ail such as lead a jealous life : LXIV. 
Ail you that cry 0 hone! 0 hone: 
AIl you that now have heard me sing : 
XXXIV, part Il. 
An art whose end was never known : 
Appendix IV. 
And wilt thou, my dear, begone . : XlX. 
A prince doth sit in slippery seat : 
Appendix IX. 
Arise, and wake from wickednes: 
Arise up. my darling : XLIV. 
As I walked forth in a morning tide : 
As I went to Walsingham : LXl. 
At last, in dead of drowsy night : 
XXXVIII, part II. 
Awake, awake, O Fngland : VI. 
Away, I will forsake her company: 

Come! come  corne ! come ! what shall 
I say : XVII. 
Come hither, mine host, corne hither : 
( 368 ) 

[The number of the ballad is given.] 
Come, lovely lasses, listen well : L. 
Come, sisters three with fatal knife : 

England, give praise unto the Lord 
thy God : XXXI. 
England's fair daintydames : XXXIII. 
England, with cheerful hcart, give car : 

From sluggish sleep and slumber : 

Good Christians ail, attend a while: 
Good people ail, repent with speed : III. 
Grief and care kills their hcart: 
XXXIII, part II. 

Henry, our royal king, would go on 
hunting : LI. 
Here's to the old wench in Folgate: 
XXl, part II. 

I read that many years ago : XLI. 
If ever woe did touch a woman's 
heart : XXVII. 
If ever woeful tale movèd man fo pity : 
If ever words did move a wight: 
If 1 might entreat you to alter your 
mind : XLV, part II. 
In Christmas rime as it befell : LXX. 
In reading mirry memories : XXXVII. 


In the days of nid when fair France : 
In the merry month of May : IV. 
In this town fair Susan dwelleth : LIV. 
It fell upon a Sabbath day : LXXV. 
It was a maid of Islington : Appendix 

Jerusalem, my happy home : XL. 
Jesu, my loving spouse : XVIII. 
Jewry came to Jerusalem : Xl. 
London ! London ! singand praisethy 
lord : p. 334- 
Mark well my heavy doleful talc: 
lIark well this story strange and truc : 
bly dear, adieu! my sweet love, fare- 
well : LVIII. 
lly father having moved his mind: 
Appendix V. 
My heart is in pain my body within : 
lIy mind to me a kingdom is : XXVIII. 
lqow draws on the fruitful time: 
Of Hector's deeds did Homer sing : 
Of joyful triumphs I must speak : 
Of the kindwidow ofWatling Street : I. 
Oh gracious God, look down upon : 
O mortal man, bedrencht in sin: 
O smile, o smile, o my joy : XX. 
O what a plague is love : LXXIII. 
Prepare with speed : Christ's coming 
is at hand : p. 334. 
Prepare yourselves to fast this Lent : 
Appendix VI. 
Prince doth sit in slippery seat, A: 
Appendix IX. 
Regard my sorrows, you lasses that 
love : Appendix Vil. 
Rest thee. desire : gaze hot : LXXX. 
Ring out your bells : XLII. 
Rise up my darling : XLIV. 
Scarce could they stay God's service 
end : XIV, part II. 
Shall I wed an aged man : LXVI. 
So long bave I followed the alewife's 
cans : XXXIV. 
Some tin write of bloodywars : p. 337. 
Tel1 me, John, why art thou so sad : 
Appendix VIII. 

of First Lines 
That gallant prince, Graaf blaurice: 
The bait beguiles the bonny fish : II, 
part II. 
The beautiful widow of Watling 
Street : I, part II. 
The dreadful day of doom draws near : 
The father man¢led in such sort: 
XXXIX, part II. 
The golden god Hyperion : XIII. 
Theman thatsighsandsorrows: XXVI. 
The railler in his best array : XXIX, 
The wondrous works of God above : 
There was a proud brawler: XXXII. 
There was a rat-catcher : XXII. 
These passions here which you profess: 
Appendix II. 
Those gentle hearts which truc love 
crave : XXX. 
To lodge it was my luck of late : II. 
Toward En¢land then St. George did 
bring: XXIII (stanza 381. 
Turn your eyes, that are aflïxèd : XII. 
We go to brave buildintrs : LXII. 
We that are here in banishment : XL, 
part II. 
What greater grief than Ioss of love : 
What heart so hard, but will relent : 
What if a day, or a month, or a year : 
What if a smile, or a beck, or a look : 
LIX (stanza u. 
V¢hen as out noble king came home : 
When death had piereed the tender 
heart : LXVIII, part II. 
When fair Jerusalem did stand : V. 
When Jesus Christ was twelve years 
nid : XXIV. 
When Troy town for ten years' wars : 
Where. after many speeches past : X, 
part II. 
Whereof the first was seen to be: 
XVI, part II. 
VCho views the lire ofmortal man : IX. 
Will )'ou buy any broom-birches green: 
Appendix I. 
Wilt thou, my dear, be gone : XIX. 
Wit, whither wilt thou ? : LXV. 
With heart oppressed with grief and 
care : XLVII. 
You gallant maidens of the world : X. 
You noble minds and famous martial 
wights : LV. 
Ynur unswer to my sad laments : 
g b ( 369 ) 


[References are to pages.] 

Abate, to, make less, 26. 
A. b. c. ballads, 43. 
Abingdon, 7. 
abrogate, to, put an end to, 235. 
abronne, auburn, 282. 
Accession day, bell-ringing on, x77. 
accounting, value, 239. 
act, to (verb trans.3, execute, x64. 
addicted, given up to, 349. 
Adlington, Henry, to6 o8. 
Adonis, 9o. 
advancing, advancement 239. 
Aeneas, 276 , 279- 
Aesop, 348. 
afford, to, supply, 47, 6o. 
' Aid,' a feudal, 55- 
Albert, archduke, x7 
Alcestis, 352. 
Aldgate, 92, o6. 
alehowsen, 67. 
aleknight, drunkard, 52. 
alfaris, i26. 
Alleyn, Edward, 245. 
a]lowed, acknowledged, 228. 
allures, allurements, 239. 
almain rivets, a kind of light armour, 
aloof, in a row, i8o. 
alunseene (refrain), 357. 
amain (adv.), at once, 34, 83, 26, I4 , 
2x, 2 3, 232, 234, 275, 277. 
ambrose, ambrosia, i73. 
amend, to (verb intr.), I37, 2I 5. 
amiss (subst.), error, fault, 7I, 
240 ; amiss cadv.), 
amort, dejected, 355- 
Amsterdam, 64. 
Anacreon, 33 x. 
and, if, t4o. 
Anderson, Sir Edmund, o 9. 
angel, a gold, 
angling, I88. 
Anna, 276. 
Arme of Denmark, queen, 
annoy (subst.), suffering, 42, 86, zoo, 
I47, ISI, I92.233, 235, 238, 280, 288, 
3x8, 39, 32o, 339- 
antic (subst.), a mad dance, 58. 
Antwerp 6o. 
apparel, double, 34L 
apparitor, 306. 
appayde (apaid), rewarded, 22, 289. 
Appelles, 342. 
apples and aie. 36L 
apprentices, notices of. 34o. 343. 
aqua vitae, sold on the streets 336 
C 37° ) 

Aquila, Don Juan d', 
archery, 322. 
arm the heart, to, 278. 
Armotteredinge, William, t9- 
asquint, to look, t4t- 
attach, to, arrest, i62 
Attowell (Atwell). Hugh, 245. 
Aubrey, John, 2, 7, 8, 36t 
Audley End, Essex, 255. 
augment, to (verb intrans.), x67. 
Aurora's c]ock, 3 o. 
Autolycus, 6, 7, t58, 2x2, 93- 
avail, to, help, 
awry. to go, 32 ; to lire, 28 ; to strike, 
Ay me, 35z. 
Azores, expedition to the, 236. 

Bacchus. god, 52. 
Bacon, Francis, 8. 
badge of gold, of a person of quality, 
Bagford ballads, 5, 6. 
Bagford, John. 4. 
bagpipe, 362, 363. 
bag puddings, 28. 
bail, the shoemaker's, 92. 
ballad dramas, 244, 334, 354. 
ballads, printed, 2, 3, 4,334 ; founded 
on books, S t, 72, 96, xog, 3, 23, 
x33 , 63 ; coincident with plays, 72, 
227 . 
ballad-singers, 6, 7- 
ballett, 354- 
Baltimore. x23, 
bands, of women's dress, 37- 
Barnstaple, 9, IO9- 
bates of steel» armour, ot. 
Bath, 7. 
bavens, brushwood, 363. 
beck, gesture, 239. 
beck, to, (!) of a falcon, swoop at the 
lute, 284. 
becomd, 227. 
Bedford, Francis, 2nd earl of, 7, 255, 
beggar, the, poverty, 39, 4, x42- 
behove (subst.), behoof, 
bell and lanthorn, x84. 
bell, at funerals, 234. 
bell, the passing, x22, 232. 
bell, to win the bell, at horse-race» 
286 ; to bear the bell» 336. 
bellman» the 36» 

bel|s, church, me|ted down for cannon, 
be|lygods, 56. 
benevolence, a municipal tax, z98. 
benevolence, armour of, voluntarily 
provided, I78. 
bereaven, bereaved, 63. 
Berehaven, z8. 
Berg, Berk, 27z , 272. 
beseeming, it being right, 283. 
besides, tu fall, away from, 37- 
bewray, tu, reveal, 183, o9, 266, 3z4. 
Bible book, 73, z22, z35, z89- 
bide, tu (verb trans.) endure, 
bili-men, 3a2, 325. 
bill o3, 3u ; black, a78 3 ; forest, 
bird-lime, zo. 
blacmoor, 8. 
Black-letter ballads, , 3 4, 5, 6. 
blade, a peon, 94- 
bleak life tu, tzke away, 94. 
biockhouses, 8z. 
bloedthirstily, . 
blubbered, flooed with tea, 
bue, bow, . 
bonfires at isummer, 
onn 56, 6o. 
boe swearing on the, 7. 
bopeep, tu plaN, 348. 
bots on you, plague take you, 
w and aows, 78, o 3, 3, 326. 
w, bell of, 34. 
bowling on Sundays, 5. 
bowzer, drunr, 95- 
bnding,  a punishment, 99, o. 
bnds, buing pieces, 38. 
braçe it, tu, ]o7, 49. 
brave, fine clothes, 
bribes, 4. 77. 
brickmakePs fie, a, 
bde-cakes, 366. 
brief, abçuptly, 7- 
bng in, tu, into, 78. 
bnish tea, o. 
Bstol fait, 7- 
bhttle lire, unsble, 4. 
oasies, 3. 334- 
brood, used of une child, 36. 
brook, tu, put up with, 4. 
brown as a bey, 9 . 
budget, wallet, 3- 
buildings, stely Ellzabethan, 35, 39, 
5, 56. 
buning at the ske as punisbment, 
urns, RobeS, 85. 
but, without, 74. 
Byrd, William, 3- 

and Glossary 
C., E., 232. 
Cadiz, 77, 37, 329, 33. 
Calais, sack of, 7, 24o-44 
caliver, a kind of light musket, z78, 
99, 3 2z. 
caliver-shot, men armed with caliver, 
Cailis sand, 336. 
Cambridge, 4- 
Campion, Edmund, 326. 329. 
Campo. Alonzo del, z3, 
capital letters, use of, 
cards, gambling at, z, 49, 53, 4o, au4, 
349 ; allowed at Christmas, 343. 
careful, causing sorrow, 232 , 234 ; full 
of soow, .9 o. 
carouse, tu, 94- 
Carthage, 277. 
cast, latter, last hours of iife, 
cat, let care kill a, 9x ; cat speak, tu 
make, 93; like dog and cat, 51 ; 
mouse in the cat's ear, 358. 
catch up, tu, take by force, 257. 
chain, magic, preserves virginity, zoo. 
chains, hanging criminals in, zo6, zoS. 
chameleon-like, 283. 
chancing, fortune, 239. 
Chappell, Wiiliam, 4- 
charge, tu, load a gun, 267. 
Chaucer, Geoffrey 3o6. 
Cheapside, 3o 4. 
cheer, to (verb refl.), z55. 
Chirvill (!), Essex, .32. 
choppers, whoppers, 335- 
Christmas customs, 343, 345, 364 • 
cinnamon, z73- 
C/anricarde, earl of, I23, 27. 
clap, to, pat fondly, 87 ; seize, 5- 
claret wine, 4 ; claret wine, clear as, 
'I 4. 
cleared, ruade bright, 283. 
click a clack, z 19. 
climb a pitch, fo, z26. 
clink, to, 364. 
cloak, hiding-place, 233. 
close in clay, to, 33, 338. 
close, to get up, pack up, I93. 
closely, secretly, 
clothe in clay, tu, bury, 256. 
coaches, 35, 5 z- 
Cockle, Sir John, 313. 
Colchester, 8, z9, 77, 99- 
coll. tu, embrace, 8"]. 
Collins, Philip, z3o. 
collogue with, tu, taik familiarly with, 
colour, tu, excuse, 253. 
comd, arrived, z43. 
comet, 6z. 
commun, rights of, œ55, œ57- 


compact fadj.), 282. 
conceit, countenance., x97- 
conceit, opinion, 263. 
conceit, to, 333 ; understand, 358. 
conceits, morbid thoughts, 14.» 269. 
conduction, z99. 
conjuration, 72. 73- 
conjuring, 75, I53, 156, t58. 
constables, petty, 55, tuS, 14o. 
contentings, pleasures. 239. 
convert, to (verb intr.), change, 
change to a better mind 45, x38, 
convey, to, carryoffand hide, 167, 290. 
copesmate, fellow, I3o. 
Corbet, Dr. Richard, 7- 
corslets, I77 , I99. 
corum nomine, :307. 
counter, representation, 35 I. 
country, county, 
country-lire, prai»e of Che, 36o. 
course, to, thrash, 356. 
courtnoule, courtier» 
Coventry, Jo3. 
Coventry, lace-work, 298. 
cowcumber, 336. 
creepers, 218. 
crew, company, Io6. 
cries of London, 335- 
Croesus, 41, II 5. 
crooks, i85, z88. 
Cuma, 6i. 
cunning, trade, 34 I. 
curl-headed, I9I. 
curtsy, reverence, 
custom of London, Che, ii, 5- 
custom-houses, -/8, I8o. 
customs:--Christmas. 345.364 ; harvest, 
363: May-day, 362 ; Midsummer, 363; 
wedding, 36z ; Whit-sunday» 362. 
cut, farm-horse, 364. 
cut-purse (adj.), 2oo ; (subst.), i29. 
cutting (adj.)» swaggering, Io6. 

d'Aquila, Don Juan, 
date, terre of life, 280. 
dated, having a fixed limit of time, -/4- 
daunce a downe, 
daunt, to, frighten, 5o, I49. 
daw, to prove a, be ruade a fod of, 3Io. 
deadly man, dying man, 2"/0. 
deathful, deadly, -/I. 
debate, discord, xo'/, 228. 
decay, to, be forgotten, i2"/. 
deer, stealing Che king's, 35, '*9- 
deer-hunting, 35, 39, I48, I52, ,96, 216. 
defaced, disgraced, 128. 
del Campo, Alonzo, ,23, i26. 
delicates çsubst.), delicacies, 
denay, to deny, i22, 224, 225, 345'- 
Denmark, i"/8, i81. 
Derick 32, 33L 

and Glossary 
desart, by, i. e, by insisting on one's 
just rights, 
desertion from army, I99, 2oi. 
dice, gamblingat, 21, 49, 53, 14o, I43, 
z68, 349. 
Dido, 276. 
Dieppe, 336. 
discarded, dismissed from favour, 85. 
discontentments, griefs, 268. 
discry, to, perceive, 49 ; revea|, J33 ; 
d e_scribe, i97. 
disdain, to (verb heur.), to show dis- 
dain, 8, ii 7 ; (,verb trans.), to put 
to shame, 42. 
Dives, 296. 
dogged, hunted by dogs, 243. 
Don Juan, 276. 
Dorne, John, 4, 53- 
double apparel, 34I. 
downe, daunce a, 1 i6. 
downe diddle, to sing, 92. 
downe, Hey, 248. 
Dragon, St. George's 97, 98, 99, oo. 
drama, s« play. 
dress, extravagance or strange 
fashions in, 4t, 47, 51 , tI7, I35, 
I38, 3o4 . 
drift, a, plan, I6i. 
drums, 322. 35. 
drunk, drank, 95- 
drunkenness, invectives against, 46, 
48, 52 , 56, Io8, I84, 26I, 350. 
ducat, a gold, I29. 
Dutchland subsL), 55 ; (adj.), 59, I34" 
DyeG Sir Edward, 1i 3. 
ears, losing che, punishment 19. 
easer, 232. 
Ebsworth, Rev. J. W., 5, 133- 
eclipse, to, destroy temporarfly, i66. 
Elizabeth, Queen, , 35, l'y/, I-/8, 185, 
236, 240, 244, 255, 257, 296 , 315, 
316, 39, 320, 324, 330, 334, 346, 
351, 352. 
Elizabeth, princess Palatine, 54, 55, 58- 
Elizabethan ballads, 9. 
endings, deathbeds, 68. 
enflame, to (verb intrans.), 66. 
English type, x, 3, 334. 
ensigns, flags, i26. 
Essex, Robert Devereux, car| of, 7, 
z78 , 32I, 326 ; poem by, 238. 
etc., 46. 
excommunication, 306, 3o9. 
excuse, to, sc. one's sell; 283. 
excuser, IIO. 
executed (adj.3, 162. 
exercise, family worship, 8, 52. 
Exeter i3 I, 133. 
extremity, lawless violence, i66. 
extremity, to show, go toextremes3o 3. 
eyne eyes» 

Index and Glossary 

fact, evil deed, 162, 233 , 265. 
faine, to, feign, 1 I5. 
fairies, 64. 
faithless, infidel, 243, 
fans I5 x. 
farings, presents brought from a fair, 
frthing tokens, o, 
fate, destructive influence, 95. 
Fauns, 65. 
Faustus, Dr., "/2. 
favour, a lady's, 238. 
fay, faith, 2I 9. 
fear, to (verb trans.), frighten, 2-/, 324. 
feat, trade, 341. 
feathers, mourning, 316, 32o. 
feaze, to, drive away, r8o. 
feere, mate, r88. 
fern, to drive the fox out of the, 35 o. 
ferret, rabbiting with, 22. 
fet, to (past tense), 2"/'/. 
fetch breath, to, gasp, 26-/. 
fight, weapon, 325. 
filths, foui-living persons, 
finding, maintenance, x99. 
tire, l¢aping through, 363- 
fire-arms, different kinds of, 321. 
fits, state of excitement, 3"/- 
fix, to (verb neut.), 29o. 
fiat, positively, 284. 
flaunt it, to, swagger, x3 o. 
flaunting, swaggering, t3o. 
fletcher, arrow-maker, 53- 
Fletcher, John, 322. 
tlory, 336- 
fluter, player on tbe flute, 322. 
Folgate, 92. 
foot it to, 66. 
for, instead of, 35. 
fore-passèd, 79- 
forethink, to, I5I. 
forsook, forsake, 28o. 
fother, to0 give fodder to, 57. 
Fotheringay, r53- 
fowlers, devices of, 22. 
fox. the, as vermin, i48; out of the 
fern, the, 35o. 
fox-hunting, 1413. 
frame, metbod of construction, 283. 
frame, out of, iii at ease, 268. 
France, king of, 9 u, 96. 
Frankfort-on-Main fair, i58, 6o. 
Friar and the boy, the, 4, r53- 
friend, i.e. lover, used of the man, 
9', I94, 238, 25o, 352, 353 ; used of 
the woman, 225, 227, 232, 248. 
friendship, i.e. |ove 29. 
fro, from, 233. 
froe, x34. 
froth, to, 9o, 92 ; froth subst.), 9 u. 
fulsome, hateful, 94- 
sma. B 

funerals, verses at, 145 , 353 ; the bell 
at, 122, 234. 
furmety, 336. 
furnished, I77, 78, 99- 
Gad's hill, x32. 
gambling, see cards, dice, tables. 
gaine, to, sport 52. 
gan, began, 29. 
gard, to, braid, 5  ; gaEed, braided, 
garders, warders, I32. 
gawde, to, make merry, 52. 
Geneva, x34. 
gentle craft, the, I22. 
George, see St. George. 
Gibbons, Orlando, 236. 
Glandfield, Eulalia, o9. 
glean, to, take away, 258. 
glend, glen. 
gloves, to exchange, 307- 
God and the country, to be tried by, 
God's blood ! God's wounds ! 48, 52. 
gold, cloth of, 96, 193. 
gormandizing, 69. 
gospellers, clergymen, 26L 
Goths the, 228. 
Gournay, 327, 329. 
grace, to, ornament, 
Gramboll, Jugge, 314. 
grave, count (grat), 272. 
gray, of morning, 3o; of peasant's 
dress, 65, x97. 
great gaine, i. e. play for hmgh stakes, 
gree, agree, r53, 3-/- 
green, of years, i 
Greene, Robert, 2-/, 33 I. 
gripe, spasmodic pain, 24o. 
grudge, to (intrans.), feel anger, 
I4 ; (trans.), to feel anger at, 98. 
grudge at, to, 238. 
grudges, quarrels, 266. 
guilty, to be found, to bave a true bill 
round against one by the grand 
jury, I33. 
hacquebuts, I77 , -/8. 
bai G see locks. 
baiberts, x3t, 178, 322. 
hall, husband, 1 I8 : cp. better-half. 
Halford Dorothy 334 ; Ricbard 2 ; 
vtrilliam, =. 
bampered, distressed, 243. 
hand, holding up the, in answering to 
an indictment, io'/, 1o8. 
handwriting of MS., , 2. 
hangman's spoon, the, 
hardly, with energy, 249. 
hare, as smooth as a, I32. 
hare, coursing the. x48, 15z. 
Harington, John, lord, 54- 
3 ( 373 ) 


muses, the nine, 232. 
Musgrave, John, 20 22. 
music noted in MS., x, 185, x86, 236 , 
245 272. 
musician 34 
mute of malice, to stand, 
mutilation of the MS. L 
muttering, 26i. 
n pluraI suffix ; aIehousen, 67 ; eyne, 
happy, foaming and strong, 9 I, 2z8» 364. 
narrow, narrowly, 83. 
naught (adj.), vicious, 246  265. 
naule, 92. 
navy, th% 94, x77, 8o. 
ne.. ne.. , neither nor 
neat, cattle i54 , i55. 
Netherlands, , campaign in, 7- 
new, newly, o6. 
newcome, newly arrived, I5o. 
new cut (in gambling), 
Newte, 29, 3o, 33, 2oS- 
nick, to, 9 o, 92 ; nick (subsL), 
North Britain, 3. 
North-country cloth, 9 o. 
Norwich cathedral, 7 o3, o4. 
nourish,  (verb intr.), be nourished 
u¢m tti#8 49. 
nut of India, the 94- 
Nut-brosvn maid the, 4. 
oaten reeds, 65. 
Och hone, 328. 
O'Donnell, the, x23, , x78. 
official, the, the judge of the ah- 
deacon's court, 53, x58 3 o6- 
O'Neill. the, 23, 78. 
on hunting, 26. 
on sudden suddenly, 38. 
ont to, to ve» hein, 2 
Ophelia, 9- 
or, befor% 26L 
oranges, 336. 
ordinance, cannon» 25. 
Orlando (Gibbons), 236. 
Osburne, Philip, 3o. 
Ostend, 272. 
ostisse, hostess 
ostrey faggot% x99- 
Our Lady, by, 285. 
out of hand immediately 9 97, 9. 
outblu to, 6,. 
over-reached, tricked into a fault, 25o. 
overtake t% seize hold on» 258. 
overthwart acro 27. 
ow% t% possess, 257. 

and Glossary 
owl-light, dusk 307 . 
Oxford, 4, *77- 
Oxford, Harley, earl of, 4- 
oysters, 335- 
Page EuIalia, o9, . 
pained, painful, 291. 
painfuI bag, 95- 
painted files, butterflie$, 84. 
palisadois, 273. 
palmer, pilgrim, 46. 
Palsgrave, the, 58, 59- 
pannyel, pannier, basket, 
parrator, parritor 307, 3fo. 
pasles (unexplained), 336. 
passing bell, tbe, t2, 23 ; set knell. 
passing well, x75. 
passport, servant'% 2x5, 217, 218. 
pawn, a, pledge, x t9. 
pawn, to, for drinkl 9. 
pay, to, pay out, punish, 356. 
peat, girl, 300, 3o3 • 
Pepys, Samuel, 4- 
persuade r to, plead with, 23"/. 
pestilence, 8, 3I, 33, 75, 78, 79, 97- 
petygree, pedigree, 3x6. 
pewter standard, 90, 92. 
Picardy, expedition to, 236. 
pikemen, x78, 322, 324. 
pikes, x77 , x78, I8o, 99. 
pin, not worth a» 3oo ; to care not a, 
pinde, penned, enclosed, 298. 
pine, to (verb trans.) cause to waste, 
pinked shoes, i.e. with the over- 
leathers pierced with patterns, ,38. 
pinnacle, spire of a tower, 203, 2o5. 
pinnion, pillion, i.e. woman's seat 
attached to the saddle, x29. 
pinsons, pincers, 169. 
pipe and tabor, 36I. 
place, in, present, 248 , 257. 
place-names in ballad% 9. 
plaice, 335- 
plaint, complaint, x47 , 234 , 
planets, the seven, 342. 
plaster (metaphorical use), 258. 
players, Queen Elizabeth's company 
of, 35I ; princess Elizabeth's com- 
pany of, 55- 
play-houses, censure of, 8, xo7. 
plays on Sunday 48, 67 ; set out in 
ballad-form, 3441 354 ; connected 
with ballads, 72, 227. 
plovers, caught by mirrors» 22. 
Plume, Dr. Thoma% 5- 
Plumpton park, o. 
plunge in pain, to, 72 234, 235. 
Plymouth, xog, lo. 

Index an Glossary 

point, to, appoint, 356. 
points, ribbons to fasten hose to 
doublet, 264, 299. 
Portingale, Portugal, I98 , 329. 
ports, stopping the, 327. 
potmates, 52. 
poule, to, rob, 26i. 
powder, supply of» I"/7, 18o. 
poynt, I 7. 
praise to one's face, to, 
pressing to death, punishment, i29, 
I3O, 33. 
prest-money» I99 , 32I. 
Preston, Thomas, LL.D., 346, 35o. 
pride, invectives against, 5t, 78, 83, 
I34 , 36, I37, 38, I39 , 52, 262. 
Prideaux, bp..John, 5- 
prince, i. e. prmcess, 59, 202, 237. 
Privy Council, judical functions of, 
6, ] 7 ; orders issued by, 346. 
proclamations, royal, 
procure, to, contr/ve, 26o. 
proper, handsome, 26I, 263, 29t. 
proportion, likeness, 295. 
proverb, 225, i.e. he that will hot 
when he may, &c. 
Prynne, William, 293. 
punctuation of MS., 2. 
purchase, to, acquire, 39, I27- 
pursuivants, 48, 3, 312, 327 . 
put back, to, put off, 28. 
Pygmalion, 342. 
Pytchley, Northants» I48. 

quack $ore throat and hoarseness, 27o. 
quail, to (verb trans.), put an end to, 
Queen of Spades, like the, 313. 
Queen of Trumps, 3. 
quinces, 336. 
quintain, the, 36I, 
quirks, 284. 
quod, quoth, 2Io, 2I'/. 218. 

racket, p]acket, 287. 
rag, hot worth a, 3ox. 
rage, to, act madly, 26I. 
rakers, hay-rakes, 363. 
randed, 14o. 
rat-catcher, 94- 
rate, in simple, 364. 
rate r to scold, 359- 
rats, drunk as, 95. 
ratteG rat-catcher, 94. 
ravine, to go about seeking, 306. 
Rawlinson, Rich., collection of printed 
ballads, 5 ; MS. of ballad% 334- 
rear, to, raise, 
receiver, the king's, 
redating of ballads, 9, I, 1o9, 111. 
reeve, fo, take away, 34a. 
regard, fo bave a, 

regardless, 69. 
release, to, gel set free, 257. 
remediless, 69. 
remorse of, regret to give up, I93. 
rent, complaints ofincrease 
repair, to, return, 238. 
repine, to, grumble, 239 , 316. 
report, to, repeat, ]38. 
resalgar, 94- 
resolve, to, cure, 278. 
test, to, remain, '9, 97. 
resty, obstinate, 270. 
retain, to, belong» 294. 
rid, rode, 64 ; ridden, 247 , u5o. 
rid, to (verb trans.), take away, 2o 9. 
right» exactly, 36, 137,294. 
rings, to exchang% 3o7. 
rivets, almain, 178. 
Robin Hood ballads, 4» 6. 
Rochester, I32. 
rock, rocking, 23o. 
Rogers, Daniel, 54. 
Roman ]effets» I, 2, 334. 
Rome, 228. 
roseakeG 94- 
Rouen, 327, 329- 
round, a dance in a circle, 64, 363. 
roundelays, 64. 
round-bouse, the, 274. 
route (adj.), numerous, I8I. 
Rowland, 285 354- 
Roxburghe, Ker, duke of, 5- 
Roxburghe ballads, 4, 5, 6. 
roysteG roisterer, 33- 
ruffians, 6. 
ruffs, 48, I37. 
rush-rings, 3oi. 
Sabbath observance» 45, 48, 52, 67, 
68, 69, 71 , 309 • 
Sabra, io2 ; Sabrine, 98. 
St. Andrew's cross, 3xx- 
St. George, legend of, 96 ; cross of, 
99, 311 ; day of, 32, 32, 322 ; St. 
George for England, I25, 322, 324, 
St. Gregory's day, 
Saint Main, Henry, 326. 
sampler, working a, 229. 
Samson, 4, 47- 
sand» writing on, 23o. 
Saturn, 315, 317 • 
satyrs, 64. 
Savage, Anthony, 294. 
scant çadj.), 235, 335- 
Scape, escape, 131, 209. 
score, tavern reckoning, 9 I, 93- 
scrape, to, amass money, a6I. 
Scriptural ballads, 8. 
scull» steel cap, I78. 

$cuse, excu.:e, i ". 
seem: t% be evident, 
seemm, apparently, . 
seemly» ood-lookin xo. 
eeth since 338, 34% 3S , 353- 
elden, John, 4. 
rmonic ballads 8. 
seiture, servitor 8. 
Sbadwell, Thomas, a6. 
Shakespeare, 3, 8, x x. 
amlet, 9, x74- 
enry I I98 , 3, 346. 
eur for easur, 44- 
Titus ndnis, 7. 
Winter's Tal G 6, x58  x, 85, 93- 
$akt, shçk, o6. 
shape, pretence, 4. 
share, stock of money, 
she (obj. ce), 
sheep-shearing feast, 36L 
shent scolded, aa, 6. 
Shepton Mle 
sherman» 4 o. 
Sherwoed forest, x6, 9, 
shift away, to, depart» I44. 
sined, shone, 88. 
shipmoney, 77. 
Sbirbu ballads, 6. 
Shirburn library, 
shot, tave reckoning 9 , x4x- 
shot and lot 98. 
show, t% appear 86. 
shne, to, 35- 
sickest, 6. 
side-board, i.e. table at the side of 
the hall, 33. 
Sidney, Sir Pilip, 35L 
sight, his=act of seeing him xx; 
thy thee x o ; whose whom xoo. 
silk roses on soes, ]38. 
silvered, silve, 88. 
singlesheets, 3- 
sink or swim, 3. 
si's, says, a85. 
Sses assies 
sith, since, o 9, 3 35 34 - 
• ithence sinc% x76. 
skirmidge, skirmish 74- 
sIack, sluggish, 6o, 
slack, to (verb trans.), 47- 
slake, te (verb in,ans), 
sledge 39, 4 - 
sleeps, plural of sleep»  9 . 
slips, mdeeds, 355- 
$1ytt, slit, o6. 
Smithfield hoe-fair, 336. 
smoothing (adj.), flattering 9- 
snaring birds, ]o. 
$ocket wedge, 39, 4. 
soif, a53 ; soly, 
solace çadj.), solaced, free from care, 

and Glossary 
solaee (subst.), 233 ; (adv.)» 305. 
solaee, to (verb abs.), 64. 
soldiers, i.e. angels, 6 (' heavenly 
host,' Luke, il. 
soldiers, levying, x98, '99, 2o* ; equip- 
ment of, 3u, 32=. 
Solomon, 4', 4"], 89. 
somnour, the, 306. 
sonnet-poem, z x3, =97. 
Sophy, the Shah, 
sops, sour, 
sorcery, '53. 
Southampton, 293 , 294. 
Southwark, 67, 69. - 
sowse, i.e. meat put in pickle, 
Spain, English dread of, 27, 240, 
242-44, 3xS, 3x7, 320. 
Spanish descent on Ireland, 
x24, xa8 ; sack of Calais, 7 24o-44- 
Spanish pride, 243. 
spark|e forth, to (verb trans.), 295. 
spelling of MS., 2. 
spend away, to, 69. 74- 
Spenser, Edmund, 8, 282, 
spiders to eat, 95- 
spider's web as mark of untidiness, 
splay, to, d{splay, 848- 
splent% "]8. 
spoil, sack, 24I. 
spoon (. shoon], the hangman's, 
stage, the, ste plays. 
star chamber 
starch white and blue, 3"/. 
starve to death, t% punishmen 
state, class ofmen 43 ; stability 44. 
statc, condition, 4o, 
state, person of quality, 2o, 56. 
States, the, of Holland, 2"]2, 2"/5. 
stay, fo stand in a, 
stay, to, stay away, refrain from 
coming, 257. 
stealth, stealing, 46. 
steeple, tower, 203, 205. 
sterve, to, starve, 
stick to, hesitate, 345. 
sting, to, wound, 274. 
stint strife, to, 98, I7o, 
Stockwood. John, 3L 
stoolball, 48. 
store (quasi-adj.) in plenty 33, x66, 
strain forth, to, 37- 
trmtd, the, 68. 
Strangwidge, George, o9, . 
straw, for beds, 28; as expression 
for worthlessness, x xS, 338. 
strawn, of straw, 863. 
street-cries of London 335- 
stripe, stroke, z75- 
stroken struck 3o. 

Index and Glossary 

stroy, destroy, 97- 
Sturgis, Edw., a ; Thos., a. 
sucker, su««our, z25. 
sugared wines, 54, 56, 322. 
suited, clothed, 64. 
Summer lord and lady, 36a. 
supreme-head, supremacy, 282. 
surcease, to, 280. 
sure together, to make, betroth: 2x 3. 
suretyship, immunity, 345- 
surmount, to (verb heur.)» mount high, 
surmounting (subst.), 239. 
surmising, surpassing, xgo. 
surpass, to (verb neut.) 32. 
Susan, 225. 
suspect, in, i. e. suspicion, 
Sussex, Radcliffe, earl of, 54- 
swage, to (verb trans.), assuage, 97, 
x46 ; (verb intrans.), grow less, 234. 
swashing, 3o. 
swearing, profane» 48, 49, 52, 4 , 
26z, 308. 
Sweden, x78, x8x. 
sweeting, sweetheart, 88, 22x 237 , 
5o, 357- 
swift-winged, 30- 
sword and dagger, z29, 78, z99. 
wourld, swoon, 57- 
syce, assises» zo9. 
syses, assises, x44. 
syth, since 4x, 235. 
syve, sieve a61. 
tables (gambling), x4o. 
tabor and pipe, 36L 
taffata, silk, 285. 
Tagus land, 226. 
Tarlton, Richard, 35 x, 353- 
tavern songs, 89, 94- 
Tavistock, xo 9. 
tearing flesh to pieces, punishment 
tell, to, count, 58. 
Tethys, 63. 
than, then, xo4, xSo, 29, 363. 
themes. 353- 
then, than, xx4, x3o, 204, 226 cc. 
Thetis, 63, 64. 
thrall (adj.), tied, 99- 
thread of lire, the, 232. 
thrice-rackt, x5 L 
timeless, i. e. untimely, 69. 
tithe, payment of» 36x. 
Titus, 3x, 32. 
Titus Andronicus a 7. 
tobacco, 93- 
took, taken, x3x. 
top, graft, xgo- 
rote, torn, x57. 
tormentillgs 239. 

Tower, armoury in the, z77 , 8o. 
toys, trifles, 4, 239, 
trace, to, walk, z87, 88. 
tract of time, passage, 4z. 
train (subst.3, device, 9o. 
train, to, entice, 57- 
train in, to, 283. 
trained-bands, the, 77, z99, 
traunce, a, z68 281. 
tray-tffp, 49- 
treacher, traitor, 356. 
trick, at cards, 345- 
trick (adj.), neat, 270. 
trick, to, dally, 
Trinidado, 93- 
Troilus, 233. 
troth, truth, 253. 
trowl, to (verb intrans.), 
Troy, 96, 233 , 276. 
Troyan, 277, 78- 
trumps, 345- 
tufle on, to, 307. 
turn, way of holding oneself, 352. 
turn of an eye, in the, xgo. 
Tusser, Thomas, 34x, 36L 
tut ! 254. 
twatling (adj.),3x4. 
twoe, too, 5L 
Tyrone, earl of, x23, 24, xa8, 78, 
unbrace, to, unyoke, 36. 
uncertainty, at, x9 L 
undermine, to, find out by stealth, 
unfold, to, let out of a pen, 3o. 
unpossible, 56. 
unremoved, 244. 
unreverently, 69. 
unsufficed, unsatisfied, 56. 
unthriftiness, 44. 
untill, unto, 7 r. 
untruss, to, arise and go, x5o. 
up a chamber, to corne, ascend to, 267. 
up a horse, to get, mount, x6x. 
usher (i. e. the Star of Eethlehem). 6L 
usury» tirades against, 39, 45, 46, 
z52, 256, 350- 
vai], to, avail, 233- 
vain, in such a, 82. 
vain, within their, x4 s. 
vains, fancies, 
venison, 2I 9. 
Vere, Sir Francis, 272. 
refrain, lists of, 94, x48- 
vilde, vile, 83, x69 ; vilder, x67. 
virginity, ornaments of, 99 ; preserved 
by magic chain, xo2 ; respected by 
Virgin's Sea, the, 3x5. 
vouch, to» acklowledge X5L 
( 379 ) 


Wagstaffe: Thomas and William, 334. 
wait, to (verb trans.)» attend on I25. 
wa|ed eye, a, 14o. 
Walfleet oysters, 335. 
walke, to, wake, 43, 333- 
walking, to let be, 358. 
Walsingham, pilgrimage to, 245 
wander from, fo, 83. 
want, to çverb intr.), be without food 
wanting, being without, 86, 112. 
wap, fo, 285. 
wardons, 336. 
watch, the night, ao3, 
watching-shafts, i.e. arrows for the 
watch, 2o3. 
Watling street, II. 
Watton, 34o- 
wea| or woe 240. 
weavers, dignity of, 34z- 
webster, 343- 
wedding-customs, 36x. 
weed, robe, 63, 73, 246, 29z, 359- 
well-browed, 27z. 
Westminster, 3x z. 
which, who. 42, 83, zo4, z92, 26"/. 
whig and whey, 3oo. 
whipping apprentices. 34z, 343- 
whipping, rushing, z88. 
white dress of virginity, 99- 
xvhitings, 335. 
Whitsuntide customs, 362. 
whom =which, 32. 

and Glossary 
will, fo, request, 249. 
Willy, pleasant, sweet, 35z. 
wine and women, Io8. 
wines, sugared, 54, 56, 322. 
Wingfield, Sir Rich., 123 12,. 
winter's moon, a, 65. 
witchcraft, 72, 74, I53. 
within, during the time of. zoo. 
without, out of keeping with, 298. 
wits, fo seek one's, rack one's brain, 
Wittenberg. 73, 
woe, woefully, I33. 
womankind, z39. 
won, one, 158. 
Wood, Anthony, 4, 5- 
woodcuts in Black-letter ballads, 3, 5, 
6, 3z, 43, 75, 133, 174, 293, a95. 
woodlands, pasture in, 153, I54, 255. 
Worcester, 22. 
worldliness, in error for some word 
expressive of pain, B3. 
worm, the merciless, remorse z69. 
worser, 2Ol. 
wrack injure, 22. 
wrap in, fo, zo 9. 
Wrench, Will., uoo. 
wring, to, turn aside, .9 L 
wrong, oppression, '43- 
wrong (past tense of wring)» 289. 
wrongful, 229. 
yel]ow hose, to wear, 332. 
York, 17o. 

Oxford: Printed at the Clarendon Press by HORACE HART, M.A.