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A BOOK OF 
 
 ROXBURGHE BALLADS, 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 JOHN PAYNE COLLIER, Esq, 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, AND LONGxMANS, 
 
 PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
 1847. 
 
Hi 
 
 Bxobauge 
 
 JUL 9 - 19 4U - 
 
^^^^^^^M 
 
 
 
 
 TO 
 
 
 THOMAS AMYOT, Esq. F.R.S. 
 
 
 TREAS. S.A. 
 
 
 In Tejiimony of long Friendjhip and fencer e 
 
 
 Efeeenz, 
 
 
 this work is dedicated by 
 
 
 The Editor. 
 
 
 ?- 
 
 - 
 
 2, 1 v 
 
Introduction. 
 
 HE main purpofe of the enfuing collection 
 is to mew, in their moft genuine ftate, 
 the character and quality of productions, 
 written expreffly for the amufement of 
 the lower orders, in the reigns of Elizabeth, James, 
 and Charles. Our volume confifts of fuch ordinary 
 materials as formed the ftock of the Englifh ballad- 
 finger during a period not far fhort of a century. 
 Many traces will be found in them of the modes in 
 which they were rendered acceptable to the crowd, 
 when fung in our moft frequented thoroughfares. 
 
 It would, therefore, be manifeftly unfair to judge of 
 them by the ftandard ufually applied to the higher 
 clafTes of poetry, although poetry of no inferior defcrip- 
 tion will occafionally be found in them : nor are their 
 merits to be meafured by the eafier procefs of com- 
 parifon with well known works, in fome refpects fimi- 
 lar. The volumes of Percy and Ritfon are compofed 
 of mixed fpecimens : fometimes, it is true, they were 
 
vm 
 
 Introduction 
 
 addreffed to general auditors, but they are often the 
 compositions of writers in the fuperior grades of life, 
 and were intended for the gratification of more refined 
 fociety. Our aflemblage of popular poetry has no 
 precedent : it is different from any other production 
 of the kind hitherto puhlifhed ; and, as in its fubftance 
 it is peculiar, we have made its form and appearance 
 correfpond with its fubftance. 
 
 We have obtained by far the greater number of our 
 ballads from what has been long known as the Rox- 
 burghe Collection, confiding of three large volumes 
 in folio, and embracing nearly a thoufand broadfides in 
 black letter.* Some of thefe are repetitions of the 
 
 * It was commenced by Harley, Earl of Oxford, and was aug- 
 mented by Weft and Pearfon, but efpecially by the Duke of Rox- 
 burghe, at whofe fale it was bought for the late Mr. Bright. For 
 many years he kept the volumes out of fight ; but they, as well as a 
 manufcript collection of .Miracle-plays (the pofTeflion of which he alfo 
 for fome reafon concealed) were necefTarily brought to light at his death. 
 The ballads were judicioufly fecured by the authorities of the Britifh 
 Mufeum, but they were unfuccefsful bidders for the Miracle-plays : the 
 latter circumftance is the more to be regretted, becaufe this feries of 
 inedited Scriptural Dramas has devolved into the hands of fome party 
 who has again plunged it into darknefs, and will not allow any ufe 
 to be made of it : « %iv\<rig uXXcc X^vfiQ was the excellent motto of one 
 of the old poflefTors of the collection ufually known as the Coventry 
 Plays (printed for the Shakefpeare Society in 1841), and it was in- 
 fcribed by him in the volume. The prefent owner of the York Plays 
 
Introduction. 
 
 fame production by difFerent printers ; a few, from 
 their nature and fubjecl:, are unfit for republication, 
 and others, from their general worthleflhefs, do not 
 merit it. The whole are now placed in the Britifh 
 Mufeum, where they are acceffible, and where means 
 of collation are afforded : the tranfcripts we have 
 employed were made before the originals were pur- 
 chafed for their laft owner, but there is no inftance in 
 which our copies have not fince been compared. Other 
 fources have been reforted to, although fparingly, and 
 feveral of the moft ancient and interefting ballads have 
 been derived from the editor's portfolio. 
 
 On the rarity of all it is fuperfluous to enlarge : in 
 many, if not in moft, inftances the broadfides are 
 unique : no duplicates of them are to be met with in 
 public or private libraries ; and it is eafy to account 
 for this circumftance, if we reflect that they were fel- 
 dom printed in a form calculated for prefervation. 
 Thomas Deloney and Richard Johnfon were almoft 
 the only ballad- writers, of that age, who fubfequently 
 brought together their fcattered broadfides in fmall 
 volumes,* while hundreds of fimilar pieces by other 
 
 (for in that city, we believe, they were performed previous to the Re- 
 formation) ought to reverfe the motto, and write in his volume 8 %pv\cig 
 uKha h1y,(ti£. Time may yet ftand our friend. 
 
 * Deloney, in his " Strange Hiftories," 1607, and " Garland of 
 
 IX 
 
Introduction. 
 
 popular authors were allowed to perifh. The more 
 generally acceptable a ballad became, the more it was 
 handed about for perufal or performance, and the more 
 it was expofed to the danger of deftruction. 
 
 The confequence has been, that very few ballads, as 
 they came from the hands of thofe who may be called 
 our elder printers, have defcended to our day ; and 
 many of the beft in our volume would have been 
 irretrievably loft, but that the cenftant demand for 
 them induced typographers of the reigns of James and 
 Charles, in particular, to republifh them. The year, 
 whether of impreffion or re-impreflion, is very rarely 
 given on the broadfide; but it is ufually known between 
 what dates the printers, whofe names are appended, 
 carried on buiinefs, and from thence we are generally 
 able to form a judgment as to the age of productions 
 of their preiTes. The times when reprinted ballads 
 were firft compofed and iffued muft often be matter 
 of mere conjecture, depending much upon internal evi- 
 
 Good-will," (publifhcd before 1596) and Johnfon, in his " Crown 
 Garland of Golden Rofes," 16 12. Some new particulars regarding 
 Deloney are to be found in " Memoirs of the Principal Actors in the 
 Plays of Shakefpeare," printed by the Shakefpeare Society, pp. xxviii. 
 1 10, 193. Richard Johnfon began writing early, for he was not born 
 until 1573, (as appears by the Regifter of St. Giles, Cripplegate, a 
 point in Ins hiftory not hitherto afcertained,) and he publifhcd his firft 
 work in 1 592. 
 
Introduction 
 
 XI 
 
 dence, and even this is rendered more uncertain by inter- 
 polations, not unfrequently made, in order that the 
 work mould be more welcome to auditors of the period 
 of republication. In our brief preface to each feparate 
 piece we have, among other, points, endeavoured, as 
 far as poffible, to affift the reader in fettling the date 
 of its earlieft appearance ; but in not a few cafes it has 
 been a talk of extreme doubt and difficulty, and we can 
 hardly flatter ourfelves that in many inftances we have 
 entirely fucceeded. The beft we could now and then 
 accompliih was to make an approximation ; and our 
 volume contains frequent proofs of the changes ballads 
 underwent, with a view to adapt them to circum- 
 ftances of comparatively recent occurrence. We will 
 afford one inftance in point, and leave the reft to the 
 difcovery of the reader, with fuch help as we may have 
 elfewhere afforded. 
 
 In the Roxburghe volumes, from which, as already 
 ftated, we have fo largely drawn, are two copies of a 
 lingular and amufing ballad with the title of " Mock- 
 beggar's Hall : " both appear to belong to about the 
 period of the Civil Wars ; but one copy is evidently 
 anterior to the other, and the older of the two (that of 
 which we have availed ourfelves on p. 49) muft have 
 been publifhed before the final doling of the theatres by 
 the puritans in 1648. The author is fpeaking of the 
 
Xll 
 
 Introduction 
 
 increafe of expenfe and luxury, and laughing at thofe 
 who, aping their richer neighbours, were not content 
 to pafs through the ftreets in anything but a coach, 
 although they could afford to keep no other fervant 
 than a man to drive it : he fays, 
 
 " They are not able two men to keep, 
 With a coachman they muft content be, 
 Which at Playhoufe door in's box lies afleep, 
 While Mock-begger Hall ftands empty." 
 
 When thefe lines were written, and originally pub- 
 limed, the play-houfes were open, and many auditors 
 were driven to them in coaches; but when the later copy 
 of the fame ballad was printed, the theatres had been 
 fhut up by authority, and, as any allufion to thefe places 
 of amufement and inftruction might be unpalatable 
 to the rulers of the ftate, and as the cuftom of going 
 to play-houfes in coaches was neceffarily at an end, 
 the paffage was thus altered : 
 
 " They are not able two men to keep, 
 With a coachman they muft content be, 
 Which at Goldfmith's Hall door in's box lies afleep, 
 While Mock-begger Hall ftands empty." 
 
 It would be eafy to multiply examples to the fame 
 effect, but it is the lefs neceffary here, becaufe we have 
 adverted to fome of them in the preliminary matter, 
 explanatory of circumftances connected with each 
 
Introduction 
 
 Xlll 
 
 ballad. This information we have rendered as com- 
 plete as our limits would permit.* 
 
 We have made no attempt to arrange the enfuing 
 fpecimens according to date : in but few instances, 
 as already remarked, could we have felt fufficient con- 
 fidence, as to the precife period of compofition or pub- 
 lication, to enable us to fpeak at all decifively ; and 
 the fubjects are fo varied, that to have placed them in 
 any order dependent upon character and defign would 
 have been clearly impoffible. The comic and fatirical, 
 in point of number, much prevail over the ferious and 
 legendary ; and it might reafonably be expected, that 
 productions intended to be popular would generally 
 rather aim at exciting laughter than tears : fome of 
 them are highly humorous, and, no doubt, a great 
 deal of drollery was frequently difplayed by ftreet-per- 
 formers in finging them. 
 
 It is not neceifary, on this occafion, to enter into 
 the origin, or ancient hiftory, of ballad-writing and 
 ballad-finging in England : we have very few ballads, 
 
 * The reader mult be prepared for irregularities of metre, not 
 merely becaufe the writers fometimes trufted to the linger and the tune, 
 to correct and reconcile faults of fyllabic conftruction, but becaufe 
 it not unfrequently happened that corruptions were introduced in the 
 procefs of reprinting ballads, which marred the meafure of the original 
 author. What we have juft quoted is an inftance in point, as regards 
 a change in the metre, as well as in the meaning. 
 
XIV 
 
 Introduction 
 
 in our prefent fenfe of the word, of an earlier date 
 than the reign of Edward VI.* We know, indeed, 
 that they muft have been fung about the town and 
 country before the Reformation; and in 1537 a man 
 of the name of John Hogon was arretted for amufmg 
 the people in various places by a political ballad : he 
 had offended againft the proclamation of 1533, which 
 was iifued to fupprefs " fond books, ballads, rhimes, 
 and other lewd treatifes in the Englifh tongue." -f 
 Ten years afterwards it was deemed neceffary to pafs 
 an act of parliament in order, among other things, to 
 put a flop to the circulation of "printed ballads, plays, 
 rhimes, fongs and other fantafies;" (o that the mul- 
 tiplication of them by the prefs was then confidered an 
 evil requiring the intervention of the legiflature, al- 
 
 * Ritfon is probably correct, in ftating, that u the oldeft printed 
 ballad known to be extant, is that on the downfall of Thomas Lord 
 Cromwell in 1540, reprinted by Dr. Percy." — Ancient Songs, I. xcviii. 
 
 f Collier's Shakefpeare, I. eclxxxviii. The only words of Hogon's 
 fong preferved are thefe, and we quote them as a literary curiofity. 
 
 " The hunt is up, the hunt is up, Sec. 
 
 The Mailers of Arte and Doclours of dyvynyte 
 Have brought this realme out of good unyte. 
 Thre nobyll men have take this to ftay, 
 My Lord of Norffolk, Lorde of Surrey, 
 And my Lorde of Shrewfbyrry : 
 The Duke of Suffolk myght have made Inglond mery." 
 
Introduction 
 
 XV 
 
 though only a Angle broadfide of about that date has 
 been handed down to us. 
 
 Ballads feem to have multiplied after Edward VI. 
 came to the throne, and two or three of thefe have been 
 preferved, and are in clofe cuftody in the cabinets of the 
 curious:* no new proclamation was irTued, nor ftatute 
 parTed, on the fubjedl while Edward continued to reign ; 
 but in lefs than a month after Mary became Queen, 
 fhe published an edidt againft " books, ballads, rhymes, 
 and treatifes," which fhe complained had been " fet 
 out by printers and ftationers, of an evil zeal for lucre, 
 and covetous of vile gain." There is little doubt, from 
 
 * A manufcript drama of great peculiarity of construction, and bear- 
 ing date in the laft year of the reign of Edward VI. contains the firft 
 lines of feveral fongs affigned to the characters : the words were not in- 
 ferted at length, becaufe (as was often the cafe afterwards) they were fo 
 popular, and well known to the finger, that it was only deemed necef- 
 fary to fignify them. They are highly curious relics : one of them 
 begins, " Bring ye to me, and I to thee ; " another, " Hey noney, 
 noney, houghe for money;" a third, "The mercy of God;" and 
 a fourth, 
 
 " Haye, haye, haie, haie ! 
 I wilbe merie while I maie." 
 
 None of thefe have come down to us in a printed ftate, although 
 doubtlefs in print at the time they werefung. The original manufcript 
 play is entitled " Refpublica," and is in the library of Hudfon Gurney, 
 Efq. to whom the editor was feveral years ago obliged for the op- 
 portunity of copying it. 
 
XVI 
 
 Introdu&ion 
 
 the few pieces remaining, that it was in a confiderable 
 degree effectual for the end in view. 
 
 No fuch restraint was deemed neceffary when Eliza- 
 beth fucceeded her fifter, and the confequence was an 
 increafe of ballads and ballad-fingers : then it was that 
 fome productions of the kind, which had been pre- 
 ferred in manufcript, were printed, and new additions 
 were made to the popular ftock. Robert Langham, 
 who wrote his " Letter from Kenilworth" in the 
 autumn of 1575, has left behind him in it a goodly 
 lift of works of romance and drollery then in circula- 
 tion, including a bundle of ballads, "fair wrapped up 
 in parchment and bound with a whipcord : " thefe he 
 tells us were " all ancient," meaning perhaps to refer 
 to a date when fuch publications had been forbidden. 
 He fupplies fome of the titles ; * and others are enu- 
 merated by one of the characters in the old interlude 
 by W. Wager, " The longer thou liveft the more 
 Fool thou art," printed without date, but after Lang- 
 
 * We give them in Langham's peculiar and conceited fpelling : — 
 " What fhoold I rehearz heer what a bunch of Ballets and fongs, all 
 auncient ? Az Broom broom on hill — So wo iz me begon — Troly lo 
 — Ouer a whinny Meg — Hey ding a ding — Bony lafs vpon a green 
 — My bony on gaue me a bek — By a bank az I lay ; and a hundred 
 more he hath, fair wrapt vp in Parchment, and bound with a whip- 
 cord." — Collier's Bridgewater Catalogue, privately printed for the Earl 
 of Ellefmerc, 4to, 1837, p. 164. 
 
Introduction. 
 
 XVll 
 
 ham's traft.-f- Few of thefe have furvived, and until 
 not far from the clofe of the reign of Elizabeth, broad- 
 
 f It will be feen that two of the ballads mentioned by Wager are the 
 fame as thofe given by Langham, which affords evidence of their popu- 
 larity at the time they wrote. The following is affigned to Moros, the 
 Vice of the play, who enters finging. 
 
 " Brome, Brome, on hill, 
 The gentle Brome on hill, hill ; 
 Brome, Brome, on Hiue hill, 
 The gentle Brome on Hiue hill, 
 The Brome ftandes on Hiue hill a. 
 
 Robin, lend me thy bowe, thy bowe ; 
 
 Robin the bow, Robin lende to me thy bow a. 
 
 There was a Mayde come out of Kent, 
 
 Deintie loue, deintie loue ! 
 
 There was a mayde cam out of Kent 
 
 Daungerous be [fhe] : 
 
 There was a mayde cam out of Kent, 
 
 Fayre, propre, fmall and gent, 
 
 And euer vpon the ground went, 
 
 For fo mould it be. 
 
 By a banke as I lay, I lay, 
 Mufinge on things pari, hey how ! 
 
 Tom a lin and his wife, and his wiues mother, 
 They went ouer a bridge, all three together : 
 The bridge was broken and they fell in ; 
 The Deuill go with all, quoth Tom a lin. 
 
 Martin Swart and his man, fodledum, fodledum -, 
 Martin Swart and his man, fodledum bell. 
 
 Come ouer the boorne, Befle, 
 
XVI 11 
 
 Introduction. 
 
 fides cannot be faid to have been at all numerous. 
 Philip Stubbes, writing his "Anatomy of Abufes" in 
 1583, objects to the " minftrels and muficians" who 
 infefted town and country, and inveighs violently 
 againft the " fongs, filthy ballads and fcurvy rhymes," 
 which they vended to the populace. Coming down 
 to a later date, we have the authority of Chettle's 
 " Kind Heart's Dream," 1 592, for the fad that " many 
 a tradefman, of a worfhipful trade," brought up ap- 
 prentices to " finging brokery," and foon trufted them 
 " with a dozen groatfworth of ballads." About this 
 period, and fomewhat earlier, it was that Elderton, 
 Munday, Deloney, Johnfon and feveral others flou- 
 rished, and kept the metropolis, as well as the provinces, 
 fully fupplied with ballad literature.* 
 
 My little pretie BefTe, 
 
 Come ouer the boorne, BeiTe, to me." 
 
 Hijl. Engl. Dram. Poetry and the Stage, ii. 333. 
 * Chettle's evidence is decifive as to the number of ballad-fingers in 
 his day : " I am given to underftand that there be a company of idle 
 youths, loathing honeft labour, and defpifing lawfull trades, betake them 
 to a vagrant and vicious life> in every corner of cities and market- 
 townes of the rcalme, finging and felling ballads," &c. He feverely cen- 
 fures the character and tendency of thefe productions, and efpecially 
 points out " Watkin's Ale," " The Carman's Whittle," " Chopping 
 Knives," " Friar Foxtail," and " The Friar and the Nun." — Kind 
 Heart's Dream, 1 592. Thomas Nafh in his humorous tracts men- 
 tions " Watkin's Ale," and feveral other ballads extremely popular be- 
 
Introdu&ion 
 
 XIX 
 
 Matters continued without much alteration during 
 the reign of James I., excepting that particular printers 
 were then licenfed to publifh broadfides and other 
 pieces, occupying only one fide of paper, of courfe 
 including ballads : they granted aflignments to others 
 for ftipulated fums, and the " worfhipful trades" of 
 ballad-making, ballad-felling, and ballad-finging, had 
 certainly never been more fiourifhing.* 
 
 About the middle of the reign of Charles I. fome 
 new writers of this clafs made their appearance, the 
 
 fore the end of Elizabeth's reign. Henry Bold, more than half a century 
 afterwards, fpeaks of ancient tunes flill " fung to Barber's Citterns," viz. 
 " The Lady's Fall," " John come kifs me now," " Green Sleeves 
 and Pudding Pies," " The Punk's Delight," " The Winning of Bul- 
 logne," and " EfTex's laft Good-night." — Latin Songs and their Eng- 
 lijh Words. 
 
 * To about this period we may refer the enumeration of ballads in 
 Fletcher's " Monfieur Thomas," A£t. in. Sc. 3. A Fiddler is there 
 introduce, who informs the hero that he can fing the following : " The 
 Duke of Norfolk — the merry ballad of Dives and Lazarus — the Rofe 
 of England — In Crete when Dedimus firft began — Jonas his Crying- 
 out againft Coventry — Maudlin the Merchant's Daughter — the Devil 
 — Ye dainty Dames — the Landing of the Spaniards at Bow, with the 
 bloody Battle of Mile-end." — Dyce' 's Beaumont and Fletcher , vii. p. 
 364. To thefe we may fubjoin the titles of fome ballads mentioned by 
 Samuel Rowlands, in his " Crew of kind Goffips," &c. 1613. They 
 are, " Miftrefs, will you do," " My man Thomas did me promife," 
 " The Pinnace rigg'd with filken faile," " Pretty Birds," " The Gar- 
 den Nightingale," " I'll tie my Mare in thy ground," and " Befs for 
 Abufes." See alfo his " 'Tis merry when Goffips meet," 1602. 
 
principal of whom was Martin Parker, who induftri- 
 oufly availed himfelf of every opportunity for putting 
 his pen to paper : he was fubfequently affifted by 
 another prolific poet of the fame defcription, named 
 Lawrence Price, while Wade, Climfell, Guy, &c. 
 were not by any means flow in their contributions. 
 Thus, we have many more broadfides belonging to 
 the forty years immediately preceding the Reftora- 
 tion, than have come down to us during the whole pre- 
 vious period from the Reformation. Among them 
 are to be included not a few reprints of older ballads, 
 of which only the re-impreflions are now extant : 
 they were, no doubt, fcarce when their republication 
 was undertaken by the printers, bookfellers, and fta- 
 tioners, who carried on a profitable bufinefs from about 
 1620 to 1660. 
 
 An imperfect attempt to put a fudden termination 
 to dramatic performances was made in 1642, and 
 carried into execution in 1648 : theatres remained fhut 
 (with a few inftances of difobedience) until the return 
 of Charles II. During this interval the writers and 
 printers of ballads (which were ftill iflued as black- 
 letter broadfides) feem to have reaped an unufually 
 abundant harveft ; for in proportion as the people 
 were deprived of one fpecies of amufement they evi- 
 dently required another. We know that many of 
 
Introduction. 
 
 XXI 
 
 thefe productions were of a political complexion ; and 
 although none fuch have reached our day, it is not 
 unlikely that fome ballads were fatirically directed 
 againft the parties who had been prominent, or inftru- 
 mental, in putting an end to theatrical reprefenta- 
 tions. The act for fuppreffing the ftage was iffued in 
 the Spring, and in the Autumn of 1648 the Provoft 
 Marfhal was directed and empowered " to feize upon 
 all ballad-fingers, fellers of malignant pamphlets, and 
 to fend them to the feveral militias, and to fupprefs 
 ftage-plays."* This exhibition of arbitrary power does 
 not feem to have been by any means effectual as re- 
 gards ballad-lingers, and judging from the numerous 
 broadfides of the time, whether reprints of older pro- 
 ductions, or entirely new compofitions, the prefs, after 
 the theatres were put down, may be faid to have teemed 
 with ballads, and the ftreets to have been filled with 
 itinerant muficians, who, in a remarkable tract of the 
 time, are humoroufly called " the running ftationers 
 of London." *f- 
 
 * Whitelocke's Memorials, p. 337. 
 
 f " Knaves are no honeft Men, or More Knaves yet, &c. compofed 
 by I. L.," without name of printer, or date. The author's words are, 
 " Marry, they fay that the running ftationers of London, I mean fuch 
 as ufe to fing ballads, and thofe that cry malignant pamphlets in the 
 ftreets have all laid their heads together," &c. 
 
XXII 
 
 Introdu&ion 
 
 Had not the public eagerly encouraged this fpecies 
 of performance, of courfe, {o many ballads would not 
 have been publimed ; but, recollecting the comparative 
 value of money, the price of a broadfide could hardly 
 have been within the reach of the pooreft claries. We 
 may perhaps calculate, that during the Protectorate 
 money was worth at leaft twice as much as at prefent, 
 yet we find that then (and earlier, when money was far 
 more fcarce) the coft of a ballad was a penny. Of this 
 fact feveral diftinct proofs are contained in our volume, 
 for on p. 41 the finger tells his auditors, 
 
 " Nor would I have a fcold 
 one penny here beftow, 
 But honeft men and wives 
 buy thefe before you goe : " 
 
 and on p. 151 we read as follows : 
 
 " And thus you now have heard the praife 
 of Nothing, worth a penny, 
 Which, as I ftand to fing here now, 
 I hope will yeeld me many." 
 
 Such it appears had been the charge, as it were by 
 prefcription, for many years : Nicholas Breton, in 
 his " Pafquil's Madcap," 1600, had advifed " profe 
 writers " to change their occupation, in confequence of 
 the greater fuccefs of the authors of " penny bal- 
 
Introdu&ion. 
 
 XXlll 
 
 lads."* At that period money was four or five times 
 lefs abundant than with us : a quarto play, fuch as 
 "Much ado about Nothing," (printed in 1600) was 
 then fold for fixpence ; a fmall trad: or poem for four- 
 pence ; a chap-book, in 8vo. for two-pence, and a 
 broadfide ballad for one penny. It was not long after 
 the Reftoration that ballads fo degenerated, in quality 
 and eftimation, that they were faleable at only half the 
 fum they had produced from the reign of Elizabeth 
 downwards. The theatres, as every body knows, were 
 then once more in adlive operation. 
 
 We have already faid fome thing of the general fide- 
 lity with which we have adhered to the old copies : 
 
 * His lines are thefe : 
 
 " Goe, tell the poets that their pedling rimes 
 
 Begin apace to grow out of requeft, 
 While wanton humours in thefe idle times 
 
 Can make of love but as a laughing jeft : 
 And tell profe-writers, ftories are fo ftale 
 That penny ballads make a better fale." 
 
 No man put the town to the teft, as regards both verfe and profe, 
 more frequently and perfeveringly than Breton ; but we are not aware 
 of any ballad, properly fo called, of his compofition, unlefs we may 
 affign to him one on p. 254 of our volume. He was a very popular 
 pamphleteer, and, as the parifh regifters mew, lived very near Trun- 
 dle, the ballad-bookfeller, where feveral of his children were born and 
 buried : this is not the place for inferting extracts from them, but 
 they form entirely new points in his biography. 
 
XXIV 
 
 Introduction. 
 
 we have carried this fo far, that we have not only 
 obferved the orthography of our originals, but even 
 their mifprints, if they were not mere literal errors, 
 if the miftakes in a manner corrected themfelves, or 
 did not materially interfere with the fenfe.* Our 
 object has been to prefent the compofitions, as nearly 
 as our typography would allow, in their earlieft fhape, 
 even to the difufe of many capital letters at the com- 
 mencement of lines. This practice, with our old 
 printers, arofe out of the fact that lines, often divided 
 into two, were in truth only one, the feparation having 
 been made for the convenience of the page : we felect 
 a fingle illuftration from p. 250, where we read, 
 
 * We take a fpecimen, almoft at random, from one of the very few 
 broadfides we have inferted, which are not in the ftricteft fenfe of the 
 word ballads : it occurs on p. 56. 
 
 " So likewife pride in London now 
 
 Doeth florifhe in fuche goodly forte, 
 That they invent which waie and how 
 
 Thereby augmented it might be." 
 
 In every other ftanza the fecond and fourth lines rhyme, and here 
 we may be pretty fure that the fecond line ought to end " in goodly 
 *gree," in order that it might correfpond with " be" in the fourth line. 
 As, however, " forte" perfectly well fuits the (enfe of the pafTage, we 
 have not difturbed the old text. This poem (which is by one of the 
 poets we have for the firft time introduced to the knowledge of the 
 reader) alfo appeared in 8vo. in the fame year as the broadfide, 1573. 
 
Introduction 
 
 XXV 
 
 " While married men doe lie 
 with worldly cares oppreft, 
 Wee batchelors can fleepe, 
 and fweetly take our ■reft." 
 
 which, in the author's manufcript, we may fuppofe, 
 flood thus : 
 
 " While married men doe lie with worldly cares oppreft, 
 Wee batchelors can fleepe, and fweetly take our reft. 
 
 Even when the fhort lines rhymed alternately, the old 
 typographers frequently rejected capitals, perhaps be- 
 caufe, being in a fmall way of bufinefs, they had not 
 fufficient letter for their purpofe. We have accompanied 
 the ballads by fac-fimiles of fuch wood-cuts as ufed to 
 be prefixed to the old broadfides themfelves ; the main 
 difference being, that we have transferred to the end what 
 was formerly invitingly placed at the beginning. Moft 
 of thofe we have adopted were repeatedly employed by 
 the printers of broadfides, who feldom cared whether 
 an ornament of the kind were or were not appropriate 
 to the fubjecl: of the ballad, as long as it was likely to 
 attract attention. 
 
 In this refpect we have ufually been fomewhat more 
 obfervant than they were : a ballad-printer was in the 
 habit of buying up old wood-cuts, which had been en- 
 graved for any other works, and of applying them to his 
 own purpofes. Difregarding their age, rudenefs, and 
 
XXVI 
 
 Introduction. 
 
 condition, we have made a felection of fuch as were 
 moft characterise, or interefting on account of their 
 reference to notorious perfonages : thus on p. 54 will 
 be found a reprefentation of the celebrated Richard 
 Tarlton, whofe popular portrait was often employed, 
 and who, befides being a famous actor, was himfelf 
 a ballad-writer. On p. 120 is a wood-cut of the old 
 poet John Gower, apparelled as he was exhibited on 
 the ftage in Shakefpeare's " Pericles," and as he is feen 
 on the title-page of the novel of 1608, founded upon 
 that play.* On p. 134 is a full length of that great 
 profe-fatirift Thomas Nam, in fetters, as he figures in 
 one of Gabriel Harvey's tracts againft him ; and ano- 
 ther reprefentation of Nam, as a ghoft, is inferted on 
 p. 263. Gabriel Harvey, his antagonift, is found on 
 p. 201, probably from Nam's own drawing in his 
 "Have with you to Saffron Walden," 1596. Will 
 Kemp, the comic performer in fome of Shakefpeare's 
 
 * For the title and a full account of this very remarkable volume fee 
 " Farther Particulars regarding Shakefpeare and his Works," 8vo. 1839. 
 It was fold by auction among Mr. Heber's books, as if it were the ftory 
 of which our great dramatift had availed himfelf; but it was much 
 more curious, becaufe it was founded upon the play, not the play upon 
 it, and becaufe it contains various paflages, reduced to profe, which 
 were no doubt acted, but arc not in any of the printed copies of " Peri- 
 cles." Much illuftrative matter, connected with the progrefs of the 
 plot, is alfo fupplicd by the novel. 
 
Introduction. 
 
 XXVll 
 
 dramas, will be feen dancing his Morris to Norwich 
 on p. 216, from the title-page of his " Nine Day's 
 Wonder," 1600 : and the notorious Robert Greene, 
 the pamphleteer and dramatift, is depicted writing in 
 his winding meet on p. 303.* 
 
 Other amufing reprefentations, in the courfe of our 
 volume, had alfo been previoufly employed for various 
 productions ; and in looking at them, it is always to 
 be borne in mind that, as accurate imitations of the 
 originals, they give a perfect notion of the fort of 
 ornaments required by the ballad-buying public for 
 more than half a century before the death of Charles I. 
 The wood-cut of Robin Goodfellow, on p. 41, had 
 been employed in a pamphlet devoted to his " mad 
 merry pranks," published, perhaps, before Shakefpeare 
 wrote for the ftage : the man and his dog on p. 59, 
 belongs to the firft edition of Dekker's " Belman 
 of London/' printed in 1608 : the Pyramus and 
 Thifbe, on p. 96, is a foreign production, but adorns 
 the title-page of R. Wolfe's " Pierce Ploughman's 
 
 * This is from the title-page of a rare tract called " Greene in 
 Conceipt, new raifed from his Grave to write the Tragique Hif- 
 torie of faire Valeria of London," &c. 4to. 1598. It is the only re- 
 femblance (if indeed fuch it may be termed) of that remarkable man, 
 who died juft as Shakefpeare was faft rifing into popularity, and who 
 left behind him the earlieft allufion to his name and fame. 
 
XXV111 
 
 Introduction 
 
 Creed," as early as 1553: the wife man of Gotham, 
 hedging in the cuckoo, on p. 126, is from an old im- 
 preflion of Andrew Borde's celebrated collection of 
 Tales: the Watchman on p. 152, is one of a curious 
 fet of the " Cries of London," publifhed in the reign 
 of James I. : the Conjuror fwallowing the ferpent is 
 contained in an ancient and droll account of Bar- 
 tholomew Fair : the gentleman and countryman con- 
 verfing, on p. 231, firft appeared in Robert Greene's 
 "Quip for an Upftart Courtier," 1592 : the Tinker, 
 on p. 286, was a favourite and frequent decoration 
 of ballads during nearly the whole period our volume 
 embraces ; and Sir Bevis, attended by his Squire, 
 on p. 297, is evidently older, but was ufed in the ro- 
 mance relating to that hero, printed by W. Stanfby 
 before Charles I. came to the crown. 
 
 Were it worth while, we might go into much 
 farther detail refpecting the fources whence we have 
 obtained our illuftrations : among them are only three 
 which do not form the head -pieces of old ballads, 
 or are not derived from chap-books and tracts of an 
 early date, fubfequently employed by printers of broad- 
 fides of an ephemeral character and temporary in- 
 tereft. Two of thefe will be noticed on pp. 220 and 
 311, in a different and fuperior ftyle of deiign, while 
 the third concludes the prefent introduction : it was 
 
Introduction 
 
 cut from a fpirited fketch by no lefs an artift than Inigo 
 Jones, as the reprefentation of an Englifh ballad- 
 finger about twentyyears after the death of Shakefpeare, 
 and it is fo defcribed in his own hand-writing upon 
 the original drawing. The editor was permitted to copy 
 it by favour of the Duke of Devonfhire, to whom, as 
 on many former occafions, he begs leave to tender his 
 grateful acknowledgments. 
 
 XXIX 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 EATH'S Dance 
 
 To the Tune of " Oh, no, no, no, not yet. 
 
 The World's Sweetheart 
 
 To the Tune of " The Beggar Boy." 
 
 Chriftmas' Lamentation 
 
 To the Tune of " Now the Spring is come." 
 
 The Gentleman in Thracia . 
 
 To the Tune of " Chevy Chafe." 
 
 Ragged and Torn and True 
 
 To the Tune of " Old Simon the King." 
 
 The Complaint of King James 
 
 Written by Ulpian Fulwell. 
 
 The Devil and the Scold 
 
 To the Tune of " The Seminary Prieft." 
 
 The Lamentation of Friendfhip 
 
 Written by Thomas Churchyard. 
 
 Mock-Beggar's Hall 
 
 To the Tune of " It is not your Northern Nanny. 1 
 
 A Larum Bell for London 
 
 Written by John Carre. 
 
 The Bride's Goodmorrow 
 
 To a pleafant new Tune. 
 
 Page 
 I 
 
 12 
 
 26 
 
 31 
 
 35 
 
 42 
 
 49 
 55 
 60 
 
xxxn 
 
 Contents 
 
 Page 
 
 The Soldier's Repentance 64 
 
 To the Tune of " Calino." 
 
 The Widow of Watling Street 69 
 
 To the Tunes of " Bragandary," and " The Wanton Wife." 
 
 Cupid's Courtefie 80 
 
 To a moft pleafant Northern Tune. 
 
 My Wife will be my Mailer 85 
 
 To the Tune of " A Tailor is no Man." 
 
 The Conftancy of True Love 90 
 
 To the Tune of " Down by a Foreft." 
 
 Few Words are beft 79 
 
 To the Tune of " I'll tell you but fo." 
 
 The Merchant's Daughter of Briftol 104 
 
 To the Tune of " The Maiden's Joy." 
 
 My Pretty Little One 116 
 
 To a pleafant new Tune. 
 
 The Devil driven away by Women 121 
 
 To the Tune of " Death's Dance." 
 
 The Lamentation of England 127 
 
 By W. M., to the Tune of " Weep, weep." 
 
 Be Merry Friends 135 
 
 By John Heywood, to a new Tune. 
 
 Epitaph on Bifhop Jewell 139 
 
 Written by William Elderton. 
 
 The Father's Admonition 143 
 
 To the Tune of " Grim King of Ghofts." 
 
 The Praife of Nothing 147 
 
 To the Tune of " Though I have but a mark a year." 
 
 The Norfolk Farmer's Journey to London ... 153 
 
 To the Tune of " The Spanifh Pavin." 
 
 Conftance of Cleveland ... 163 
 
 To the Tune of" Crimfon Velvet/ 1 
 
Contents. 
 
 Page 
 
 The Song of the Caps . . . . . . .... . . . 172 
 
 To the Tune of " The Shaking of the Sheets." 
 
 Sack for my Money . • 177 
 
 To the Tune of " Wet and Weary." 
 
 The Brave Englifh Gipfey 183 
 
 To the Tune of " The Spanifh Gipfey." 
 
 The Subftance of all the late intended Treafons . . . . . 189 
 
 Written by Thomas Nelfon. 
 
 The Bull's Feather 197 
 
 To a very pleafant new Tune. 
 
 The Weft Country Damfel's Complaint 202 
 
 To the Tune of " Johnny Armftrong." 
 
 The Common Cries of London 207 
 
 By W. Turner, to the Tune of " Watton Town's End." 
 
 The Two Valentines 217 
 
 To the Tune "Did you fee Nan to-day." 
 
 The Great Booby 221 
 
 To the Tune of " Sellenger's Round." 
 
 The Tragedy of Hero and Leander .227 
 
 To the Tune of " I will never love thee more." 
 
 The Royal Recreation of Jovial Anglers 232 
 
 To the Tune of " Amarillis." 
 
 Keep a good Tongue in your Head 237 
 
 By Martin Parker, to the Tune of" The Milk Maids." 
 
 The Milk-maid's Life 243 
 
 By M. Parker, to the Tune of " The Milk Maid's Dumps." 
 
 The Bachelor's Feaft 249 
 
 By Lawrence Price, to the Tune of " With a hie dill do dill." 
 
 The Mifer and the Prodigal 254 
 
 To the Tune of " To drive the cold Winter away." 
 
 Wit's never good till 'tis Bought 264 
 
 To the Tune of " Bafle's Career." 
 
 e 
 
 XXV 
 
XXVI 
 
 Contents 
 
 Page 
 
 A Caveat for Cutpurfes 271 
 
 To the Tune of " Packingtorfs Pound. 11 
 
 The Householder's New-year's Gift 276 
 
 To the Tune of " Where is my true Love/'' 
 
 The Time's Abufes 281 
 
 To the Tune-of " Over and Under." 
 
 The Lover's Complaint 287 
 
 To a plealant new Tune. 
 
 The Coach's Overthrow 291 
 
 To the Tune of" Old King Harry." 
 
 The Bad Hufband turn'd thrifty 298 
 
 By John Wade, to the Tune of " Hey ho, my Honey." 
 
 The Pedlar's Lamentation 304 
 
 To the Tune of " My Life and my Death." 
 
 Poor Robin's Dream 308 
 
 To the Tune of " A Game at Cards." 
 
 God fpeed the Plough and Blefs the Corn-mow 312 
 
 To the Tune of " I am the Duke of Norfolk." 
 
 The Merry Man's Refolution 317 
 
 By L. Price, to the Tune of " The Highlanders new Rant." 
 
 Well Matched at laft 323 
 
 To the Tune of" I know what I know." 
 
 Death's uncontrolable Summons 328 
 
 To the Tune of " My bleeding Heart." 
 
Death's Dance. 
 
 To be fung to a pleafant new Tune called^ " Oh no no no not yet, 
 or The Meddow Brow." 
 
 [It is, perhaps, not now poffible to arrive at any greater certainty 
 refpecting the age of this moral and fatirical ballad, than that it muft 
 have been written fome time after the opening of the Royal Exchange 
 in 1570, that building being mentioned, in the third ftanza, as the com- 
 mon refort of merchants. Henry GoiTon, for whom the copy we have 
 ufed was printed, was a bookfeller in the reign of James I. and after- 
 wards ; but we may reafonably believe that " Death's Dance" was 
 originally published before the year 1580 : J. Awdeley had licenfe to 
 print a " Daunce and Song of Death" as early as 1568, but it could 
 not be this ballad, which feems to have been unknown to Mr. Douce, 
 when he prepared his learned volume on the defigns imputed to Macaber 
 and Holbein. There are feveral ballads to the popular tune of " the 
 Shaking of the Sheet, or the Dance of Death" (See Chappells " Nat. 
 Engl. Airs" ii. 121.) but the prefent is entirely a different production.] 
 
 F Death would come to fhew his face 
 as he dare fhow his powre, 
 And fit at many a rich mans place 
 both every day and houre, 
 He would amaze them every one 
 
 to fee him ftanding there, 
 And wifh that foone he would be gone 
 from all their dwellings faire. 
 
Death's Dance 
 
 Or if that Death would take the paines 
 
 to goe to the water fide, 
 Where merchants purchafe golden gaines 
 
 to pranke them up in pride, 
 And bid them thinke upon the poore, 
 
 or elfe, " He fee you foone," 
 There would be given them at their doore 
 
 good almes both night and noone. 
 
 Or walke into the Royall-Exchange 
 
 when every man is there, 
 No doubt, his comming would be ftrange 
 
 to put them all in feare, 
 How they do worldly buy and fell, 
 
 to make their markets good ; 
 Their dealings all would profper well, 
 
 if fo the matter ftood. 
 
 Or if Death would take the paine 
 
 to go to Pauls one day, 
 To talke with fuch as there remaine 
 
 to walke, and not to pray ; 
 Of life they would take lafting leafe, 
 
 though nere fo great a fine : 
 What is not that but fome would give 
 
 to fet them up a flirine ? 
 
 If Death would go to Weftminfter 
 to walke about the Hall, 
 
Death's Dance. 
 
 And make himfelfe a counfellor 
 
 in pleas amongft them all, 
 I thinke the Court of Confcience 
 
 would have a great regard, 
 When Death mould come with diligence 
 
 to have their matters heard. 
 
 For Death hath been a Checker-man 
 
 not many yeares agoe ; 
 And he is fuch a one as can 
 
 beftow his checking fo, 
 That never a clarke within the Hall 
 
 can argue fo his cafe, 
 But Death can overrule them all 
 
 in every court and place. 
 
 If Death would keepe a tipling houfe 
 
 where royfters do refort, 
 And take the cup and drinke carowfe 
 
 when they are in their fport ; 
 And briefly fay, " My mailers all, 
 
 why ftand you idle here ? 
 I bring to you Saint Giles his bowle," 
 
 'twould put them all in feare. 
 
 If Death would make a ftep to dance 
 
 where lufty gallants be, 
 Or take dice and throw a chance 
 
 when he doth gamefters fee ; 
 
4 
 
 Death's Dance. 
 
 
 And fay, u My matters, have at all, 
 
 
 I warrant it will be mine," 
 
 
 They would in amazement fall 
 
 
 to fet him any coyne. 
 
 
 If Death would goffip now and then 
 
 
 amongft the crabbed wives, 
 
 
 That taunt and raile at their good men 
 
 
 to make them weary lives, 
 
 
 It would amaze them, I might fay, 
 
 
 fo fpightfully to boaft, 
 
 
 That they will beare the fwing and fway, 
 
 
 and overrule the roaft. 
 
 
 If Death but quarterly would come 
 
 
 amongft the landlords crue, 
 
 
 And take account of every fum 
 
 
 that rifes more then due, 
 
 
 As well of income as of fine, 
 
 
 above the old fet rent, 
 
 
 They would let leafes without coyne, 
 
 dcftroyed. 
 
 for feare they fhould be fhent. 
 
 
 If Death would take his dayly courfe 
 
 
 where tradefmen fell their ware, 
 
 
 His welcome, fure, would be more worfe 
 
 
 then thofe of monyes bare : 
 
 . 
 
 It would affright them for to fee 
 
 
 his leane and hollow lookes, 
 
Death's Dance. 
 
 If Death would fay, " Come, mow to me 
 my reckoning in your bookes." 
 
 If Death would thorow the markets trace 
 
 where Confcience uf 'd to dwell, 
 And take but there a huckfter's place, 
 
 he might do wondrous well : 
 High prizes would abated be, 
 
 And nothing found too deare ; 
 When Death mould call, " Come, buy of me," 
 
 'twould put them all in feare. 
 
 If Death would prove a gentleman, 
 
 and come to court our dames, 
 And do the beft of all he can 
 
 to blazon forth their names ; 
 Yet mould he little welcomes have 
 
 Amongft fo fayre a crew 
 That daily go fo fine and brave, 
 
 when they his face do view. 
 
 Or if he would but walke about 
 
 our city fuburbs round, 
 There would be given, out of doubt, 
 
 full many a golden pound 
 To fpare our wanton female crew, 
 
 and give them longer day ; 
 But Death will grant no leafes new, 
 
 but take them all away. 
 
Death's Dance, 
 
 For Death hath promifed to come, 
 
 and come he will indeede : 
 Therefore I warne you, all and fome, 
 
 beware and take good heede ; 
 For what you do, or what you be, 
 
 hee's fure to find and know you : 
 Though he be blind, and cannot fee, 
 
 in earth he will beftow you. 
 
 Finis 
 
 \ 1 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
Th< 
 
 World's Sweet-heart. 
 
 To the tune of u The Beggar Boy." 
 
 [Richard Barnfield firft publifhed his poem " The Encomion of 
 Lady Pecunia" in 1598, (again in 1605) and me is mentioned by the 
 fame name in the following ballad, which touches humoroufly upon 
 topics Barnfield had treated more ferioufly. The copy we have followed 
 was " Printed at London for Thomas Lambert, at the figne of the 
 Horfhoo in Smithfield" about the year 1630 ; but it moft likely made 
 its original appearance before 1 600. The following couplet is added 
 to the old title, preceding the information of the tune to which the 
 ballad was to be fung: — 
 
 cc Whereby is mewed, that Miftris Money 
 Is the world's Sweet-heart and Honey." 
 
 There is we believe, a copy in the Pepyfian Library at Cambridge, of 
 a later date and without thefe lines.] 
 
 WEET Miftris Money, I here will declare 
 thy beauty, which every one adoreth, 
 The lofty gallant and beggar fo bare 
 
 fome help and comfort from theeimplor- 
 For thou art become the World's Sweet-heart, [eth ; 
 
 while every one doth make thee their honey, 
 And loath they are from thee to depart, 
 
 fo well they doe love fweet Miftris Money. 
 
The World's Sweet-heart. 
 
 Money is that which' all men obey, 
 
 the wealthy rich mifer doteth upon it, 
 He puts her to trading until fuch a day, • 
 
 and is very careful in parting from it : 
 It joyes him to fee a great heap of wealth, 
 
 and Lady Pecunia is his deare honey, 
 While he is content for to ftarve himfelfe, 
 
 even for the love of Miftris Money. 
 
 The Citty of London doth take -great care 
 
 to gaine her favour by fome new fafhion, 
 And for her fake they will give you fuch ware, 
 
 as there is not better in any nation : 
 For every one's heart is now fet upon her, 
 
 and fhe is become their onely deare honey ; 
 Wherever fhe goes her fteps they doe honour, 
 
 fo well they doe love fweet Miftris Money. 
 
 Though Money's complexion be very white, 
 
 yet I doe thinke there was never yet any 
 Could equall her beauty which is fo bright, 
 
 fo that flie hath friends and lovers many : 
 Each one will lend her a helping hand 
 
 to carry abroad their deareft honey, 
 And they will be ready at her command, 
 
 even for the love of Miftris Money. 
 
 Your country men to the market will goe 
 with corne, and fuch other like proviiion, 
 
The World's Sweet-heart. 
 
 And to procure Money fometimes, you do know, 
 they will fell it off upon any condition : 
 
 To cure their hearts of forrow and care 
 
 the favour of coyne is as fweete as honey, 
 
 And they are glad to fell off their ware, 
 even for the love of Miftris Money. 
 
 The fhepheard, that lyeth abroad in the field 
 
 and never careth for wind or weather, 
 Doth hope that his fheepe fome profit will yeeld, 
 
 which makes him to keepe them all together ; 
 For he will fit on the fide of a rock, 
 
 or elfe lye upon a greene banke that is funny, 
 And there he will keepe his poore little flock, 
 
 even for the love of Miftris Money. 
 
 In city, in country, and every place 
 
 tis Money that is fo much refpected, 
 For fhe can never receive difgrace, 
 
 fince many devifes are ftill projected 
 By thofe that feeke her favour to gaine, 
 
 and make her their onely delight and honey ; 
 For they will refufe no labour and paine, 
 
 in hope for to get Sweet Miftris Money. 
 
 I thinke the world mall come to an end 
 before that Money {hall be defpifed, 
 
 For in every corner fhe hath a clofe friend, 
 and by every one fhe is highly prifed. 
 
io The World's Sweet-heart. 
 
 
 
 In every country, where ever you ride, 
 
 the favour of coyne is as fweete as the honey, 
 
 And all the inns on the roade doe provide 
 to entertaine fweete Miftris Money. 
 
 Now Cupid may lay by his quiver and bow, 
 
 whereby fometime love was procured, 
 Since now to marry they are very flow, 
 
 unlerTe that a portion may be afliired ; 
 For that doth carry their fancy away, 
 
 fo that young men doe make it their honey, 
 And many a wedding, without all delay, 
 
 is made up for the love of Miftris Money. 
 
 Mark where you doe come, and you fhall ftill find, 
 
 that for your Money you fhall be attended : 
 My hoft and my hoftefle will be very kind ; 
 
 but when that your filver and coin is fpended, 
 Faith, then you may goe with much grief and woe, 
 
 becaufe you have parted from your deare honey ; 
 For that refpedl which to you they did fhow 
 
 was for the love of Miftris Money. 
 
 At Rome the priefts doe make her a faint, 
 who cheat the people by fond delufion ; 
 
 And if that you no money doe want, 
 
 you fhall for your fins have an abfolution : 
 
 Thus in forraine countries, where ever you goe, 
 this Mammon is counted their onely honey, 
 
The World's Sweet-heart. 
 
 II 
 
 And unto you much kindnefle they'll fhow, 
 even for the love of Miflris Money. 
 
 The feaman likewife will travaile abroad, 
 
 in florms and in tempefts his heart ne're faileth, 
 Untill with commodities he be well ftor'd, 
 
 and then through the ocean he luftily faileth. 
 He cares not if that he meet with fome blowes, 
 
 for he fo efteemeth his deareft, honey, 
 That he lpreadeth his fayls and away he goes, 
 
 and fometimes he bringeth home gold and Money. 
 
 Thus all mens affections are equally bent 
 
 to Money, which maketh them full of mettle, 
 And when they doe want it they are difcontent, 
 
 becaufe their love on it they doe fettle : 
 Yet I would not have you to fet your heart 
 
 on worldly treafure, to make it your honey, 
 But to buy this ditty before you depart, 
 
 if that you doe love fweet Miftris Money. 
 
 
 
 & 
 
 
 ^^S£^^^- 
 
 
 
 
I 2 
 
 Chriftmas' Lamentation. 
 
 To the tune of u Now the Spring is come." 
 
 [This fingular ballad is unqueftionably as old as the reign of Eliza- 
 beth : " yellow ftarch," which is mentioned, and would feem on fome 
 accounts to fix it in that of James I., was in fafhion fome time before the 
 death of his predeceflbr on the throne. It is a bold and ftriking re- 
 proof of the decay of hofpitality, efpecially at Chriftmas, and we are 
 aware of no other production of precifely the fame kind and character. 
 The full title in the only copy known is, " Chriftmas' Lamentation for 
 the lofTe of his acquaintance; mowing how he is forft to leave the 
 Country, and come to London." It was " printed at London for F. C. 
 dwelling in the old Bayly," F. C. being Francis Coles, who publifhed 
 many broadfides of a comparatively late date, and various reprints of 
 much older ballads, among which laft the following is to be placed.] 
 
 HRISTMAS is my name, farre have I gone, 
 Have I gone, have I gone, have I gone, 
 without regard, 
 Whereas great men by flockes there be flowne, 
 There be flown, there be flown, there be flowne, 
 
 to London- ward ; 
 Where they in pomp and pleafure doe wafte 
 That which Chriftmas was wonted to feaft, 
 Welladay ! 
 
Chriftmas' Lamentation. 13 
 
 Houfes where mulicke was wont for to ring 
 Nothing but batts and howlets doe ling. 
 Welladay! Welladay! Welladay ! 
 where fhould I ftay ? 
 
 Chriftmas beefe and bread is turn'd into ftones, 
 Into ftones, into ftones, into ftones, - 
 
 and filken rags ; 
 And Ladie Money fleepes and makes moanes, 
 And makes moanes, and makes moanes, and makes 
 in mifers bags : [moanes, 
 
 Houfes where pleafures once did abound, 
 Nought but a dogge and a fhepheard is found, 
 
 Welladay ! 
 Places where Chriftmas revells did keepe 
 Are now become habitations for fheepe. 
 Welladay! Welladay! Welladay! 
 where fhould I ftay ? 
 
 Pan, the fhepheards god, doth deface, 
 Doth deface, doth deface, doth deface, 
 
 Lady Ceres crowne, 
 And tillage that doth goe to decay, 
 To decay, to decay, to decay : 
 
 in every towne, 
 Landlords their rents fo highly inhance, 
 That Pierce, the plow-man, bare foot may dance ; 
 
 Welladay ! 
 
And farmers, that Chriftmas would entertaine, 
 Have fcarce wherewith themfelves to maintaine, 
 Welladay! Welladay ! Welladay ! 
 where mould I flay ? 
 
 Come to the country man, he will proteft, 
 Will proteft, will proteft, will proteft, 
 and of bull beefe bofte ; 
 And for the citizen he is fo hot, 
 Is fo hot, is fo hot, is fo hot, 
 
 he will burne the rofte. 
 The courtier he good deeds will not fcorne, 
 Nor will he fee poore Chriftmas forlorne : 
 
 Welladay ! 
 Since none of thefe good deeds will doe, 
 Chriftmas had beft turn courtier too. 
 Welladay! Welladay! Welladay! 
 where mould I ftay ? 
 
 Pride and luxury they doe devoure, 
 Doe devoure, doe devoure, doe devoure, 
 
 houfe-keeping quite ; 
 And beggery that doth beget, 
 Doth beget, doth beget, doth beget, 
 
 in many a knight. 
 Madam, forfooth, in her coach muft wheele, 
 Although flie weare her hofe out at heele, 
 Welladay ! 
 
Chriftmas' Lamentation. 15 
 
 And on her back weare that for a weed, 
 Which me and all my fellowes would feed. 
 Welladay! Welladay ! Welladay! 
 where mould I ftay ? 
 
 Since pride came up with the yellow ftarch, 
 Yellow ftarch, yellow ftarch, yellow ftarch, 
 
 poore folkes doe want, 
 And nothing the rich men will to them give, 
 To them give, to them give, to them give, 
 
 but doe them taunt ; 
 For Charity from the country is fled, 
 And in her place hath nought left but need ; 
 
 Welladay ! 
 And corne is growne to fo high a price, 
 It makes poore men cry with weeping eyes. 
 Welladay! Welladay! Welladay! ' 
 where mould I ftay ? 
 
 Briefely for to end, here I doe find, 
 I doe find, I doe find, I doe find, 
 
 fo great vacation, 
 That moft great houfes feem to attaine, 
 To attaine, to attaine, to attaine, 
 
 a ftrong purgation : 
 Where purging pills fuch effects they have fhewed, 
 That forth of doores their owners have fpewed ; 
 Welladay ! 
 
i6 
 
 Chriftmas' Lamentation 
 
 And whereas Chriftmas comes by and calls, 
 Nought but folitary and naked walls. 
 Welladay! Welladay ! Welladay ! 
 where mall I ftay ? 
 
 Philemon's cottage was turn'd into gold, 
 Into gold, into gold, into gold, 
 
 for harbouring Jove : 
 Rich men their houfes for to keepe, 
 For to keepe, for to keepe, for to keepe, 
 
 might their greatneffe move ; 
 But in the city they fay they doe live, 
 Where gold by handfulls away they doe give 
 
 He away, 
 And thether therefore I purpofe to paife, 
 Hoping at London to finde the golden aiTe. 
 He away, He away, He away, 
 for here's no ftay. 
 
J 7 
 
 The 
 
 Gentleman in Thracia 
 
 To the tune of " Chevy Chace." 
 
 [This, like many others, is a ballad without date, but no doubt it was 
 written late in the fixteenth, or early in the feventeenth century : it has 
 no name nor initials at the end, but the ftyle, excepting that it is a little 
 too profaic, is very like that of Thomas Deloney, who was a prolific 
 ballad writer of that period. The romantic ftory may have been a mere 
 invention, or the author may have found it, as he ftates, in fome " an- 
 cient chronicle." The full title of the broadfide is this, " A pleafant 
 Hiftory of a Gentleman in Thracia, which had foure Sonnes, and three 
 of them none of his own : mewing how miraculoufly the true heire 
 came to enjoy his Inheritance." It was " Printed at London for H. 
 G." H. G. being of courfe Henry Goflbn, who, we may prefume, 
 was fome relation to the celebrated Stephen Goffon, rector of St. Bo- 
 tolph, Bifhopgate, the adjoining pariih to that in which the bookfeller's 
 family feems at one time to have reflded.] 
 
 N fearching ancient chronicles 
 it was my chance to finde 
 A ftory worth the writing out, 
 in my conceit and mind : 
 It is an admonition good 
 
 that children ought to have, 
 
 D 
 
1 8 The Gentleman in Thracia. 
 
 With reverence for to thinke upon 
 their parents laid in grave. 
 
 In Thracia liv'd a gentleman 
 
 of noble progeny, 
 Who rul'd his houfhold with great fame, 
 
 and true integrity : 
 This gentleman did take to wife 
 
 a neat and gallant dame, 
 Whofe outward fhew and beauty bright 
 
 did many hearts inflame. 
 
 The lufter that came from her lookes, 
 
 her carriage and her grace, 
 Like beauteous Cynthia did outfhine 
 
 each lady in that place ; 
 And being puffed up in pride, 
 
 with eafe and jollity, 
 Her hufband could not her content, 
 
 fhe other men muft try. 
 
 Lafcivioufly long time (he liv'd, 
 
 yet bore it cunningly ; 
 For fhe had thofe that watch'd fo well, 
 
 that he could nought efpy : 
 With bribes and gifts fhe fo bewitch'd 
 
 the hearts of fome were neere, 
 That they conceal'd her wickedneffe, 
 
 and kept it from her deare. 
 
The Gentleman in Thracia. 
 
 I 9 
 
 Thus fpending of her time away 
 
 
 in extreme wantonneffe, 
 
 
 Her private friends, when fhe did pleafe, 
 
 
 unto her had acceiTe ; 
 
 
 But the all-feeing eye of heaven 
 
 
 fuch finnes will not conceale, 
 
 
 And by fome meanes at laft will he 
 
 
 the truth of all reveale. 
 
 
 Upon a time fore ficke fhe fell, 
 
 
 yea to the very death, 
 
 
 And her phyfician told her plaine 
 
 
 me muft refigne her breath : 
 
 
 Divines did likewife vifit her, 
 
 
 and holy counfell gave, 
 
 
 And bade her call upon the Lord, 
 
 
 that He her foule might fave. 
 
 
 Amongft the reft fhe did defire 
 
 
 they would her hufband bring : 
 
 
 I have a fecret to reveale 
 
 
 (fhe faid) my heart doth fling. 
 
 * 
 
 Then he came porting prefently 
 
 
 unto her where fhe lay, 
 
 
 And weeping then he did defire 
 
 
 what fhe to him would fay. 
 
 
 She did intreat that all might voyd 
 
 
 the roome, and he would flay. 
 
 
20 
 
 The Gentleman in Thracia. 
 
 Your pardon, hufband, I befeech, 
 
 unto him me did fay, 
 For I have wrong'd your marriage bed 
 
 and plaid the wanton wife : 
 To you the truth I will reveale 
 
 ere I depart this life. 
 
 Foure hopefull fonnes you think you have, 
 
 To me it beft is knowne, 
 And three of them are none of yours ; 
 
 of foure but one's your owne, 
 And by your felfe on me begot, 
 
 which hath a wanton beene. 
 Thefe dying teares forgiveneffe beg ; 
 
 let mercy then be feene. 
 
 This ftrooke her hufband in a dump, 
 
 his heart was almoft dead ; 
 But rouzing of his fpirits up 
 
 thefe words to her he faid. 
 I doe forgive thee with my heart, 
 
 fo thou the truth wilt tell 
 Which of the foure is my owne fonne, 
 
 and all things mall be well. 
 
 O, pardon me, my hufband deare ! 
 
 unto him fhe did fay, 
 They are my children every one : 
 
 and fo flie went away. 
 
The Gentleman in Thracia. 21 
 
 Away he goes with heavy heart ; 
 
 his griefes he did conceale 
 And like a wife and prudent man 
 
 to none did it reveale. 
 
 Not knowing which to be his owne, 
 
 each of his love did fhare, 
 And to be train'd in vertues paths 
 
 of them he had a care : 
 In learning great and gentle grace 
 
 they were brought up and taught ; 
 Such deare affection in the hearts 
 
 of parents God hath wrought. 
 
 They now were growne to mens eftates, 
 
 and liv'd moil gallantly ; 
 Each had his horfe, his hawke, his hound, 
 
 and did their manhood try. 
 The ancient man did joy thereat, 
 
 but yet he did not know 
 Which was his fonne amongft the foure ; 
 
 that bred in him much woe. 
 
 At length his glaffe of life was run, 
 
 the fates doe fo decree ; 
 For poore and rich they all muft dye, 
 
 and death will take no fee. 
 Unto fome judges he did fend, 
 
 and counfell that were grave, 
 
22 The Gentleman in Thracia 
 
 Who prefently to him did come 
 to know what he would have. 
 
 They coming then to his beds fide, 
 
 unto them he did fay : 
 I know you all to be my friends, 
 
 moft faithfull every way ; 
 And now, before I leave the world, 
 
 I beg this at your hands, 
 To have a care which of my -fonnes 
 
 mail have my goods and lands. 
 
 And to them all he did relate 
 
 what things his wife had done. 
 There is but one amongfl the foure 
 
 that is my native fonne ; 
 And to your judgement I commit, 
 
 when I am laid in grave, 
 Which is my fonne, and which is fit 
 
 my lands and goods to have. 
 
 He dying, they in councill fate 
 
 what beft were to be done, 
 For 'twas a tafke of great import 
 
 to judge which was his fonne. 
 The brothers likewife were at ftrife, 
 
 which mould the living have, 
 When as the ancient man was dead, 
 
 and buried in his grave. 
 
The Gentleman in Thracia. 23 
 
 The judges muft decide the caufe, 
 
 and thus they did decree, 
 The dead man's body up to take 
 
 and tye it to a tree : 
 A bow each brother he muft have, 
 
 and eke an arrow take, 
 To moot at their dead fathers corps, 
 
 as if he were a ftake. 
 
 And he whofe arrow nearer! hit 
 
 his heart, as he did ftand, 
 They'd judge him for to be right heire, 
 
 and fit to have the land. 
 On this they all did ftraight agree, 
 
 And to the field they went : 
 Each had a man his fhaft to beare, 
 
 and bow already bent. 
 
 Now (quoth the judges) try your fkill 
 
 upon your father there, 
 That we may quickly know who mall 
 
 unto the land be heire. 
 The eldeft tooke his bow in hand, 
 
 and fhaft, where as he flood, 
 Which pierc'd fo deep the dead mans breft, 
 
 that it did run with blood. 
 
 The fecond brother then muft fhoot, 
 who ftraight did take his aime, 
 
24 
 
 The Gentleman in Thracia. 
 
 And with his arrow made a wound, 
 that blood came from the fame. 
 
 The third likewife muft try his fkill 
 the matter to decide, 
 
 Whofe fhaft did make a wound moft deep 
 into the dead man's fide. 
 
 Unto the fourth and youngeft, then, 
 
 a bow and fhaft were brought, 
 Who faid, D'ee thinke that ere my heart 
 
 could harbour fuch a thought, 
 To fhoot at my dear father's heart, 
 
 although that he be dead, 
 For all the kingdomes in the world 
 
 that farre and wide are fpread ? 
 
 And turning of him round about, 
 
 the teares ran downe amaine : 
 He flung his bow upon the ground, 
 
 and broke his fhaft in twaine. 
 The judges feeing his remorfe, 
 
 they then concluded all 
 He was the right ; the other three 
 
 they were unnaturall. 
 
 And fo he flraight poffeft the lands, 
 being made the heire of all, 
 
The Gentleman in Thracia, 
 
 25 
 
 And heaven by nature in this kind 
 
 unto his heart did call. 
 His brothers they did envy him, 
 
 but yet he need not care, 
 And of his wealth, in portions large, 
 
 unto them he did fhare. 
 
 Finis 
 
26 
 
 Ragged, and Torne, and True. 
 
 To the Tune of" Old Simon the King." 
 
 [This capital old ballad, we may conjecture from internal evidence, 
 was first publifhed while Elizabeth was ftill on the throne : the broad- 
 fide we have ufed was " Printed for the Affignes of Thomas Symcoclce" 
 who in the reign of James I. had a patent for publications occupying 
 only " one fide" of paper or parchment (" Hift. Engl. Dram. Poetry 
 and the Stage," III. 383). Symcocke granted deputations to others, 
 and by one of his " afiigns" the prefent impreffion of an older produc- 
 tion was put forth.] 
 
 AM a poore man, God knowes, 
 and all my neighbours can tell, 
 I want both money and clothes, 
 and yet I live wondrous well : 
 I have a contented mind, 
 
 and a heart to beare out all, 
 Though fortune (being unkind) 
 
 hath given me fubftance fmall. 
 Then hang up forrow and care, 
 it never fhall make me rue ; 
 What though my backe goes bare, 
 I 9 me ragged, and tome, and true. 
 
 I fcorne to live by the fhift, 
 
 or by any finifter dealing ; 
 He flatter no man for a gift, 
 
 nor will I get money by ftealing : 
 
Ragged, and Torne, and True. 
 
 27 
 
 He be no knight of the poft 
 
 
 to fell my foule for a bribe, 
 
 
 Though all my fortunes be croft, 
 
 
 yet I fcorne the cheaters tribe. 
 
 
 Then hang up forrow and care, 
 
 
 it never mall make me rue ; 
 
 
 What though my cloake be thred-bare, 
 
 
 I 'me ragged 9 and tome, and true. 
 
 
 A boote of Spanifh leather 
 
 
 I have feene fet faft in the ftockes, 
 
 
 Expofed to wind and weather, 
 
 
 and foul reproach and mocks, 
 
 
 While I in my poore ragges 
 
 
 can paffe at liberty ftill : 
 
 
 O, fie on thefe brawling bragges, 
 
 
 when money is gotten fo ill ! 
 
 
 O, fie on thefe pilfering knaves ! 
 
 
 I fcorne to be of that crue, 
 
 » 
 
 They fteale to make themfelves brave ; 
 
 
 I'me raggedy and torne, and true. 
 
 
 I have feene a gallant goe by 
 
 
 with all his wealth on his backe, 
 
 
 He look't as loftily 
 
 
 as one that did nothing lacke ; 
 
 
 And yet he hath no meanes 
 
 
 but what he gets by the fword, 
 
 
28 
 
 Ragged, and Torne, and True. 
 
 
 Which he confumes on queanes, 
 
 
 for it thrives not, take my word. 
 
 
 O, fie on thefe high- way thieves ! 
 
 
 the gallowes will be their due : 
 
 
 Though my doublet be rent i'th' fleeves, 
 
 
 Vme raggedy and torne, and true. 
 
 
 Some do themfelves maintaine 
 
 
 with playing at cards and dice : 
 
 
 O, fie on that lawlefie gaine 
 
 
 got by fuch wicked vice ! 
 
 
 They coozen poore countrey-men 
 
 vile. 
 
 with their delufions vilde, 
 
 
 Yet it happens now and then 
 
 
 that they are themfelves beguilde ; 
 
 
 For if they be caught in a fnare 
 
 
 the pillory claimes its due. 
 
 
 Though my jerkin be worne and bare, 
 
 
 I 'me ragged, and tome, and true. 
 
 
 I have feene fome gallants brave 
 
 
 up Holborne ride in a cart, 
 
 
 Which fight much forrow gave 
 
 
 to every tender heart : 
 
 
 Then have I faid to my felfe, 
 
 
 what pity is it for this, 
 
 
 That any man for pelfe 
 
 
 mould do fuch a foule amifie. 
 
Ragged, and Torne, and True. 29 
 
 O, fie on deceit and theft ! 
 
 it makes men at the laft rue ; 
 Though I have but little left, 
 
 Ime raggedy and tome, and true. 
 
 The pick-pockets in a throng, 
 
 at a market or a faire, 
 Will try whofe purfe is ftrong, 
 
 that they may the money mare ; 
 But if they are caught i'th' action, 
 
 they are carried away in difgrace, 
 Either to the Houfe of Correction, 
 
 or elfe to a worfer place. 
 O, fie on thefe pilfering theeves ! 
 
 the gallowes will be their due : 
 What need I fue for repreeves? 
 
 I me ra gg e d> and tome, and true. 
 
 The hoftler, to maintaine 
 
 himfelfe with money in's purfe, 
 Approves the proverbe true, 
 
 and fayes, Gramercy horfe : 
 He robs the travelling beaft, 
 
 that cannot divulge his ill ; 
 He fteales a whole handfull at leaft 
 
 from every halfe peck he mould fill. 
 O, fie on thefe coozening fcabs, 
 
 that rob the poore jades of their due ! 
 
30 Ragged, and Torne, and True 
 
 I fcorne all theeves and drabs, 
 Ime raggedy and tome, and true. 
 
 Tis good to be honeft and juft, 
 
 though a man be never fo poore ; 
 Falfe dealers are ftill in miftruft, 
 
 th'are afraid of the officers doore : 
 Their confcience doth them accufe, 
 
 and they quake at the noife of a bum, 
 While he that doth no man'abufe 
 
 for the law needs not care a rufh. 
 Then welfare the man that can fay, 
 
 I pay every man his due : 
 Although I go poore in array, 
 Ime raggedy and tome, and true. 
 
3 1 
 
 The 
 
 Complaint of King James i 
 
 Who was flayne at Flodden Fielde, 
 anno 15 13. 
 
 [This piece, not ftricStly fpeaking a ballad, is in the form and fpirit 
 of that ancient popular work, " The Mirror for Magi ft rates." Ulpian 
 Fulwell originallyfprinted it in his " Flower of Fame," 1575, 4to. where 
 the title ftands thus : — " The lamentable complaint of King James of 
 Scotland, who was flayne at Scottifh fielde," meaning, of courfe, Flod- 
 den Field. The work was " Imprinted at London in Fleete Streate, 
 at the Temple gate by William Hofkins."] 
 
 MONG the reft whom rewfull fate hath reft, 
 Whofe fhrouding fheetes have wrapt their 
 
 woful lyves, 
 Why have not I a place among them left, 
 Whofe fall eche tong with dayly talke revives ? 
 Such is the wheele that fro ward Fortune drives ; 
 To day a king of puifance and might, 
 And in one howre a wofull wretched wight. 
 
 A happie life by happie end is tride, 
 
 A wretched race by wofull ende is known : 
 
 Though pleafant wind the fhip do rightly guyde, 
 
3 2 The Complaint of King James. 
 
 At laft by rage of ftormes tis over throwne : 
 The greater!: oke with tempeft is fyrft blowne. 
 Though Fortune feeme a loft to hoyfe thy fayle, 
 Yet Fortune ofte tymes fmyles to fmall avayle. 
 
 I thought my bower buylt on happie foyle, 
 
 Which under propped was with tickle ftaye ; 
 
 Wherfore on fodayne chaunce I tooke the foyle, 
 
 In hope for to have had a noble praye, 
 
 In fearch whereof I reapt my fatalf daye. 
 
 With fhamefull death my fame was fordle to bow ; 
 
 A gwerdon meete for breach of facred vow. 
 
 A Prince his promife ought not to be broke, 
 Much more his othe of ryght obfervde mould be ; 
 But greedie gayne doth oft the mynde provoke 
 To breake both othe and vowe, as feemes by mee : 
 Ambition blearde myne eyes, I coulde not fee. 
 I fynde though man with man his faith forgoe, 
 Yet man with God may not [in deede] do fo. 
 
 I was a king, my power was not fmall ; 
 I ware the crowne to wield the Scottifh land ; 
 I raignde and rewlde, the greater was my fall : 
 The myght of God no kingdome can withftand. 
 An Earle wan of mee the upper hande ; 
 With blodie fworde my luckleffe lyfe to ende 
 By fhamefull death, without tyme to amende. 
 
The Complaint of King James. 33 
 
 Such was the force of Atrop's cruell fpight, 
 
 Unlooked for to cut my fatall lyne. 
 
 My wretched carcas then was brought in fight 
 
 Through London ftreets, wherat the Scots repine : 
 
 The endles fhame of this mifhap is myne. 
 
 Like butchers ware on horfebacke was I brought : 
 
 The King of Kinges for me this end hath wrought. 
 
 Let Princes all by me example take 
 
 What daunger tis to dally in fuch cafe ; 
 
 By perjurye their faythes for to forfake, 
 
 Leaft feate of fhame mail be their endles place : 
 
 Foule infamie fhall their renowne deface. 
 
 Of falfed faith fuch is deferved hyre, 
 
 And he muft falle that will too hyghe afpyre. 
 
 Ye noble Peeres, whofe lives with myne did end, 
 Send forth from graves your griefly ghofts ech one, 
 To wayle the chaunce that Fortune us did fende : 
 Let all the Scots powre out their plaints and mone, 
 That we to hedles hafte were apt and prone ; 
 Which rafh beginning, voyde of Godly awe, 
 Had lyke fuccefle for breach of facred lawe. 
 
 I thought that Englande had beene far too weake 
 For my ftrong powre, when Henry was away, 
 Which made mee light regarde my vow to breake ; 
 But yet I founde they were left in good flay, 
 
3+ The Complaint of King James. 
 
 With force and ftrength to purchafe my decay. 
 Thus my afpiring minde had guerdon due, 
 Which may a myrror bee for men to vewe : 
 
 Whereby to fhun the breach of facred vow, 
 And not to feeke a lawleffe meanes to raygne, 
 For right will force urfurped rule to bow, 
 And reape repulfe in fteade of noble gaine. 
 Thus truth in tyme doth turne her foe to paine, 
 And God him felfe doth fhield the'rightfull caufe : 
 Then, let men learne to lyve within his lawes. 
 
 Ulpian Fulwell 
 
35 
 
 The Devil and the Scold. 
 
 To the Tune of « The Seminary Prieft." 
 
 [This is certainly an early ballad : the allufion, in the fecond 
 ftanza, to Tom Thumb and Robin Goodfellow (whofe " Mad Pranks" 
 had been publifhed before 1588, with the wood-cut which follows the 
 ballad) is highly curious, and one proof of its antiquity, although it has 
 reached us only in an impreffion " Printed at London for Henry GofTon, 
 dwelling upon London Bridge, neare to the Gate." Befides the head- 
 ing, the following couplet forms part of the title : — 
 
 " A pleafant new Ballad you here may behold, 
 
 How the Devill, though fubtle, was gul'd by a fcold."] 
 
 IVE eare, my loving countrey-men 
 that ftill defire newes, 
 Nor paffe not while you heare it fung, 
 or elfe the fong perufe ; 
 For ere you heare it I muft tell 
 
 my newes it is not common ; 
 But He unfold a truth betwixt 
 a Devill and a woman. 
 
 Tom Thumb is not my fubjed:, 
 
 whom Fairies oft did aide, 
 Nor that mad fpirit Robin, 
 
 that plagues both wife and maid ; 
 
36 
 
 The Devil and the Scold 
 
 roguifh. 
 
 Nor is my fong fatyricke like, 
 invented againft no man, 
 
 But onely of a pranke betwixt 
 a Devill and a woman. 
 
 Then, widdowes wives and maids 
 
 give eare as well as men, 
 And by this woman learne 
 
 to gull the world agen : 
 You may by this turn artifts,* 
 
 or mailers of your art, 
 And when the Devill comes for you 
 
 you need care nothing for't. 
 
 A woman well in yeares 
 
 liv'd with a hufband kinde, 
 Who had a great deiire 
 
 to live content in minde ; 
 But 'twas a thing impoffible 
 
 to compafs his defire, 
 For night and day with fcolding 
 
 fhe did her hufband tire. 
 
 With, roughifh lowtifh clowne! 
 
 defpite thee He be wilde ; 
 Doeft thou think I marryed thee 
 
 to ufe thee like a childe, 
 And fet thee on my lap, 
 
 or humour what you fpeake ? 
 
The Devil and the Scold. 37 
 
 Before He be fo fond 
 
 thy very heart He breake. 
 
 Why, loving wife, quoth he, 
 
 lie never doe thee wrong, 
 So thoul't be rul'd by me, 
 
 and onely hold thy tongue ; 
 And when I come from worke 
 
 wilt pleafe at board and bed: 
 Doe this, my loving wife, 
 
 and take all, being dead. 
 
 Marke well, quoth fhe, my words, 
 
 what ere you fpeake me to, 
 By faire meanes or by foule, 
 
 the contrary He doe. 
 According to her fpeech 
 
 this man led fuch a life, 
 That oft he wifh't the Devill 
 
 to come and fetch his wife. 
 
 Had he bid her goe homely, 
 
 why then fhe would goe brave ; 
 Had he caFd her good wife, 
 
 fhe cal'd him rogue and Have ; 
 Bade he, wife, goe to church, 
 
 and take the faireft pew, 
 Shee'd goe unto an alehoufe 
 
 and drinke, lye downe and fpew. 
 
38 The Devil and the Scold 
 
 The Devill, being merry 
 
 with laughing at this mirth, 
 Would needs from hell come trotting 
 
 to fetch her from the earth ; 
 And coming like a horfe 
 
 did tell this man his minde, 
 Saying, fet her but aftride my backe, 
 
 He hurry her through the winde. 
 
 Kinde Devill, quoth the man; 
 
 if thou a while wilt wait, 
 He bid her doe that thing 
 
 fhall make her backe thee ftraight 
 And here He make a vow, 
 
 for all me is my wife, 
 He never fend for her againe, 
 
 Whileft I have breath or life. 
 
 Content, the Devill cry'd : 
 
 then to his wife goes he ; 
 Good wife, goe leade that horfe 
 
 fo blacke and faire you fee. 
 Goe leade, fir knave ! quoth fhe, 
 
 and wherefore not goe ride ? 
 She tooke the Devill by the reines, 
 
 and up (he goes aftride. 
 
 The Devill neighed loud, 
 
 and threw his heeles i'th'ayre : 
 
The Devil and the Scold. 
 
 39 
 
 Kick in the Devills name ! quoth fhe, 
 
 
 a fhrew doth never fear. 
 
 
 Away to hell he went 
 
 
 with this moft wicked fcold, 
 
 
 But fhe did curbe him with the bit, 
 
 
 and would not lofe her hold. 
 
 
 The more he cry'd, Give way, 
 
 
 the more fhe kept him in, 
 
 
 And kickt him fo with both her heeles, 
 
 
 that both his fides were thin. 
 
 
 Alight, the Devill cry'd, 
 
 
 and quicke the bridle loofe : 
 
 
 No, I will ride (quoth fhe) 
 
 
 whiles thou haft breath or fhoes. 
 
 
 Again fhe kickt and prickt, 
 
 • 
 
 and fate fo ftiff and well, 
 
 
 The Devill was not fo plagu'd 
 
 
 a hundred yeares in hell. 
 
 
 For pity light (quoth he) 
 
 
 thou put'ft me to much paine : 
 
 
 I will not light (quoth fhe) 
 
 
 till I come home againe. 
 
 
 The Devill fhewd her all 
 
 
 the paines within that place, 
 
 
 And told her that they were 
 
 
 ordain'd for fcolds fo bafe. 
 
 
4° 
 
 The Devil and the Scold. 
 
 
 Being bereft of breath, 
 
 
 for fcolding 'tis my due ; 
 
 
 But whileft I live on earth, 
 
 
 He be reveng'd on you. 
 
 
 Then did fhe draw her knife, 
 
 
 and gave his eare a flit : 
 
 
 The Devill never felt 
 
 
 the like from mortall yet. 
 
 
 So, fearing further danger, 
 
 
 he to his heeles did take, 
 
 
 And fafter then he came 
 
 
 he poft hafte home did make. 
 
 
 Here take her (quoth the Devill) 
 
 
 to keep her here be bold, 
 
 
 For hell will not be troubled 
 
 
 with fuch an earthly fcold. 
 
 
 When I come home I may 
 
 
 to all my fellowes tell, 
 
 
 I loft my labour, and my bloud, 
 
 
 to bring a fcold to hell. 
 
 
 The man half dead did ftand, 
 
 
 away the Devill hyde : 
 
 
 Then fince the world nor hell 
 
 
 can well a fcold abide. 
 
 
 To make a faile of mips 
 
 
 let hufbands fall to worke, 
 
The Devil and the Scold 
 
 4 1 
 
 And give their free confents 
 to fend them to the Turke* 
 
 Then, honeft wives and maides, 
 
 and widdowes of each fort, 
 Might live in peace and reft 
 
 and Silence keep her court : 
 Nor would I have a fcold 
 
 one penny here beftow, 
 But, honeft men and wives, 
 
 buy thefe before you goe. 
 
The 
 
 Lamentacion of Freyndfhyp. 
 
 [Thomas Churchyard, the author of the fubfequent fatire, for it is 
 only a ballad in appearance, began writing in the reign of Edward VI. 
 and did not ceafe until James I. had afcended the throne : his many 
 worldly difappointments gave a colour to nearly all he wrote, and what 
 follows is ftrongly tinged with mifanthropy. It was compofed in coup- 
 lets, but the printer of the broadfide (no name is attached to our copy, 
 and perhaps it has been accidentally cut off) thought fit to give it the 
 appearance of ftanzas. There feems to have been another impreffion, 
 " Imprinted at London by Thomas Colwell for Nicolas Wyer," a 
 copy of which was in the collection of the late Mr. Heber.] 
 
 N Court, fome fay, doth freindfhyp flowe, 
 And fome to Court for freindfhyp goe, 
 But I that walke the worlde aboute 
 Could never yet fynde freyndfhyp out; 
 For fynenefTe fhewes fo fayre a face, 
 That freyndfhyp hath no dwellynge place. 
 
 Yea, depe dyfTemblynge manners mylde 
 Hath fayth and freindfhyp both exylde. 
 The holowe harte is fowle and fell, 
 Wheare freyndfhyp loketh now to dwell : 
 The humble fpeche and Syrenes fonge 
 Hath fhrouded freyndfhyp over longe. 
 
The Lamentacion of Freyndftiyp. 43 
 
 The wylye wordes that wave wyth wynde 
 
 Hath brought true frendfhyp out of mynde ; 
 
 And, to be fhorte, fayre wordes is all 
 
 The fruite that from the tree dothe fall. 
 
 Wordes welde the worlde, and beare the fwaye, wield. 
 
 And freindfhyp daylye doth decaye. 
 
 Yet durfte I make of it reporte, 
 It is amonge the meaner forte 
 If any faythe or freindfhyp bee ; 
 But I fo lytle freindfhyp fee, 
 I feare the vertue of the fame 
 Confyftes but in a gentle name. 
 
 The worlde is waxen now fo nyce 
 
 That we have learnd the Frenche devyce, 
 
 At your commaundement, for a fhowe, 
 
 And meane no farther for to goe : 
 
 We are as free of promyfe ftyll, 
 
 As though we mente a great good wyll ; 
 
 And brave it out for gloryes fake, 
 And much adoe therof we make, 
 To blafe abrode our bounty e great. 
 Tufh, man ! the fyre hath loft his heate ; 
 The flame yeldes furthe but fparkles fmall, 
 Theare is no freyndfhyp now at all. 
 
 Geve eare, and heare a pretye jeft. 
 Theare was a man (at my requeft) 
 
44 
 
 The Lamentacion of Freyndfhyp 
 
 bounty. 
 
 fpirit. 
 
 Ere. 
 
 That feemd an earneft freinde in dede, 
 And fwore he wolde fupplye my nede 
 Wyth all hys helpe he could devyfe ; 
 And ofte to blere his ladyes eyes, 
 
 And make her know hys lyberall mynde, 
 (For women larges love of kynde) 
 He promyft many a goodlye gyfte ; 
 But when I put hym to hys fhyfte 
 For quycke performaunce of this geare, 
 Then backwarde gan he for to fweare 
 
 Eche worde had paft hys mouth before. 
 I pray you now, if we had ftore 
 Of fuch good freinds when nede fhuld cum, 
 Myght not a pore man ftryke hys drum 
 Before theyr dores wyth chereful fprete, 
 And founde a marche in open ftrete 
 
 A thoufand tymes amidfte hys greefe, 
 Or he mould fynde thearby releefe ? 
 Fyve hundred of fuch mates as theafe 
 (Whofe freyndfhyp is not worth a peafe, 
 Whofe bravery lhynes beyonde the funne, 
 Yet flypper laddes when all is done) 
 
 My hap hath bene to mete or thys. 
 Beware, I fay, the Judas kyffe, 
 The flyrynge face, the parate gaye, 
 The bablynge tongue that hath no ftaye, 
 
The Lamentacion of Freyndlhyp. 45 
 
 The fawner fyne that croutcheth lowe, 
 The plyant head that bendes lyke bowe, 
 
 Whofe nature lykes not freindfhyp's lawe, 
 The gloryous man, the pratynge dawe. 
 Tut, tut ! I warne thee overfoone, 
 Ful longe hath nede to be the fpoone 
 A man mould have for every feate, 
 That wyth the dyvell thynkes to eate : 
 
 For dyvels in thefe dayes are ryfe, 
 And thou muft nedes leade out thy lyfe 
 Wyth depe dyffemblers every wayes. 
 The dyvels are much more to prayfe, 
 Then muffled men that myfcheife breede, 
 Who are not knowen but by theyr deede. 
 
 Oh frendfhyp ! thou art much myfufed 
 
 To be wyth freindes thus abufed ; 
 
 For freyndfhyp mould wyth open face 
 
 Be feene and felt in every place : 
 
 Of playneneffe firft was freyndfhyp wrought, 
 
 Juft as the Gods, and pure of thought. 
 
 Full free and franke, as lordes have byn, 
 
 Full bent the peoples hartes to wynne ; 
 
 Full glad to fyll the nedye hande, 
 
 Full firme of worde, and fure to ftande, 
 
 As oke that every ftorme wyl byde, 
 
 Not loft with want, nor wonne wyth pryde, 
 
4 6 The Lamentacion of Freyndfhyp. 
 
 And welthy pompe, the pumpe of fynne, 
 
 That bryngeth every myfcheife in ; 
 
 But alwayes cleare from falfehedde's trayne. 
 
 Then, tell me now, and do not fayne, 
 
 Where does that freindfhyp buylde his bowre ? 
 
 Where is fuch freinfhyp had this howre ? 
 
 Where maketh he now hys manfyon place ? 
 Or where (good Lord !) hath men fuch grace 
 To lyght upon fo great a blifTe? 
 Mans mynde and nature altered is : 
 The worlde in wyckednefTe is drounde, 
 And, trulye, freindfhyp is unfounde, 
 
 And rotten lyke corrupted fruite. 
 noife. Though gloryous men wyll beare a brute 
 
 Of freindes, theyr freyndfhyp is fo colde 
 That we therof have lytle holde : 
 When it fhould ferve our turne (God knowes) 
 We reape the weede and plant the rofe. 
 
 We gape for golde, and grype but glafTe. 
 Now do fuch wordes of offyce paffe 
 Tweene all eftates, bothe farre and nere, 
 That talke is nought but fayned chere, 
 To make fayre weather for a whyle, 
 Tyl one the other do beguyle. 
 
 I tell thee, man, who playes the parte 
 Of wylye fox muft lerne thys arte : 
 
The Lamentacion of Freyndfhyp. 47 
 
 They are no fmall byrdes (as I geffe) 
 If I in authors maye expreffe 
 The fynnes that now be kept in ftore, 
 That put in practyfe this and more, 
 
 To compafle cloked freindfhyp fyne. 
 
 The fowler never drawes hys lyne 
 
 So ftrayght upon the felye fowle, 
 
 Nor fure the byas of the bowle 
 
 Goeth not fo ftrayghte on mayfter blocke, 
 
 As dayly dothe thys dallyenge flocke 
 
 Upon the polycye of the brayne, 
 
 To brynge the felye foole to trayne. 
 
 Men are fo ufed thefe dayes wyth wordes, 
 
 They take them but for jefles and boordes, jokes. 
 
 That Chriftmas Lordes were wonte to fpeke. 
 
 Well, well, I fay the worlde is weke, 
 
 And weker it is lyke to bee, 
 When credyte out of the worlde mail flye ; 
 When truft is gone, and trothe is dead, 
 And faythfull freyndfhyp hydes hys head, 
 And wordes are helpe of none effecte, 
 And promyfe faythfull is fufpecte. 
 
 Farewell ! all earthly hope is paft. 
 I fee our maners change fo faft, 
 And fuche affection leades our wyll 
 Awry to fickle freindfhyp ftyll, 
 
48 The Lamentacion of Freyndfhyp 
 
 That fure true freindfhyp fylent fyttes, 
 And nought beares rule but wylye wyttes, 
 
 Unfhamefafte wayes, and meare deceyte 
 For playnenefle, fuch a pleafante bayte 
 As choketh up both hye and lowe, 
 And poyfoneth all the worlde, I trowe. 
 Wherfore, fynce freyndfhyp takes hys leave, 
 And fyneneffe dothe us all deceyve, 
 
 Let freyndfhyppes name be banyfhed quyte ; 
 For fure it is a great dyfpyte 
 To fpeke of freindfhyp any tyme, 
 To make of freindfhyp profe or ryme, 
 Or gyve to freyndfhyp anye prayfe, 
 That is fo fruteleffe in our dayes. 
 
 T. Churchyard. 
 
49 
 
 Mock-Begger's Hall. 
 
 To the tune of" It is not your Northern Nanny," or "Sweet is the Lass 
 
 that loves me." 
 
 [This ballad is a very amufing and clever fatire on many changes 
 for the worfe, about the period it feems to have been written — the be- 
 ginning of the feventeenth century. The full title is " Mock-Begger's 
 Hall, with his fituation in the fpacious country called Anywhere ; " 
 and we have been obliged (from the exiftence of no other, excepting a 
 ftill more modern reprint,) to ufe a copy publifhed, during the civil wars : 
 it purports to have been " Printed for Richard Harper, at the Bible 
 and Harp, in Smithfield." The wood-cut at the end is a reprefenta- 
 tion of Tarlton, the comedian, who was fo popular before 1588, when 
 he died. If the entry in the regifter of St. Leonard's, Shoreditch, ap- 
 ply to him, as no doubt it does, his name has never been accurately 
 fpelt in the quotations of it : it there ftands Richard Torrelton ; and it 
 is remarkable that he was buried on the very day his will bears date, 
 September 3. We may conclude perhaps that he died of the plague. 
 There was a wood-cut of Tarlton, playing upon his pipe and tabor, as 
 early as 1590, no doubt fimilar to that we have inferted, and not unfre- 
 quently found at the head of old ballads.] 
 
 N ancient times, when as plain dealing 
 Was moft of all in fafhion, 
 There was not then half fo much ftealing, 
 
 Nor men fo given to paffion ; 
 
 But now a days truth fo decays, 
 
 And falfe knaves there are plenty, 
 
 So pride exceeds all worthy deeds, 
 
 While Mock-be gger Halljiands empty. 
 
 H 
 
5° Mock-begger's Hall. 
 
 The hangman now the fafhion keeps, 
 And fwaggers like our gallants ; 
 While love and charity fits and weeps, 
 To fee them wafte their talents ; 
 Spend all their ftore untill no more, 
 Such prodigals there are plenty, 
 Thus brave it out, while men them flout, 
 And Mock-be gger Hall Jlands empty, 
 
 Ned Swafh hath fetched his cloaths from pawn, 
 
 With dropping of the barrell ; 
 
 Joan Duft hath bought a fmock of lawn, 
 
 And now begins to quarrell : 
 
 She thinks herfelfe, poor filly elfe, 
 
 To be the beft of twenty, 
 
 And yet her fcore is wondrous poor, 
 
 While Mock-begger Hall Jlands empty. 
 
 I read in ancient times of yore, 
 That men of worthy calling 
 Built almes houfes and fpittles ftore, 
 Which now are all down falling ; 
 And few men feek them to repair, 
 Nor none is there among twenty 
 That for good deeds will take any care, 
 While Mock-begger Hall Jlands e?npty. 
 
 Farm houfes which their fathers built, 
 And land well kept by tillage, 
 
Mock-begger's Hall 
 
 5 1 
 
 Their prodigal fons have fold for gilt 
 
 In every town and village. 
 
 To the city and court they do refort, 
 
 With gold and iilver plenty ; 
 
 And there they fpend their time in fport, 
 
 While Mock-be gger Hall Jiands empty. 
 
 Young landlords, when to age they come, 
 Their rents they would be racking ; 
 The tenant muft give a golden fum, 
 Or elfe he is turn'd packing : 
 Great fines, and double rent befide, 
 Or elfe they'l not content be : 
 It is for to maintain their monftrous pride, 
 While Mock-be gger Hall Jiands empty. 
 
 Their fathers went in homely freez, 
 And wore good plain cloth breeches ; 
 Their blockings with the fame agrees, 
 Sowed on with good ftrong flitches : 
 They were not then called gentlemen, 
 Though they had wealth great plenty ; 
 Now every gull's grown worfhipfull, 
 While Mock-be gger Hall Jiands empty. 
 
 No gold nor filver parchment lace 
 Was worn but by our Nobles ; 
 Nor would the honeft harmlefs face 
 Wear cuffs with fo many doubles. 
 
 money. 
 
52 Mock-begger's Hall 
 
 Their bands were to their fhirts fown then, 
 Yet cloth was full as plenty ; 
 Now one hand hath more cloth than ten, 
 While Mock-be gger Hall Jlands empty. 
 
 Now we are apes in imitation, 
 
 The more indeed's the pity; 
 
 The city follows the ftranger's fafhion, 
 
 The country followes the city : 
 
 And ere one fafhion is known throughout, 
 
 Another they will invent ye ; 
 
 'Tis all your gallants ftudy about, 
 
 While Mock-be gger Hall Jlands empty. 
 
 Methinks it is a great reproach 
 
 To thofe that are nobly defcended, 
 
 When for their pleafures they cannot have a coach 
 
 Wherewith they might be attended ; 
 
 But every beggerly Jack and Gill, 
 
 That eat fcant a good meal in twenty, 
 
 Muft through the ftreets be jaunted frill, 
 
 While Mock-be gger Hall Jlands empty. 
 
 There's fome are rattled thorough the ftreets, 
 
 Probatum ejl y I tell it, 
 
 Whofe names are wrapt in parchment fheets ; 
 
 It grieves their hearts to fpell it : 
 
 They are not able two men to keep, 
 
 With a coachman they muft content be, 
 
Mock-begger's Hall. 53 
 
 Which at play-houfe doore in's box lies afleep, 
 While Mock-be gger Halljiands empty. 
 
 Our gentlewomen, whofe means is nothing 
 
 To that which they make mow of, 
 
 Muft ufe all the fafhions in their cloathing, 
 
 Which they can hear or know of : 
 
 They take fuch care themfelves to deck, 
 
 That money is oft fo fcanty, 
 
 The belly is forc'd to complain to the back, 
 
 While Mock-be gger Halljiands empty. 
 
 There is a crue, and a very mad crue, 
 
 That about the town doth fwagger, 
 
 That feem like Knights to the people's view, 
 
 And wear both fword and dagger, 
 
 That fweeten their cloaths once a week ; 
 
 Hunger with them is fo plenty, 
 
 The broker will not have them to feek, 
 
 While Mock-begger Halljiands empty. 
 
 Some gentlemen and citizens have, 
 
 In divers eminent places, 
 
 Erecled houfes fine and brave, 
 
 Which flood for the owners' graces. 
 
 Let any poor to fuch a door 
 
 Come, they expecting plenty, 
 
 They there may afk till their throats are fore, 
 
 For Mock-begger Halljiands empty. 
 
54 
 
 Mock-begger's Hall 
 
 Thus plainly I to you declare 
 How ftrangely times are changed ; 
 What humors in the people are, 
 How vertue is eftranged : 
 How every jackanapes can ftrut, 
 Such coxcombs there are plenty ; 
 But at the laft in the prifon fhut, 
 So Mock-begger Hall Jlands empty. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
55 
 
 Larum Bell for London. 
 
 [The name of the author of the following production — John Carre — 
 is new in the hiftory of our poetry, although it may be thought that 
 he does not add much to its claims to admiration : his ftanzas, however, 
 contain a remarkable exhortation againft the prevailing vices of the me- 
 tropolis at an early date, for the colophon of a work in which they ap- 
 peared is, " Imprinted at London, by Henry Kirkham, 1573." The 
 broadfide has no date, but may be even older.] 
 
 OR thee, O London! I lament, 
 
 And wring my hands with mourning 
 chere, 
 Becaufe that thou wilt not repent, 
 
 Seyng thy deftrudtion draweth nere. 
 If it be true as Scriptures tell, 
 Thy fynnes will fincke thee doune to hell. 
 
 The vices whiche in thee are ufed, 
 Too tedious are for me to tell : 
 
 Thy noble fame is fore abufed, 
 
 By thofe whiche in thee now doe dwell ; 
 
 Whereby I fee thy great decaie, 
 
 That God doth threaten thee eche daie. 
 
56 A Larum Bell for London. 
 
 The vice of pride hath tane fuche place, 
 That it can not be rooted out ; 
 
 And hath continued fo long fpace, 
 
 That of Gods ire thou haft no doubt : 
 
 And fuche a place pride doeth fupplie, 
 
 That from thee it will never flie. 
 
 For like a weede it up doeth fpryng, 
 It is not fet nor fowen at all ; 
 
 The whiche good herbes and fruidles will bryng, 
 Ere they be ripe, unto a fall. 
 
 To cut it doune it is no boote, 
 
 Except you cleane plucke up the roote. 
 
 For where this weede doth fpring and grow, 
 Good fruidtes can not there profper well, 
 
 Becaufe that cruelnefle fo doeth Howe, 
 
 That vertuous herbes it doeth excell : 
 
 Whiche weede we maie compare to pride, 
 
 That caufeth vertue awaie to Aide. 
 
 So likewife pride in London now 
 
 Doeth florifhe in fuche goodly forte, 
 
 That they invent whiche waie and how 
 Thereby augmented it might be; 
 
 And nothyng doe regarde at all, 
 
 That pride in the ende will have a fall. 
 
 Confider well that pride hath been 
 The fall of many cities greate, 
 
A Larum Bell for London. 57 
 
 And Sodom foncke for fuche like fynne, 
 
 As facred Scriptures dooth repete ; 
 Gomorrha eke came to decaie, 
 Becaufe that pride did beare the fwaie. 
 
 And Alexandria in like cace, 
 
 Whiche was a citie ftrong and greate ; 
 Pride would not let them purchafe grace, 
 
 Nor yet for mercie would intreate : 
 Becaufe that pride fo muche did Howe, 
 It was deftroied, and lies full lowe. 
 
 And Ninivie like caufe I finde, 
 
 In the ende for pride was cleane deftroied, 
 For pride fo muche did pufFe their minde, 
 
 That God was cleane forgot and voide: 
 In pride fo much they did delite, 
 That God the fame deftroied quite. 
 
 Jerufalem, that citie ftrong, 
 
 Pride would not let them God to knowe, 
 In whiche pride they continued long, 
 
 As Jofephus the fame doeth fhowe ; 
 Till Titus did deftroie the fame, 
 And did accufe their pride with fhame. 
 
 Enfample take by noble Troie ; 
 
 The like for pride was never fene : 
 With warres the Greekes did it deftroie, 
 
 Bothe wall and houfe they threwe doune clene : 
 
58 A Larum Bell for London. 
 
 Becaufe that pride did beare the fwaie, 
 It came to ruine and decaie. 
 
 Therefore, O London ! now take heede, 
 For thou waft called Troie fometyme, 
 
 That fuche decaie doeth not procede 
 For to revenge of pride the crime : 
 
 Therefore repent, from pride refraine, 
 
 Left, as Troie did, thou feele fome paine. 
 
 For God doeth threaten thy greate fall, 
 By fignes and tokens many waies, 
 
 The whiche unto thee happen ftiall 
 
 Shortly, Chrift faieth, and in fewe daies. 
 
 Therefore his power divine to pleafe 
 
 Repent, his ire thou fhalt appeafe. 
 
 O London! thou haft caufe to weepe, 
 For to confider thyne eftate : 
 
 Thou art in fynne now drownde fo deepe, 
 
 That from hell mouthe thou canft not fcape 
 
 Except repentance thou embrace, 
 
 At God's hande thou fhalt finde no grace. 
 
 To practife pride thou doeft delight, 
 And fonde devifes for to gaine, 
 
 Whiche is efteemed all in God's fight 
 A thing moft frivolous and vaine : 
 
 Yet thou doeft feke the fame to ufe, 
 
 Whiche doeth thy noble fame abufe. 
 
A Lamm Bell for London. 
 
 59 
 
 Let this a reformation be 
 
 For thee, that thou in time repent, 
 Whereby thou mightft have grace to flee 
 
 From pride, the Lorde's will to content. 
 Revolve in mynde what happen fhall, 
 For pride in the ende fhall have a fall. 
 
 John Carre 
 
6o 
 
 The Bride's Good-morrow. 
 
 To a pleafant new Tune. 
 
 [This is a peculiar, but a pleafing ballad, tinged with a puritanical 
 fpirit, and unqueftionably of an early date, though, as we learn at the 
 end of it, "Printed by the Afiignes ofThoma's Symcocke," of whom 
 we have before fpoken (p. 26). The domeftic ceremonials, preceding 
 a marriage, near the end of the reign of Elizabeth, are delicately touched, 
 and afford a not uninterefting illuftration of the manners of the time. 
 The lines near the clofe, 
 
 " With fweet rofemary in their hand, 
 a perfect token of your virgin's life," 
 
 fhew why that herb was of old employed as an emblem at weddings, 
 and afford a particular explanation of a paffage in " Pericles." Act iv. 
 Sc. 6. The exclamation " Good morrow, Miftris Bride ! " is found, as 
 a quotation, in more than one play of the time of Shakefpeare, with 
 other allufions to this ballad.] 
 
 HE night is paffed, and joyfull day appeareth 
 
 moft cleare on every fide, 
 With pleafant mufickwe therefore falute you: 
 good morrow, Miftris Bride ! 
 From fleepe and (lumber now wake you out of hand, 
 
 your Bridegroome ftayeth at home, 
 Whofe fancy, favour and affeclion ftill doth ftand 
 
 fixed on thee alone. 
 Drefie you in your beft array ; 
 This muft be your wedding day. 
 
The Bride's Good-morrow. 61 
 
 God almighty fend you happy joy ! 
 In health and wealth to keep you ftill, 
 And, if it be his blerTed will, 
 
 God keepe you fafe from forrow and annoy. 
 
 This day is honour now brought into thy bofome, 
 
 and comfort to thy heart ; 
 For God hath fent you a friend for to defend you 
 
 from forrow care and fmart. 
 In health and ficknes, for thy comfort day and night 
 
 he is appointed and brought, 
 Whofe love and liking is moft conftant fure and right: 
 
 then, love him as ye ought. 
 Now you have your hearts defire 
 And the thing you did require. 
 
 God almighty fend you happy joy ! 
 In health and wealth to keepe you ftill, 
 And, if it be his bleffed will, 
 
 God keepe you fafe from forrow and annoy. 
 
 There is no treafure the which may be compared 
 
 unto a faithfull friend: 
 Gold foone decayeth, and worldly wealth confumeth, 
 
 and wafteth in the winde ; 
 But love once planted in a perfect and pure minde 
 
 indureth weale and woe : 
 The frownes of fortune, come they never fo unkinde, 
 
 cannot the fame overthrowe. 
 
62 The Bride's Good-morrow. 
 
 A bit of bread is better cheare, 
 
 Where love and friendfhip doth appeare, 
 
 then dainty dimes fluffed full of ftrife ; 
 For where the heart is cloyd with care, 
 Sower is the fweeteft fare, 
 
 And death far better then fo bad a life. 
 
 Sweet Bride, then may you full well contented ftay you, 
 
 and in your heart rejoyce, 
 Sith God was guider both of your heart and fancy, 
 
 and maker of your choice : 
 And he that preferd you to this happie ftate 
 
 will not behold you decay, 
 Nor fee you lacke reliefe or helpe in any rate, 
 
 if you his precepts obey. 
 To thofe that afk it faithfully 
 The Lord will no good thing deny ; 
 
 this comfort in the Scriptures you may finde : 
 Then, let no worldly griefe and care 
 Vexe your heart with foule difpaire, 
 
 Which doth declare the unbelieving minde. 
 
 All things are ready, and every whit prepared, 
 
 to beare you company ; 
 Your friends and parents doe give their due attendance 
 
 together courteoufly. 
 The houfe is dreft and garnifht for your fake 
 
 with flowers gallant and green : 
 
The Bride's Good-morrow. 
 
 63 
 
 A folem feaft your comely cooks do ready make 
 
 where all your friends will be feen. 
 Youngmen and maids do ready ftand, 
 With fweet rofemary in their hand, 
 
 a perfect token of your virgin's life : 
 To wait upon you they intend 
 Unto the Church to make an end, 
 
 And God make thee a joyfull wedded wife ! 
 
 Finis. 
 
6 4 
 
 The Soldier's Repentance. 
 
 To an excellent new Tune^ called " Calino." 
 
 [This ballad has neither printer's name (which is unufual) nor date 
 (which is commonly omitted) but we may feel fure that it was written 
 about the middle of the reign of Elizabeth. The Irifh tune to which 
 it was to be fung, was employed as early as 1584, in Clement Robin- 
 fon's " Handfull of Pleafant Delights ; " and Piftol ufes it in Shakes- 
 peare's " Henry V.," though Malone, Steevens, &c. were at fault about 
 it (See Collier's Shakefpeare, iv. 543). The ballad was fuppofed 
 to be fung regarding fome worthy foldier, who perhaps had returned 
 poor and wounded from the wars in the Low Countries : it is much in 
 the fpirit of Barnaby Rich, but it is too good for his verification. The 
 full title in the original broadfide is fomewhat long : — "A pleafant fong 
 made by a Soldier, whofe bringing up had been dainty, and partly by 
 thofe afre£tions of his unbridled youth is now beaten with his own rod ; 
 and therefore termed his Repentance, or the Fall of Folly."] 
 
 N fummer time, when Phoebus rayes 
 Did cheer each mortall mans delight, 
 Increafing of the cheerfull dayes, 
 And cutting of the darkfome night : 
 
 When nature brought foorth every thing 
 By juft return of Aprill fhowers, 
 To make the pleafant branches fpring 
 With fundry forts of herbs and flowers, 
 
The Soldier's Repentance. 
 
 65 
 
 It was my chance to walk abroad 
 
 To view dame Natures new come brood : 
 
 
 The pretty birds did lay on load 
 
 
 With fugred tunes in every wood. 
 
 
 The gallant nightingale did fet 
 
 
 Her fpeckled breft againft a bryer, 
 
 
 Whofe mournfull tunes bewail (as yet) 
 
 , 
 
 Her brother Tereus falfe defire. 
 
 
 The ferpents having caft their coats 
 
 
 Lay liftning how the birds did ling ; 
 
 
 The pretty birds with fugred notes 
 
 
 Did welcome in the pleafant fpring. 
 
 
 I drew me to the green-wood fide 
 
 
 To hear this country harmony, 
 
 
 Whereas er'e long I had efpy'd 
 
 
 A wofull man in mifery. 
 
 
 He lay alone upon the ground, 
 
 
 And to the heavens he caft his eye : 
 
 
 The bordering hills and dales refound 
 
 
 The echoes of his piteous cry. 
 
 
 He wailing fore and fighing faid, 
 
 
 O heavens, what endleffe grief have I ! 
 
 
 Why are my forrows thus delaid ? 
 
 
 Come therefore, Death, and let me die. 
 
 
 K 
 
66 The Soldier's Repentance 
 
 When Nature firft had made my frame, 
 And fet me loofe when me had done, 
 Steps Fortune in, that fickle dame, 
 To end what Nature had begun. 
 
 She fet my feet upon her knee, 
 And bleft my tender age with ftore; 
 But, in the end, me did agree 
 To mar what fhe had done before. 
 
 I could no fooner creep alone, 
 But me forfook her foftered child : 
 I had no lands to live upon, 
 But trac'd abroad the world fo wild. 
 
 At length I fell in company 
 
 With gallant youths of Mars his train : 
 
 I fpent my life in jeopardy, 
 
 And got my labour for my pain. 
 
 I watched on the fieged walls, 
 In thunder lightning rain and fnow, 
 And oft being fhot with powdred balls, 
 Whofe coftly markes are yet to mow. 
 
 When all my kindred took their reft 
 At home in many a ftately bed, 
 The ground and pavement was my neft, 
 My flafk a pillow for my head. 
 
The Soldier's Repentance. 
 
 My meat was fuch as I could find, 
 Of roots and herbs of fundry fort, 
 Which did content my hungry mind, 
 Although my commons were but fhort. 
 
 My powder ferv'd to fait my meat, 
 My murrion for a gilded cup ; 
 Whereas fuch drink as I could get 
 In fpring or ditch, I drank it up. 
 
 My rapier always by my fide, 
 
 My piece lay charged with match and light, 
 
 Thus many a month I did abide, 
 
 To ward all day, and watch by night. 
 
 I lived in this glorious vein, 
 Untill my limbs grew ftifFand lame ; 
 And thus I got me home again, 
 Regarding no fuch coftly fame. 
 
 When I came home I made a proof 
 What friends would do, if need mould be : 
 My neareft kinsfolk lookt aloof, 
 As though they had forgotten me. 
 
 And as the owl by chattering charmes 
 Is wondred at by other birds, 
 So they came wondring at my harms, 
 And yeeld me no relief but words. 
 
 6 7 
 
 helmet. 
 
68 
 
 The Soldier's Repentance. 
 
 
 Thus do I want, while they have ftore, 
 
 
 That am their equall every way, 
 
 
 Though Fortune lent them fomewhat more, 
 
 
 Elfe I had been as good as they. 
 
 
 Come, gentle Death, and end my grief. 
 
 
 Ye pretty birds ring forth my knell : 
 
 
 Let Robin Red-breaft be the chief 
 
 t 
 
 To bury me, and fo farewell. 
 
 
 Let no good fouldier be difmaid 
 
 
 To fight in field with courage bold ; 
 
 
 Yet mark the words that I have faid, 
 
 
 Truft not to friends when thou art old. 
 
 
 
 *lBBr 
 
 
 
 
 iSS\&fri^^fPI \\w wis 
 
 
 
 
 |MkVf»iS= \ ■ "^&^ JS^F- xtiLJr^ \i 'Wri 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
6 9 
 
 The 
 
 Widow of Watling Street. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 To the Tune of" Bragandaiy." 
 
 [This ballad, in two parts, and to two different tunes, was entered 
 for publication on the books of the Stationers Company by Richard 
 Jones on 15th Aug. 1597, which with fufficient exactnefs afcertains 
 its date. It was extremely popular, and muft have been often re- 
 printed : our impreflion is made from a reprint, no copy of the oldeft 
 edition being now known, and all others being of extreme rarity. 
 Malone could not obtain a fight of it, and fuppofed that it Was the 
 foundation of the play called " The Puritan, or the Widow of Watling 
 Street," nrfr. printed in 1607, and attributed to Shakefpeare in the folio of 
 1664, but in reality by Wentworth (not William, as Malone gives it, 
 Suppl. ii. 534,) Smith, whofe name occurs in Henflowe's " Diary," 
 printed by the Shakefpeare Society. The fa£fc is, that the ballad has no 
 fort of connexion with the play, beyond the title, which perhaps was 
 adopted by the dramatift on account of its popularity. The copy we 
 have ufed was " Printed for Fr. Cowles," who omitted the burden 
 after the firft ftanza.] 
 
 F the kind Widdow of Watling ftreet 
 
 I will the ftory tell, 
 Who by her hufband deere was left 
 in fubftance very well. 
 A prodigall fonne likewife had {he, 
 And faire young daughters lovely three. 
 
The Widow of Watling Street, 
 
 Great mifery, forrow and mifery y 
 Commeth for want of grace. 
 
 For by his daily pra&ifes, 
 
 which were both lewd and ill, 
 His father's heart from him was drawne, 
 
 his love and his good will : 
 But what chance fo ere befell, 
 His mother lov'd him dearely well. 
 
 When in prifon he lay full poore 
 
 for debt that he did owe, 
 His father would not ftirre out of doore 
 
 for to releafe his woe ; 
 But when his mother his griefe did fee, 
 Shee found the meanes to fet him free. 
 
 And when her hufband fell full ficke, 
 and went to make his will, 
 
 hufband! remember your fon, me fayd, 
 although he hath beene ill ; 
 
 But yet, no doubt, he may returne, 
 Repenting the evill he hath done. 
 
 Remember, wife, what forrow and care 
 
 through him I daily found, 
 Who through his lewd ungracious deedes 
 
 hath fpent me many a pound ; 
 And, therefore, let him finke or fwim, 
 
 1 meane not for to deale with him. 
 
The Widow of Watling Street. 71 
 
 And, therefore, fole Executor heere 
 
 I doe thee onely make, 
 To pay my debts and legacies ; 
 
 the reft unto thee take. 
 Not fo, my hufband deare, quoth me, 
 But let your fonne be joyn'd with me. 
 
 For why he is our child, fhe fayd, 
 
 we can it not denie, 
 The firft that ever graced you 
 
 with father's dignitie : 
 Oh ! that ever you did me love, 
 Grant this requeft for his behove. 
 
 Thy love, deare wife, was evermore 
 
 moft pretious unto me ; 
 And, therefore, for thy fweet love's fake, 
 
 I grant thy fuit to thee ; 
 But ere one yeare be fully fpent, 
 I know thou wilt the fame repent. 
 
 Now was his sonne received home, 
 
 and with his mother deare 
 Was joyn'd Executor of the will, 
 
 which did his courage cheere. 
 The old man dying buried was : 
 And now behold what came to pafle. 
 
 The funerall being ended quite, 
 it fell upon a day, 
 
72 The Widow of Watling Street. 
 
 Some friend did fetch the Widdow forth, 
 
 to drive conceits away : 
 While fhe was forth, and thought no ill, 
 Her wicked fonne doth worke his will. 
 
 PoiTeffion of the houfe he took 
 
 in moft defpitefull wife, 
 Throwing his fifters out of doore 
 
 with fad lamenting cryes. 
 When this they did his mother mow, 
 She would not believe he would do fo. 
 
 But when fhe came unto her houfe, 
 
 and found it fo indeede, 
 She cald unto her fonne and faid, 
 
 although her heart did bleede, 
 Come downe, my fonne, come downe, faid fhe ; 
 Let in thy mother and fifters three. 
 
 I will not let in my mother, he faid, 
 
 nor fifters any one ; 
 The houfe is mine, I will it keepe ; 
 
 Therefore, away, begone ! 
 O fonne ! how canft thou endure to fe e't 
 Thy mother and fifters to lye i'trf ftreet ? 
 
 Did not thy father by his will, 
 
 for tearme of this my life, 
 Give me this houfe for to enjoy, 
 
 without all further ftrife ? 
 
The Widow of Watling Street. 73 
 
 And more, of all his goods, faid fhee, 
 I am Executor joyn'd with thee. 
 
 My father left you the houfe, he faid, 
 
 but this was his intent, 
 That you therefore, during your life, 
 
 mould pay me yearely rent : 
 An hundred pound a yeare therefore 
 You mail give me, or elfe give it o're. 
 
 And fith the cittie's cuftom is, 
 
 That you your thirds muft have 
 Of all my father's moveables, 
 
 I grant what law doth crave ; 
 But not a penny more will I 
 Difcharge of any legacie. 
 
 O wicked fonne! quoth fhee, that feekes 
 
 thy mother thus to fleece. 
 Thy father to his daughters gave 
 
 three hundred pound a peece : 
 Tell me, who mail their portions pay, 
 Appointed at their marriage day ? 
 
 Then with a fcornefull fmile he faid, 
 
 what talke you of fo much ? 
 Ten pounds a peece I will them give, 
 
 my charity is fuch. 
 Now fie upon thee, beaft ! quoth fhe, 
 That thus doft deale.with them and me. 
 
74 The Widow of Watling Street, 
 
 But ere that they and I will take 
 
 this injurie at thy hand, 
 The chiefeft peeres of England fhall 
 
 the matter underftand. 
 Nay, if you go to that, quoth he, 
 Marke well what I fhall tell to thee. 
 
 Thou haft a fecret harlot beene ; 
 
 and this He prove full plaine, 
 That in my father's lifetime didft 
 
 lewd ruffians entertaine ; 
 The which did then beget of thee, 
 In wicked fort, thefe baftards three. 
 
 No daughters to my father, then, 
 
 were they in any wife, 
 As he fuppofed them to be, 
 
 Thou blinding fo his eyes : 
 Therefore, no right at all have they 
 To any penny given this day. 
 
 When fhee did heare her mamelefle fonne 
 
 for to defame her fo, 
 Shee with her lovely daughters three 
 
 with griefe away did goe. 
 But how this matter out did fall 
 The fecond part will mew you all. 
 
 Finis Part I. 
 
The Widow of Watling Street. 75 
 
 PART II. 
 
 To the Tune of" The Wanton Wife." 
 
 HPHE beautifull Widdow of Watling Street, 
 ■*- Being thus falfely accufed by her fonne, 
 With her three daughters of favour fo fweet, 
 Whofe beauty the love of many had wonne, 
 With her daughters three for fuccour went fhe 
 Unto the King's Counfell of noble degree. 
 
 Now, fie upon falfe hood and forger ie fraile ! 
 
 For great is the truth, and it will prevaile. 
 
 Her fonne by writ now fummoned is 
 
 At the Star-chamber with fpeed to appeare, 
 
 And anfwer the vile abufes of his ; 
 
 The Lords of the Counfell the matter will heare. 
 
 This newes being brought, his wits he fought, 
 
 Which way his villany beft might be wrought. 
 
 Then up and down the citie fo faire 
 
 He feeketh companions to ferve his turne, 
 
 A fort of vagabonds naked and bare, 
 
 The which to worke murders for money are won. 
 
 Thefe wretches, behold, for money and gold, 
 
 He hired for witnefs, his lies to uphold. 
 
 My mafters, quoth he, my mother by name 
 To be a lewd ftrumpet accufed I have ; 
 
76 The Widow of Watling Street. 
 
 And having no witneffe to prove the fame, 
 Your ayde and affiftance herein I doe crave : 
 Therefore, without fear, before the Lords there, 
 That this thing is certain you fixe mail it fweare. 
 
 The firft two, quoth he, mail fweare on a booke 
 That fixteene yeares paft they plainely did fee, 
 As they through the garden hedge fadly did looke, 
 That fhe in one houre was abufed by three : 
 And how it befell, they two mark'd it well, 
 That juft nine months after fhe hadher firft girle. 
 
 The fecond couple mail fweare in this fort ; 
 
 That at Briftow, about thirteene yeares paft, 
 
 She with her owne prentice did fall in fuch fport, 
 
 That her fecond daughter was got at the laft. 
 
 Now truft us, quoth they, wee'le fweare what you fay, 
 
 Or any thing elfe for money this day. 
 
 And thus the third couple their oath now fhal take, 
 That as at the Bath fhee ftay'd on a day, 
 For ach in the bones an excufe fhe did make, 
 How fhee with a courtier the wanton did play ; 
 And how, well you wot, in that pleafant plot 
 Her deareft young daughter for certaine was got. 
 
 But now, my mafters, your names let me know, 
 That I may provide your apparell with fpeede 
 Like fixe grave citizens, fo you muft goe ; 
 The better your fpeeches the Nobles will heed. 
 
The Widow of Watling Street. 
 
 So fhall I with fcorne, ere Saturday morne, 
 Prove her a harlot, my fillers bafe borne. 
 
 My name is Make-fhift, the firft man did fay ; 
 And Francis Light-finger, the fecond likewife ; 
 Cuthbert Creepe-window, the third to difplay ; 
 And Rowland Robman with foule flaring eyes ; 
 Jacke Shamelefle came then with Harry Steale-hen : 
 You are, quoth the young man, fome right honeft men, 
 
 Before the Lords mofl: prudent and grave 
 This wretch doth with his witnefles come. 
 The mother complaines, and juftice doth crave, 
 Of all the offences that he hath her done. 
 My Lords, then quoth he, I pray you heare me ; 
 The law for my deeds my warrant fhall be. 
 
 Her fonne fayd alfo, fhee's a harlot moft vilde, 
 And thofe be her baftards that ftond here in place ; 
 And that fhe hath often her body defilde, 
 By very good witneffe He prove to her face. 
 This thing of thy mother thou oughteft to fmother : 
 Tis fhame for a child to fpeake ill of his Mother. 
 
 But if this matter be proved untrue, 
 
 And thou a falfe lyar be found to thy face, 
 
 Worfe than an infidel Pagan, or Jew, 
 
 Thou ought' ft to be punifh'd and plagu'd in this cafe : 
 
 And therefore draw neare, and let us heare 
 
 What fays the witnefs that here doth appeare. 
 
 77 
 
78 The Widow of Watling Street. 
 
 When the firft couple did come for to fweare, 
 They quivered and quaked in mod wondrous fort : 
 The Lords very countenance did put them in feare, 
 And now they knew not what to report. 
 The fecond like wife fo ftar'd with their eyes, 
 They ftammered, and knew not what to devife. 
 
 The Lords perceiving the cafe how it went, 
 Did afke the laft couple what they had to fay, 
 iftantly Who fell on their knees incontinent, 
 
 Saying they were hired for money that day : 
 Quoth they, it is fo ; the truth for to mow, 
 Againft the good Widdow no harme we doe know. 
 
 Thus was the Widdow delivered from blame, 
 With her three daughters of beauty moft bright ; 
 Her fonne reproached with forrow and fhame, 
 Having his judgement appointed him right : 
 For forfeit even all the goods he pofTeft, 
 To loofe both his eares, and banifht fo reft. 
 
 When he heard his judgement pronounced to be, 
 The tears full bitterly fell downe from his face ; 
 To mother and fifters he kneeled on his knee, 
 Confefling that lucre had brought this difgrace : 
 That for mine owne gaine I fought to detaine 
 My fifters' three portions, this lie I did faine. 
 
 Therefore, deare mother, forgivenefte I crave 
 Of you and my fifters, offended fo fore ; 
 
The Widow of Watling Street. 
 
 79 
 
 My body from perill if you will but fave, 
 I fweare I will grieve and offend you no more. 
 The Lords then replide, the law juftly tride, 
 The punifhment now thou art like to abide. 
 
 Therefore to prifon now thou (halt goe, 
 
 Whereas thou fhalt the King's pleafure abide, 
 
 From thence to be brought with fhame and with woe, 
 
 To fuffer the punifhment due for thy pride. 
 
 Then out of hand thou fhalt understand, 
 
 That prefently thou fhalt be banifh'd the land. 
 
 Now while in prifon this prifoner did reft, 
 Himfelfe he hanged in defperate wife, 
 Such horrour of confcience poffefed his breaft ; 
 And, being caft forth, the ravens peckt out his eyes. 
 All children behold, what truth hath been told : 
 Accufe no man falfely for lucre of gold. 
 
 
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8o 
 
 Cupid's Courtefie: or 
 
 The Young Gallant foil'd at his own Weapon. 
 
 To a moji pleafant " Northern Tune, &c." 
 
 [An early love-ballad, the date of which we* cannot pretend to afcer- 
 tain farther than that there exifts a manufcript copy of it, dated 1595 : 
 the edition we have ufed has, as ufual, no year added to the imprint, 
 which runs thus : — " London : Printed by and for W. O. for A. M. 
 and fold by the Bookfellers." A mifprint occurs in the laft ftanza but 
 four, where " which made htm tremble " is given, inftead of " which 
 made me tremble." The fecond ftanza would have afforded the Rev. 
 Mr. Halpin (See Shakefpeare Society's Papers, ii. 14.) a very appofite 
 illuftration for his charming eflay on the paflage "runaway's eyes," 
 &c. in "Romeo and Juliet," Act iii. Sc. 2.] 
 
 HRO' the cool fhady woods 
 
 as I was ranging, 
 I heard the pretty birds 
 notes fweetly changing : 
 Down by a meadow fide 
 
 there runs a river ; 
 A little boy I efpy'd 
 with bow and quiver. 
 
 Little boy, tell me why 
 thou art here diving ? 
 
Cupid's Courtefie. 81 
 
 Art thou fome run-away, 
 and haft no biding ? — 
 
 I am no run-away ; 
 Venus, my mother, 
 
 She gave me leave to play 
 when I came hither. 
 
 Little boy, go with me, 
 
 and be my fervant : 
 I will take care to fee 
 
 for thy preferment. — 
 If I with thee mould go, 
 
 Venus would chide me, 
 And take away my bow, 
 
 and never abide me. 
 
 Little boy, let me know 
 
 what's thy name termed, 
 That thou doft wear a bow, 
 
 and go'ft fo armed ? — 
 You may perceive the fame 
 
 with often changing, 
 Cupid it is my name ; 
 
 I live by ranging. 
 
 If Cupid be thy name, 
 that moots at rovers, 
 
 I have heard of thy fame 
 by wounded lovers. 
 
 M 
 
82 
 
 Cupid's Courtefie 
 
 Should any languifh that 
 
 are fet on fire 
 By fuch a naked brat, 
 
 I much admire. 
 
 If thou doft but the leaft 
 
 at my laws grumble, 
 I'll pierce thy ftubborn breaft, 
 
 and make thee humble : 
 If I with golden dart 
 
 wound thee but furely, 
 There's no phyfitian's art 
 
 that e'er can cure thee. 
 
 Little boy, with thy bow 
 
 why doft thou threaten ? 
 It is not long ago 
 
 fince thou was beaten. 
 Thy wanton mother fair, 
 
 Venus, will chide thee : 
 When all thy arrows are gone, 
 
 thou may'ft go hide thee. 
 
 Of powerful fhafts, you fee, 
 
 I am well ftored, 
 Which makes my deity 
 
 fo much adored : 
 With one poor arrow now 
 
 I'll make thee fhiver, 
 
Cupid's Courtefie. 
 
 83 
 
 And bend unto my bow, 
 
 
 and fear my quiver. 
 
 
 Dear little Cupid, be 
 
 
 courteous and kindly ; 
 
 
 I know thou canfl: not hit, 
 
 
 but fhooteft blindly. — 
 
 
 Although thou call' ft me blind, 
 
 
 furely I'll hit thee, 
 
 
 That thou malt quickly find ; 
 
 
 I'll not forget thee. 
 
 
 Then little Cupid caught 
 
 
 his bow fo nimble, 
 
 
 And mot a fatal fhaft 
 
 
 which made him tremble. 
 
 
 Go, tell thy miftrefs dear 
 
 
 thou can'ft difcover 
 
 
 What all the paffions are 
 
 
 of a dying lover. 
 
 
 And now his gallant heart 
 
 
 forely was bleeding, 
 
 
 And felt the greateft fmart 
 
 
 from love proceeding : 
 
 
 He did her help implore 
 
 
 whom he aifedled, 
 
 
 But found that more and more 
 
 
 him me rejected. 
 
 
84 Cupid's Courtefie 
 
 For Cupid with his craft 
 
 quickly had chofen, 
 And with a leaden fhaft 
 
 her heart had frozen ; 
 Which cauf d this lover more 
 
 fadly to languifh, 
 And Cupid's aid implore, 
 
 to heal his anguifh. 
 
 He humble pardon craved 
 
 for his offence paft, 
 And vow'd himfelf a flave, 
 
 and to love ftedfaft. 
 His prayers fo ardent were, 
 
 whilft his heart panted, 
 That Cupid lent an ear, 
 
 and his fuit granted. 
 
 For by his prefent plaint 
 
 he was regarded, 
 And his adored faint 
 
 his love rewarded. 
 And now they live in joy 
 
 fweetly imbracing, 
 And left the little boy 
 
 in the woods chafing. 
 
 Finis. 
 
85 
 
 My Wife will be my Mafter. 
 
 To the Tune of *" A Taylour is no man." 
 
 [The full title of this a merry ballad '"' in the broadfide is " My 
 Wife will be my Mafter ; or the Married-man's Complaint againft his 
 unruly Wife, being a warning for all unmarried perfons to have efpe- 
 ciall care in choofing their Maike, left they meet with fuch a Myre- 
 fnype as this poor man did." It has no printer's name nor date, but 
 we may place it after 1600. Several obvious mifprints occur, fuch as 
 Jhooes for " meets " in the fecond line of the eighth ftanza, and offend her 
 is twice fubftituted for "diftafte her," which the rhyme requires. On 
 this point it is to be obferved that " mafter " was of old pronounced 
 and printed maifter, and fuch may have been the cafe in the original 
 edition of this ballad.] 
 
 S I was walking forth of late, 
 
 I heard a man complaining ; 
 With that I drew me near to him, 
 to know the caufe and meaning 
 Of this his forrow, pain, and grief, 
 
 which bred him fuch difafter : 
 Alace ! quoth he, what fhall I do? 
 my wife will be my mafter. 
 
 If I fhould give her fourty pound 
 within her apron folding, 
 
86 My Wife will be my Mafter, 
 
 No longer then the telling on't 
 
 her tongue leaves never fcolding : 
 
 As iEfop's dog barkt at the moon, 
 thinking for to diftafte her, 
 
 So doth mv wife fcold without caufe, 
 and ftrives to be my mafter. 
 
 Were I fo ftrong as Hercules, 
 
 or wifer then Apollo, 
 Or had I Icarus wings to flee, 
 
 my wife would after follow ; 
 Or mould I live as many years 
 
 as ever did King Neftor, 
 Yet do I greatly ftand in fear 
 
 my wife would be my mafter. 
 
 I know no caufe nor reafon why 
 
 that fhe with me mould jangle : 
 I never gave her caufe at all 
 
 to make her with me wrangle. 
 I pleafe her ftill in what I may, 
 
 and do no jot diftafte her, 
 Yet fhe doth ftrive, both night and day, 
 
 alwayes to be my mafter. 
 
 I every morning make a fire, 
 all which is done to eafe her, 
 
 I get a nutmeg, make a toft, 
 
 In hope therewith to pleafe her, 
 
My Wife will be my Mafter. 87 
 
 With a cup of nappy ale and fpice, 
 
 of which fhe is firft tafter; 
 And yet this crofs-grain'd quean will fcold, 
 
 and ftrive to be my mafter. 
 
 I wafh the dimes, fweep the houfe, 
 
 I drefs the wholefome dyet ; 
 I humour her in every thing, 
 
 becaufe I would be quyet. 
 Of every feveral dim of meat 
 
 fhe'l furely be firft tafter, 
 And I am glad to pick the bones, 
 
 fhe is fo much my mafter. 
 
 Sometimes fhe'l fit while day be light 
 
 in company with good fellowes, 
 In taverns and in bowfing tents, 
 
 or in fome pimping ale-houfe ; 
 And when fhe comes home drunk at night, 
 
 though I do not diftafte her, 
 She'l fling, fhe'l throw, fhe'l fcratch, fhe'l bite, 
 
 and ftrive to be my mafter. 
 
 Her bed I make both foft and fine, 
 
 and put on fheets compleatly ; 
 Her fhooes and ftockings I pull off, 
 
 and lay her down moft neatly : 
 I cover her and keep her warm 
 
 for fear I fhould diftafte her ; 
 
88 My Wife will be my Mafter 
 
 I hug her kindly in my arme, 
 yet ftill fhe'l be my matter. 
 
 And when I am with her in bed, 
 
 fhe doth not ufe me well, fir ; 
 She'l wring my nofe and pull my ears, 
 
 a pittiful tale to tell, fir ; 
 And when I am with her in bed, 
 
 not meaning to moleft her, 
 She'l kick me out at the bed's feet, 
 
 and fo become my mafter. 
 
 And thus you hear how cruelly 
 
 my wife doth ftill abufe me, 
 At bed, at board, at noon, at night, 
 
 me alwayes doth mifufe me ; 
 But if I were a lufty man, 
 
 and able for to bafte her, 
 Then would I furely ufe a means, 
 
 that fhe mould not be my mafter. 
 
 You batchelours that fweet-hearts have, 
 
 when as you are a wooing, 
 Be fure you look before you leap, 
 
 for fear of your undoing : 
 The after wit is not the beft, 
 
 and he that weds in hafte, fir, 
 May like to me bewaile his cafe, 
 
 if his wife do prove his mafter. 
 
My Wife will be my Mafter, 
 
 You married men that have good wives, 
 
 I pray you fet much by them, 
 For they more precious are then gold, 
 
 if once you come to try them : 
 A good wife makes a huiband glad, 
 
 then let him not diftafte her ; 
 But a fcold will make a man run mad, 
 
 if once fhe prove his matter. 
 
 8 9 
 
 Finis, 
 
9° 
 
 The 
 
 Conftancy of True Love. 
 
 To the tune of " Downe by a Forreft." 
 
 [This ballad is, in the main incidents, the tale of Pyramus and Thifbe, 
 told ferioufly, as in the " Midfummer Night's Dream" it is burlefqued. 
 Dunftan Gale took the fame fubjecl, and his poem was printed in 161 7, 
 but there is little doubt that this ballad is older, and nearer the date 
 which Gale gives to his dedication, viz. 1596 (fee the " Bridgewater 
 Catalogue," p. 125). The word " mufled," in the line 
 
 " And having mulled thus the fame," 
 
 is ufed in the fenfe Shalcefpeare employs " moufed" — " Well moufed, 
 lion ;" from the Italian mufo^ the mouth or muzzle. The full title of 
 the ballad is, " The Conftancy of True Love, or an excellent Relation 
 of the untimely death of Two Faithfull Lovers:" the imprint is, 
 " Imprinted at London for Francis Coules, and are to be fould at his 
 (hop in the Old-Bayly."] 
 
 N that faire fragrant month of May, 
 When earth her curtaines doth difplay, 
 I did by chance my corps repofe 
 Upon a banke, where woods did clofe 
 With greene and leafy bowres about ; 
 A place to fhunne the tedious rout 
 Of Tibs and Toms : for this intent 
 This flowrie feat I did frequent. 
 
The Conftancy of True Love. 91 
 
 Nature had ftrove to mew her feate 
 In the compofure of this feat, 
 For in a valley plaine was found 
 This place by hills encircled round. 
 Both lofty beech and cedars tall 
 Did fhelter this rich filvan hall : 
 
 Here Satires and the Naiades, 
 
 Here Silvans and the Driades. 
 
 Here rurall gods and tripping nymphs 
 
 Did bath their corps in the pure lymphs, 
 
 And chriftall ftreams, which made a noife, 
 
 In compaffing this place of joyes. 
 
 No fairer place nor fountain found 
 
 Dian, with golden trefles crown'd, 
 And lady-guarded : in this feate 
 The whittling wind cooPd fummers heat. 
 
 Here the nine Mufes ufde to dance, 
 Here the kind Graces ufde to prance ; 
 Here Phoebus his warbling harpe did tune 
 The lifefome monthes of May and June : 
 Here Philomel tun'd melody ; 
 Hither the chirping birds did fly, 
 
 Here thrufh and blackbird from their throats 
 
 S train' d divers fundry pleafant notes. 
 
 Here the nymph Eccho in hollow ground 
 Did the laft fyllable refound. 
 
9 2 The Conftancy of True Love. 
 
 What harbour could the world fpare 
 More trim, more neat, more fweet, more rare ? 
 Here, as I fate mufing alone, 
 Me thought I heard one grieve and groane. 
 Ah me, poore wretch ! this creature faid, 
 Whereat my fenfes grew afraid. 
 
 I ftarted, looking here and there, 
 To view the fubject of this feare: 
 A Lady, object to mine eyes, # 
 I found the effect of all thefe cryes. 
 I hafled to enquire the caufe, 
 Which did her weeping eyes amaze : 
 Behold, quoth me, my love, (alas !) 
 Whofe crimfon blood here dyes the graffe. 
 
 The fweeteft creature here lyeth dead, 
 
 That famous Europe ever bred : 
 
 I have my wronged lover flaine ; 
 
 His death fhall be the death of twaine. — 
 
 I praid her then for to relate 
 
 The caufe of his untimely fate : 
 
 She then, fcarce fetching of her breath, 
 Beginnes the ftory of his death. 
 
 Blinde Cupid, quoth me, with his dart, 
 In tender yeares did wound his heart, 
 Made fubject to the love of me, 
 An actor in this tragedie. 
 
The Conftancy of True Love, 93 
 
 His heart and mind, together tried, 
 His love and mine together ti'ed. 
 
 Our parents fought to croffe our will, 
 
 But we continued conftant ftill. 
 
 Though time the disadvantage gave, 
 As we no place for love could have, 
 Yet ftill we fought to recompence 
 Love with true love without offence. 
 We dwelt in neighbouring houfes nie ; 
 And getting conference thereby, 
 
 We did appoint under this tree 
 
 To meet, but difappointed bee. 
 
 When bright Aurora peeped out, 
 And Phoebus newly look'd about, 
 I firft (according to my vow) 
 Made hafte unto this plighted bough : 
 Here, as I ftayed for my love, 
 Whofe comming over-late did prove, 
 
 A lyon with inhumane pawes 
 
 Came to that well to coole his jawes. 
 
 His mouth was all with blood befmear'd. 
 This inftrument of death I fear'd ; 
 I fled to hide my felfe for feare, 
 And left behind my mantle there. 
 The lyon, having flak'd his thirft, 
 Ran where I left my garment firft ; 
 
94 The Conftancy of True Love, 
 
 But when he faw no place for prey, 
 He foul'd with blood my liverie : 
 
 And having mufled thus the fame, 
 Thither he went whence firft he came ; 
 But I knew not that hee was gone 
 And therefore ftayd I hid, alone. 
 In the meane time (Oh griefe !) came hee, 
 Who promif'd had to meet with mee, 
 And under this our plighted bough 
 He fought performance of our vow. 
 
 He found not mee, but found my coat 
 All bloodied by the lyons throat; 
 Which when he faw with bloud belayd, 
 My ab fence made him fore afraid. 
 What mould he thinke, but that fome beaft 
 Upon my carcaife made his feaft ? 
 
 He thought that the grim lyon's whelpe 
 Devoured mee, being voyd of helpe. 
 
 While hee thefe events thus did brooke, 
 The inftrument of death he tooke, 
 A naked fword, which by his fide 
 Ready for combats he had tyed. — 
 I have, quoth hee, wrought my loves death, 
 The end of her mall end my breath ; 
 And thereupon thruft to the hilt 
 His fword, and thus his blood he fpilt. 
 
The Conftancy of True Love. 95 
 
 That the firft paflenger might know, 
 The difmall events of this woe, 
 He wrote and pinn'd a note thereof 
 Upon his hatt, to fhew the proofe ; 
 Which I, being voyd of feare, at laft, 
 And thinking all the danger paft, 
 
 Returning from that hideous bed, 
 
 Whereto I from the lyon fled, 
 
 I found the copie of his death, 
 
 And his dead carcaffe voyd of breath. 
 
 No fobs, no lighes, no griefes, no groanes, 
 
 No trickling teares, no mournfull moanes, 
 
 No ejaculations, no cries, 
 
 No dolefull dittie or elegies, 
 
 Shall ferve for to bewaile his end, 
 
 Which for my love his life did fpend. 
 
 In life his love did mee purfue, 
 
 But by his death he prov'd it true. 
 
 If hee, then, for my fake did die, 
 
 As much for him why mould not I ? 
 
 Since death hath us denied our right, 
 
 Then friendly death mall us unite; 
 And I will follow him in hafte, 
 Who thought he folio w'd me being paft. 
 
 Thefe words aflbone as fhee had fpoke, 
 She gave her felfe a deadly ftroke : 
 
9 6 
 
 The Conftancy of True Love 
 
 Shee drew the fword out of his breaft 
 And in her owne the fame fhee thruft ; 
 And as in life their hearts were one, 
 So are their lives together gone. 
 
 In fpight of parents, time, and place, 
 Fond love will runne his wifhed race. 
 
 Thus have you heard a tragedy, 
 Acted by lovers conftancy : 
 God fend fuch lovers better fpeed, 
 Where fervency true love doth breed. 
 
Few Words are beft. 
 
 To the Tune of " He tell you but fo." 
 
 [A ballad, in its original fhape, probably of the latter part of the reign 
 of Elizabeth, from what is faid about enclofures, recufants, puritans, 
 &c. Two of the ftanzas, the fixth and feventh, feem to have a pecu- 
 liar application to the life of Shakefpeare, and to the religious opinions 
 of his father (fee the Shakefpeare Society's Papers, ii. 115). The droll 
 fatire of the writer applies to nearly all callings and clafles, and he fpares 
 no body. It was printed, like many other broadfides, " by the Aflignes 
 of Thomas Svmcocke," and, to the title, "Few Words are beft," the 
 following diftich is added : — 
 
 " Come buy this new ballad before you doe goe : 
 If you raile at the Author, I know what I know."] 
 
 T is an old faying 
 
 that few words are beft, 
 And he that fays little 
 fhall live moft at reft; 
 And I by experience 
 
 doe finde it right fo, 
 Therefore He fpare fpeech, 
 but I know what I know. 
 
 Yet you fhall perceive well 
 
 though little I fay, 
 That many enormities 
 
 I will difplay : 
 
 o 
 
9 8 
 
 Few Words are beft. 
 
 You may gueffe my meaning 
 by that which I (how ; 
 
 I will not tell all, 
 
 but I know what I know. 
 
 There be fome great climbers 
 
 compof'd of ambition, 
 To whom better-borne men 
 
 doe bend with fubmiffion. 
 Proud Lucifer climbing, 
 
 was call: very low; 
 He not flay thefe men, 
 
 but I know what I know. 
 
 There be many foxes 
 
 that goe on two legges, 
 They fteale greater matters 
 
 then cocks, hennes and egges : 
 To catch many gulls 
 
 in fheepes cloathing they goe ; 
 They might be deftroy'd, 
 
 but I know what I know. 
 
 There be many men 
 
 that devotion pretend, 
 
 And make us beleeve 
 
 that true faith they'le defend ; 
 
 Three times in one day 
 
 to church they will goe : 
 
Few Words are beft. 99 
 
 They cozen the world, 
 
 but I know what I know. 
 
 There be many rich men 
 
 both yeomen and gentry, 
 That for their owne private gaine 
 
 hurt a whole countrey, 
 By clofing free commons, 
 
 yet they'le make as though 
 Twere for common good ; 
 
 but I know what I know. 
 
 There be divers Papifts 
 
 that, to fave their fine, 
 Come to church once a moneth 
 
 to hear fervice divine. 
 The Pope gives them power 
 
 as they fay, to doe fo 9 
 They fave money by't too, 
 
 but I know what I know. 
 
 There be many upftarts 
 
 that fpring from the cart, 
 Who gotten to the Court 
 
 play the gentleman's part : 
 Their fathers were plaine men, 
 
 they fcorne to be fo ; 
 They thinke themfelves brave, 
 
 but I know what I know. 
 
IOO 
 
 Few Words are beft. 
 
 
 There be many officers, 
 men of great place, 
 To whom if one fue 
 
 
 for their favour and grace, 
 
 
 He muft bribe their fervants, 
 
 
 while they make as though 
 They know no fuch thing ; 
 but I know what I know. 
 
 
 There be many women . 
 
 that feeme very pure, 
 A kifle from a ftranger 
 
 they'le hardly endure ; 
 They are like Lucretia, 
 
 modell in mow : 
 
 
 I will accufe none, 
 
 
 but I know what I know. 
 
 
 Likewife there be many 
 
 
 diffembling men, 
 
 
 That feeme to hate drinking 
 
 
 and wenching, yet when 
 They meet with a wench 
 
 
 to the taverne they'le goe : 
 They are civill all day, 
 
 but I know what I know. 
 
 
 There be many batchelors 
 
 
 that, to beguile 
 
Few Words are beft 
 
 IOI 
 
 Beleeving kind laffes, 
 
 ufe many a wile : 
 They all fweare that they love, 
 
 when they meane nothing fo, 
 And boaft of thofe trickes ; 
 
 but I know what I know. 
 
 There's many an ufurer 
 
 that like a drone 
 Doth idly live 
 
 upon his money's lone : 
 From tens unto hundreds 
 
 his money doth grow ; 
 He fayes he doth good, 
 
 but I know what I know. 
 
 There be many gallants 
 
 that goe in gay rayment, 
 For which the taylor 
 
 did never receive payment : 
 They ruffle it out 
 
 with a gorgeous mow. 
 Some take them for knights, 
 
 but I know what I know. 
 
 There be many rovers 
 
 that fwagger and rore, 
 As though they in the warres had been 
 
 feven yeares and more ; 
 
102 
 
 Few Words are beft 
 
 And yet they never lookt 
 in the face of a foe : 
 
 They feeme gallant fparkes, 
 but I know what I know. 
 
 There's many, both women 
 
 and men, that appeare 
 With beautifull outrides, 
 
 the world's eyes to bleare ; 
 But all is not gold 
 
 that doth glitter in mow : 
 They are fine with a fox, 
 
 but I know what I know. 
 
 There's many rich tradefmen 
 
 who live by deceit, 
 And in weight and meafure 
 
 the poore they doe cheat : 
 They'le not fweare an oath, 
 
 but, indeed, I, and no, 
 They truely protefl ; 
 
 but I know what I know. 
 
 There be many people 
 
 fo given to ftrife, 
 That they'le goe to law 
 
 for a twopenny knife : 
 The lawyers nere aflte them 
 
 why they doe fo ; 
 
Few Words are beft 
 
 They get by their hate, 
 
 but I know what I know. 
 
 I know where be many 
 
 will carpe at this ballet, 
 Becaufe it is like 
 
 fowre fawce to their pallet ; 
 But he, fhee, or they, 
 
 let me tell ere I goe, 
 If they fpeake againft this fong. 
 
 I know what I know. 
 
104 
 
 The 
 
 Merchant's Daughter of Briftow. 
 
 To the Tune of " The Maiden's Joy." 
 
 [This narrative ballad, which is full of graceful but unadorned fim- 
 plicity, is mentioned in Fletcher's u Monfieur Thomas," ( Act iii. Sc. 3.) 
 by the name of "Maudlin the Merchant's Daughter." Two early edi- 
 tions of it are known : one without printer's name, (clearly much 
 older than the other) is that which we have ufed : we may conclude 
 that it was written confiderably before James I. came to the throne. It 
 was laft re-printed in 1738, but in that impreffion it was much modern- 
 ized and corrupted.] 
 
 EH OLD the touchftone of true love, 
 Maudlin the Merchant's Daughter of Brif- 
 tow towne, 
 Whofe firme affection nothing could move; 
 This favour beares the lovely browne. 
 
 A gallant youth was dwelling by, 
 
 Which many yeares had borne this lady great good will; 
 
 Shee loved him fo faithfullv, 
 
 But all her friends withftood it ftill. 
 
 The young man now, perceiving well 
 
 He could not get nor win the favour of her friends, 
 
 The force of forrow to expell 
 
 To view flrange countreys hee intends. 
 
The Merchant's Daughter. 
 
 And now, to take his laft farewell 
 
 Of his true love, his faire and conftant Maudlen, 
 
 With muficke fweete that did excell 
 
 Hee plaies under her window then. 
 
 Farewell (quoth he) mine owne true love, 
 Farewell, my deare, and chiefeft treafure of my heart ! 
 Through fortune's fpight, that falfe did prove, 
 I am inforc'd from thee to part, 
 
 Into the land of Italy : 
 
 There wil I waile, and weary out my dayes in wo ; 
 
 Seeing my true love is kept from mee, 
 
 I hold my life a mortal fo. 
 
 Faire Briftow towne, therefore, adieu, 
 For Padua mall bee my habitation now ; 
 Although my love doth lodge in thee, 
 To whom alone my heart I vow. 
 
 With trickling teares this hee did ling, 
 
 With fighs and fobs defcending from his heart full fore : 
 
 Hee faid, when he his hands did wring, 
 
 Farewell, fweet love, for evermore ! 
 
 Fair Maudlin, from a window high 
 
 Beholding her true love with muficke where hee ftood, 
 
 But not a word fhe durft reply, 
 
 Fearing her parents angry mood. 
 
 io 5 
 
io6 
 
 The Merchant's Daughter, 
 
 In teares fhe fpent this dolefull night, 
 Wifhing (though naked) with her faithfull friend : 
 She blames her friends, and fortune's fpight, 
 That wrought their loves fuch luckleffe end. 
 
 And in her heart fhee made a vow 
 
 Cleane to forfake her country and her kinsfolkes all, 
 
 And for to follow her true love, 
 
 To bide all chance that might befall. 
 
 The night is gone, and the day is come, 
 And in the morning very early fhee did rife : 
 She gets her downe in a lower roome, 
 Where fundrie feamen fhe efpies. 
 
 A gallant mafter amongft them all, 
 
 (The mafter of a faire and goodlie fhip was he) 
 
 Who there flood waiting in the hall, 
 
 To fpeake with her father, if it might be. 
 
 She kindly takes him by the hand, 
 
 Good fir (faid fhee) would you fpeake with any heere? 
 
 Quoth he, faire maid, therefore I ftand : 
 
 Then, gentle Sir, I pray you draw neere. 
 
 Into a pleafant parlour by, 
 
 With hand in hand fhe brings the feaman all alone ; 
 
 Sighing to him moft piteoufly, 
 
 She thus to him did make her moane. 
 
The Merchant's Daughter. 
 
 Shee falls upon her tender knee : 
 
 Good fir (fhe faid) now pittie you a woman's woe, 
 
 And prove a faithfull friend to me, 
 
 That I my griefe to you may fhew. 
 
 Sith you repofe your truft, he faid, 
 
 To me that am unknowne, and eke a ftranger heere, 
 
 Be you arTur'd, moft proper maid, 
 
 Moft faithfull ftill I will appeare. 
 
 I have a brother, then, quoth fhee, 
 
 Whom as my life I love and favour tenderlie : 
 
 In Padua, alas ! is he, 
 
 Full ficke, God wot, and like to die. 
 
 And faine I would my brother fee, 
 
 But that my father will not yeeld to let me goe ; 
 
 Wherefore, good fir, be good to mee, 
 
 And unto me this favour fhew. 
 
 Some fhip-boye's garment bring to mee, 
 
 That I difguif 'd may goe away from hence unknowne ; 
 
 And unto fea He goe with thee, 
 
 If thus much favour may be fhowne. 
 
 Faire maid (quoth he) take heere my hand : 
 I will fulfill each thing that you defire, 
 And fet you fafe in that fame land, 
 And in that place that you require. 
 
 107 
 
io8 The Merchant's Daughter. 
 
 She gave him then a tender kiffe, 
 And faith, your fervant, gallant mafter, will I be, 
 And prove your faithfull friend for this, 
 Sweet mafter, then, forget not me. 
 
 This done, as they had both decreed, 
 Soone after (early) before the breake of day, 
 He brings her garments then with fpeed, 
 Wherein fhe doth her felfe array: 
 
 And ere her father did arife, 
 
 Shee meets her mafter as he walkes in the hall : 
 
 Shee did attend on him likewife, 
 
 Even till her father did him call. 
 
 But ere the Merchant made an end 
 Of all the matters to the mafter he could fay, 
 His wife came weeping in with fpeed, 
 Saying, our daughter is gone away! 
 
 The Merchant, thus amaz'd in mind, 
 
 Yonder vile wretch intic'd away my child, quoth he ; 
 
 But, well I wot, I fhall him find 
 
 At Padua, in Italy. 
 
 With that befpake the mafter brave : 
 Worfhipfull mafter, thither goes this pretty youth, 
 And any thing that you would have, 
 He will performe it, and write the truth. 
 
The Merchant's Daughter. 
 
 Sweet youth (quoth hee) if it be fo, 
 
 Beare me a letter to the Englifh marchants there, 
 
 And gold on thee I will beftow : 
 
 My daughter's welfare I do feare. 
 
 Her mother takes her by the hand ; 
 
 Faire youth (qd me) if there thou doft my daughter fee, 
 
 Let me thereof foone underftand, 
 
 And there is twenty crownes for thee. 
 
 Thus, through the daughter's ftrange difguife, 
 The mother knew not when fhee fpake unto her child; 
 And after her mafter ftraightway fhee hies, 
 Taking her leave with countenance milde. 
 
 Thus to the fea faire Maudlin is gone 
 
 With her gentle mafter : God fend them a merry wind ; 
 
 Where wee a while muft let them alone, 
 
 Till you the fecond part doe find. 
 
 109 
 
 Finis Part I. 
 
I IO 
 
 The Merchant's Daughter. 
 
 THE SECOND PART. 
 
 To the fame Tune. 
 
 WELCOME, fweete Maudlin, from the fea, 
 Where bitter ftormes and tempefts doe arife : 
 The plefant bankes of Italy 
 Wee may behold with mortal eyes. 
 
 Thankes, gentle mailer, then quoth fhee : 
 A faithfull friend in forrow haft thou beene ; 
 If fortune once doth fmile on mee, 
 My thankfull heart mail well bee feene. 
 
 Bleft be the land that feedes my love ! 
 
 Bleft be the place where as his perfon doth abide ! 
 
 No triall will I fticke to prove, 
 
 Whereby my true love may be tride. 
 
 Nowe will I walke with joyful heart, 
 
 To viewethe to wne where as my darlinge doth remaine, 
 
 And feeke him out in every part, 
 
 Untill I doe his fight attaine. 
 
 And I, quoth he, will not forfake 
 
 Sweete Maudlin in her forrow up and downe : 
 
 In wealth and woe thy part He take, 
 
 And bring thee fafe to Padua towne. 
 
The Merchant's Daughter. 
 
 And after many wearie fteps 
 In Padua they fafely doe arrive at laft : 
 For very joy her heart it leapes ; 
 She thinkes not of her forrowes paft. 
 
 Condemned to dye hee was, alas ! 
 Except he would from his religion turne ; 
 But rather then hee would to marie, 
 In fiery flames he vow'd to burne. 
 
 Now doth Maudlin weepe and waile : 
 
 Her joy is changed to weeping, forrow, griefe and care; 
 
 But nothing could her plaints prevaile, 
 
 For death alone muft be his mare. 
 
 Shee walkes under the prifon wails, 
 
 Where her true love doth lye and languim in diftreffe; 
 
 Moft wofully for foode he calls, 
 
 When hunger did his heart opprefle. 
 
 He fighs and fobs and makes great moane : 
 Farewell, hee faid, fweete England, now for evermore, 
 And all my friends that have me knowne 
 In Briftow towne with wealth and ftore. 
 
 But moft of all farewell, quoth hee, 
 
 My owne true love,fweet Maudlin,' whom I left behind; 
 
 For never more mall I fee thee. 
 
 Woe to thy father moft unkind ! 
 
 Ill 
 
112 
 
 The Merchant's Daughter. 
 
 How well were I, if thou wert here, 
 
 With thy faire hands to clofe thefe wretched eyes : 
 
 My torments eafie would appeare ; 
 
 My foule with joy fhall fcale the fkies. 
 
 When Maudlin heard her lover's moane, 
 
 Her eyes with teares, her heart with forrow filled was 
 
 To fpeake with him no meanes is knowne, 
 
 Such grievous doome on him did pafle. 
 
 Then fhee caft off" her lad's attire ; 
 
 A maiden's weede upon her back fhe feemely fet : 
 
 To the judge's houfe fhee did enquire, 
 
 And there fhee did a fervice get. 
 
 Shee did her duty there fo well, 
 
 And eke fo prudently fhe did her felfe behave, 
 
 With her in love her mafter fell ; 
 
 His fervant's favour hee doth crave. 
 
 Maudlin, quoth hee, my heart's delight, 
 To whom my heart is in affection tied, 
 Breed not my death through thy defpight ; 
 A faithfull friend I will be tryed. 
 
 Grant me thy love, faire maid, quoth hee, 
 And at my hands require what thou canft devife, 
 And I will grant it unto thee, 
 Whereby thy credit may arife. 
 
The Merchant's Daughter. 
 
 I have a brother, fir, fhe faid, 
 For his religion is now condemned to dye : 
 In loathfome prifon hee is layd, 
 Oppreft with griefe and mifery. 
 
 Grant me my brother's life, fhee faid, 
 And to you my love and liking I will give. 
 That may not be, quoth hee, faire maid ; 
 Except he turne, he cannot live. 
 
 An Englifh Frier there is, fhee faid, 
 Of learning great and pafling pure of life, 
 Let him to my brother be fent, 
 And he will finifh foone the ftrife. 
 
 Her mafter hearing this requeft, 
 
 The marriner in frier's weed me did array, 
 
 And to her love, that lay diftreft, 
 
 Shee did a letter ftraight convey. 
 
 When hee had read thefe gentle lines, 
 His heart was ravifhed with fudden joy ; 
 Where now fhee was full well hee knew : 
 The frier likewife was not coy ; 
 
 But did declare to him at large 
 
 The enterprife for him his love had taken in hand. 
 
 The young man did the frier charge, 
 
 His love fhould ftraight depart the land. 
 
 n 3 
 
 CL 
 
1 14 The Merchant's Daughter. 
 
 Here is no place for her, hee faid, 
 
 But woefull death and danger of her harmlefTe life : 
 
 Profeffing truth I was betraid, 
 
 And fearfull flames muft end my ftrife. 
 
 For, ere I will my faith deny, 
 
 And fweare my felfe to follow damned Antichrift, 
 
 He yeeld my body for to die, 
 
 To live in heaven with the higheft. 
 
 O fir ! the gentle frier faid, 
 
 For your fweet love recant, and fave your wifhed life. 
 
 A wofull match, quoth hee, is made 
 
 Where Chrift is loft to win a wife. 
 
 When fhe had wrought all meanes that might 
 
 To fave her friend, and that fhe faw it would not bee, 
 
 Then of the judge ihee claimed her right, 
 
 To die the death as well as hee. 
 
 When no perfwafion could prevaile, 
 
 Nor change her mind in any thing that fhee had faid, 
 
 She was with him condemned to die, 
 
 And for them both one fire was made. 
 
 And arme in arme moft joyfully 
 
 Thefe lovers twaine unto the fire they did goe : 
 
 The marriner moft faithfully 
 
 Was likewife partner of their woe. 
 
The Merchant's Daughter. 
 
 But when the judges understood 
 
 The faithfull friendship did in them remaine, 
 
 They faved their lives ; and afterward 
 
 To England fent them home againe. 
 
 Now was their forrow turned to joy, 
 
 And faithfull lovers had now their heart's defire : 
 
 Their paines fo well they did imploy, 
 
 God granted that they did require. 
 
 And when they were to England come, 
 And in merry Briftow arrived at the laft, 
 Great joy there was to all and fome 
 That heard the dangers they had paft. 
 
 Her gentle mafter fhee defired 
 
 To b,e her father, and at the church to give her then 
 
 It was fulfilled as fhee required, 
 
 Unto the joy of all good men. 
 
 115 
 
n6 
 
 My pretty little one. 
 
 To a pleafant new Tune. 
 
 [We may perhaps carry this ballad back to the reign of Henry VIII. 
 the fcore of a fong of that date, called " My little pretty one," being 
 known (Chappell's Nat. Engl. Airs, ii. 167). It is indifputably very 
 old, although in the only impreffion that has come down to us — " Lon- 
 don, Printed for W. Thackaray, T. Paflenger, and W. Whitwood " 
 — it has been modernized and obvioufly mifprinted. The full title con- 
 fifts of the burden " Come turn to me, thou pretty little one, and I will 
 turn to thee."] 
 
 WEET, if thou wilt be 
 As I am to thee, 
 Then, by Cupid's mother 
 I have vow'd to have 
 none other me. 
 Then turn to me, thou pretty little one, 
 and I will turn to thee. 
 
 Thofe bright eyes of thine, 
 Which do dazzle mine, 
 Like the ftars of heaven, 
 Which do keep their even 
 
 courfe and mine : 
 Then let us in conjunction meet, 
 
 and both our loves combine. 
 
 If that lovely face 
 Will to mine give place, 
 
My pretty little one. 
 
 II 7 
 
 That with love's devotion, 
 
 
 We may ufe the motion 
 
 
 of imbrace, 
 
 
 Then fit thee down, my pretty little one, 
 
 
 and let us love a fpace. 
 
 
 What hurt is this 
 
 
 For to take a kifle ? 
 
 
 If it may be granted, 
 
 
 I that long have wanted 
 
 
 fuch a blifle, 
 
 
 Then be not fparing of a few, 
 
 
 whereas fuch plenty is. 
 
 
 If thy breafts do pant 
 
 
 For the milk they want, 
 
 
 Every hill and mountain 
 
 
 To fupply each fountain 
 
 
 be not fcant : 
 
 
 Then give to me thy lilly white hand, 
 
 
 and I thee mine will grant. 
 
 
 If fo be that I 
 
 s 
 
 May but thee come nigh, 
 
 
 The vine and elm mail never 
 
 
 Joyn more clofe together, 
 
 
 then will I : 
 
 
 Then fhew thy fruits, my amorous joy, 
 
 
 and lie with love fupply. 
 
 
1 1 8 My pretty little one 
 
 If that thou doft crave 
 Silks and garments brave, 
 Or what rich attyre 
 Could thy heart defire 
 
 to receive, 
 Declare to me, thou pretty little one ; 
 
 thou canft but aflc and have. 
 
 Sweet-heart, for thy fake 
 I will never make 
 Choice of any other ; 
 Then, by Cupid's mother, 
 
 freely fpeak. 
 Its at thy choice, my dearefl love, 
 
 either to leave or take. 
 
 I thy mary gold, 
 Wrapt in many fold, 
 Like the golden clyent 
 To the fun fupplient, 
 
 fhew its gold : 
 Difplay thy beams, my glorious fun, 
 
 and He to thee unfold. 
 
 Thofe bright locks of hair, 
 Spreading o'er each ear, 
 Every crifp and curie 
 Far more rich then pearl 
 doth appear : 
 
My pretty little one. 
 
 II 9 
 
 Then, be thou conftant in thy love, 
 
 
 and I will be thy dear. 
 
 
 Till I have poiTeft 
 Thee, whom I love beft, 
 
 
 I have vow'd for ever, 
 
 
 In thy abfence never 
 
 
 to take reft. 
 
 
 Deny me not, thou pretty little one, 
 in whom my hopes are bleft. 
 
 
 If a kiffe or two 
 
 
 Can thee a favour do, 
 
 
 Were it more then twenty, 
 Love's indu'd with plenty 
 lovers know : 
 
 
 For thy fweet fake a thoufand take, 
 
 
 for that's the way to wooe. 
 
 
 It doth grieve my heart 
 From thee for to part ; 
 
 
 It is to me more pleafant 
 
 
 Ever to be prefent 
 where thou art : 
 
 
 Yet in the abfence of a friend 
 
 
 my love fhall never ftart. 
 
 
 As to me thou art kind, 
 
 
 Duty fhall mee bind 
 
 
120 
 
 My pretty little one. 
 
 Ever to obey thee ; 
 Reafon fo doth fway me 
 
 to thy mind : 
 Thou haft my heart where e're thou art, 
 
 although I ftay behind. 
 
 In thy bed or bark 
 I will be thy mark: 
 Couples yet more loving 
 Never had their moving 
 
 from the Ark. 
 Welcome to mee, my only joy, 
 
 all times, be it light or dark ! 
 
121 
 
 The Devil driven away 
 
 by Women. 
 
 To the Tune of " Death's Dance." 
 
 [The tune to which the enfuing comic ballad was fung, is ftated on 
 the broadfide to be " Death's Dance," but it muft have been a differ- 
 ent Dance of Death to that which ftands firft in our volume, as both 
 would not run to the fame air. We may conclude, therefore, that it 
 was " Death's Dance " which alfo went by the name of " The Shak- 
 ing of the Sheet," and was popular in 1560, if not earlier. (Hift. Engl. 
 Dram. Poetry and the Stage, ii. 474.) The fomewhat peculiar title 
 of the old copy is this : — 
 
 " An excellent new Ditty, or 
 
 Which proveth that women the beft warriers be, 
 For they made the Devill from earth for to flee." 
 
 It was " Printed at London, for H. G." t. e. Henry Goffon, who pub- 
 limed fo many productions for the amufement of the multitude.] 
 
 LD Beelzebub merry 
 
 difpofed to be, 
 To earth he did hurry, 
 fome paftime to fee : 
 A landlord he proved, 
 
 and leafes would let 
 To all them that loved 
 a long life to get. 
 
I 22 
 
 The Devil driven 
 
 Come hither, all mortalls, 
 
 quoth the Devill of hell, 
 Come longtailes and curtailes 
 
 now unto my cell : 
 To you I here proffer 
 
 a bargaine to buy ; 
 If you'l take my offer, 
 
 you never fhall dye. 
 
 This bargaine them pleafed, 
 
 they long'd it to gaine; 
 The ficke and difeafed 
 
 came thither amaine ; 
 And though they were crafie, 
 
 they thither could flye, 
 The fluggard and lazy 
 
 this bargaine would buy. 
 
 The gallants and gentry, 
 
 his love to embrace, 
 From city and country 
 
 flockt hither apace : 
 Long life they defired 
 
 with much jollity ; 
 Their hearts they were fired 
 
 this bargaine to buy. 
 
 The dames of the city 
 
 came hither with fpeed ; 
 Your merchant wives pretty 
 
away by Women. 
 
 123 
 
 would feale to this deed, 
 To live with a lover 
 
 and never to dye : 
 Here curtefans hover 
 
 this bargaine to buy. 
 
 No females there wanted, 
 
 but hither they came ; 
 They came till they panted, 
 
 to purchafe the fame : 
 Wives, widdowes, and maidens 
 
 to the Devill did hye ; 
 Brave laffes and ladies 
 
 this bargaine would buy. 
 
 The lecher, which viewed 
 
 fuch pretty ones there, 
 His love was renewed, 
 
 and hee'd have a fhare ; 
 And here he fojourned, 
 
 'caufe never hee'd dye : 
 His heart it was burned 
 
 this bargaine to buy. 
 
 Now wicked fonnes came in, 
 that had their meanes fpent 
 
 In dicing and gaming, 
 to this office went : 
 
 Apace they here gather, 
 becaufe they'd not dye, 
 
I2 4 
 
 The Devil driven 
 
 
 But to outlive their father 
 
 
 this bargaine they'd buy. 
 
 
 Next comes the fhoomaker 
 
 
 to crave a long life, 
 
 
 Here to be partaker 
 
 
 he brought his fine wife. 
 
 
 The taylor attends here ; 
 
 
 for money they cry, 
 
 
 And follow the fpender * 
 
 
 this bargaine to buy. 
 
 
 The ufurers follow 
 
 
 that pawnes have in hand ; 
 
 
 With whoop and with hollow 
 
 
 they call for the land, 
 
 
 Which fpend-thrifts pawne to them, 
 
 
 while for cam they hye : 
 
 
 To live to undoe them 
 
 
 this bargaine they'll buy. 
 
 
 Next came thefe rich farmers 
 
 
 that coozin the poore, 
 
 
 And hoord up in corners 
 
 
 provifion and ftore ; 
 
 
 To live till a deare yeere, 
 
 
 and never to dye, 
 
 
 Thefe greedy corn-mizers 
 
 
 this bargaine would buy. 
 
away by Women. 
 
 !25 
 
 Now brokers came hither, 
 
 
 that in their hands had 
 
 
 Pawnes heaped together, 
 
 
 both good ones and bad : 
 
 
 To live till they view them 
 
 
 all forfeited lye, 
 
 
 To the Devill they fue them 
 
 
 this bargaine to buy 
 
 
 This purchafe contented 
 
 
 the Devill of hell, 
 
 
 To fee fuch flockes enter 
 
 
 all into his cell ; 
 
 
 Yet ftill he proclaimed 
 
 
 they never mould dye, 
 
 
 Who ere it was aimed 
 
 
 this bargaine to buy. 
 
 
 Next came the poore women 
 
 
 that cry fifh and oyfters ; 
 
 
 They flocke here in common, 
 
 
 and many great clutters : 
 
 
 They ran hither fcolding 
 
 
 and to the Devill cry, 
 
 
 Sir, wee'd be beholding 
 
 
 this bargaine to buy. 
 
 
 But when thefe came hither 
 
 
 they kept fuch a noife, 
 
 
 Each brabled with other 
 
 
126 
 
 The Devil driven away. 
 
 
 which firft fhould have choife, 
 
 
 As that their noyfe frighted 
 the Devill of hell : 
 
 
 No more he delighted 
 
 
 fuch bargaines to fell. 
 
 
 Quoth he, I muft from them, 
 
 
 for fhould I flay here, 
 
 
 In pieces among them 
 my body they'l teare : 
 
 Quoth he, I am willing 
 to deale among men, 
 
 But nere will have dealing 
 
 
 
 'mongfl women agen. 
 
 
 
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127 
 
 The 
 
 Lamentation of Englande. 
 
 To the Tune of " Weepe, weepe." 
 
 [It is impoffible now to afcertain whom the initials W. M. at the 
 end of this hiftorical ballad reprefent : he wrote it in 1584, and two 
 years afterwards Thomas Deloney penned an effufion of precifely the 
 fame character, and to the fame tune, upon the execution of Ballard 
 Babbington, &c (See " Old Ballads" printed for the Percy Society 
 in 1840, p. 1 01.) This "Lamentation" on the execution of Throg- 
 morton contains fome particulars connected with his death that are not 
 given by our Chroniclers, and the mention of the execution of Arden, a 
 relation of Shakefpeare by his mother's fide, is interesting. The title 
 of the ballad in the old black-letter copy runs thus : " The Lamen- 
 tation of Englande for the late Treafons confpired againft the Queene's 
 Majeftie, and the whole Realme, by Francis Throgmorton, who was 
 executed for the fame at Tyborne on Friday, being the tenth day 
 of July laft part, 1584." After the notice of the tune to which it 
 was to be fung come the following lines, as the burden at the end of 
 every ftanza, 
 
 " Pray, pray, and praife the Lord, whofe wondrous works are feene, 
 That brought to light the fecret fnare laid lately for our Queene." 
 
 It was " Imprinted at London by Richard Jhones."] 
 
 ITH brinifhe teares and fobbing fighes, 
 I, Englande, pine in paine, 
 To fee and heare fuch fecret fectes 
 among my people raine : 
 Now being in my golden prime, 
 where nedlar fweete doth flowe, 
 
128 
 
 The Lamentation of Englande 
 
 And where the facred worde is taught, 
 eche Chriftian's joye to fhowe. 
 
 And where the Lord of Lords hath fet 
 
 his handmaide pure and cleene, 
 Annoynting her my rightfull Prince, 
 
 to reigne a royall Queene ; 
 Indued with wifedome from above, 
 
 and ftorde with knowledge great, 
 That flying fame throughout the world 
 
 her praifes doth repeate. 
 
 Who to the facred worde doth ftande 
 
 with zeale and godly minde, 
 Maintaining truth, embracing faith, 
 
 and to eche fubjecl: kinde. 
 Alas ! why then, my people deare, 
 
 what is the caufe you fwerve 
 Againfl: the Lord's annoynted fo, 
 
 your owne felfe willes to ferve ? 
 
 Have you not peace and plentie both, 
 
 which other realmes do want? 
 Have you not worldly pleafures ftore, 
 
 whereof there is no ikant ? 
 Have I not not foftered you with foode, 
 
 which Nature bringeth foorth ? 
 Have I not fed you dayntily, 
 
 with milke and hony both ? 
 
The Lamentation of Englande, 
 
 And have not I a carefull Prince, 
 
 the prop of all your ftay, 
 Which loveth me, which cares for you, 
 
 and prayes for us eche day ? 
 What is the caufe fuch mifchiefes, then, 
 
 among you doe remaine ? 
 Truely, the fulnes of the flefh, 
 
 which you fo much obtaine. 
 
 It makes me weepe with trickling teares, 
 
 and wring my hands full colde, 
 To heare, to fee, and thinke upon, 
 
 the dangers manyfolde, 
 My loving Prince and Queene is in 
 
 by means of Satan's crew, 
 Which often doth confpire the death 
 
 Of her, my lover true. 
 
 How many mifcheefes are devifed ? 
 
 how many wayes are wrought ? 
 How many vilde confpiracies 
 
 againft her Grace are fought ? 
 Yet God, that rules in heaven above, 
 
 lookes downe on earth belowe, 
 Who dauntes them in their wickedneffe, 
 
 and doth his power fhowe. 
 
 For when his highnes doth perceive 
 that dangers are at hande, 
 
 129 
 
i3° 
 
 intend 
 
 The Lamentation of Englande 
 
 o 
 
 Then doth he fhewe by fecret meanes 
 
 thofe perils to withftande ; 
 And will not let his chofen flocke 
 
 to perifhe on the earth, 
 But doth her fecret foes confounde 
 
 by meanes of fhamefull death. 
 
 As late was feene by Arden he, 
 
 and Sommervile alfo, 
 Who did pretende to kill my -Queene, 
 
 and worke her fubjects woe : 
 But God who doth her ftill defende, 
 
 her Grace he did preferve, 
 And wrought a fhame unto them felves, 
 
 as they did beft deferve. 
 
 Throgmorton lately did confpire 
 
 to overthrowe the State, 
 That ftrangers might invade the realme 
 
 upon an evening late, 
 And lande in places where he knewe 
 
 the realme was fomething weake, 
 The fecret of which thing he did 
 
 to forraigne Princes breake. 
 
 His dealing with the Queen of Scottes, 
 
 by letters to and fro, 
 Informing her and other States 
 
 of all that he did knowe : 
 
The Lamentation of Englande. 
 
 What freends in England they mould find, 
 What power they fhould bring, 
 
 Our Queene thereby for to difplace ; 
 this was a wofull thing. 
 
 He fought to difpoffefTe my Queene 
 
 Of dignitie and crowne, 
 And place a ftranger in her ftate, 
 
 thereby to tread her downe : 
 Ireland and Scotland, by advife, 
 
 the enemie mould invade, 
 Then into England bring a power, 
 
 as he the plat had made. 
 
 Thefe were the treafons which he wrought, 
 
 my good Queene to difplace, 
 To fpoyle the ftate of all this realme, 
 
 Such was his want of grace : 
 But God, who doth protect me ftill, 
 
 offended at the fame, 
 Even in his yong and tender yeares, 
 
 did cut him off with fhame. 
 
 O, thou Throgmorton, wicked wight ! 
 
 why didft thou this devife ? 
 Why did the feare of God and Prince 
 
 depart fo from thine eyes ? 
 No rebelles power fhall her difplace, 
 
 God will defende her ftill ; 
 
 I3 1 
 
132 The Lamentation of Englande 
 
 Her fubjectes all will loofe their lives, 
 ere tray tors have their will. 
 
 And though he florifht for a fpace, 
 
 in feeking his intent, 
 When to the pit's brinke that he came, 
 
 God did his worke prevent ; 
 And did preferve, in fpight of him, 
 
 his chofen veffell pure, 
 That fhe might florifh ftill in peace, 
 
 my comfort to procure. 
 
 When as the fervants of the Lorde, 
 
 I meane the children three, 
 Were put into the fierie oven, 
 
 deftroyed for to bee, 
 Then fierie flames did them no harme, 
 
 they fung and prayed with joye, 
 And thofe which flood to worke their woe, 
 
 the fparkles did deftroye. 
 
 And when the children of the Lord 
 
 King Pharao did purfue, 
 To drowne them in the foming floods, 
 
 God was a captaine true : 
 The waves like walles flood on eche fide, 
 
 and they free pafladge founde, 
 And Pharao with his mightie hofte 
 
 came after, and was drounde. 
 
The Lamentation of Englande. 133 
 
 Even fo the Lord, by his great might, 
 
 my comfort doth maintaine, 
 In keeping and preferving ftill 
 
 my Prince from traitors traine : 
 And did preferve her from the harmes 
 
 Throgmorton did pretende, 
 Who even at Tyborne for the fame 
 
 did make a fhamefull ende. 
 
 And though fuch impes do worke her fpite 
 
 ten thoufande kinde of waies, 
 Yea, though the devill himfelfe do fite, 
 
 to fpoyle her golden daies, 
 Yet if the Lorde defende my wrong, 
 
 their courage foone fhall quaile : 
 So long as God ftands on her fide, 
 
 no power fhall prevaile. 
 
 Therefore, my loving people deare, 
 
 graunt England her requeft, 
 Pray to the Lord, him ferve with feare, 
 
 and traitors hearts deteft : 
 Embrace the truth, lay holde on faith, 
 
 walke in the path of peace, 
 Obey your Prince, fight in her caufe, 
 
 and England's wealth encreafe. 
 
 And with new warning take new hearts, 
 olde venomed minds deteft ; 
 
J 3+ 
 
 The Lamentation of Englande 
 
 Efchue all finne, encreafe good works, 
 
 that you in peace may reft. 
 From all olde cuftomes that are evill, 
 
 put on the new man Chrift, 
 And newly change your former lives, 
 
 and learne to pleafe the higheft. 
 
 W. M. 
 
 Finis. 
 
135 
 
 Be merry, Friends. 
 
 To be fung to a new Tune. 
 
 [This, in its original ftate, is a ballad of the time of Henry the VIII. 
 Edward VI. or Mary, for its author, John Heywood, wrote in thofe 
 reigns, and it exifts in a manufcript of about that time formerly in the 
 library of Mr. Bright. Our copy is evidently in many places a clever 
 modernization, and it was " Printed for Thomas Millington in Cornhill" 
 foon after the year 1600. In Mr. Bright's manufcript fome of the ftanzas 
 are incomplete, but in the broadfide the deficiencies were fupplied, either 
 from a better copy or by conjecture. It appears from a MS. in the 
 pofTeffion of Lord Francis Egerton that John Heywood was flill living 
 in 1576, and that he was a native of Kent.] 
 
 E merry, friends, and take no thought; 
 For worldly cares now care ye nought, 
 For who fo doth, when all is fought, 
 Shall find that thought availeth not. 
 
 Be merry, friends ! 
 
 And fuch as have all wealth at will, 
 Their wills and pleafures to fulfill, 
 Need never grudge at any ill, 
 Nor need I fing this fong untill. 
 
 Be merry, friends ! 
 
136 
 
 Be merry, Friends 
 
 lofe 
 
 But unto fuch as wifh and want, 
 Whofe worldly wealth is very fcant, 
 No wealth to fpend, no land to plant, 
 To them it is I chiefly chant 
 
 Be merry, friends ! 
 
 To fuch as have had grief annext . 
 Unto their lives, extremely vext, 
 In worldly ftorms toft, and perplext, 
 To them I iing this fhort fweet text, 
 
 Be merry, friends ! 
 
 To laugh and winne each man agrees, 
 But each man cannot laugh and leefe ; 
 Yet laughing in the laft of thefe 
 Hath been allowd in all degrees. 
 
 Be merry, friends ! 
 
 Be merry in forrow, the wife have faide, 
 Which faying, being wifely waide, 
 It feems a leffon truly made 
 For thofe whom forrows ft ill invade. 
 
 Be merry, friends ! 
 
 Make not two forrowes out of one, 
 For one is fure enough alone ; 
 To graft new forrow there upon 
 Is grafting crab with crab, ne're done. 
 
 Be merry, friends ! 
 
Be merry, Friends. 
 
 1 37 
 
 To take our forrows mournfully 
 Augmenteth but our malady ; 
 But taking forrows merrily 
 Maketh them fmaller, verily. 
 
 Be merry, friends ! 
 
 Of griefes to come ftand not in fray, 
 But make defence, the beft you may ; 
 Which done, no more to do or fay, 
 Come what come mall, but care away. 
 
 Be merry, friends ! 
 
 If forrowes come we can not flee, 
 But needs they muft indured bee, 
 Make vertue of neceffitie, 
 And bear thy felfe right manfullie. 
 
 Be merry, friends ! 
 
 Be ever joyous, lofe or winne, 
 So be no fault of thine therein ; 
 Do not be flrft for to beginne : 
 The only grief is truly finne. 
 
 Be merry, friends ! 
 
 If friends be loft, then get thee more ; 
 If wealth be loft, thou ftill haft ftore ; 
 The merry man is never poor, 
 He lives upon the world : therefore, 
 
 Be merry, friends f 
 
i 3 8 
 
 Be merry, Friends. 
 
 The lofs of wealth is lofs of dirt, 
 As fages in all times affert : 
 The happy man's without a fhirt, 
 And never comes to maim or hurt. 
 
 Be merry, friends ! 
 
 All feafons are to him the fpring, 
 In flowers bright and florifhing, 
 With birds upon the tree or wing, 
 Who in their fafhion alway ilng 
 
 Be merry, friends ! 
 
 If that thy doublet has a hole in, 
 Why, it can keep the lefs thy foule in, 
 Which rangeth foorth beyond controulling, 
 Whilft thou haft nought to do, but trolling 
 
 Be merry, friends ! 
 
 Be merry in God, St. Paule faith plaine : 
 
 Be merry in God, I fay again, 
 
 And let not his advice be vain ; 
 
 Or if thou wilt, thou cannot complain. 
 
 Be merry, friends ! 
 
 Let the world flide, let the world go : 
 A fig for care, and a fig for woe ! 
 If I cant pay, why, I can owe ; 
 And death makes equall the high and low. 
 
 Be merry, friends ! 
 
 John Heywood 
 
Epitaph on Bifhop Jewell. 
 
 [This broadfide is in the form of a ballad, and it was the compofi- 
 tion of one of the molt notorious authors of fuch pieces : it relates, 
 alfo, to an individual of the higheft eminence in the Church, and until 
 now it has never been re-printed from the old copy, nor mentioned 
 in any lift of Elderton's productions. Thefe are the reafons which 
 have led to its infertion here : the full title of the unique broadfide 
 is, "An Epitaphe uppon the Death of the Right Reverend and learned 
 Father in God, I. Juell, Doctor of Divinitie, and Bifhop of Sarif- 
 burie, whom God called to his marcie the 22 of September, 1571." 
 Anthony Wood (Ath. Oxon. i. 395. edit. Blifs ) gives the day of 
 Jewell's death 23 Sept. The colophon runs thus: " Imprynted at 
 London in Fleete-ftreate, beneath the Conduit at the figne of S. John 
 Evangelift by Thomas Colwell."] 
 
 HE Juell of our joye is gone! 
 
 the happie heavens have wonne 
 The greateft gift that ever was 
 with us beneth the fonne : 
 
 Which makes fuch weeping eyes 
 
 in Sallefbury, they faye, 
 As all the ronning ftreames thereof, 
 
 can never wafhe awaye. 
 
 Alas ! is Juell dead, 
 
 the folder of the flocke ? 
 If Death hath caught the diall up, 
 
 then who mall keepe the clocke ? 
 
i+o Epitaph on Bifhop Jewell 
 
 O God ! what greefe is this, 
 
 thye charie Church mould want 
 
 A Bifhoppe of fo good a grace, 
 wher good men be fo fkant. 
 
 Wee feare the plague, they faye, 
 
 but fuch a plague as this, 
 Sithens I was borne I never knewe, 
 cer tainly nor never fhall i'wis : 
 
 Yet are there fome behinde, 
 
 I truft, will learne to knowe, 
 
 How Juell to his dieng daye 
 his talents did beftowe. 
 
 So bufie at his booke, 
 
 to bring the truth to light, 
 As they that lyke the redie way, 
 
 maye looke and finde it right. 
 
 His houfe and houfholde was 
 fo kept, for his degree, 
 
 As Paull in his Epiftles wrightes 
 a Bifhoppes houfe mould be. 
 
 His dioceffe, I beleeve, 
 he kept in fo good awe, 
 
 As vertue is content to fweare, 
 they lived within her lawe. 
 
Epitaph on Bifhop Jewell. 
 
 I 4 I 
 
 His handes and harte were free, 
 the needie could not lacke ; 
 
 Such peace and Concorde planted hee, 
 as nothing went to wracke. 
 
 
 And charie went to churche 
 himfelfe by breake of daye, 
 
 That his example might procure 
 the reft to go that waye : 
 
 
 And gave unto his men 
 
 their dueties when he died, 
 
 With large and lordlie recompence : 
 this can not be denied. 
 
 debts 
 
 Alas ! with piteous mone 
 
 all Chriftians now maye weepe, 
 That wee have fuch a fhepard gone : 
 
 God helpe the felie fheepe ! 
 
 
 Methinkes, I fee in heaven 
 triumphant Truth appeare, 
 
 And Faythfulnes, which fpeake alowde, 
 Let Juell no we come neare. 
 
 
 Th' Appoftelles all do preafe, 
 methinkes, to fee his face ; 
 
 And all the angells go about 
 to bring him to his place : 
 
 prefs 
 
14 2 Epitaph on Bifhop Jewell. 
 
 Even Chrift himfelfe, me thinkes, 
 
 I fee begins to fmile, 
 And faith, Beholde my chofen frend, 
 
 I lookte for all this while. 
 
 And Abraham rendes his clothes, 
 and bowells out his breft, 
 
 And fayth to Juell, Jumpe in here, 
 and take thye quiet reft. 
 
 W. Elderton 
 
The 
 
 Father's Admonition. 
 
 To the Tune of « Grim King of the Ghofts." 
 
 [This ballad is not of a very early date, although it is impoffible to 
 fettle that date with any degree of accuracy. It was written to the 
 tune of a fong in Percy's Reliques, ii. 395. (Edit. 1812.) there printed 
 under the title of " The Lunatic Lover," beginning 
 
 " Grim king of ghofts, make hafte." 
 
 The air long continued popular, and Rowe wrote to it his famous fong, 
 " Defpairing befide a clear ftream," Sec. The ballad here given is from 
 a copy " Printed for P. Brookfby, J.Deacon, J. Blare, and J. Back," 
 which muft have been a comparatively modern re-print, iftued late in 
 the feventeenth century, with the following title : " The Father's 
 wholefome Admonition, or a lumping Pennyworth of good Counfel for 
 bad Hufbands."] 
 
 Y fon, if you reckon to wed, 
 
 and take your felf to a kind wife, 
 Then, then, let it never be faid, 
 
 but that you'll reform your old life 
 There's many good pounds you have fpent, 
 
 the which you had reafon to prize ; 
 But labour in time to repent : 
 
 'tis good to be merry and wife. 
 
i 4 4 
 
 The Father's Admonition. 
 
 Be fure keep a penny in ftore, 
 
 'twill help you when friends they may fail, 
 For mould you fpend all, and grow poor, 
 
 your cafe you'll have caufe to bewail : 
 In troubles you'll ftrangely be hurl'd, 
 
 the which will your fenfes furprife ; 
 But he that will thrive in this world 
 
 mufl learn to be merry and wife. 
 
 Perchance you may meet with -a friend, 
 
 which doth to your dealings belong, 
 If with him a tetter you fpend, 
 
 this can do you no great wrong ; 
 And then to your labour again, 
 
 it being enough to fuffice. 
 This care will your houfehold maintain : 
 
 'tis good to be merry and wife. 
 
 There's many a woman well bred 
 
 has marry'd a prodigal knave, 
 So that, the fame day ihe was wed, 
 
 'twere better (lie had gone to her grave : 
 Her lands and her livings all fold, 
 
 which cauf 'd tears to flow from her eyes ; 
 And likewife true friendship grew cold : 
 
 then, 'tis good to be merry and wife. 
 
 Son, if a rich wife be thy lot, 
 be careful and thrifty, I pray, 
 
The Father's Admonition. 
 
 145 
 
 For means is not eafily got, 
 
 as it may be fquander'd away. 
 
 Be carefull, and always contrive 
 
 thofe temporall bleffings to prize, 
 
 For he that is willing to thrive 
 
 muft learn to be merry and wife. 
 
 There's fome that are abfolute poor, 
 
 as well I can make it appear, 
 Who will in ftrong liquor fpend more 
 
 than fome that have hundreds a year ; 
 And bring their poor families low, 
 
 • and can't get wherewith to fuffice : 
 But that man would never do fo 9 
 
 who learns to be merry and wife. 
 
 The workman that is a boon lad, 
 you'll find his condition is thus ; 
 
 If trading mould chance to grow bad, 
 he fcarce has a groat in his purfe : 
 
 While he that doth get, fpend, and fave, 
 has always enough to fuffice. 
 
 Then, fon, if this bleffing you'd have, 
 pray learn to be merry and wife. 
 
 This counfel which to you I give, 
 
 oh ! prize it more dearer than gold, 
 
 And then you in credit may live, 
 
 and fave fomething while you grow old 
 
 u 
 
146 
 
 The Father's Admonition. 
 
 There's many have dearly bought wit, 
 when fathers' good words they defpife. 
 
 My fon, ne'er fpend all that you get, 
 but learn to be merry and wife. 
 
 Great getters, that fpend all, are like 
 
 the cow that gives much at a meal, 
 Who, having done, ftraightway doth ftrike, 
 
 and kick it all down with her heel. 
 Act like the induftrious bee, * 
 
 and then you to riches may rife ; 
 And flourifhing days you will fee, 
 
 if you'll but be merry and wife. 
 
U7 
 
 The Praife of Nothing. 
 
 To the Tune of " Though I have but a marke a yeare, &c." 
 
 [In 1585, Sir Edward Dyer printed a brief profe tracT: called "The 
 Prayfe of Nothing." The following clever ballad feems a verfined imi- 
 tation of it, and being intended for the amufement of the crowd, treats 
 fome of the topics popularly, which Sir Edward Dyer had dealt with 
 learnedly. It will call to mind in feveral places the poem long 
 afterwards attributed to the Earl of Rochester, who, however, feems to 
 have borrowed more clofely from the Capitolo of Francefco Copetta, 
 nel quale fi lodano le Noncovelle^ publifhed as early as 1548. To the 
 general title of the ballad, " The praife of Nothing," are added the fol- 
 lowing lines : 
 
 " Though fome do wonder why I write the praife 
 Of Nothing in thefe lamentable daies, 
 When they have read, and will my counfell take, 
 I hope of Nothing they will Something make ! " 
 
 From the expreflion " in thefe lamentable days," we are perhaps to in- 
 fer that the plague, as it was called, was prevailing in London when the 
 ballad was compofed. Our text has the imprint of " H. GofTon, 
 dwelling upon London-Bridge, nere the Gate." Had not the ballad 
 been written before the date of Shakefpeare's comedy, it would, per- 
 haps, have been called " Much ado about Nothing."] 
 
 HE praife of wifdom fome doe write, 
 and fome the praife of money, 
 
 And every one, like bees to th' hive, 
 from fomething gather hony : 
 
148 
 
 The Praife of Nothing. 
 
 But if my genius doe not faile 
 To prompt me, ere I end my tale 
 You'll find that Nothing will prevaile; 
 for all muit turne to Nothing. 
 
 Nothing was firft and mail be laft, 
 
 for Nothing holds for ever ; 
 And Nothing ever yet fcap't death, 
 
 fo can't the longeft liver : 
 Nothing's immortall ; Nothing can 
 From croffes ever keepe a man : 
 Nothing can live when the world is gone, 
 
 for all mail come to Nothing. 
 
 Nothing in all the world be finde 
 with forrow more perplexed, 
 Than he that with a fcolding wife 
 
 eternally is vexed, 
 Whofe tongue by Nothing can be quel'd, 
 Although with red hot pincers held, 
 For me will to no reafon yeeld, 
 
 but fcold and brawle for Nothing. 
 
 Nothing is fwifter then the winde, 
 
 or lighter than a feather, 
 Yet I another thing have found, 
 
 which quite excelleth either : 
 A harlot's love that every day 
 Is chang'd and fwiftly blowne away; 
 
But what's more light then her, I pray ? 
 the wifeman anfweres, Nothing. 
 
 Nothing mail therefore pleafe me more 
 
 than women to abandon; 
 For if that I mould fall in love 
 
 or joyne with fuch a wanton, 
 Shee'd breake my very heart-ftrings fure, 
 Or I muft Vulcan's lot endure, 
 And patiently abide the cure, 
 
 or elfe be help'd by Nothing. 
 
 Take you heed, then, unmarried lads, 
 
 before you grow a lover, 
 And ere too foone you chufe a wife 
 
 with honeft patience prove her ; 
 For Nothing can againe unwed, 
 Nor cure a cuckold's aking head ; 
 Befides, once loft, a maiden-head 
 
 can be recal'd by Nothing. 
 
 In heat of war Nothing is fafe ; 
 
 in peace Nothing refpecled, 
 But ill got wealth, which to procure 
 
 no vice at all's neglected. 
 The fonne doth wifti his father's end, 
 That he may have his wealth to fpend ; 
 But let fuch lads their manners mend, 
 
 or all will come to Nothing. 
 
r 5° 
 
 The Praife of Nothing, 
 
 Nothing is fafe by fea or land, 
 
 nor alwaies free from danger, 
 Which is committed to the truft 
 
 of either friend or ftranger; 
 For Nothing in the world remaines, 
 But for their private ends or gaines 
 They'l hav't, although they break their brains, 
 
 or bring themfelves to Nothing. 
 
 Nothing's regarded more then gold, 
 
 but vertue's quite decay'd ; 
 For gold the ufurer fets his foule, 
 
 which muft at laft be paid, 
 When Nothing from the grave can call 
 Such mizers, who their foules inthrall 
 To gripe and hoord the devill and all ; 
 
 but better they had Nothing. 
 
 Nothing can from the fight of God 
 
 conceale the faults of any, 
 For his cleare eye can fearch into 
 
 the fmalleft chinke or cranny: 
 He can within thy heart efpy 
 The fecret'ft finnes which there doe lye, 
 But if you to repentance hie, 
 they mall appeare as Nothing. 
 
 Nothing therefore hereafter feeke, 
 but vertue, vice detefting, 
 
The Praife of Nothing 
 
 With pureft robes of fanctity 
 
 your humble foule inverting ; 
 And feeke you after no fuch thing 
 Which may your foule to forrow bring, 
 Or while thou liv'ft thy confcience fting, 
 
 or elfe defire Nothing. 
 
 For though but little thou art worth, 
 
 yet Nothing doft defire, 
 Nor coveteft thy neighbour's goods, 
 
 nor 'bove thy felfe afpire, 
 But refteft honeftly content 
 With that poore little God hath fent, 
 Thou mayft difperfe in merriment, 
 
 and fay thou wants for Nothing. 
 
 When earth-wormes fpend their dayes in care, 
 
 and nere can reft in quiet, 
 Nor with the feare to lofe their gold 
 
 have time to fleepe or dyet ; 
 But with a fad and penfive minde 
 Still ftu dying how the poore to grinde, 
 Untill at laft with forrow finde 
 
 themfelves are turn'd to Nothing. 
 
 And thus you now have heard the praife 
 
 of Nothing, worth a penny, 
 Which as I ftand to ring here now 
 
 I hope will yeeld me many : 
 
 151 
 
152 
 
 The Praife of Nothing 
 
 But if that price be held too deare, 
 Or any miflike this counfell here, 
 He may depart with a flea in's eare, 
 for I will give him Nothing. 
 
 Finis. 
 
 -LanffLorne ancCawfioCe CancCefC 
 Ciyfa;, flange oufyour tig fits fieare 
 
*53 
 
 The Norfolk Farmer's 
 
 Journey to London. 
 
 To the Tune of" The Spanifh Pavin." 
 
 [The name of Edward Ford is new in our ballad-poetry, though not 
 in our literature, as he was known as a writer in the reign of James I : 
 pofiibly he was related to John Ford the dramatift. He has left us 
 an amufing picture of manners in the enfuing fatirical effufion, in which 
 he fuppofes an old Norfolk farmer and his wife to come to town to 
 vifit relations, who receive them very inhofpitably : the points, in which 
 various places in London are defcribed, are curious ; but the dialogue 
 is irregularly conducted, and mixed up with narrative matter. The 
 full title is as follows : " A merry Difcourfe betweene Norfolke 
 Thomas and Sifly Standtoo't, his wife ; together with their thankleffe 
 journey from Norfolk to London, onely to fee their friends, and how 
 they doe refpecT: and entertaine 'urn for their love and labour : 
 
 Which fhewes that this fame age, mod certaine true, 
 Is onely for to afke yee how ye doe." 
 
 It was " Printed by M. P. for F. C." confiderably later, we appre- 
 hend, than the firft appearance of the broadfide, which clearly came 
 out during the prevalence of the plague, perhaps in 1603.] 
 
 O London is mad Thomas come, 
 With Sifly, here, his wife alone, 
 To fee fome friends, I hear, are gone 
 to heaven a while ago : 
 But I do hope it is a lye/ 
 
 x 
 
'54 
 
 The Norfolk Farmer's 
 
 As I mall find it by and by, 
 
 Or elfe poore Tom and Siffe mould cry, 
 
 till Doomes-day. 
 
 Thomas. 
 For though they be none of the bed, 
 I mould be loath, I do proteft, 
 To hear that they are gone to reft, 
 
 and never take their leave : 
 For I do love 'urn all fo weir, 
 A little thing would make me dwell 
 Within the founding of Bow-bell, 
 
 at London. 
 
 Sijly. 
 Nay, hufband, do not you fay fo : 
 Our cottage poore wee'l not forgo 
 For the beft houfe that ftands aroe 
 
 'twixt Cheap and Charing CroiTe ; 
 For though our houfe be thatch' t with ftraw, 
 We do not live, as fome, in awe, 
 For 'tis our own by common law, 
 
 in Norfolke. 
 
 Befides, we live at heart's content : 
 We take no care to pay our rent, 
 For that is done incontinent, 
 
 in twinkling of an eye ; 
 When here at London, as they fay, 
 
Journey to London. 
 
 i55 
 
 They brawle and brabble every day, 
 And few or none but finds a way 
 
 to Hogdfdon 
 
 'Thomas. 
 
 Mum, Sifly ; keep your clapper ftill ; 
 There's them can hear at Highgate Hill : 
 There's rats has been in Peggie's mill, 
 
 or elfe fhe lies her felfe. 
 What if the world be vilde and bad, 
 Shall I be fuch a foolifh lad 
 To blaze and noyfe it all abroad ? 
 
 I fcorn it, 
 
 Although, indeed, I muft confefle 
 Thou fpeak'ft but truth, my honeft Siffe, 
 Yet ever while you live marke this, 
 
 and take it for a rule, 
 That every chimney muft not fmoake, 
 Nor every begger weare a cloake, 
 Nor every truth muft not be fpoke, 
 
 in fadnefte. 
 
 But hang that cobler and his ends, 
 That lives too well, and never mends : 
 Would they were whipt that nere offends ! 
 
 peace, chuck; I meane not thee. 
 But thou wilt fcold fometime, I know, 
 
 vile 
 
i 5 6 
 
 The Norfolk Farmer's 
 
 The more is Thomas Standtoot's wo ; 
 But, hang it, come let's trip and go 
 
 to Fleetftreet. 
 
 And thus they trudg'd along the ftreet. 
 With many a juftle they did meet, 
 Which put poore Thomas in a fweat, 
 
 and fomething angry too ; 
 Which made him think they told a lye 
 That faid there did fo many dye, 
 When as he could not go hardly 
 
 for people. 
 
 Sijly. 
 At length quoth me, good hufband, flay, 
 And tell me what this place is, pray, 
 Where things are carried as they may ? 
 
 I never faw the like. 
 For yonder's one doth ride in ftate, 
 And here's a begger at a gate, 
 And there's a woman that will prate 
 
 for nothing. 
 
 See, here is one that foundly beats, 
 And thumps his hemp untill he fweats ; 
 And there's another greedy eats : 
 
 I fear hee'l choke himfelfe. 
 And yonder goes a gallant bilk, 
 
Journey to London. 
 
 157 
 
 And there's a woman winding filk, 
 
 
 And here's another fetches milk 
 
 
 at Hackney. 
 
 
 And here's the prettieft fight of all, 
 
 
 A woman that is mighty tall, 
 
 
 And yet her fpoufe a little fquall : 
 
 
 I wonder how they met. 
 
 
 And here's a man in armour ftands, 
 
 
 And has, it feemes, loft both his hands : 
 
 
 'Tis pitty that he has no lands 
 
 
 to keep him. 
 
 
 Now, you muft by this time fuppofe them about the 
 
 
 Ex 'change. 
 
 
 And here's a world of people fine, 
 
 - 
 
 That do in filks and fatins mine : 
 
 
 I would that fuite and cloak were mine. 
 
 
 I hope I wifh no harme. 
 
 
 And here hangs pictures two or three, 
 
 
 The beft that ever I did fee : 
 
 
 I thinke one looks full butt at me, 
 
 
 and laughs too. 
 
 
 And here's a man hath many a rat, 
 
 
 Both in his hand and on his hat : 
 
 
 Me thinks he keeps 'um very fat. 
 
 
 O ftrange ! what tailes they have. 
 
 
i 5 8 
 
 The Norfolk Farmer's 
 
 
 And here's a gentlewoman, too, 
 
 
 That hides her face from me and you : 
 
 
 I wonder what fhe meanes to do 
 
 
 in fummer. 
 
 
 And here's an empty church, I fee : 
 
 
 Great pitty 'tis, moft certainly, 
 
 
 It mould indeed no fuller be, 
 
 
 and all thefe people here. 
 
 
 And there's an old man carries wood, 
 
 
 And here's a young man doth no good ; 
 
 
 And here's a woman wears a hood ; 
 
 
 hey dazie ! 
 
 
 'Thomas. 
 
 
 Come, Sifly, let us go along, 
 
 
 And not fland gaping here among 
 
 
 A fort of people that do throng : 
 
 
 I never faw the like. 
 
 
 But let us to our brother go, 
 
 
 That will us welcome well, I know, 
 
 
 For he himfelfe did tell me fo, 
 
 
 at Norfolk. 
 
 
 Soft ! let us knock, for here's the doore ; 
 
 
 But if becaufe our cloathes are poore, 
 
 
 They mould not let us in therefore, 
 
 
 'two'd make a dog to laugh : 
 
 
 For I have heard my mother fay, 
 
Journey to London 
 
 *59 
 
 That if a man fall to decay, 
 
 There's few or none will bid him ftay, 
 
 y'are welcome. 
 
 But filence ! not a word but mum ; 
 For fee, our brother now doth come. 
 Me thinks he looks as he were dum : 
 
 what makes him not to fpeake ? 
 Good brother, we our loves unfold, 
 For though my Siffe and I are old, 
 Yet we have made a little bold, 
 
 to fee you. 
 
 Brother. 
 And truly I do thank you for't; 
 Ye'r welcome both with all my heart : 
 Wee'l drink a cup before we part, 
 
 an't pleafe you but to ftay. 
 For I have friends within, truly, 
 That if they mould a ftranger fee, 
 They ftrait would very fearfull be 
 
 of danger. 
 
 Thomas. 
 Why, brother, we no fickneffe have, 
 Nor are we ftarted from our grave ; 
 Your love is all that we do crave : 
 what need you then to feare ? 
 We do not come to eat your roaft, 
 
i6o 
 
 The Norfolk Farmer's 
 
 guefti 
 
 Nor yet to put you unto coft. 
 But now, I fee, our labour's loft, 
 
 poore Silly ! 
 
 Brother. 
 Pray, do not think the fault is mine, 
 For if you'l drink a pint of wine, 
 He give it you, and nere repine. 
 
 hang mony ! what care I ? 
 And had I not fo many gheffe, 
 Indeed I ferioufly profefle, 
 Your welcome mould be more, or leffe, 
 
 good brother. 
 
 Thomas. 
 No, thank you, brother ; eene farewell. 
 A blind man now with eafe may fmell 
 That all things are not carried well : 
 
 what love, pray, call you this ? 
 Come now, unto thy fifter we 
 Will go with all celerity : 
 No doubt that fhe fhall kinder be 
 
 unto us. 
 
 They condefcend and were content, 
 And to their fifter ftraight they went ; 
 But all in vain their time was fpent, 
 
 for when they thither came, 
 Their fifter did her maid compell, 
 
Journey to London. 
 
 161 
 
 And bid her thus much to them tell, 
 
 
 Indeed, fhe was not very well 
 
 
 at that time. 
 
 
 From thence they to their couzen go, 
 
 
 Being much delirous for to know 
 
 
 Whether that fhe would ferve 'urn fo, 
 
 
 or ufe 'urn in that kind : 
 
 
 But, being there, this newes was brought, 
 
 
 That fhe a fmock had newly bought, 
 
 
 And fhe was gone to have it wrought 
 
 
 with woofted. 
 
 
 Well now, fays Thomas to his dear, 
 
 
 What fayft thou, Sifly, to this gear ? 
 
 matter 
 
 We have gone far, yet nere the near : 
 
 
 we thank our kindred for't. 
 
 
 But if that brothers be fo kind, 
 
 
 What favour fhall a ftranger find ? 
 
 
 Proteft, it troubles much my mind 
 
 
 to think on't. 
 
 
 : Sijly- 
 
 
 Nay, hufband, let us not do fo : 
 
 
 The beft is we can homewards go, 
 
 
 And yet not trouble friend nor foe : 
 
 
 what need we then to care ? 
 
 
 For now each one, I tell you true, 
 
 
162 
 
 The Norfolk Farmer's Journey. 
 
 Will only afk you, how do you ? 
 
 I am glad to fee you well, Sir Hugh; 
 
 good morrow. 
 
 Thomas. 
 
 Why then, old Sifly, thou and I 
 Will back again to Norfolke hie, 
 And bid a fig for company : 
 our dog is fport enough. 
 But when we come to London next, 
 Our friends mall have a better text. 
 I fwear, and vow I am foundly vext: 
 
 who cares for't ? 
 
 Ed. Ford, 
 
Conftance of Cleveland. 
 
 To the Tune of " Crimfon Velvet.'* 
 
 [This romantic ballad, in a fomewhat plain and unpretending ftyle, 
 relates incidents that may remind the reader of the old ftory of Titus 
 and Giiippus, which was told in Englifh verfe by Edw. Lewicke, as 
 early as 1562 : the ballad is not fo ancient by, perhaps, thirty or forty 
 years ; and the printed copy that has come down to our day is at leaft 
 fifty years more recent than the date when we believe the ballad to have 
 been firft published. The title the broadfide ( " Printed for F. Coles, 
 J. W., T. Vere, W. Gilbertfon,") bears is, " Conftance of Cleveland : 
 A very excellent Sonnet of the moft fair Lady Conftance of Cleve- 
 land, and her dilloyal Knight." We conclude that the incidents are 
 mere invention, but " Conftance of Rome " is the name of a play, by 
 Drayton, Munday and Hathway, mentioned in Henflowe's Diary under 
 the year 1600, (p. 171.) The tune of " Crimfon Velvet" was highly 
 popular in the reigns of Elizabeth and her fucceflbr.] 
 
 [T was a youthfull knight 
 lov'd a gallant lady ; 
 Fair me was and bright, 
 and of vertues rare : 
 Herfelf fhe did behave, 
 
 fo courteoufly as may be. 
 Wedded they were brave ; 
 
 joy without compare. 
 Here began the grief, 
 Pain without relief : 
 
 her hufband foon her love forfook, 
 
164 
 
 Conftance of Cleveland. 
 
 
 To women lewd of mind, 
 
 
 Being bad inclin'd, 
 
 
 he only lent a pleafant look. 
 
 
 The lady fhe fate weeping, 
 
 
 While that he was keeping 
 
 
 company with others moe : 
 
 
 Her words, My love, beleeve not, 
 
 
 Come to me, and grieve not ; 
 
 
 wantons will thee overthrow. 
 
 
 His fair Ladie's words 
 
 
 nothing he regarded ; 
 
 
 Wantonneffe affords 
 
 
 fuch delightfull fport. 
 
 
 While they dance and ring, 
 
 
 with great mirth prepared, 
 
 
 She her hands did wring 
 
 
 in moft grievous fort. 
 
 
 O ! what hap had I 
 
 
 Thus to wail and cry, 
 
 
 unrefpected every day, 
 
 
 Living in difdain, 
 
 
 While that others gain 
 
 
 all the right I mould enjoy ! 
 
 
 I am left forfaken 
 
 
 Others they are taken : 
 
 
 ah my love ! why doft thou fo ? 
 
 
 Her flatteries beleeve not, 
 
Conftance of Cleveland. 
 
 165 
 
 Come to me, and grieve not ; 
 
 wantons will thee overthrow. 
 
 
 The Knight with his fair peece 
 
 
 at length the Lady fpied, 
 
 
 Who did him daily fleece 
 
 
 of his wealth and ftore : 
 
 
 Secretly fhe flood, 
 
 
 while fhe her fafhions tryed, 
 
 
 With a patient mind, 
 
 
 while deep the ftrumpet fwore. 
 
 
 O, Sir Knight ! quoth me, 
 
 
 So dearly I love thee, 
 
 
 my life doth reft at thy difpofe : 
 
 
 By day, and eke by night, 
 
 
 For thy fweet delight, 
 
 
 thou fhalt me in thy arms inclofe. 
 
 
 I am thine for ever ; 
 
 
 Still I will perfever 
 
 
 true to thee, where ere I go. 
 
 
 Her flatteries believe not, 
 
 
 Come to me, and grieve not ; 
 
 ; 
 
 wantons will thee overthrow. 
 
 
 The vertuous Lady mild 
 
 
 enters then among them, 
 
 
 Being big with child 
 
 
 as ever fhe might be : 
 
 
i66 
 
 Conftance of Cleveland 
 
 With diftilling tears 
 
 fhe looked then upon them. 
 Filled full of fears, 
 
 thus replyed fhe : 
 Ah, my love and dear ! 
 Wherefore flay you here 
 
 refilling me, your loving wife, 
 For an harlot's fake, 
 Which each one will take ; 
 
 whofe vile deeds provoke much ftrife ? 
 Many can accufe her : 
 O, my love ! refufe her; 
 
 with thy lady home return. 
 Her flatteries beleeve not, 
 Come to me, and grieve not ; 
 
 wantons will thee overthrow. 
 
 All in a fury then, 
 
 the angry Knight up ftarted, 
 Very furious when 
 
 he heard his Ladie's fpeech. 
 With many bitter terms 
 
 his wife he ever thwarted, 
 Ufing hard extreams, 
 
 while fhe did him befeech. 
 From her neck fo white 
 He took away in fpite 
 
 her curious chain of purefl gold, 
 
Conftance of Cleveland. 
 
 167 
 
 Her jewels and her rings, 
 
 
 And all fuch coftly things 
 
 
 as he about her did behold : 
 
 
 The harlot in her prefence 
 
 
 He did gently reverence, 
 
 
 and to her he gave them all. 
 
 
 He fent away his Lady, 
 
 
 Full of wo as may be, 
 
 
 who in a fwound with grief did fall. 
 
 
 At the Ladie's wrong 
 
 
 the harlot fleer'd and laughed ; 
 
 
 Enticements are fo ftrong, 
 
 
 they overcome the wife. 
 
 
 The Knight nothing regarded 
 
 
 to fee the Lady fcoffed : 
 
 . 
 
 Thus was me rewarded 
 
 
 for her enterprife. 
 
 
 The harlot, all this fpace, 
 
 
 Did him oft embrace ; 
 
 
 fhe flatters him, and thus doth fay : 
 
 
 For thee He dye and live, 
 
 
 For thee my faith He give, 
 
 
 no wo mail work my love's decay. 
 
 
 Thou malt be my treafure, 
 
 
 Thou malt be my pleafure, 
 
 
 thou ihalt be my heart's delight : 
 
 
 I will be thy darling, 
 
 
1 68 Conftance of Cleveland. 
 
 I will be thy worldling, 
 
 in defpight of fortune's fpight. 
 
 Thus he did remain 
 
 in waftfull great expences, 
 Till it bred his pain, 
 
 and confumed him quite. 
 When his lands were fpent, 
 
 troubled in his fences, 
 Then he did repent 
 
 of his late lewd life. 
 For relief he hies, 
 For relief he flyes 
 
 to them on whom he fpent his gold 
 They do him deny, 
 They do him defie ; 
 
 they will not once his face behold. 
 Being thus diftrerTed, 
 Being thus opprerTed, 
 
 in the fields that night he lay ; 
 Which the harlot knowing, 
 Through her malice growing, 
 
 fought to take his life away. 
 
 A young and proper lad 
 they had flain in fecret 
 
 For the gold he had, 
 
 whom they did convey 
 
Conftance of Cleveland. 
 
 169 
 
 wicked 
 
 By a ruffian lewd 
 
 to that place directly, 
 
 
 Where the youthful Knight 
 
 
 faft a fleeping lay. 
 
 
 The bloody dagger than, 
 
 
 Wherewith they kill'd the man, 
 
 
 hard by the Knight he likewife laid, 
 
 
 Sprinkling him with blood, 
 
 
 As he thought it good, 
 
 
 and then no longer there he ftayd. 
 
 
 The Knight, being fo abufed, 
 
 
 Was forthwith accufed 
 
 
 for this murder which was done ; 
 
 
 And he was condemned 
 
 
 That had not offended : 
 
 
 fhamefull death he might not fhun. 
 
 
 When the Lady bright 
 
 
 underftood the matter, 
 
 
 That her wedded Knight 
 
 
 was condemn'd to dye, 
 
 
 To the King fhe went 
 
 
 with all the fpeed that might be, 
 
 
 Where fhe did lament 
 
 
 her hard defliny. 
 
 
 Noble King ! quoth fhe, 
 
 
 Pitty take on me, 
 
 
 and pardon my poor hufbands life ; 
 
 
170 
 
 Conftance of Cleveland 
 
 fatisfied 
 
 Elfe I am undone 
 With my little fon : 
 
 let mercy mitigate this grief. 
 Lady fair, content thee, 
 Soon thou wouldft repent thee, 
 
 if he mould be faved fo : 
 Sore he hath abus'd thee, 
 Sore he hath mifus'd thee ; 
 
 therefore, Lady, let him go. 
 
 my liege ! quoth me, 
 
 grant your gracious favour : 
 Dear he is to me, 
 
 though he did me wrong. 
 The King reply'd again, 
 
 with a ftern behaviour, 
 A fubjecl he hath flain : 
 
 dye he (hall ere long, 
 Except thou canft find 
 Any one fo kind, 
 
 that will dye and fet him free. 
 Noble King ! fhe faid, 
 Glad am I apaid ; 
 
 that fame perfon will I be. 
 
 1 will fuffer duly, 
 I will fuffer truly, 
 
 for my love and hufhands fake. 
 The King thereat amazed, 
 
Conftance of Cleveland 
 
 171 
 
 Though he her beauty praifed, 
 
 he bad from thence they mould her take. 
 
 It was the King's command, 
 
 on the morrow after, 
 She mould out of hand 
 
 to the fcaffold go : 
 Her hufband was 
 
 to bear the fword before her ; 
 He muft eke, alas ! 
 
 give the deadly blow. 
 He refus'd the deed ; 
 She bid him to proceed 
 
 with a thoufand kiffes fweet. 
 In this wofull cafe 
 They did both imbrace, 
 
 which mov'd the ruffians, in that place. 
 Straight for to difcover 
 This concealed murder ; 
 
 whereby the lady faved was. 
 The harlot then was hanged, 
 As fhe well deferved : 
 
 this did vertue bring to paffe. 
 
 Finis. 
 
172 
 
 The Song of the Caps. 
 
 To the Tune of " The Shaking of the Sheets." 
 
 [This fpirited and humorous fong feems to have been founded, in 
 fome of its points, upon the " Pleafant Dialogue or Difputation be- 
 tweene the Cap and the Head," which profe fatire went through two 
 editions, in 1564 and 1565 : (See the Bridgewater Catalogue, p. 46.) 
 It is, however, more modern, and certainly cannot be placed earlier 
 than the end of the reign of Elizabeth. It may be fufpe&ed, that it 
 underwent fome changes, to adapt it to the times, when it was after- 
 wards reprinted ; and we finally meet with it, but in a rather corrupted 
 ftate, in a work publimed in 1656, called " Sportive Wjt : the Mufes 
 Merriment, a new Spring of lufty Drollery," &c. The broadfide we 
 have ufed was one of the many " printed for John Trundle," but it 
 has no date.] 
 
 ■TO? HE wit hath long beholding been 
 Unto the Cap to keep it in : 
 Let now the wit flie out amaine, 
 With praife to quit the Cap againe. 
 The Cap, that owns the higheft part, 
 Obtain'd that place by due defert ; 
 For any Cap, whatere it bee, 
 Is ftill the iigne of fome degree. 
 
 The Cap doth ftand, each man can mow, 
 Above a crown, but kings below : 
 The Cap is neerer heaven than we, 
 A greater fign of majeftie. 
 
The Song of the Caps, 
 
 1 73 
 
 When off the Cap we chance to take, 
 Both head and feet obeyfance make ; 
 For any Cap, whatere it bee, 
 Is ftill the figne of fome degree. 
 
 The Monmouth Cap, the faylors thrum, 
 And that wherein the faylors come ; 
 The phyfick, lawe, the Cap divine, 
 The fame that crowns the Mufes nine : 
 The Cap the fools doe countenance, 
 The goodly Cap of Maintenance, 
 And any Cap, whatere it bee, 
 Is ftill the figne of fome degree. 
 
 The fickly Cap, both plaine & wrought, 
 The fuddling Cap, however bought ; 
 The quilted, furr'd, the velvet, fatin, 
 For which fo many pates learn Latin : 
 The crewell Cap, the fuftian pate, 
 The perriwig, the Cap of late ; 
 And any Cap, whatere it bee, 
 Is ftill the figne of fome degree. 
 
 The fouldiers, that the Monmouth wear, 
 On caftle tops their enfignes rear : 
 The faylors with their thrums doe ftand 
 On higher place than all the land. 
 The tradefman's Cap aloft is born 
 By vantage of (fome fay) a horn. 
 
J 74 
 
 The Song of the Caps. 
 
 Thus any Cap, whatere it bee, 
 Is ftill the figne of fome degree. 
 
 The phyfick Cap to dull may bring 
 Without controull the greateft king : 
 The lawyers Cap hath heavenly might 
 To make a crooked caufe aright, 
 Which, being round and endlefs, knows 
 To make as endlefs any caufe. 
 So any Cap, whatere it bee, 
 Is ftill the figne of fome degree. 
 
 Both eaft and weft, and north and fouth, 
 Where ere the Gofpell finds a mouth, 
 The Cap divine doth thither looke, 
 The fquare, like fchollars and their booke ; 
 The reft are round, but this is fquare, 
 To mew that they more ftable are : 
 For any Cap, whatere it be, 
 Is ftill the figne of fome degree. 
 
 The motley man a Cap doth weare 
 That makes him fellow to a peere ; 
 And 'tis no flender part of wit 
 To act the fool where great men fit, 
 For folly is in fuch requeft 
 That each man ftrives to do his beft. 
 Thus any Cap, whatere it bee, 
 Is ftill the figne of fome degree. 
 
The Song of the Caps. 
 
 J 75 
 
 The fick man's Cap, not wrought with filk, 
 
 
 Is, like repentant, white as milk. 
 
 
 When hats in church drop off in hafte, 
 
 
 This Cap ne'er leaves the head uncafte : 
 
 
 The fick man's Cap, if wrought, can tell 
 
 
 Though he be ill, his ftate is well. 
 
 
 So any Cap, whatere it bee, 
 
 
 Is ftill the figne of fome degree. 
 
 
 The fuddling Cap, by Bacchus might, 
 
 
 Turns night to day, and day to night ; 
 
 
 Yet fpenders it prefers to more, 
 
 
 Seeming to double all their ftore. 
 
 
 The furr'd and quilted Cap of age 
 
 
 Can make a mufry proverb fage ; 
 
 
 And any Cap, whatere it bee, 
 
 
 It is the figne of fome degree. 
 
 
 Though fuftian Caps be flender ware, 
 
 
 The head is of no better gear. 
 
 
 The crewell Cap is knit like hofe 
 
 
 For them whofe zeale takes cold 'i' th' nofe ; 
 
 
 Whofe purity doth judge it meete 
 
 
 To clothe alike both head and feete. 
 
 
 This Cap would faine, but cannot bee, 
 
 
 The onely Cap of no degree. 
 
 
 The Satin and the velvet hive 
 
 
 Unto a bifhoprick doe drive ; 
 
 
176 
 
 The Song of the Caps. 
 
 Nay, when a file of Caps you're feen in, 
 A fquare Cap this, and then a linen, 
 This treble Cap may raife fome hope, 
 If fortune fmile, to be a Pope. 
 
 Thus any Cap, whatere it bee, 
 May raife a man to high degree. 
 
 The perriwig, Oh ! that declares 
 The rife of flefh, though fall of hairs ; 
 And none but graduates can proceede 
 In finne fo far till this they neede. 
 Before the Prince none covered are 
 But thofe that to themfelves go bare : 
 This Cap, of all the Caps that bee, 
 Is now the figne of high degree. 
 
i 7 7 
 
 Sack for my Money. 
 
 The Tune is « Wet and Weary." 
 
 [A capital old drinking fong, probably of the time of James I, though 
 " Printed for W. Gilbertfon in Giltfpur ftreet," fome forty years 
 afterwards. It gives not only the names of the principal wines then in 
 ufe with various clafTes, but the prices at which they were ordinarily 
 fold. The old title is, " Sack for my Money ; or a defcription of the 
 operation of Sack that is fthTd in the Spanifh nation. 
 
 Then buy it, deny it, like it or leave it, 
 
 Not one amongft ten but is willing to have it." 
 
 The printer, no doubt, made a blunder in not giving the words, " a 
 defcription of the operation of Sack that is ftilFd in the Spanifh nation" 
 as verfe, as well as the laft couplet.] 
 
 OOD fellows all, both great and fmall, 
 rejoyce at this my ditty ; 
 Whilft I do fing, good newes I bring 
 to the countrey and the city : 
 Let every lad and lafs be glad 
 
 (for who will true love fmother ?) 
 And being here, my joy and dear, 
 
 we'l kindly kifs each other. 
 The pureft wine, fo brifk and fine, 
 the Alligant and Sherry, 
 I hold it good to purge the blood, 
 and make the fenfes merry. 
 
 A A 
 
178 
 
 Sack for my Money. 
 
 'Tis fparkling Sack that binds the back, 
 
 and cherifhes the heart, boys, 
 For recompence juft eighteen pence 
 
 you muft give for a quart, boys : 
 Away with beer and fuch like geer, 
 
 that makes our fpirits muddy, 
 For wine compleat will do the feat 
 
 that we all notes can ftudy. 
 
 The purefl wine, &c. 
 
 Rich Malligo is pure, I know, 
 
 to purge out melancholly, 
 And he that's lick it cureth quick, 
 
 and makes their fenfes jolly : 
 It rarifies the dulleft eyes 
 
 of thofe that are moft paler, 
 And bravely can compofe a man 
 
 of a very prick-lows taylor. 
 
 The richeft wine, &c. 
 
 The meerefl: fool fhall teach a fchool 
 
 by Clarets operation, 
 And make fome fight, like men of might, 
 
 or champions of a nation : 
 It is more fine then Brandewine, 
 
 the Butterboxes potion, 
 Who drinking dares in Neptunes wars 
 
 reign mafter of the ocean. 
 
Sack for my Money. 
 
 179 
 
 Canary Sack makes firm the back ; 
 
 both Alligant and Sherry 
 Are proved good to clear the blood, 
 
 and make the fenfes merry. 
 
 A longing lafs, whofe cuftard face 
 
 her inward grief difclofes, 
 With drinking wine, fo fweet and fine, 
 
 will gain a pair of rofes : 
 It doth revive dead folks alive, 
 
 and helps their former weaknefs ; 
 It is fo pure that it doth cure 
 
 a maiden of her iicknefs. 
 
 This Rhenifh wine, &c. 
 
 The drawer ftill the fame mail fill 
 
 to elevate the heart, boys ; 
 For Rhenifh gay you now muft pay 
 
 juft twelve pence for a quart, boys. 
 Who would be ty'de to brewers fide, 
 
 whofe meafures do fo vary, 
 When we may fit, to raife our wit, 
 
 with drinking of Canary ? 
 
 The pureft wine, &c. 
 
 The French wine pure, for 7 pence, fure. 
 
 you mail have choice and plenty, 
 At this fame rate to drink in plate, 
 
 which is both good and dainty : 
 
i8o 
 
 Sack for my Money, 
 
 A maunding cove that doth it love, 
 
 'twill make him dance and caper, 
 And Captain Puff will have enuff 
 
 to make him brag and vapor. 
 The pureft wine, fo brifk and fine, 
 
 the Alligant and Sherry, 
 I hold it good to purge the blood, 
 
 and make the fenfes merry. 
 
 And alfo we that do agree 
 
 as one for boon good fellows, 
 We'l ling and laugh, and ftoutly quaff, 
 
 and quite renounce the alehoufe ; 
 For ale and beer are both now dear, 
 
 the price is rais'd in either ; 
 Then let us all, both great and fmall, 
 
 to th' tavern walk together. 
 
 The pureft wine, &c. 
 
 The tradefmen may at any day, 
 
 for their own recreation, 
 Be welcome ftill to Ralph or Will, 
 
 and have accommodation ; 
 For why, their coyn will buy the wine 
 
 and caufe a running barrel, 
 But if you're drunk, your wits are funk, 
 
 and gorrilPd guts will quarrel. 
 
 The pureft wine, &c, 
 
Sack for my Money. 
 
 181 
 
 The cobler faft will ftay the laft, 
 
 
 for he's a lufty drinker ; 
 
 
 He'l pawn his foul to have a bowl 
 
 
 to drink to Tom the tinker : 
 
 
 The broom-man he will be as free, 
 
 
 to drink courageous flames : 
 
 
 If cole grow fcant, before he'l want, 
 
 
 he'l burn his brooms to allies. 
 
 
 The pureft wine, fo brilk and fine, 
 
 
 the Alligant and Sherry, 
 
 
 I hold is beft to give us reft, 
 
 
 or make the fenfes merry. 
 
 
 The fidling crowd that grow fo proud 
 
 
 will pawn their pipes and fiddles, 
 
 
 They'l ftrike and crack with bowls of Sack, 
 
 
 and cut the queereft whiddles : 
 
 
 They'l rant and tear like men of war, 
 
 
 they voyces roar like thunder, 
 
 
 And growing curft their fiddles burft, 
 
 
 and break 'urn all afunder. 
 
 
 The purefl: wine, &c. 
 
 i 
 
 The country blades with their own maids, 
 
 
 at every merry meetings, 
 
 
 For ale and cakes at their town wakes, 
 
 
 which they did give their fweetings, 
 
 
l82 
 
 Sack for my Money. 
 
 
 Upon their friend a crown will fpend 
 in Sack that is fo trufty : 
 
 
 'Twill pleafe a maid that is decay'd, 
 and make a booby lufty. 
 
 Be rul'd by me, and we'l agree 
 to drink both Sack and Sherry, 
 
 
 For that is good to cleanfe the blood, 
 
 
 and make our fenfes merry. 
 
 
 Finis. 
 
 
 m A 
 
 
 /v^S?^- ' 
 
 
 
 \ 
 
 
 Mi \ 
 ill' I 
 
 
 
 aim 
 
 
 
 
 
 
i8 3 
 
 The brave Englifh Gipfey. 
 
 To the Tune of " The Spanifh Gipfey." 
 
 [Attention had been called to Spanifh Gipfies by Middleton's play, 
 (Works by Dyce, iv. 101.) which, though not printed until 1653, had 
 perhaps been performed forty, or even fifty, years before : the fubfe- 
 quent ballad, the earlieft of the kind, was written " to the tune of The 
 Spanifh Gipfey," poffibly exifting anterior to Middleton's work, or 
 founded upon it. The imprint of the broadfide we have ufed is, " Lon- 
 don, printed for John Trundle, at his Shop, neere the Hofpitall Gate in 
 Smithfield," and from a paflage in Ben Jonfon's " Every Man in his 
 Humour," we find that he was a celebrated publifher of ballads as early 
 as 1598 : the Elder Knowell (the character fuppofed to have been fuf- 
 tained by Shakefpeare) fays, " Well, if I read this with patience I'll 
 # # # # tro ji Da ll a( ls for mailer John Trundle, yonder, the reft of my 
 mortality." Trundle was alfo a general publifher of popular works and 
 tracts, and lived in Cripplegate.] 
 
 OME follow, follow all ! 
 
 'Tis Englifh gipfies call. 
 
 All you that love your lives, 
 Here's thofe that profit drives : 
 We fare well when thoufands lacke ; 
 None of us can credits cracke. 
 
 If we to gallants come, 
 The country people run, 
 
i8 4 
 
 The brave Englifh Gipfey. 
 
 
 To fee what we can doe ; 
 
 
 Such paines they undergoe : 
 
 
 Serioufly, a number ftrives 
 
 
 To lead the Englifh Gipfies lives. 
 
 
 We humor none that lives, 
 
 
 Nor hate no man that gives : 
 
 
 Ambition doth not reft 
 
 
 I'th* Englifh Gipfie's breft. 
 
 
 If they give, weele willing lake ; 
 
 
 Nought that's good will we forfake. 
 
 
 We ufe all things are quaint ; 
 
 
 With painters we can paint ; 
 
 
 Our dye is not in vaine, 
 
 
 For we doe dye in graine : 
 
 
 The walnut tree fupplies our lacke ; 
 
 
 What was made faire, we can make black. 
 
 
 We take a formall courfe, 
 
 
 Some fixe upon a horfe : 
 
 
 We fingle fcorne to ride, 
 
 
 Our horfe doth want no guide. 
 
 
 We by turnes will take our eafe, 
 
 
 And live all humors for to pleafe. 
 
 
 We fcorne for to entice 
 
 
 With beauty gallants' eyes ; 
 
The brave Englifli Gipfey. 
 
 We beare no beautious face 
 Our fubtile flightes to grace : 
 We can paint when we command, 
 And looke like Indians that are tand. 
 
 We practife not to dance, 
 Nor learne no tunes from France : 
 Our knockers make no noife, 
 We are no roaring boyes. 
 Englifh Gipfies live all free, 
 And love and live moft jovially. 
 
 Our fare is of the beft ; 
 
 Three times a weeke we feafl, 
 
 Nay, fome times every day, 
 
 And yet for nothing pay, 
 
 For beefe or bacon, geefe or hens ; 
 
 What we eate is other mens. 
 
 Sometimes where great men dwell, 
 
 We doe their fortunes tell : 
 
 Our paines for to requite, 
 
 We diet there all night. 
 
 In this life we fpend our dayes : 
 
 Englifh Gipfie lawes obayes. 
 
 We feare to wrong the law, 
 We live in fervile awe, 
 
 185 
 
 B B 
 
i86 
 
 The brave Englifh Gipfey. 
 
 
 Yet wherefoere wee goe, 
 
 
 We feldome find a foe : 
 
 
 Wherefoere we come, we find, 
 
 
 For one that hates, an hundred kind. 
 
 
 Pleafure we have ftore, 
 
 
 Who can defire more ? 
 
 
 All doth our paines requite ; 
 
 
 Then frolike we all night: 
 
 
 Mongft our felves we dance and fing ; 
 
 
 Night content to us doth bring. 
 
 
 What ere we get all day, 
 
 
 That night doth fly away ; 
 
 
 We hoord not up our ftore, 
 
 
 For next day we have more : 
 
 
 Feaft our felves with gallant cheere, 
 
 
 Spare no coft for wine or beere. 
 
 
 To drinke, be drunke, and tipfie, 
 
 
 Delights the Englifh Gipfie : 
 
 
 We live to love all thofe 
 
 
 Who are no Gipfies foes. 
 
 - 
 
 Some decay'd mongft gallants ftrives 
 
 
 To leade the Englifh Gipfies lives. 
 
 
 We beare this honeft mind 
 
 
 To love all friends are kind : 
 
The brave Englilh Gipfey. 
 
 Our foes we can requite 
 
 With hatred and defpight ; 
 
 For we can plague our mortall foe, 
 
 Yet he the actors never, know. 
 
 Great ftore of coyne we gaine, 
 
 Yet for it take no paine : 
 
 Our diet's feldom fought, 
 
 For it is to us brought : 
 
 Pigs, or geek 9 or brawne, or fowce, 
 
 Or any meat that's in the houfe. 
 
 Trier's many Hand in feare, 
 
 When we approach but neere : 
 
 Sometimes our very fight 
 
 The children doth affright. 
 
 Our names are fpred both far and neere ; 
 
 Our friends we love, but dread no feare. 
 
 187 
 
 We hate all furly flaves, 
 
 Nor love no cunning knaves : 
 
 Our felves can cunning ufe, 
 
 Yet none we will abufe. 
 
 He that freely gives fhall find 
 
 The Englifh Gipfies alwaies kind, 
 
 Who ere hath bin in Spaine, 
 And feene there Gipfie's vaine, 
 
i88 
 
 The brave Englifh Gipfey 
 
 Shall foone the difference find, 
 Elfe judgement makes him blind. 
 So, Spanifh Gipfies, all adoe ! 
 For Englifh equall are to you. 
 
 Finis. 
 
i8 9 
 
 The Subftance of all the 
 
 late entended Treafons. 
 
 [We here introduce another new name to the ftudent of our early- 
 ballad poetry — Thomas Nelfon ; but what he wrote beyond this produc- 
 tion is not known. We have already mentioned (p. 127), a perform- 
 ance of the fame kind by Thomas Deloney on the fame event, the 
 execution of Ballard, Babbington, &c. The following contains fome 
 new hiftorical points, and in the outfet prefents a fingular picture of Lon- 
 don rejoicing at the difcovery and capture of the traitors. The burden 
 to be fung at the end of every verfe, though no tune is mentioned, is 
 given immediately after the title : it was " Imprinted at London by 
 George Robinfon for Edward White, and are to be folde at his fhop at 
 the figne of the Gun."] 
 
 LORD, preferve our noble Queene, her 
 
 Counfaile long maintaine : 
 Confound her foes, and graunt her grace in 
 
 health to rule and raigne. 
 
 When fir ft the gracious God of heaven by meanes did 
 
 bring to light 
 The treafons lately practifed by many a wicked wight, 
 Againft their Prince whofe life thei fought, and many 
 
 a noble Peere, 
 The fubftaunce of whofe treafons ftraunge, you fhall 
 
 moft truely heare ; 
 
igo 
 
 The Subftance of all the 
 
 Their treafons once difcovered, then were the Tray- 
 tors fought. 
 
 Some of them fled into a wood, where after they were 
 caught, 
 
 And, being brought unto the Tower, for joye the belles 
 did ring, 
 
 And throughout London bonfires made, where people 
 pfalmes did fing. 
 
 And fet their tables in the ftreates with meates of every 
 
 kinde ; 
 There was preparde all fignes of joye that could be had 
 
 in minde, 
 And praifde the Lord moft hartely, that with his 
 
 mightie hand, 
 He had preferved our gracious Queene, and people of 
 
 this land. 
 
 Which thing was taken in good parte by our renowmed 
 
 Queene, 
 Who by her letters gave them thankes, as plainly may 
 
 be feene ; 
 Alluring them that all her care was for their fafetie ftill, 
 And that thereby (he would deferve their love and 
 
 great good will. 
 
 The Traytors well examined (whom God himfelf 
 bewrayed) 
 
late entended Treafons. 
 
 Their treafons knowne, then were they ftraight to 
 
 Weftminfter convayed, 
 Whereas they all indited were of many a vilde pretence, 
 Seaven pleaded guiltie at the barre before they went 
 
 from thence. 
 
 The maner how they did begin herein will plaine 
 
 appeare ; 
 Their purpofes in each refpect you lhall moft truely 
 
 heare : 
 Herein unto you will be feene, if they had not bene 
 
 foylde, 
 Our Queene, our realme, yea, rich and poore together 
 
 had bene fpoylde. 
 
 One Savidge lurking long in Fraunce, at Rheames did 
 
 there remaine, 
 Whom Doctor Gifford did perfwade great honor he 
 
 mould gaine, 
 If that he would goe take in hand (thefe matters very 
 
 ftraunge) 
 Firft to deprive our gracious Queene, religion for to 
 
 chaunge ; 
 
 And then for to envade the realme by trowpes of 
 
 forraine power, 
 To overthrowe the government, and kill her in her 
 
 bower ; 
 
 i 9 i 
 
 intention 
 
i9 2 The Subftance of all the 
 
 Oriforceably to difpoffeffe the Queene of Englands grace, 
 And to proclaime the Scottifh Queene, and fet her in 
 her place. 
 
 Which matter Savidge promifed his full performance 
 
 to, 
 So that he might fee warrant with fafe confcience fo 
 
 to do : 
 The Doctor vowed by his fowle, and bad him under- 
 
 ftand, 
 It was an honorable thing to take the fame in hand. 
 
 When Savidge heard that merits were to him thereby 
 
 fo rife, 
 He vowed for to doe the fame, or els to lofe his life, 
 And fhortly into England hyed, and did imparte the 
 
 fame 
 To Babington of Darby mire, a man fure voyde of fhame: 
 
 And tolde him how that he had vowed to doe it, or to dye, 
 Defiring him of helpe and ayde, and that immediatly. 
 A Jefuit prieft, whom' Ballard hight, came over to 
 
 that end, 
 He came alfo to Babington, and daylie did attend, 
 
 Still to perfwade him that he would attempt and take 
 
 in hand, 
 This vilde and wicked enterprife and ftoutly to it ftand ; 
 
late entended Treafons. 
 
 193 
 
 And tolde him that he fhould have ayde of fixtie 
 
 thoufand men, [when. 
 
 That fecretly fhould landed be, and tolde him how and 
 
 And in refpeft of all his paines he truely might depende, 
 That it was lawfull foto doe, renowne fhould be the ende; 
 But let all Traytors now perceive what honor he hath 
 
 wonne, 
 Whofe trayterous head and wicked heart hath many 
 
 one undonne. 
 
 This proude and haughtie Babington, in hope to gaine 
 renowne, [towne, 
 
 Did ftirre up many wilfull men in many a fhire and 
 To ayde him in this devilifh ad:, and for to take in hand 
 The fpoyle of our renowmed Prince, and people of 
 this land. 
 
 Who did conclude with bloudie blade a flaughter to 
 commit, [fit: 
 
 Upon her Counfell as they fhould within Star Chamber 
 
 Which is a place whereas the Lords, and thofe of that 
 degree, 
 
 Yeelde juftice unto every man that crave it on their knee. 
 
 Yea, famous London they did meane for to have fackt 
 
 befide, 
 Both Maior and Magiflrates therein have murdered at 
 . that tide. 
 
 c c 
 
i 9 4 
 
 The Subftance of all the 
 
 Each rich mans goods had bene their owne, no favour 
 
 then had fervde, 
 Nought but our wealth was their defire, though we 
 
 and ours had ftarvde. 
 
 Befides thefe wicked practifes they had concluded more, 
 The burning of the navie, and the cheefeft fhippes in 
 
 ftore : 
 With fier and fworde they vowed to kill and to difplace 
 Each Lord, Knight, and Magiftrate, true fubjedts to 
 
 her Grace. 
 
 fpiked They had determinde to have cloyde, and poyfoned 
 
 out of hand, 
 The cheefe and greater!: Ordinaunce that is within 
 
 this land, 
 And did entend by violence on rich men for to fall, 
 To have their money and their plate, and to have fpoyld 
 
 them all. 
 
 The Common wealth of England foone mould thereby 
 
 have bene fpoylde, 
 Our goodes for which our Parents and our felves long 
 
 tyme had toylde, 
 Had all bene taken from us, befides what had enfued, 
 The fubftance proveth plainly, to foone we had all had 
 
 re wed. 
 
 Thofe were the treafons they confpirde, our good 
 Queene to difplace, 
 
late entended Treafons. 
 
 *95 
 
 To fpoyle the ftates of all this land, fuch was their 
 
 
 want of grace. 
 
 
 But God that doth protecft her ftill, offended at the fame, 
 
 
 Even in their young and tender yeres did cut them of 
 
 
 with fhame. 
 
 
 Thefe Traytors executed were on ftage full ftrongly 
 
 
 wrought, 
 
 
 Even on the place where wickedly they had their 
 
 
 treafons fought : 
 
 
 There they were hangde and quartered, there they 
 
 
 acknowledgd why, [to dye. 
 
 
 Who, like as Traytors they hadlivde, evenfo they feemde 
 
 
 O wicked impes, O Traytors vilde, that could thefe 
 
 
 deedes devife! 
 
 
 Why did the feare of God and Prince departe fo from 
 
 
 your eyes ? 
 
 
 No rebelles power can her difplace, God will defend 
 
 
 her ftill ; 
 
 
 True fubjefts all will lofe their lives ere Traytors have 
 
 
 their will. 
 
 
 How many mifchiefes are devifde, how many waies 
 
 ; 
 
 are wrought, 
 
 
 How many vilde confpiracies againfther Grace is fought: 
 
 
 Yet God that doth protedl her ftill her Grace doth 
 
 
 well preferve, [ferve. 
 
 
 And workes a fhame unto her foes, as they doe beft de- 
 
 
O heavenly God! preferve ourQueene in plentie, health, 
 
 and peace ; 
 Confound her foes, maintaine her right, her joyes, O 
 
 Lord ! encreafe : 
 Lord, bleife her Counfaile evermore and nobles of this 
 
 land; 
 Preferve her fubiecls and this realme with thy moft 
 
 mightie hand. 
 
 Thomas Nelson. 
 
i 9 7 
 
 The Bulls Feather. 
 
 To a very pleafant New Tune^ or The Bull's Feather. 
 
 [This is a comparatively modern reprint of a much older comic bal- 
 lad : the only copy known was " Printed for F. Coles, J. Wright, and 
 J. Clarke ;" but it probably firft came out long before their time. The 
 title at length is this : " The Bull's Feather ; being the Good- fellows 
 Song, ufually fung at their Merry-meeting in Bulls Feather Hall, who 
 fent this fong to their Brethren (of what degree or quality) in praife of 
 the Bulls Feather, 
 
 And to all Cuckolds, who think it no fcorn, 
 
 To wear the Bulls Feather, though made of a horn."] 
 
 'T chanced, not long ago, 
 as I was walking, 
 An eccho did bring me where 
 two were a talking : 
 Twas a man faid to his wife, 
 
 dye had I rather, 
 Than to be cornuted, and 
 wear the Bulls Feather. 
 
 Then prefently fhe reply'd ; 
 
 fweet, art thou jealous ? 
 Thou can'it not play Vulcan, 
 
 before I play Venus : 
 
198 
 
 The Bulls Feather. 
 
 
 Thy fancies are foolifh, fuch 
 
 
 follies to gather, 
 For there's many an honeft man 
 
 
 t wears the Bulls Feather. 
 
 
 Though it be invifible, 
 let no man it fcorn, 
 
 
 Being it is a new feather 
 
 
 made of an old horn : 
 
 
 He that difdains it in 
 
 
 mind, or in heart either, 
 
 
 May be the more fubjecT: 
 
 to wear the Bulls Feather. 
 
 
 He that lives difcontented, 
 
 
 or in difpair, 
 And feareth falfe meafure, 
 
 
 becaufe his wife's fair, 
 
 
 His thoughts are inconftant, 
 much like winter weather : 
 
 
 Though one or two want it, 
 
 
 he fhall have a Feather. 
 
 
 Bulls Feathers are common 
 
 
 as ergo i'th' fchools, 
 And only contemned by 
 thofe that are fools : 
 
 
 Why mould a Bulls Feather 
 
 
 caufe any unreft, 
 
The Bulls Feather. 
 
 199 
 
 Since neighbours fare always 
 is counted the beft ? 
 
 Thofe women who are faireft 
 
 are likeft to give it, 
 And hufbands that have them 
 
 are apt to believe it. 
 Some men, though their wives 
 
 they feem for to tether, 
 They would play the kind neighbors, 
 
 and give the Bulls Feather, 
 
 Why mould we repine 
 
 that our wives are fo kind, 
 Since we that are hufbands, 
 
 are of the fame mind ? 
 Shall we give them feathers, 
 
 and think to go free ? 
 Believe it, believe it, 
 
 that hardly will be. 
 
 For he that difdains my 
 
 Bulls Feather to day, 
 May light of a lafs that 
 
 will play him foul play. 
 There's ne'r a proud gallant, 
 
 that tread's on cows leather, 
 But may be cornuted, and 
 
 wear the Bulls Feather. 
 
200 
 
 The Bulls Feather. 
 
 
 The morteft, the talleft, 
 
 
 the fouleft, the faireft, 
 
 
 The fatteft, the leaneft, 
 
 
 the commoneft, the rarefl, 
 
 
 When they and their Dicks 
 
 
 are all merry together, 
 
 
 Will be ufing tricks 
 
 
 to advance the Bulls Feather. 
 
 
 A King and a cobler, 
 
 
 a lord and a loon, 
 
 
 A prince and a pedler, 
 
 
 a courtier and a clown, 
 
 
 Put all their degrees and 
 
 
 conditions together, 
 
 
 Are liable always to 
 
 
 wear the Bulls Feather. 
 
 
 Though beer of that brewing 
 
 
 I never did drink, 
 
 
 Yet be not difpleafed, if I 
 
 
 fpeak what I think : 
 
 
 Scarce ten in an hundred, 
 
 
 believe it, believe it, 
 
 
 But either they will have it, 
 
 
 or elfe they will give it. 
 
 
 Then, let me advife 
 
 
 all thofe that do pine 
 
The Bulls Feather. 
 
 20I 
 
 For fear that falfe jealoufie 
 
 
 fhorten their line, 
 
 
 That difeafe will torment them 
 
 
 worfe than any feavor ; 
 
 ■ 
 
 Then let all be contented, and 
 
 
 wear the Bulls Feather. 
 
 
 Finis. 
 
 • 
 
 ilk 
 
 
 msL 
 
 
 l|fr 
 
 
 cjyiik 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 D D 
 
202 
 
 The Weft Country Damofels 
 Complaint. 
 
 To the Tune of " Johnny Armftrong." 
 
 [From its form and character this ballad may be confidered one of 
 the earlieft in the volume, and it was written to a very old tune. The 
 long title and the lines forming part of it were probably meant for 
 attractive additions when the broadfide was "-Printed by P. Brookfby, 
 at the Golden Bull in Weftfmith-field, neer the Hofpitall Gate:" it 
 runs as follows : — " The Weft-Country Damofel's Complaint, or 
 The Faithful Lover's laft Farewel : Being the relation of a young 
 Maid, who pined herfelf to death for the love of a Young-man, who, 
 after he had notice of it, dyed likewife for grief. 
 
 Carelefs Young-men, by this warning take, 
 How you kind Virgins (when they love) forfake ; 
 Leaft the fame fate o're-take you, and you dye 
 For breach of vows, and infidelity. 
 Be kind, but fweare no more than what you mean, 
 Leaft comick jefts become a tragick fcean."] 
 
 HEN will you marry me, William, 
 and make me your wedded wife ? 
 Or take you your keen bright fword, 
 and rid me out of my life. 
 
 Will. 
 
 Say no more fo then, lady, 
 
 fay you no more then fo, 
 For you fhall unto the wild forreft, 
 
 and amongft the buck and doe. 
 
The Damofel's Complaint. 
 
 203 
 
 Where thou fhalt eat of the hips and haws, 
 and the roots that are fo fweet, 
 
 And thou fhalt drink of the cold water 
 that runs underneath your feet. 
 
 
 Now had fhe not been in the wild forreft, 
 paffing three months and a day, 
 
 But with hunger and cold fhe had her fill, 
 till fhe was quite worn away. 
 
 At laft fhe faw a fair tyl'd houfe, 
 and there fhe fwore by the rood, 
 
 That fhe would to that fair tyl'd houfe, 
 there for to get her fome food, 
 
 
 But when fhe came unto the gates, 
 
 aloud, aloud fhe cry'd, 
 An alms, an alms, my own fifler ! 
 
 I afk you for no pride. 
 
 
 Her fifler calPd up her merry men all, 
 by one, by two and by three, 
 
 And bid them hunt away that wild doe, 
 as far as e're they could fee. 
 
 
 They hunted her o're hill and dale, 
 
 and they hunted her fo fore, 
 That they hunted her into the forreft, 
 
 where her forrows grew more and more. 
 
 
204 
 
 The Weft-Country 
 
 
 She laid a flone all at her head, 
 
 
 and another all at her feet, 
 
 
 And down fhe lay between thefe two, 
 
 
 till death had lull'd her afleep. 
 
 
 When fweet Will came and flood at her head, 
 
 
 and likewife flood at her feet, 
 
 
 A thoufand times he kifs'd her cold lips, 
 
 
 her body being fail afleep. 
 
 
 Yea, feaven times he flood at her feet, 
 
 
 and feaven times at her head ; 
 
 
 A thoufand times he fhook her hand, 
 
 
 although her body was dead. 
 
 
 Ah, wretched me ! he loudly cry'd, 
 
 
 what is it that I have done ? 
 
 
 O, wou'd to the powers above I'de dy'd, 
 
 
 when thus I left her alone ! 
 
 
 Come, come you gentle red-breaft now, 
 
 
 and prepare for us a tomb, 
 
 
 Whilft unto cruel Death I bow, 
 
 
 and fing like a fwan my doom. 
 
 
 Why could I ever cruel be 
 
 
 unto fo fair a creature ; 
 
 
 Alas ! fhe dy'd for love of me, 
 
 
 the lovelieft fhe in nature ! 
 
 
 For me fhe left her home fo fair 
 
 
 to wander in this wild grove, 
 
DamofePs Complaint. 
 
 205 
 
 And there with fighs and penfive care, 
 me ended her life for love. 
 
 O conftancy ! in her thou'rt loft ; 
 
 now let women boaft no more, 
 She's fled unto the Elizian coaft, 
 
 and with her carry 'd the ftore. 
 
 O, break, my heart with forrow fill'd, 
 come, fwell you ftrong tides of grief ! 
 
 You that my dear love have kilPd, 
 come, yield in death to me relief. 
 
 Cruel her fifter, was't for me 
 that to her me was unkind ? 
 
 Her hufband I will never be, 
 
 but with this my love be joyn'd. 
 
 Grim Death mail tye the marriage bands, 
 which jealoufie fhan't divide ; 
 
 Together mall tye our cold hands, 
 whilft here we lye fide by fide. 
 
 Witnefs, ye groves, and chryftal ftreams, 
 how faithlefs I late have been ; 
 
 But do repent with dying leaves 
 of that my ungrateful fin ; 
 
 And wifh a thoufand times that I 
 had been but to her more kind, 
 
 And not have let a virgin dye, 
 
 whofe equal there's none can find. 
 
206 
 
 The DamofePs Complaint, 
 
 Now heaps of forrow prefs my foul ; 
 
 now, now 'tis fhe takes her way. 
 I come, my love, without controule, 
 
 nor from thee will longer ftay. 
 
 With that he fetch'd a heavy groan, 
 which rent his tender breaft, 
 
 And then by her he laid him down, 
 when as Death did give him reft. 
 
 Whilft mournful birds, with leavy bows, 
 to them a kind burial gave, 
 
 And warbled out their love-fick vows, 
 whilft they both flept in their grave. 
 
The 
 
 Common Cries of London. 
 
 To the Tune of « Watton Towns End." 
 
 [It is impoflible to affign a precife date to the following ballad, re- 
 lating to the popular purfuits and cuftoms of London in the early part 
 of the feventeenth century. The firft ftanza of the fecond part fhews, 
 that the Curtain, Globe, Swan, and Red-Bull theatres were then open, 
 but the dates when any of them were permanently clofed cannot be 
 ftated with certainty : John Shancke, who is mentioned by name, was 
 a popular actor from 1603 to 1635, when he died. (See the life 
 of Shancke, in the " Memoirs of Shakefpeare's Actors," printed by 
 the Shakefpeare Society, p. 276.) The allufion to carrying perfons to 
 the play-houfes by water is alfo a curious note of time. There were 
 feveral old actors of the name of Turner ; and W. Turner may have 
 been upon the ftage, and may have compofed and fung this production 
 as " a jig" for the amufement of audiences. It was " Printed for 
 F. C, T. V. and W. G." in 1662, but that was unquestionably not 
 the firft impreffion of it, although we know of no other : the full title 
 runs thus : — 
 
 " The Common Cries of London Town : 
 
 Some go up ftreet, fome go down. 
 
 With Turner's Dim of Stuff, or a Gallymaufery." 
 
 The tune is the fame as " Peg a' Ramfey,"mentioned by Shakefpeare 
 in Twelfth Night, and is at leaft as old as 1589.] 
 
 Y matters all, attend you, 
 
 if mirth you love to heare, 
 And I will tell you what they cry 
 in London all the yeare. 
 
 207 
 
o8 
 
 The Common Cries of London 
 
 He pleafe you if I can, 
 
 I will not be too long : 
 I pray you all attend awhile, 
 
 and liften to my fong. 
 
 The fifh-wife firft begins, 
 
 Anye mufcles lilly white ! 
 Herrings, fprats or place, 
 
 or cockles for delight. 
 Anye welflet oyfters ! 
 
 Then fhe doth change her note : 
 She had need to have her tongue be greas'd, 
 
 for fhe rattles in the throat. 
 
 For why, the are but Kentifh, 
 
 to tell you out of doubt : 
 Her meafure is too little ; 
 
 goe, beat the bottom out. 
 Half a peck for two pence ? 
 
 I doubt it is a bodge. 
 Thus all the City over 
 
 the people they do dodge. 
 
 The wench that cries the kitchin fluff, 
 
 I marvel what fhe ayle, 
 She fings her note fo merry, 
 
 but fhe hath a draggle tayle : 
 An empty car came running, 
 
 and hit her on the bum ; 
 
The Common Cries of London. 
 
 209 
 
 Down fhe threw her greafie tub, 
 
 
 and away ftraight fhe did run. 
 
 
 But fhe did give her bleffing 
 
 
 to fome, but not to all, 
 
 
 To bear a load to Tyburne, 
 
 
 and there to let it fall : 
 
 ♦ 
 
 The miller and his golden thumb, 
 
 
 and his dirty neck, 
 
 
 If he grind but two bufhels, 
 
 
 he muft needs fteal a peck. 
 
 
 The weaver and the taylor, 
 
 
 cozens they be fure, 
 
 
 They cannot work but they muft fteal, 
 
 
 to keep their hands in ure ; 
 
 • 
 
 For it is a common proverb 
 
 . 
 
 thorowout the town, 
 
 ■ 
 
 The taylor he muft cut three fleeves 
 
 
 to every womans gown. 
 
 
 Mark but the waterman 
 
 
 attending for his fare, 
 
 
 Of hot and cold, of wet and dry, 
 
 
 he alwaies takes his fhare : 
 
 
 He carrieth bonny lafles 
 
 
 over to the playes, 
 
 
 And here and there he gets a bit, 
 
 
 and that his ftomach ftaies. 
 
 
 E E 
 
2IO 
 
 The Common Cries of London 
 
 There was a ringing boy 
 
 who did ride to Rumford ; 
 When I go to my own fchool 
 
 I will take him in a comfort ; 
 But what I leave behind 
 
 fhall be no private gain ; 
 But all is one when I am gone : 
 
 let him take it for his pain. 
 
 Old fhoes for new brooms ! 
 
 the broom-man he doth ling, 
 For hats or caps or bufkins, 
 
 or any old pouch ring. 
 Buy a mat, a bed-mat ! 
 
 a haffock or a prefTe, 
 A cover for a clofe ftool, 
 
 a bigger or a leffe. 
 
 Ripe, cherry ripe ! 
 
 the cofter-monger cries ; 
 Pippins fine or pears ! 
 
 another after hies, 
 With bafket on his head 
 
 his living to advance, 
 And in his purfe a pair of dice 
 
 for to play at mumchance. 
 
 Hot pippin pies ! 
 
 to fell unto my friends, 
 
The Common Cries of London. 
 
 211 
 
 Or pudding pies in pans, 
 
 
 well ft lift with candles ends. 
 
 
 Will you buy any milk ? 
 
 
 I heard a wench that cries : 
 
 
 With a pale of frefh cheefe and cream, 
 
 
 another after hies. 
 
 
 Oh ! the wench went neatly ; 
 
 
 me thought it did me good, 
 
 
 to fee her cherry cheeks 
 
 
 fo dimpled ore with blood : 
 
 
 Her waiftcoat warned white 
 
 
 as any lilly floure ; 
 
 
 Would I had time to talk with her 
 
 
 the fpace of half an hour. 
 
 
 Buy black ! faith the blacking man, 
 
 
 the bell: that ere was feen ; 
 
 
 Tis good for poore citizens 
 
 
 to make their mooes to mine. 
 
 
 Oh ! tis a rare commodity, 
 
 
 it muft not be forgot ; 
 
 
 It wil make them to glifter gallantly, 
 
 
 and quickly make them rot. 
 
 
 The world is full of thread-bare poets 
 
 
 that live upon their pen, 
 
 
 But they will write too eloquent, 
 
 
 they are fuch witty men. 
 
 
2 12 
 
 The Common Cries of London. 
 
 
 But the tinker with his budget, 
 
 
 the beggar with his wallet, 
 
 
 And Turners turnd a gallant man 
 
 
 at making of a ballet. 
 
 
 THE SECOND PART. 
 
 
 To the fame Tune. 
 
 
 'THHAT'S the fat foole of the Curtin, 
 -■- and the lean fool of the Bull : 
 
 
 
 Since Shancke did leave to ring his rimes, 
 
 
 he is counted but a gull. 
 
 
 The players on the Banckefide, 
 
 
 the round Globe and the Swan, 
 
 
 Will teach you idle tricks of love, 
 
 
 but the Bull will play the man. 
 
 
 But what do I ftand tattling 
 
 
 of fuch idle toyes ? 
 
 
 I had better go to Smith-Field 
 
 
 to play among the boyes : 
 
 
 But you cheating and deceiving lads, 
 
 
 with your bafe artillery, 
 
 
 I would wifh you to fhun Newgate, 
 
 
 and withall the pillory. 
 
 
 And fome there be in patcht gownes, 
 
 
 I know not what they be, 
 
The Common Cries of London 
 
 213 
 
 That pinch the country-man 
 
 with nimming of a fee ; 
 For where they get a booty, 
 
 they'le make him pay fo dear, 
 They'le entertain more in a day, 
 
 then he mail in a year. 
 
 Which makes them trim up houfes 
 
 made of brick and ftone, 
 And poor men go a begging, 
 
 when houfe and land is gone. 
 Some there be with both hands 
 
 will fwear they will not dally, . 
 Till they have turn'd all upfide down, 
 
 as many ufe to fally. 
 
 You pedlers, give good meafure, 
 
 when as your wares you fell : 
 Tho' your yard be fhort, your thum will flip ; 
 
 Your tricks I know full well. 
 And you that fell your wares by weight, 
 
 and live upon the trade, 
 Some beams be falfe, fome waits too light ; 
 
 Such tricks there have been plaid. 
 
 But fmall coals, or great coals ! 
 
 I have them on my back : 
 The goofe lies in the bottom ; 
 
 you may hear the duck cry quack. 
 
214 
 
 The Common Cries of London. 
 
 
 Thus Grim, the black collier, 
 
 
 whofe living is fo loofe, 
 
 
 As he doth walk the commons ore, 
 
 
 fometimes he fteals a goofe. 
 
 
 Thou ufurer with thy money bags 
 that liveft fo at eafe, 
 
 
 By gaping after gold thou doft 
 thy mighty God difpleafe ; 
 
 And for thy greedy ufury, . 
 and thy great extortion, 
 
 Except thou doft repent thy fins, 
 hell fire will be thy portion. 
 
 
 For firft I came to Houns-Ditch, 
 
 
 then round about I creep, 
 Where cruelty was crowned chief 
 
 and pity faft afleep : 
 Where ufury gets profit, 
 
 and brokers bear the bell. 
 
 
 Oh, fie upon this deadly fin ! 
 it finks the foul to hell. 
 
 
 The man that fweeps the chimnyes 
 with the bufh of thorns, 
 
 
 And on his neck a trufle of poles 
 
 
 tipped all with horns, 
 With care he is not cumbred, 
 
 
 he liveth not in dread ; 
 
The Common Cries of London. 
 
 215 
 
 For though he wear them on his pole, 
 
 
 fome wear them on their head. 
 
 
 The landlord with his racking rents 
 
 
 turns poor men out of dore ; 
 
 
 Their children go a begging 
 
 
 where they have fpent their ftore. 
 
 
 I hope none is offended 
 
 
 with that which is endited : 
 
 
 If any be, let him go home 
 
 
 and take a pen and write it. 
 
 
 Buy a trap, a moufe trap, 
 
 
 a torment for the fleas ! 
 
 
 The hangman works but half the day ; 
 
 
 he lives too much at eafe. 
 
 
 Come let us leave this boyes play 
 
 
 and idle prittle prat, 
 
 
 And let us go to nine holes, 
 
 
 to fp urn-point, or to cat. 
 
 
 Oh ! you nimble fingered lads 
 
 
 that live upon your wits, 
 
 
 Take heed of Tyburn ague, 
 
 
 for they be dangerous fits ; 
 
 
 For many a proper man, 
 
 
 for to fupply his lack, 
 
 
 Doth leap a leap at Tyburn, 
 
 
 which makes his neck to crack. 
 
 
2l6 
 
 The Common Cries of London. 
 
 
 And to him that writ this fong 
 
 
 I give this fimple lot : 
 
 
 Let every one be ready 
 
 
 to give him half a pot. 
 
 
 And thus I do conclude, 
 
 
 wiihing both health and peace 
 
 
 To thofe that are laid in their bed, 
 
 
 and cannot fleep for fleas. 
 
 
 W. Turner. 
 
 
 
 fc^KflfrjS^ 5 ^ Mci*^ $wssa s^b 
 
 
 
 
 Aim ^^^^^^k 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ^"" *- r *"."Z. 1 ST 
 
 
217 
 
 The Two Valentines. 
 
 The Tune iV, " Did you fee Nan to Day." 
 
 [An early fong upon the much earlier cuftom of chufing Valentines. 
 In Deloney's "Garland of Goodwill," which came out anterior to 1596, 
 there is a ballad to the tune of " My Valentine," but not at all like the 
 prefent. Our broadfide was not printed until the middle of the feven- 
 teenth century "for F. Coles, T. Vere and W. Gilbertfon;" and the full 
 title is, " A pleafant new Song of two Valentines and their Lovers."] 
 
 OOD morrow, Valentine 
 
 God blefle you ever ! 
 Kind in your promifes, 
 Faithfull as ever. 
 Be thou ftill true to me, 
 The kindeft heart He be 
 That ever you did fee. 
 
 Rifle me, and good morrow. 
 
 I like my choyfe fo well, 
 Love doth compell me, 
 
 And force my tongue to tell, 
 The truth is I love thee : 
 
 Kindly I do requeft, 
 
 That in your heart and breft 
 
 My love may ever reft. 
 
 Kifle me, and good morrow. 
 
 F F 
 
2l8 
 
 The Two Valentines 
 
 There was never kind fweet heart, 
 
 That lufted for pleafure, 
 Could find fuch a Valentine, 
 
 Paffing all treafure. 
 I have obtain'd the thing, 
 Which to my heart doth bring 
 Great joy, which makes me ring, 
 Kiffe me, and good morrow. 
 
 When others fleep in bed, 
 
 I lye frill muring, 
 To think on my good hap 
 
 I had in chufing; 
 To find fuch a Valentine 
 Bearing a faithfull mind, 
 Courteous in love, and kind. 
 
 Kiffe me, and good morrow. 
 
 There is an old proverb, 
 
 That birds of a feather 
 Upon St. Valentines day 
 Will meet together : 
 So, when true lovers meet, 
 With many a kiffe full fweet, 
 That day each other greet, 
 
 With kiffe and good morrow. 
 
 All you that have Valentines, 
 If they be faithful, 
 
The Two Valentines. 
 
 219 
 
 You have a great blefling ; 
 
 Therefore be thankfull, 
 And kind to them again, 
 For elfe, I tel you plain, 
 Much love is fpent in vain. 
 
 Kiffe, and good morrow. 
 
 If my Valentine for my fake 
 Would be a neat-heard, 
 Well could I find in heart 
 
 To be a fhepheard ; 
 To keep fheep on a hill, 
 So I might have my will, 
 To talk with her my fill, 
 While my flock fcatters. 
 
 Shall I live to deny 
 
 My Valentine for ever ? 
 Refrain her company ? 
 
 That I will never. 
 For if I her refrain, 
 I muft not come again : 
 Not for all worldly gain, 
 
 For love lafts ever. 
 
 Adieu to my true love, 
 Whom I loved ever : 
 
 When I am out of fight, 
 
 Let not your mind waver. 
 
220 
 
 The Two Valentines, 
 
 Though Valentine's day be gone, 
 And we not both as one, 
 My love to thee alone 
 Shall be for ever. 
 
 Good night to my Valentine. 
 
 Now I have ended, 
 To flay any longer, 
 
 I cannot intend it. 
 I wifh all young men kind, 
 That bear a faithful mind, 
 To give their Valentine 
 
 A kiffe, and good morrow. 
 
221 
 
 The Great Boobee. 
 
 To a pleafant new Tune, or " Sellengers Round." 
 
 [A remarkable and very droll ballad, relating to old manners and 
 amufements : by various allufions in it we may affign it to the reign of 
 James I. In a previous production (p. 157) we have had the " pic- 
 tures" at the Royal Exchange mentioned, and we are to take "pic- 
 tures," here as well as there, in the fenfe of ftatues : the words were 
 fometimes fynonymous : thus, in " The Hiftory of Euordanus," 1605, 
 we read of a tent " on the top of which flood Cupid, &c. aiming directly 
 at a fair picture of marble." Statues were often formerly painted, and 
 this perhaps led to the error, which explains naturally the delufion 
 of Leontes in u The Winter's Tale." There were few tunes more 
 ancient than Sellengers Round : Sir John Hawkins tells us, that it is 
 " the oldeft country dance known," but this does not feem to be quite 
 correct : (See ChappelPs Nat. Engl. Airs II. 76.) It was exceflively 
 popular, from the middle of the reign of Elizabeth to the days of Dur- 
 fey. The enfuing ballad was " Printed for F. Coles in Wine ftreet, 
 on Saffron-hill, near Hatton Garden."] 
 
 Y friend, if you will underftand 
 my fortunes what they are, 
 I once had cattel, houfe, and land, 
 but now am never the near : 
 My father left a good eftate, 
 
 as I may tell to thee ; 
 I couzned was of all I had, 
 like a great Boobee. 
 
222 
 
 The Great Boobee. 
 
 
 I went to fchool with good intent, 
 
 
 and for to learn my book, 
 
 
 And all the day I went to play ; 
 
 
 in it I never did look. 
 
 
 Full feven years, or very nigh, 
 
 
 as I may tell to thee, 
 
 
 I could hardly fay my Chrift-Crofs Row, 
 
 
 like a great Boobee. 
 
 
 My father, then, in all the hafle 
 
 
 did fet me to the plow, 
 
 
 And for to lam the horfe about, 
 
 
 indeed, I knew not how : 
 
 
 My father took his whip in hand, 
 
 
 and foundly lamed me ; 
 
 
 He called me fool, and country clown, 
 
 
 and great Boobee. 
 
 
 But I did from my father run, 
 
 
 for I will plow no more, 
 
 
 Becaufe he had fo flafhed me, 
 
 
 and made my fides fo fore ; 
 
 
 But I will go to London town, 
 
 
 fome vafhions for to fee : 
 
 
 When I came there, they call'd me clown, 
 
 
 and great Boobee. 
 
 
 But as I went along the ftreet 
 
 
 I carried my hat in my hand, 
 
The Great Boobee. 
 
 223 
 
 And to every one that I did meet 
 
 I bravely bent my band : 
 Some did laugh, and fome did feoff, 
 
 and fome did mock at me, 
 And fome did fay I was a woodcock, 
 
 and a great Boobee, 
 
 Then I did walk in haft to Pauls, 
 
 the fteeple for to view, 
 Becaufe I heard fome people fay 
 
 it mould be builded new. 
 When I got up unto the top, 
 
 the city for to fee, 
 It was fo high, it made me cry, 
 
 like a great Boobee. 
 
 From thence I went to Weftminfter, 
 
 and for to fee the tombs : 
 O ! faid I, what a houfe is here, 
 
 with an infinite fight of rooms. 
 Sweetly the Abbey bells did ring, 
 
 it was a fine fight to fee ; 
 Methought I was going to Heaven in a firing, 
 
 like a great Boobee. 
 
 But as I went along the ftreet 
 
 the moft part of the day, 
 Many gallants did I meet ; 
 
 methought they were very gay. 
 
224 
 
 The Great Boobee. 
 
 I blew my nofe, and ray'd my hofe ; 
 
 fome people did me fee, 
 And faid I was a beaftly fool, 
 
 and a great Boobee. 
 
 Next day I through Pye-corner part : 
 
 the roaft-meat on the flail 
 Invited me to take a tafte ; 
 
 my money was but fmall : 
 The meat I pickt, the cook me kickt, 
 
 as I may tell to thee, 
 He beat me fore, and made me rore, 
 
 like a great Boobee. 
 
 As I through Smithfield lately walkt 
 
 a gallant lafs I met ; 
 Familiarly with me me talkt, 
 
 Which I cannot forget : 
 She profferd me a pint of wine, 
 
 methought fhe was wondrous free. 
 To the tavern then I went with her, 
 
 like a great Boobee. 
 
 She told me we were next of kin, 
 and calld for wine good ftore 
 
 Before the reckoning was brought in, 
 my coufin was no more. 
 
 My purfe fhe pickt and went away, 
 my coufin couzned me ; 
 
The Great Boobee. 
 
 225 
 
 The Vintner kickt me out of door, 
 
 
 like a great Boobee. . 
 
 
 At the Exchange, when I came there, 
 
 
 I faw moft gallant things ; 
 
 
 I thought the pictures living were 
 
 
 of all our Englifh kings : 
 
 
 I doft my hat, and made a leg, 
 
 
 and kneeled on my knee : 
 
 
 The people laught, and call'd me fool, 
 
 
 and great Boobee. 
 
 
 To Paris Garden then I went, 
 
 
 where there is great refort : 
 
 
 My pleafure was my punifhment, 
 
 
 I did not like the fport. 
 
 
 The garden bull with his flout horns 
 
 
 on high then toffed me, 
 
 
 I did bewray my felf with fear 
 
 
 like a great Boobee. 
 
 
 The Bearheard went to fave me then, 
 
 
 the people flockt about ; 
 
 
 I told the Bear-garden men 
 
 
 my guts were almoft out : 
 
 
 * They faid I flunk moft grievoufly, 
 
 
 no man would pity me ; 
 
 
 They call'd me witlefs fool and afs, 
 
 
 and great Boobee. 
 
 
 G G 
 
226 
 
 The Great Boobee, 
 
 Then o're the water did I pafs, 
 
 as you mail underftand : 
 I dropt into the Thames, alas ! 
 
 before I came to land : 
 The waterman did help me out, 
 
 and thus did fay to me, 
 'Tis not thy fortune to be drownd, 
 
 like a great Boobee. 
 
 But I have learned fo much wit 
 
 fhall fhorten all my cares, 
 If I can but a licenfe get 
 
 to play before the bears : 
 'Twill be a gallant place indeed, 
 
 as I may tell to thee ; 
 Then who dares call me fool, or afs, 
 
 or great Boobee ? 
 
227 
 
 The Tragedy of Hero and 
 
 Leander. 
 
 To a pleafant New Tune^ or " I will never love thee more." 
 
 [This ballad is founded upon the 
 
 " Story of deep love, 
 
 How young Leander crofPd the Hellefpont," 
 
 which was firft made known in Englifh by Chriflopher Marlowe in 
 his verfion, publifhed in 1598, five years after his death. Our broad- 
 fide, " Printed for R. Burton, at the Horfefhoe in Weft-Smith field, neer 
 the Hofpital-gate," is not fo early by twenty or thirty years ; but we 
 apprehend, it muft have been written, and firft printed, foon after Mar- 
 lowe's paraphrafe (completed by Chapman in 1600) had made the 
 incidents popular. It was the work of no very inferior hand, (though 
 evidently corrupted in the copy that has come down to us) and every 
 body will recognife the tranflation of Martial's well-known epigram 
 at the clofe of the fecond-ftanza. In the Pepyfian collection, is a 
 ballad, figned William Meafh, on the fame incidents but a different 
 production, entitled " Leander's Love for loyall Hero :" that was " im- 
 printed at London for J. W."] 
 
 OME, mournful Mufe, affift my quill, 
 whilft I with grief relate 
 A ftory of two lovers true, 
 cut off by cruel fate. 
 Death onely parts united hearts, 
 
 and brings them to their graves ; 
 Whilft others fleep within the deep, 
 or perifh in the waves. 
 
228 
 
 The Tragedy of 
 
 Leander on the bay of blifs, 
 
 Pontus, he naked flood : 
 In paffion of delay he fprang, 
 
 into the fatal flood. 
 The raging feas can none appeafe, 
 
 his fortune ebbs and flows, 
 The heaven down fhowres, and rain down powers, 
 
 and the wind aloft it blows. 
 
 The lad forfook the land, and did 
 
 Unto the Gods complain : 
 You rocks, you rugged waters, 
 
 you elements, hail and rain, 
 What 'tis to mifs true lovers blifs, 
 
 alas ! you do not know ; 
 Make me a wrack as I come back, 
 
 But fpare me as I go. 
 
 Behold on yonder tower, fee where 
 
 my fair beloved lyes ! 
 This is th' appointed hour ; hark, how 
 
 fhe on Leander cryes ! — 
 The Gods were mute unto his fute, 
 
 the billows anfwered no : 
 The furges rife up to the fkyes, 
 
 but he funk down below. 
 
 Sweet Hero, like dame Venus fair, 
 all in her turrit ftood, 
 
Hero and Leander. 
 
 229 
 
 Expecting of her lover dear, 
 who cro fling was the flood. 
 
 A feeble light through darkfome night 
 fhe fet her love to guide ; 
 
 With wavering arms and loves alarms, 
 with a voyce full loud fhe cry'd : 
 
 You cruel waves, fome pity fhow 
 
 unto my dearefl: friend, 
 And you tempeftuous winds that blow, 
 
 at this time prove more kind. 
 O ! waft my love fecure to fhore 
 
 that I his face may fee ; 
 With tears your help I do implore, 
 
 your pitty lend to me. 
 
 Let each kind dolphin now befriend, 
 
 and help my love along, 
 And bring him to his journeys end 
 
 before his breath is gone. 
 Let not a wave become his grave, 
 
 and part us both for ever : 
 Pitty my grief, fend him relief, 
 
 and help him now or never ! 
 
 The fierce and cruel tempefl: did 
 
 moft violently rage ; 
 Not her laments, nor difcontents, 
 
 its fury could aflwage : 
 
23° 
 
 The Tragedy of 
 
 The winds were high, and he muft dye, 
 
 the fates did fo ordain ; 
 It was affign'd he ne'r fhould find 
 
 his deareft love again. 
 
 She fpred her filken vail, for to 
 
 fecure the blazing light, 
 To guide her love, leaft on the rocks 
 
 his wearied limbs fhould fmite ; 
 But, cruel fate ! it prov'd his date, 
 
 and caufed him to fleep. 
 She from above beheld her love 
 
 lye drowned in the deep. 
 
 Her fhowry eyes with tears brought in 
 
 the tide before its time ; 
 Her fad lamenting groans likewife 
 
 unto the fkyes did clime. 
 O Heavens ! (quoth me) againfl poor me 
 
 do you your forces bend ? 
 Then from the walls in hafte fhe falls, 
 
 to meet her dying friend. 
 
 Her new bedewed arms about 
 his fencelefs corps fhe clipps, 
 
 And many kiffes fpent in vain 
 upon his dying lipps : 
 
 Then wav'd her hands unto the lands, 
 Singing with dying pride, 
 
Hero and Leander. 
 
 231 
 
 Go, tell the world in billows ftrong 
 I with my love have dy'd. 
 
 Thus did they both their breath refign 
 
 unto the will of fate, 
 And in the deep imbrace and twine, 
 
 when Death did end their date. 
 Let lovers all example take, 
 
 and evermore prove true, 
 For Hero and Leander's fake, 
 
 who bids you all adieu. 
 
2^2 
 
 The Royal Recreation of 
 
 jovial Anglers. 
 
 To the Tune of " Amarillis." 
 
 [F. Coles, T. Vere, W. Gilbertfon, and J. Wright, whofe names 
 are at the end of this ballad, may have been the original publifhers of 
 it, as we doubt if it be much older than the date of the firft impreffion 
 of Walton's " Angler," in 1653. The hour of bufinefs on the Royal 
 Exchange is ftated in it to be " twixt twelve and one," whereas in the 
 latter end of the reign of Elizabeth and in that of James I., it was 
 between eleven and twelve. William Haughton's comedy " English- 
 men for my Money," (printed in 1616 but written in 1598, as appears 
 by Henflowe's Diary p. 119), mews that merchants then attended 
 Change at 1 1 o' clock, and dined at 12 o' clock. There is no other very 
 diftinct note of time in the ballad, the full title of which is, " The Royal 
 Recreation of jovial Anglers, 
 
 Proving that all men are Intanglers, 
 And all Profeffions are turn'd Anglers." 
 
 The tune feems comparatively modern, as we do not find it in any 
 early collection.] 
 
 F all the recreations which 
 attend on human nature, 
 There's nothing fores fo high a pitch, 
 or is of fuch a ftature, 
 As is a fubtle Anglers life 
 in all mens approbation ; 
 
Recreation of jovial Anglers. 
 
 233 
 
 For Anglers tricks do daily mix 
 
 
 with every corporation. 
 
 
 When Eve and Adam liv'd by love, 
 
 
 and had no caufe for jangling, 
 
 
 The Devil did the waters move, 
 
 
 the ferpent fell to angling : 
 
 
 He baits his hook with godlike look, 
 
 
 quoth he, this will intangle her ; 
 
 
 The woman chops, and down me drops : 
 
 
 the Devil was the firft Angler. 
 
 . 
 
 Phyfitians, lawyers, and divines 
 
 , 
 
 are moil ingenious janglers, 
 
 
 And he that tryes mall find, in fine, 
 
 
 that all of them are Anglers : 
 
 
 Whilft grave divines doe fifh for fouls, 
 
 
 phyfitians, like curmudgeons, 
 
 
 Do bait with health to fifh for wealth, 
 
 
 And lawyers fifh for gudgeons. 
 
 
 A politician, too, is one 
 
 
 concern'd in pifcatory ; 
 
 
 He writes and fights, unites and flights, 
 
 
 to purchafe wealth and glory. 
 
 
 His plumet founds the kingdom's bounds, 
 
 
 to make the fifties nibble : 
 
 
 He draws them with a pack of lyes, 
 
 
 and blinds them with a quibble. 
 
 
 H H 
 
2 34 The Royal Recreation 
 
 A fisherman fubdued a place, 
 
 in fpight of locks and ftaples : 
 
 The warlike Maffianello was 
 a fifherman of Naples ; 
 
 Commanded forty thoufand men, 
 and prov'd a royal wrangler : 
 
 You ne're mail fee the like again 
 of fuch a famous Angler. 
 
 Upon the Exchange, twixt twelve and one, 
 
 meets many a neat intangler : 
 Moft merchant-men,, not one in ten, 
 
 but is a cunning Angler ; 
 And (like the fifties in the brooke) 
 
 brother doth fifh for brother. 
 A golden bait hangs at the hooke, 
 
 and they fifh for one another. 
 
 A fhopkeeper I next preferr, 
 
 a formal man in black, fir, 
 That throws his angle every where, 
 
 and cryes "What is't you lack, fir ? 
 Fine filks and fluffs, or hoods and muffs ?" 
 
 but if a courtier prove the intangler, 
 My citizen muft look too't then, 
 
 or the fifh will catch the Angler. 
 
 A lover is an Angler, too, 
 
 and baits his hooke with kifles ; 
 
of jovial Anglers. 
 
 235 
 
 He playes, and toyes, and fain would do, 
 
 but often times he miffes : 
 He gives her rings, and fuch fine things 
 
 as fan, or muff, or night-hood ; 
 But if you'l cheat a city peat, 
 
 you mull bait her with a knight-hood. 
 
 There is no Angler like a wench 
 
 juft riling in the water ; 
 She'l make you leave both trout and tench, 
 
 and throw yourfelf in after. 
 Your hook and line me will confine, 
 
 the intangled is the intangler ; 
 And this, I fear, hath fpoyPd the ware 
 
 of many a jovial Angler. 
 
 If you will trowl for a fcriveners foul, 
 
 cart in a rich young gallant : 
 To take a courtier by the powl 
 
 throw out a golden tallent ; 
 And yet, I doubt, the draught will not 
 
 compound for half the charge on't ; 
 But if you'l catch the Devil at a fnatch, 
 
 go bait him with a fergeant. 
 
 Thus have I made the Anglers trade 
 
 to Hand above defiance, 
 For like the mathematick art, 
 
 it runs through every fcience. 
 
236 
 
 Recreation of jovial Anglers 
 
 If with my angling fong I can 
 
 with mirth and pleafure feaze yee. 
 He bait my hook with wit again, 
 And angle ftill to pleafe ye. 
 
 Finis, 
 
237 
 
 Keep a good tongue in 
 
 your head. 
 
 To the Tune of « The Milkmaids, &c." 
 
 [In Walton's " Angler," firft printed in 1653, tne ^ 1X earlieft lines of 
 this ballad are printed with fome flight variations ; and they are coupled 
 with eight other lines from the ballad which follows next in our col- 
 lection, as if they were one and the fame fong : they are both given to 
 Maudlin in Walton's work, and the fact we have ftated forms a new 
 illuftration of it. Both ballads were written by Martin Parker, a well 
 known name in our ephemeral literature in the reign of Charles I, 
 and during the Protectorate : his initials are at the end of each, and 
 he feldom put his name at full length. He was author of the cele- 
 brated " True Tale of Robin Hood," and of the more notorious fong 
 of " When the King enjoys his own again." Of the periods of his 
 birth or burial we have no knowledge. The broadfide we have ufed 
 is entitled, " Keep a good tongue in your head, for 
 
 Here's a very good woman in every refpect, 
 But only her tongue breeds all her defect." 
 
 It was " Printed at London for Thomas Lambert at the Horfhoo in 
 Smithfield" about 1640.] 
 
 MARRY'D a wife of late, 
 
 the more's my unhappy fate ; 
 I tooke her for love, 
 As fancy did me move, 
 
 and not for her worldly ftate. 
 For qualities rare 
 Few with her compare ; 
 
2 3 8 
 
 Keep a good tongue 
 
 let me doe her no wrong : 
 I muft. confefTe, 
 Her cheefe amifTe 
 Is onely this, 
 As fome wives is, 
 
 fhe cannot rule her tongue. 
 
 She hath as fweet a face 
 
 as any in feaven miles fpace ; 
 
 Her eyes chriftalline 
 
 Like diamonds doe mine, 
 
 fhe looks with a modeft grace : 
 
 Her haire is like flax, 
 
 Her lips are red wax, 
 
 that feal'd the bond fo ftrong 
 
 Twixt her and I, 
 
 That till I die 
 
 He juflifie 
 
 Her constancy ; 
 
 but fhe cannot rule her tongue. 
 
 Her cheeks are red as the rofe 
 
 which June for her glory fhows : 
 
 Her teeth on a row 
 
 Stand like a wall of fnow 
 
 between her round chin and her nofe. 
 
 Her moulders are decent, 
 
 Her armes white and pleafant, 
 her ringers are fmall and long : 
 
in your head. 
 
 239 
 
 No fault I find, 
 
 
 But, in my minde, 
 Moft womenkind 
 
 
 Muft come behind : 
 
 
 O, that fhe could rule her tongue ! 
 
 
 Her breafts like Pyreene hills, 
 
 
 which nature yearly fils, 
 With liquor that by ods 
 Doth paffe the drink o' th' gods ; 
 
 all nectar it far excels : 
 
 
 With this fhe doth feed 
 
 
 The twigs that proceed 
 
 from our affections ftrong. 
 Shee's fruitful as 
 
 
 The fpringing graffe, 
 No time lets paffe, 
 And yet, alas ! 
 
 fhe cannot rule her tongue. 
 
 
 Her body, which I have oft 
 
 
 embraced, fo fmooth and foft, 
 
 
 Is flender and white 
 
 
 Proportioned aright ; 
 
 tis flraight as any fhaft. 
 Her leg is compleat, 
 Her foot's fine and neat, 
 
 
 tis neither too fhort nor too long : 
 
 
240 
 
 Keep a 
 
 good tongue 
 
 In every part 
 Dame Nature's art 
 Gives her the ftart : 
 With all my heart 
 
 I wilh fhe could rule her tongue, 
 
 As fhe in feature excels 
 
 wel nye moft women elfe, 
 Even fo doth her wit, 
 If fhee'l make ufe of it, 
 
 as daily experience tels : 
 I cannot deny it, 
 If fhe be at quiet 
 
 her fpeeches will do no wrong : 
 Shee'l laugh and fmile, 
 New termes fhee , l file, 
 Yet in a while 
 Shee'l change her flile, 
 
 and cannot rule her tongue. 
 
 With eloquence fhe will difpute ; 
 
 few women can her confute : 
 She fings and fhe playes, 
 And fhe knowes all her keyes 
 
 on the vial de gambo, or lute. 
 Shee'l dance with a grace, 
 Her meafures fhee'l trace 
 as doth unto art belong : 
 
in your head. 
 
 241 
 
 She is a girle 
 
 
 Fit for an Earle, 
 
 
 Not for a churle : 
 
 
 She were worth a pearle, 
 
 
 if fhe could but rule her tongue. 
 
 
 Her needle fhe can ufe well ; 
 
 
 in that fhe doth mod excell : 
 
 
 She can fpin and knit, 
 
 
 And every thing fit, 
 
 
 as all her neighbours can tell. 
 
 
 Her fingers apace, 
 
 
 At weaving bone-lace, 
 
 
 She ufeth all day long : 
 
 
 All arts that be 
 
 
 To women free, 
 
 
 Of each degree, 
 
 
 Performeth fhe. 
 
 
 O, that fhe could rule her tongue ! 
 
 
 For hufwifery fhe doth exceed ; 
 
 ! 
 
 fhe looks to her bufinefTe with heed : 
 
 
 Shee's early and late 
 
 
 Emploid, I dare fay't, 
 
 
 to fee all things well fucceede. 
 
 
 She is very wary 
 
 
 To looke to her dary, 
 
 
 as doth to her charge belong : 
 
 
 I I 
 
242 Keep a good tongue in your head 
 
 Her fervants all 
 Are at her call, 
 But fhee'l fo brawle, 
 That ftil I mail 
 
 wifh that fhe could rule her tongue, 
 
 With all that hath bin faid 
 
 no woman neede be difmaid, 
 Sith I have not beene 
 Incenfed through fpleene 
 
 in this fpacious river to wade : 
 I none doe difparage, 
 To hinder their marriage, 
 
 but wifh both old and yong 
 Great heed to take, 
 When choice they make 
 For vertues fake : 
 No venemous fnake 
 
 flings like a womans tongue. 
 
 M. P. 
 
 Finis 
 
243 
 
 The Milke-maids Life. 
 
 To a curious new Tune, called " The Milke-maids Dumps." 
 
 [This is the ballad referred to in our introduction to the preceding, 
 as having had eight lines quoted from it by Walton in his "Angler," 
 (p. 152, edit. 1808). They form the conclufion of our fixth ftanza, 
 but Walton either printed from a different copy to that we have ufed, 
 or he altered one of the lines. He does not ftate who was the author, 
 but the initials at the end of the Roxburghe broadfide mew that it was 
 by Martin Parker. Both this and the laft ballad were written to the fame 
 tune, which in one cafe is called " the Milkmaids &c." and in the other 
 " the Milkmaids Dumps :" a " dump" was a fpecies of dance, as well 
 as a poem. (Collier's Shakefpeare, vi. 478.) The enfuing, like the 
 foregoing, ballad was " Printed at London for T. Lambert;" and to the 
 title of" The Milke-Maids Life" is added the following couplet, 
 
 " A pretty new ditty, compofed and pend, 
 The praife of the Milking paile to defend." 
 
 The laft ftanza but one proves that the ballad was written before " the 
 downfal of May-games" under the puritans.] 
 
 OU rural goddeffes, 
 
 that woods and fields porTeffe, 
 Aflift me with your fkill, 
 That may direct my quill 
 
 more jocundly to expreffe 
 The mirth and delight, 
 Both morning and night, 
 on mountaine or in dale, 
 
244 The Milke-maids Life 
 
 Of them who chufe 
 This trade to ufe, 
 And through cold dewes 
 Doe never refufe 
 
 to carry the milking payle. 
 
 The braveft laffes gay 
 
 live not fo merry as they : 
 In honeft civill fort 
 They make each other fport, 
 
 as they trudge on their way. 
 Come faire or foul weather, 
 They're fearefull of neither ; 
 
 their courages never quaile : 
 In wet and dry, 
 Though winds be hye, 
 And darke's the iky, 
 They nere deny 
 
 to carry the milking paile. 
 
 Their hearts are free from care, 
 they never will defpaire, 
 
 What ever them befall ; 
 
 They bravely beare out all, 
 
 and fortunes frowns out-dare. 
 
 They pleafantly fing 
 
 To welcome the fpring, 
 
 'gainft heaven they never rayle : 
 
The Milke-maids Life. 
 
 245 
 
 If graffe wel grow 
 Their thankes they fhow, 
 And froft or fnow, 
 They merrily goe 
 
 along with the milking paile. 
 
 Bafe idleneffe they doe fcorne : 
 
 they rife very early i' th' morn, 
 And walk into the field, 
 Where pretty birds doe yeeld 
 
 brave mufick on every thorn : 
 The linet and thrufh 
 Doe ring on each bum ; 
 
 and the dulcid nightingale 
 Her note doth ftraine 
 In a jocund vaine, 
 To entertaine 
 That worthy traine, 
 
 which carry the milking paile. 
 
 Their labor doth health preferve ; 
 
 no dodtors rules they obferve, 
 While others, too nice 
 In taking their advice, 
 
 look alwaies as though they wold ftarve. 
 Their meat is digefted, 
 They nere are molefted, 
 
 no iicknefle doth them aflaile : 
 
246 
 
 The Milke-maids Life 
 
 Their time is fpent 
 In merryment; 
 While limbs are lent, 
 They are content 
 
 to carry the milking paile. 
 
 Thofe laffes nice and ftrange, 
 
 that keep mops in the Exchange, 
 Sit pricking of clouts, 
 And giving of flouts ; 
 
 they feldome abroad doe range : 
 Then comes the green iicknefTe, 
 And changeth their likeneffe, 
 
 all this for want of good fale ; 
 But tis not fo, 
 As proofe doth mow, 
 By them that goe 
 In froft and fnow, 
 
 to carry the milking paile. 
 
 If they any fweet-hearts have, 
 
 that do affection crave, 
 Their priviledge is this, 
 Which many others miffe, 
 
 they can give them welcome brave, 
 With them they may walke, 
 And pleafantly talke, 
 
 with a bottle of wine or ale : 
 
The Milke-maids Life. 
 
 247 
 
 The gentle cow 
 
 
 Doth them allow, 
 
 
 As they know how. 
 
 
 God fpeed the plow, 
 
 
 and hleffe the milking paile ! 
 
 
 Upon the firft of May, 
 
 
 with garlands frefh and gay, 
 
 
 With mirth and mufick fweet, 
 
 
 For fuch a feafon meet, 
 
 
 they paffe their time away : 
 
 
 They dance away forrow, 
 
 
 And all the day thorow 
 
 
 their legs doe never fayle ; 
 
 
 They nimblely 
 
 
 Their feet doe ply, 
 
 
 And bravely try 
 
 
 The victory, 
 
 
 in honour o' th' milking paile. 
 
 
 If any thinke that I 
 
 
 doe practife flattery, 
 
 
 In feeking thus to raife 
 
 
 The merry milkmaids praife, 
 
 
 He to them thus reply. 
 
 
 It is their defert 
 
 
 Inviteth my art 
 
 
 to ftudy this pleafant tale ; 
 
 
248 
 
 The Milke-maids Life. 
 
 In their defence 
 Whofe innocence, 
 And providence, 
 Gets honefl pence 
 
 out of the milking paile. 
 
 M. P. 
 
 Finis. 
 
 v^r^r J 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 L^mM^ 
 
 r R\I 
 
 
 
 1 i ^^^^ 
 
 ?^ 
 
 jjjg^VfegP 
 
 
 
The Batchelor's feaft. 
 
 To a pleafant New Tune, called " With a hie dil do dill." 
 
 [The initials at the end of this fong are thofe of Lawrence Price, 
 who not unfrequently put his name at length, and was a highly po- 
 pular ballad-writer during the Civil Wars, although no notice has been 
 taken of him in modern collections. He was alfo author of feveral 
 chap-books, fome of them of a political tendency, fuch as "A new Dis- 
 putation betweene the two Lordly Bifhops, Yorke and Canterbury," 
 1642. 8vo. &c. The entire title of the following ballad runs thus : — 
 " The Batchelor's Feaft, or 
 
 The difference betwixt a fingle life and a double, 
 
 Being the Batchelors pleafure, and the married man's trouble." 
 
 It was " Printed at London for J. W. the younger, dwelling at the 
 upper end of the Old Bayly."] 
 
 S I walkt forth of late, 
 
 where graife and flowers fpring, 
 I heard a Batchelor 
 
 within an harbour ring : 
 The tenor of his fong 
 
 contain'd much melodie ; 
 It is a gallant thing 
 to live at liberty. 
 With hie dill do dill, 
 hie ho dildurlie, 
 
 K K 
 
25° 
 
 The Batchelors feaft 
 
 It is a delighful thing 
 to live at liberty. 
 
 Wee Batchelors can flaunt 
 
 in country and in towne, 
 And in good company 
 
 may merily fpend a crowne : 
 Wee may doe as wee lift, 
 
 our lives from cares are free ; 
 O ! 'tis a gallant thing 
 
 to live at liberty. 
 
 With hie dill &c. 
 
 No cradle have wee to rocke, 
 
 nor children that doe cry, 
 No land-lords rent to pay, 
 
 no nurfes to fupply ; 
 No wife to fcold and brawle, 
 
 we ftill keepe good company 
 With them that take delight 
 
 to live at liberty. 
 
 With hie dill &c. 
 
 While married men doe lie 
 with worldly cares oppreft, 
 
 Wee Batchelors can fleepe, 
 and fweetly take our reft. 
 
 O ! married men muft feeke 
 for goffips and a nurfe, 
 
The Batchelors feaft. 
 
 251 
 
 Which heavie makes the heart, 
 
 
 but light it makes the purfe. 
 
 
 With hie dill &c. 
 
 
 A man, that doth intend 
 
 
 to lead a quiet life, 
 
 
 Muft practife day and night 
 
 
 to pleafe his longing wife : 
 
 
 New fafhions muft be had 
 
 
 as oft as fhee them fee. 
 
 
 O ! tis a pleafant thing 
 
 
 to live at liberty. 
 
 
 With hie dill &c. 
 
 
 The taylqr muft be payd 
 
 
 for making of her gowne ; 
 
 
 The fhoemakers for fine fhoes, 
 
 
 or elfe thy wife will frowne : 
 
 
 For bands, fine ruffes and cuffes 
 
 
 thou muft difpence as free. 
 
 
 O ! tis a gallant thing 
 
 
 to live at liberty. 
 
 
 With hie dill &c. 
 
 
 A wife muft alfo have 
 
 
 a beaver of the beft, 
 
 
 That fhee may flaunt it out, 
 
 
 and goflip with the reft : 
 
 
252 
 
 The Batchelors feaft. 
 
 Wrought quaiffes and cobweb lawne 
 her daily weare mutt bee. 
 
 O ! tis a lightfome thing 
 to live at liberty. 
 
 With hie dill. &c. 
 
 Yet all this pleafeth not, 
 
 except that thou doft burfe 
 Both gold and filver coyne, 
 
 to carry in her purfe, 
 To taverne when fhe hies, * 
 
 where fhee (hall merry bee. 
 O ! tis a gallant thing 
 
 to live at liberty. 
 
 With hie dill &c. 
 
 Some think a fingle life 
 
 to bee a dayly trouble, 
 But many men doe wed 
 
 and make their forrowes double : 
 Therefore, I wifh young men 
 
 in time be rul'd by mee, 
 And learne to fing this fong, 
 
 to live at liberty. 
 
 With hie dill &c. 
 
 Except a vertuous wife 
 
 a young man chance to find, 
 
 That will induftrious be, 
 and beare a modeft mind, 
 
The Batchelors feaft. 
 
 253 
 
 Hee better were to live 
 frill flngle, as we fee ; 
 
 For 'tis a gallant thing 
 to live at liberty. 
 
 With hie dill &c\ 
 
 • 
 
 Now, will I heere conclude ; 
 
 I will no one offend, 
 Wifhing that every fhrew 
 
 her qualities would amend ; 
 And that all Batchelors 
 
 may now be ruFd by mee, 
 To chufe a loving wife, 
 
 or live at liberty. 
 
 With hie 'dill &c. 
 
 L. P. 
 
 
 <3k 
 
 
 ^M 
 
 
 ^i$&& 
 
 
 
254 
 
 The 
 
 Mifer and the Prodigal. 
 
 To the Tune of " To drive the cold winter away." 
 
 [This production, in two parts, has the initials N. P. at the end, 
 which may have been an error for M. P. i: e. Martin Parker ; but it 
 feems likely that it is older than his time, having been, as we are in- 
 formed at the end of the firft part only, " Printed for Henry Goflbn :" 
 perhaps his edition was a reprint, and the expreflion, in the fecond 
 part, " Let the welkin roar" carries us back to the times of Ancient 
 Piftol and " Henry IV." The title of the firft part is the following 
 couplet, 
 
 " Come, worldling, fee what paines I here do take 
 To gather gold, while here on earth I rake ;" 
 
 and to this is added, in reference to the fecond part, " What the 
 Father gathered by the rake, the Sonne doth fcatter with the forke." 
 The fecond part is introduced by thefe two lines : — 
 
 " Come, Prodigals, yourfelves that love to flatter, 
 Behold my fall, that with the forke doth fcatter." 
 
 It has no printer's nor publifher's name. — If N. P. were a mifprint for 
 N. B., we might attribute thefe two moral and fatirical effufions to 
 Nicholas Breton, who often wrote under his initials, and who flourifhed 
 in the reigns of Elizabeth and James I. They are not unlike his ftyle, 
 but have rather more humour.] 
 
 OME, come, my brave gold, 
 Which I love to behold, 
 come to me, and He give you reft, 
 Where as you may fleepe, 
 
The Mifer and the Prodigal. 
 
 And I fafely will keepe 
 
 you lockt in my yron bound cheft. 
 No thieves you mall feare, 
 You in pieces to teare, 
 
 fuch care of you I will take : 
 Come to me, and flye, 
 Gold angels ! I cry, 
 
 And He gather you all with my rake, 
 
 Come, iilver and all, 
 When as I doe call, 
 
 your beauties to me are fo bright ; 
 I love you fo deare, 
 I pray you come neere, 
 
 and be you not wavering or light : 
 Your weight fo you have, 
 Come glittering and brave, 
 
 then, you I will never forfake, 
 But heape you together, 
 Againft rainy weather, 
 
 And gather you all with my rake e 
 
 255 
 
 Rich jewels and plate 
 By no meanes I hate, 
 
 with diamonds, faphirs, or rings ; 
 The carbuncle red 
 Stands me in like ftead, 
 
 or any other rich things. 
 
256 The Mifer and the Prodigal. 
 
 The emerald greene, 
 
 Like the fpring that is feene, 
 
 gold chains, or the like, I will take : 
 I have a kind heart, 
 With my coyne I will part, 
 
 fo I may get all with my rake. 
 
 But yet heare me, friend ; 
 No money He lend, 
 
 without a good pawn you do bring, 
 But He tell to thee 
 How a knave cheated me 
 
 one time with a bafe copper ring : 
 With me it bred ftrife, 
 It neere coft me my life, 
 
 halfe a crowne on the fame he did take ; 
 But He have more care 
 Of fuch knaves to beware, 
 
 how fuch copper together I rake. 
 
 On leafes or lands, 
 On very good bands, 
 
 good fecurity likewife provide : 
 If wee can agree, 
 Then my coyne it flyes free, 
 
 if not, your cold fuit is deny'd. 
 To foe or to friend 
 No money He lend ; 
 
The Mifer and the Prodigal. 
 
 257 
 
 as they brew, fo let them bake : 
 
 
 This rule I obferve, 
 
 
 Let them hang or flarve, 
 
 
 if I cannot get with my rake. 
 
 
 And thofe that doe lacke 
 
 
 To the highth I doe racke, 
 
 
 I know that they money muft have : 
 
 
 Some morgage their lands, 
 
 
 Which fall in my hands, 
 
 
 to domineere and to goe brave. 
 
 
 If they faile of their day, 
 
 
 And have not to pay, 
 
 
 a feizure on them I doe make. 
 
 
 Although I goe bare, 
 
 
 Yet I have a care 
 
 
 my gold and my filver to rake. 
 
 
 Let the poore widdowes cry, 
 
 
 Let their children dye, 
 
 
 let their father in prifon goe rot, 
 
 
 What is that to me ? 
 
 
 Their wealth is my fee, 
 
 
 for I have their livings now got. 
 
 
 Whole lordmips and lands 
 
 
 Are falne to my hands, 
 
 
 and ufe of them all I will make ; 
 
 
 My bags full of coyne, 
 
 
 L L 
 
2 5 8 
 
 The Mifer and the Prodigal. 
 
 
 And my purfe I doe lyne 
 
 
 with that which together I rake. 
 
 
 Thus rich ufury, 
 
 
 Ne're thinking to dye, 
 
 
 nor on his poore foule have a care, 
 
 
 With one foot in the grave, 
 
 
 Yet more wealth he doth crave, 
 
 
 and his backe and his belly doth fpare : 
 
 
 At whofe coft he dine, 
 
 
 With good cheere and wine, 
 
 ' 
 
 he cares not at whofe hands he take ; 
 
 
 Not a penny hee'l fpend, 
 
 
 Nor without a pawne lend, 
 
 
 The Divell and all he will rake. 
 
 
 But now comes grim Death, 
 
 
 And ceafeth his breath, 
 
 
 his tree of life is withered ; 
 
 
 This wretch fo unkind, 
 
 
 His wealth leaves behind, 
 
 
 and is a poore worme being dead. 
 
 
 But now, pray, give eare 
 
 
 To that you (hall heare, 
 
 
 his heire what a courfe he will take, 
 
 
 That day he did dye 
 
 
 In his grave he did lye, 
 
 
 And the fexton the earth on him rake. 
 
The Mifer and the Prodigal. 
 
 259 
 
 THE SECOND PART. 
 
 
 T^ OOME ! roome for a friend, 
 IV That his money will fpend ; 
 
 
 
 old Flatcap is laid in his grave : 
 
 
 Hee kept me full poore, 
 
 
 But now I will roare ; 
 
 
 his lands and his livings I have. 
 
 
 The tide of gold flowes, 
 
 
 And wealth on me growes ; 
 
 
 hee's dead, and for that tis no matter : 
 
 
 Great ufe he did take, 
 
 
 And for me did rake, 
 
 
 which now with the forke I will fcatter. 
 
 
 I now muft turn gallant, 
 
 
 That have fuch a talent ; 
 
 
 what need I to take any care ? 
 
 
 I tell thee, good friend, 
 
 
 'Tis mine owne which I fpend, 
 
 
 for I was my father's owne heire. 
 
 
 No blade here fhall lacke : 
 
 
 Give us claret and facke ! 
 
 
 hang pinching, it is againft nature. 
 
 . 
 
 Lets have all good cheere, 
 
 
 Coft it never fo deare, 
 
 
 for I with my forke will fcatter. 
 
 
The Mifer and the Prodigal 
 
 Let me have a laffe, 
 
 That faire Venus doth paffe ; 
 
 give me all delights that I may : 
 He make my gold fly 
 Aloft in the fkie ; 
 
 I thinke it will never be day. 
 Let the welkin roare ! 
 He never give o're : 
 
 Tobacco, and with it ftrong water, 
 I meane for to drinke 
 Untill I doe finke, 
 
 for I with my forke will fcatter. 
 
 And let muficke play 
 To me night and day, 
 
 I fcorne both my iilver and gold. 
 Brave gentlemen all, 
 He pay what you call ; 
 
 with me, I befeech you, be bold : 
 Dice run low or high, 
 My gold it mail fly, 
 
 I mean for to keep a brave quarter ; 
 Let the cards goe and come, 
 I have a great fum 
 
 That I with my forke will fcatter. 
 
 Let caroufes goe round, 
 Till fome fall to the ground, 
 
The Mifer and the Prodigal 
 
 and here's to my miftrefle her health ; 
 Then, let's take no care, 
 For no coft wee'l fpare : 
 
 hang money, I have ftore of wealth. 
 My father it got, 
 And now, falne to my lot, 
 
 I fcorne it as I doe morter ; 
 For coyne was made round 
 To ftand on no ground, 
 
 And I with my forke will it fcatter. 
 
 My lordfhips to fell 
 
 I thinke would doe well ; 
 
 ill gotten goods never doe thrive : 
 Let's fpend while we may, 
 Each dog hath his day, 
 
 He want not while I am alive. 
 Come, drawers, more facke ! 
 And fee what we lacke ; 
 
 for money He fend a porter. 
 Brave gallants, ne're feare, 
 For wee'l domineere, 
 
 For I with my forke will fcatter. 
 
 Come, drink to my friend, 
 And let the health end ; 
 
 my coffers and pockets are empty 
 I now have no more, 
 
262 The Mifer and the Prodigal. 
 
 That had wont to have ftore ; 
 
 there's fcarcity where there was plenty. 
 My friends are all gone, 
 And left me alone ; 
 
 I think I muft now drink cold water : 
 There's nought but fad woe 
 Upon me doth grow, 
 
 Becaufe with my forke I did fcatter. 
 
 Now, this is the ftory 
 Of prodigal glory, 
 
 who thought that he never fhold lack : 
 No drinke, nor no meat, 
 Now he hath to eate, 
 
 nor cloathes for to put on his back. 
 His friends they forfake him, 
 And woe doth o're take him, 
 
 becaufe he was too free of nature, 
 That never did mind 
 How Time comes behind, 
 
 who mows, though with fork he did fcatter, 
 
 His leaves they grew greene, 
 But they were not feene, 
 
 for autumn them quickly did kill : 
 Then, let youth beware, 
 And have a great care, 
 
 and truil: not too much to their will ; 
 
The Mifer and the Prodigal. 
 
 Leaft prifon them catch, 
 Or a houfe without thatch, 
 
 and glad of brown bread and cold water. 
 To God thanks let's give, 
 And in a meane live, 
 
 having a care how we doe fcatter. 
 
 Finis, 
 
264 
 
 Wit's never good till 'tis 
 
 bought. 
 
 To the Tune of « BafTe's Carreere." 
 
 [This excellent didactic ballad was " Printed at London for Tho- 
 mas Lambert," and, like many more, may be pronounced a reprint of 
 an older production : how much older mull be matter of fpeculation, 
 but no earlier copy is known. On the broadfide, after the burden, 
 which is made the title, we are told that it contains 
 
 " Good counfell for improvident men, 
 Fit to make ufe of now and then." 
 
 There is an impreffion of it for the fame publifher in the Pepyfian 
 Library. The tune to which it was fung, u BafTe's Carreere," means 
 of courfe the tune mentioned in Walton's Angler " The Hunter in his 
 career," compofed, as he ftates, by William Bafle, who was a writer 
 in the early part of the reign of James I.] 
 
 NCE mufing alone 
 upon things many a one, 
 Well obferv'd, and knowne by my felfe, 
 efpecially how 
 that which late did flow, 
 I have wafted and now I want pelfe : 
 this vexed me fore, 
 and made me deplore 
 That I had not before of it thought : 
 from experience I learn'd, 
 
Wit's never good till 'tis bought. 
 
 265 
 
 what I fince have difcern'd, 
 
 That true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 
 
 
 Full many a time, 
 
 
 when I was in my prime, 
 
 
 My ambition to climbe honors hill 
 
 
 did me forward pricke, 
 
 
 but my jade did fo kicke, 
 
 
 And dame fortune a trick found to kill 
 
 
 my hope in the bloome, 
 
 
 and debafed my plume ; 
 
 
 I did further prefume than I ought : 
 
 
 then I wifht I had ftayd 
 
 
 at my own proper trade ; 
 
 
 But true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 
 
 
 To fight and to brawle, 
 
 
 and to quarrell with all, 
 
 
 And my betters mifcall I have uf 'd ; 
 
 
 but with woe I did find 
 
 
 all are not of one minde, 
 
 
 Though I oft in fome kind was excuf 'd : 
 
 
 yet fometimes I got 
 
 
 a knocke with a pot, 
 
 
 When to fpeake, and when not, thus I'me taught ; 
 
 
 now, where ever I come, 
 
 
 He keepe peace in the roome : 
 
 
 Thus true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 
 
 
 M M 
 
I ufed to roare, 
 
 and to drinke on the fcore, 
 And never thought more on the (hot : 
 
 come, Tapfter, faid I, 
 
 one tooth Hill is dry, 
 Then fill's (by and by) tother pot. 
 
 I cal'd frill apace, 
 
 but within a fhort fpace 
 Into a ftrong place I was brought ; 
 
 Then for eight houre's wafte 
 
 foure days I muft faft : 
 Thus true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 
 
 I once had command 
 
 Of houfes and land, 
 Thus my cafe well did ftand among men ; 
 
 but moved with pride, 
 
 and contention befide, 
 I would wrangle and chide now and then. 
 
 If a horfe I but found 
 
 to leape into my ground, 
 Straightway to the pound he was brought : 
 
 now I wifh I had ftill 
 
 kept my neighbours good will, 
 But true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 
 
 This rancor and fpleene 
 my ruine hath beene, 
 
till 'tis bought. 
 
 i 
 267 
 
 As may plainly be feene by my flate; 
 contention in law 
 
 
 did my purfe empty draw, 
 Which I never forefaw til too late : 
 
 . 
 
 upon every flight thing 
 I my action would bring, 
 
 
 But my hands now I wring with the thought : 
 now I wifh I had that 
 
 
 which hath made others fat ; 
 
 
 But true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 
 
 
 In company bafe, 
 that are voyd of all grace, 
 I came often in place, by meere chance ; 
 but with being with them, 
 
 
 whom alone I'de condemne, 
 
 
 Tde in prefence efteeme and advance ; 
 
 
 but being apart, 
 catechifing my heart, 
 It much forrow and fmart hath me brought : 
 
 
 then, with fad melancholly 
 I weepe for my folly. 
 Thus wit's never good till 'tis bought. 
 
 
 Belides, now and then, 
 
 
 I have hapned with men 
 That too cunning have been at the catch, 
 
 
 and then, in my drinke, 
 
 
2 68 
 
 Wit's never good 
 
 I with paper and inke 
 Have made, I did thinke, a good match ; 
 
 but after, when I 
 
 more deliberately 
 The bufinefTe to try-all had brought, 
 
 I have found my felfe cheated, 
 
 And bafely defeated : 
 Thus wit's never good till 'tis bought. 
 
 Moreover, I have 
 
 told my mind to a knave, 
 Thinking him truly grave, truly juft ; 
 
 I my heart have expos' d, 
 
 And my fecrets difclos'd, 
 As a friend I repos'd on his trull: : 
 
 but the rafcall ignoble, 
 
 his heart being double, 
 Me much woe and trouble hath wrought ; 
 
 But I've learnd, ere fince that, 
 
 to take heed of my chat. 
 Thus true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 
 
 When I was a lad 
 
 a good fervice I had, 
 Then my minde was to gad-ding full bent ; 
 
 though I nothing did lacke, 
 
 nor for belly nor backe, 
 Yet I was not with that well content : 
 
till 'tis bought. 
 
 but upon fmall diftafte 
 
 my felf Idifplaft, 
 Thus my downfall in hafte then I fought ; 
 
 Since I wifht to obtaine 
 
 what I oft did difdaine : 
 Thus true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 
 
 Too willing I was 
 
 my owne credite to pafTe, 
 Now I find it, alas ! to my paine, 
 
 that with fetting my hand 
 
 To another man's band, 
 For to fell houfe and land I was faine. 
 
 I have pafTed my word 
 
 for what others have fcor'd, 
 And I oft, like a bird, have bin caught, 
 
 in the prifon to ftay 
 
 where I fung Lachrima : 
 Thus true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 
 
 If any of thofe 
 
 that are (caufelefTe) my foes 
 Should fo rafhly fuppofe in their hearts, 
 
 that all in this fong 
 
 to my felfe doth belong, 
 Their conjecture is wrong for their part, 
 
 whoever they be, 
 
 where they fome thing may fee 
 
Wit's never good till 'tis bought 
 
 By which every degree may be taught : 
 what ere's thy profeffion, 
 thou maift learne this leffon, 
 
 That wit's never good till 'tis bought. 
 
 Finis. 
 
271 
 
 A Caveat for Cut-purfes. 
 
 To the Tune of " Packingtons Pound." 
 
 [This fingular ballad preceded the Reftoration, and indeed the Civil 
 Wars, and the mention in it of Dun, the public hangman, is one proof 
 of its date. A perfon of the name of Derrick filled that office towards 
 the clofe of the reign of Elizabeth (Malone's Suppl. 2. 602) and until 
 16 16 : Dun feems to have fucceeded him, and he continued to difcharge 
 the duties for thirty or forty years, until the appointment of " Mr. John 
 Ketch," whofe name (which gave an appellation to all his fucceflbrs) 
 firft occurs in the epilogue to Dryden's " Duke of Guife." The notice 
 in what follows of the performances of players at Bartholomew Fair 
 mews how early theatres were erected there; and the other local and 
 temporary allufions are extremely curious. It is to be obferved that the 
 Ballad-finger fpeaks in his own perfon ; and, were it not for the conclu- 
 fion, we might fuppofe that the production was a "jig," which had 
 been performed by a comic actor at the Curtain, the Red Bull or fome 
 other popular place of amufement : as early as 1592 cut-purfes com- 
 plained that they had been expofed, and " their trade fpoiled " by " fing- 
 ing jigs" at theatres. (Hift. Engl. Dram. Poetry and the Stage, III. 
 380.) Swift mentions "the tune of the Cut-purfe," which may have 
 been derived from this ballad, and another name for " Packington's 
 Pound," fo long popular. The full title of our ballad (which was 
 " Printed for W. Gilbertfon") is " A Caveat for Cutpurfes. With 
 a warning to all purfe-carriers, (hewing the confidence of the firft, and 
 the carelefnefle of the laft, with necefiary admonitions for them both, 
 left the Hangman get the one, and the Begger the other."] 
 
 >Y matters, and friends, and good people draw 
 near, 
 And look to your purfes for that I do fay ; 
 And though little money in them you do bear, 
 
272 
 
 A Caveat for Cut-purfes. 
 
 It coft you more to get, then to lofe in a day. 
 You oft have been told, 
 Both the young and the old, 
 And bidden beware of the Cut-purfe fo bold : 
 Then, if you take heed not, free me from the curfe, 
 Who both give you warning for, and the Cut-purfe. 
 Youth, youth, thouhadft better been ftarv'd by thy nurfe, 
 Then live to be hanged for cutting a purfe. 
 
 It hath been upbraided to men of my trade, 
 
 That oftentimes we are the caufe of this crime : 
 Alack, and for pity ! why mould it be faid, 
 As if they regarded or places or time ? 
 Examples have been 
 Of fome that were feen 
 In Weftminfter-hall, yea, the pleaders between : 
 Then, why mould the Judges be free from this curfe, 
 More then my poor felf is for cutting the purfe ? 
 
 Youth, youth &c. 
 
 At Worfter, tis known well, and even in the jaile, 
 
 A knight of good worfhip did there fhew his face 
 Againft the foul finners in zeale for to raile, 
 And fo loft, ipfo fa£lo> his purfe in the place. 
 Nay, once from his feat 
 Of judgement fo great, 
 A Judge there did lofe a fair purfe of velvete. 
 Oh, Lord ! for thy mercy, how wicked, or worfe, 
 
A Caveat for Cut-purfes. 
 
 Are thofe that fo venture their necks for a purfe ! 
 
 Youth, youth &c. 
 
 At playes, and at fermons, and at the Seffions 
 
 'Tis daily their praclife fuch booty to make ; 
 Yea, under the gallows, at executions, 
 
 they ftick not the ftare-abouts purfes to take : 
 Nay, one without grace, 
 At a better place, 
 At Court and in Chriftmas, before the King's face; 
 Alack then for pitty ! muft I bear the curfe 
 That only belongs to the cunning Cut-purfe ? 
 
 Youth, youth &c. 
 
 But oh ! you vile nation of Cutpurfes all 
 
 Relent and repent, and amend and be found, 
 And know that you ought not by honeft mens fall 
 Advance your own fortunes to dye above ground ; 
 And though you go gay 
 In filks, as you may, 
 It is not the highway to Heaven, as they fay. 
 Repent then, repent you, for better for worfe, 
 And kifs not the gallows for cutting a purfe. 
 
 Youth, youth &c. 
 
 The Players do tell you, in Bartholmew Faire, 
 
 What fecret confumptions and rafcals you are ; 
 For one of their A dors, it feems, had the fate 
 
 2 73 
 
 N N 
 
274- A Caveat for Cut-purfes. 
 
 By fome of your trade to be fleeced of late : 
 Then, fall to your prayers, 
 You that are way-layers, 
 They're fit to choufe all the world, that can cheat 
 Players ; 
 For he hath the art, and no man the worfe, 
 Whofe cunning can pilfer the pilferer's purfe. 
 
 Youth, youth &c. 
 
 The plain Country man, that comes flaring to London, 
 
 If once you come near him he quickly is undone, 
 For when he amazedly gazeth about, 
 
 One treads on his toes, and the other puls't out : 
 Then, in a ftrange place, 
 Where he knows no face, 
 His mony is gone, tis a pittifull cafe. 
 The Divel of hell in his trade is not worfe, 
 Then Gilter and Diver, and Cutter of purfe. 
 
 Youth, youth &c. 
 
 The poor fervant maid wears her purfe in her placket, 
 
 A place of quick feeling, and yet you can take it ; 
 Nor is fhe aware that you have done the feat, 
 Untill me is going to pay for her meat : 
 Then fhe cryes and rages 
 Amongft the baggages, 
 And fwears at one thruft fhe hath loft all her wages; 
 For fhe is ingaged her own to difburfe, 
 
A Caveat for Cut-purfes. 
 
 To make good the breach of the cruel Cut-purfe. 
 
 Youth, youth &c. 
 
 Your eyes and your fingers are nimble of growth, 
 
 But Dun many times hath been nimbler then both ; 
 Yet you are deceived by many a flut, 
 
 But the Hangman is only the Cut-purfes cut. 
 It makes you to vex 
 When he bridles your necks, 
 And then, at the laft, what becomes of your tricks? 
 But when you mould pray, you begin for to curfe 
 The hand that firft fhew'd you to flam at a purfe. 
 
 Youth, youth &c. 
 
 But now to my hearers this counfel I give, 
 
 And pray, friends, remember it as long as you live; 
 Bring out no more cam in purfe, pocket or wallet, 
 Then one fingle penny to pay for this ballet ; 
 For Cut-purfe doth fhrowd 
 Himfelf in a cloud, 
 There's many a purfe hath been loft in a crowd ; 
 For he's the moft rogue that doth crowd up, and curfes, 
 Who firft cryes, " my Mafters, beware of your purfes." 
 Oh youth ! thou hadft better been ftarv'd by thy nurfe, 
 Then live to be hanged for cutting a purfe. 
 
 275 
 
 Finis. 
 
276 
 
 The Houfeholders New- 
 year's Gift. 
 
 To the Tune of " Where is my true love." 
 
 [This excellent mufical dialogue between, a Hufband and a Wife, 
 the firft complaining of poverty, and the laft cheering him in his mif- 
 fortunes, was unquestionably written in a dear year, fuch as Stow des- 
 cribes 1596, when wheat was fold as high as fix, feven and eight millings 
 abufhel, or 1597 when the price rofe to thirteen millings (Annals 16 15 
 p. 1279). Although the only known edition of what follows was 
 " Printed for F. Coules dwelling in the Old Bayly," we may feel afTured 
 that it originally came out nearly half a century earlier. The title at 
 length is in thefe terms : — " The Houfholders New-yeeres Gift, Con- 
 taining a pleafant Dialogue between the Hufband and his Wife, pleafant 
 to be regarded." Whenever it was firft printed, it was obvioufly at the 
 commencement of a new year.] 
 
 w. 
 
 RIEVE no more, fweet hufband, 
 to grieve it is in vaine ; 
 Little it availeth 
 to grieve, or elfe complaine : 
 Then, fhew thy need to no man, 
 
 for it doth breed difdaine. 
 Now comes a good new yeare. 
 
 H. Alacke, and alas for woe ! 
 how can I chufe ? 
 
Houfeholders New-year's Gift. 
 
 277 
 
 The world is grown fo cruell, 
 that friendfhip few doe ufe : 
 
 Flattery gets credit, 
 
 plaine troth it overthrowes. 
 
 
 O Lord ! fend a good new yeare. 
 
 
 W. The world is deceitfull, 
 
 
 then truft it not, my deare ; 
 
 
 But take this comfort to thee, 
 
 
 thy faddeft thoughts to cheere : 
 The Lord will never leave them, 
 
 
 where true love doth appeare ; 
 And God fend a merry new yeare ! 
 
 
 H. What comfort can I take, wife, 
 
 
 when forrow is fo great ? 
 
 
 Mifery on all fides 
 
 doth us alwayes threat ; 
 When labour is too little 
 
 
 to finde us bread and meat. 
 
 
 O Lord ! fend a good new yeare. 
 
 
 Scarcitie is planted 
 
 in village and in towne : 
 
 
 We fee our neighbours children 
 
 
 goe begging up and downe ; 
 Few perfons do relieve them, 
 
 
 but all at them doe frowne. 
 
 
 O Lord ! fend a good new yeare. 
 
 
278 
 
 The Houfeholders 
 
 W. Greedineffe is caufer, 
 
 good hufband, of this ill : 
 
 Pride, that madding monfter, 
 kind charitie doth kill. 
 
 Lord Jefus ! foon amend it 
 according to thy will ; 
 
 And fend us a merry new yeare. 
 
 H. Corne in every market 
 
 fo deare we dayly fee, 
 We pay more for a bufhell, 
 
 then wee were wont for three : 
 This cuts the hearts of poore men, 
 
 and this undoeth me. 
 O Lord ! fend a good new yeare. 
 
 W. Why hufband, this hath caufed 
 
 fo many at this day 
 To pinch their pretty bellies 
 
 within their garments gay ; 
 And all they thinke too little 
 
 upon themfelves to lay. 
 Good Lord ! fend a merry new yeere, 
 
 H. Sweet wife, a thoufand forrowes 
 doe yet torment my minde, 
 
 To thinke for all my labour 
 how I am ftill behinde ; 
 
 And for the fame no remedy, 
 
New- 
 
 year 
 
 Gift. 
 
 279 
 
 alacke ! that I can finde. 
 Good Lord ! fend a merry new yeere. 
 
 W. Take courage, gentle hufband, 
 and hearken what I fay : 
 
 After freezing January 
 
 commeth pleafant May ; 
 
 There is no ftorme fo cruell, 
 but comes as faire a day. 
 
 Good Lord ! fend a merry new yeere. 
 
 H. Gentle wife, I tell thee, 
 
 my very heart is done ; 
 The world's great calamitie 
 
 no way can I fhunne, 
 For ftill in debt and danger 
 
 more and more I runne. 
 Good Lord ! fend a merry new yeere. 
 
 TV. Be content, fweet hufband, 
 
 and hearken unto me : 
 The Lord is ftill as mercifull 
 
 as he was wont to bee. 
 Goe thou, and ply thy labour, 
 
 and I will worke with thee. 
 Good Lord ! fend a merry new yeere. 
 
 I will not be idle, 
 
 but I will card and fpin ; 
 
280 Houfeholders New-year's Gift, 
 
 I will fave together 
 
 that thou bringeft in : 
 No man for a debt is hanged ; 
 
 then, parTe thou not a pin, 
 And God fend a merry new yeere ! 
 
 H. Deare wife, thy gentle fpeeches 
 revive me at the heart, 
 
 To fee thee take my poverty 
 in fuch a gentle part : 
 
 If God doe ever raife me, 
 
 thou malt have thy defert ; 
 
 And God fend a merry new yeere ! 
 
 W. Poverty, fweet hulband, 
 
 oft time hath been blamed, 
 
 But poverty with honefty 
 never yet was fhamed. 
 
 The rich man difcontented 
 
 may be a poor man named ; 
 
 But God fend a merry new yeere ! 
 
 What thou want'ft in riches 
 
 I will fupply in love ; 
 Thou malt be my honey, 
 
 and I thy turtle dove : 
 Thou art my beloved, 
 
 no forrow fhall remove ; 
 And God fend a merry new yeere ! 
 
28l 
 
 The Times Abufes. 
 
 To the Tune of " Over and under." 
 
 [A remarkable perfonal ballad relating to a well known character 
 of the reigns of James I. and Charles I, who went about the ftreets in 
 rags and was univerfally called by the name of MulPd-fack, in refer- 
 ence, doubtlefs, to his once favourite beverage. It was " Printed for 
 J. Wright, dwelling in Gilt-fpur-ftreet," and no other copy but that we 
 have ufed is known to exift. After the title, "The Times Abufes," 
 come the following explanatory but not very grammatical lines : 
 
 " Muld-Sacke his grievances briefly expreft, 
 Shewing the caufes doth his mind moleft ; 
 But yet he merry makes, and dedicates 
 This fong in love to all which bafeneffe hates." 
 
 The allufions to, and defcriptions of the various occupations in London 
 are amufing and curious.] 
 
 TTEND, my mailers, and give eare, 
 whilft here I doe relate 
 The bafe injurious flanders 
 
 are throwne on me in hate : 
 My wrongs and great abufes 
 fo commonly are knowne, 
 As in a fong, to right my wrong, 
 
 ihall inftantly be fhowne. 
 They call me fudling Muld-facke, 
 
 when drinke I have got none : 
 Cannot they looke to their bufineife, 
 and let Muld-Sack alone ? " 
 
 o o 
 
282 
 
 The Times Abufes 
 
 If I fometimes a pot or fo 
 
 doe drinke for recreation, 
 My reckning paid, away I goe, 
 
 and follow my vocation ; 
 Not any good man grieving, 
 
 offenfive for to be, 
 By rooking or deceiving ; 
 
 from that my thoughts are free. 
 They call me fudling Muld-Sacke, 
 
 when drinke I have got none : 
 Cannot they thinke on the blacke jacke, 
 
 and let Muld-Sacke alone ? 
 
 As I along the ftreets doe fing 
 
 the people flocke about me, 
 No harme to any one I meane, 
 
 yet jeeringly they flout me : 
 The bar-boyes and the tapfters 
 
 leave drawing of their beere, 
 And running forth in hafte they cry, 
 
 " See, where Muld-Sacke comes here !" 
 Thus am I jeered by them, 
 
 though harme I doe them none : 
 Cannot they looke to their fmall cans, 
 
 and let Muld-Sacke alone ? 
 
 The jeering cunning curtezan 
 and rooking roaring boy, 
 
The Times Abufes. 
 
 283 
 
 Which day and night doe take delight 
 
 in drunkenneffe to joy, 
 They with their pimps and panders, 
 
 Decoyes, and cheating knaves, 
 Which run to wenches, drinks and roars, 
 
 and fimple men deceives, 
 They have no grace to guide well, 
 
 and confcience they have none ; 
 Cannot they take heed of Bridewell, 
 
 and let Muld-facke alone ? 
 
 The glutton rich that feedeth 
 
 of beefe and mutton ftore, 
 And hates the poore that needeth, 
 
 which goes from doore to doore, 
 And will not fpend his money 
 
 but for the love of drinke, 
 And grieves to give a penny, 
 
 fo well he loves his chinke, 
 Too many fuch alive is, 
 
 of whom I am fure he's one : 
 Cannot he remember Dives, 
 
 and let Muld-Sacke alone ? 
 
 Tearme-trotting petty-foggers, 
 which are fo fine and nice, 
 
 Will drinke, if they meet rightly, 
 a cup of ale and fpice ; 
 
28 4 
 
 The Times Abufes. 
 
 
 Yet muft they take their chamber 
 
 
 before they doe begin, 
 
 
 And if they can but hide it, 
 
 
 they thinke it is no finne ; 
 
 
 When I in the flreets walke open 
 
 
 to the view of every one. 
 
 
 Cannot they looke to their clyents, 
 
 
 and let Muld-Sacke alone ? 
 
 
 The jeering fleering coxcombe, 
 
 
 with hands behind his backe, 
 
 
 All day, which ftands from morn til night, 
 
 
 to cry " what doe you lacke ?" 
 
 
 With fcoffing, and with taunting, 
 
 
 will by the fleeve me pull, 
 
 
 " What is't you'l buy ?" he'l to me cry, 
 
 
 yet, like a brainlefle gull, 
 
 
 He'l caft on me a fcornfull looke, 
 
 
 though harme I doe him none : 
 
 
 Cannot he looke to his fhop-booke, 
 
 
 and let Muld-Sacke alone ? 
 
 
 The taylors fawcie prentices, 
 
 
 as I do pafTe along, 
 
 
 They at my head will caft their mreds, 
 
 
 though I doe them no wrong. 
 
 
 The faying old hath oft been told, 
 
 
 it plaine doth verifie, 
 
The Times Abufes. 
 
 285 
 
 " Poore and proud, ftill taylor like ; " 
 
 for they moft jeeringly 
 Doe call me fudling Muld-Sacke, 
 
 though drinke I have got none : 
 Cannot they keepe their fingers true, 
 
 and let Muld-Sacke alone ? 
 
 Alfo the jeering tripe-wives, 
 
 which puddings fell and fowce, 
 Crye, " There goes fudling Muld-Sacke, 
 
 doth wine and beere carowfe ; " 
 And with difdainfull fpeeches, 
 
 having no caufe at all, 
 Will taunt and feoff, and jeer and laugh, 
 
 and bafely me mifcall, 
 And call me fudling Muld-Sacke, 
 
 though I am no fuch one : 
 Cannot fhe fcrape her greafie tripes, 
 
 and let Muld-Sacke alone ? 
 
 The clownifh country carter 
 
 will likewife, with a jeere, 
 Point at me as I goe along, 
 
 his head being fill'd with beere ; 
 Yet for his jeeres I care not, 
 
 but laughing let him paffe, 
 To follow his cart with " gee, gee ho," 
 
 moft like a witleffe affe : 
 
286 
 
 The Times Abufes. 
 
 For like a home-bred Clownico, 
 good manners he knowes none : 
 
 Cannot he looke to his waggon, 
 and let Muld-Sacke alone ? 
 
 The bakers in the fuburbs, 
 
 with hearts devoid of pitty, 
 Bread light and fmall they make for all, 
 
 both country and the city, . 
 And fometimes their two penny loafe, 
 
 of weight wants ounces three, 
 As merrily I paffe them by, 
 
 they cannot let me be. 
 They call me fudling Muld-Sacke 
 
 when drinke I haue got none ; 
 Cannot they looke to their confcience, 
 and let Muld-Sacke alone ? 
 
The Lover's Complaint, 
 
 To a pleafant New Tune. 
 
 [This ballad was " Printed by the Aflignes of Thomas Symcocke " 
 in the reign of James I : there is fome reafon to believe that the old 
 tunes, fo well known by the names of " I wail in woe " and " Light o' 
 love," (mentioned in 1578 in "The Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant In- 
 ventions" and in 1584 in " The Handfull of pleafant Delights") might 
 be named from it. " Light o' love" is employed as an extremely po- 
 pular air in two of Shakefpeare's plays, " The Two Gentlemen of 
 Verona" and " Much ado about Nothing." Compare alfo Sonnet XL 
 of " The Pafiionate Pilgrim," with the later ftanzas of the ballad. The 
 full title is only this, " The Lovers Complaint for the lofle of his 
 Love."] 
 
 WANDER up and downe 
 
 and no body cares for me : 
 Though I am but poore and browne, 
 yet conftant will I be. 
 My deareft love, farewell, 
 a thoufand times adew, 
 Seeing thou haft forfaken me, 
 and changed for a new. 
 
 I never gave thee caufe 
 
 why thou fhouldft me forfake, 
 
 Nor never brake the faithfull vow 
 that you and I did make : 
 
288 
 
 The Lover's Complaint. 
 
 Farewell, my deareft love ; 
 
 I tooke thee at thy word. 
 Hard hap had I to beat the bum, 
 
 and another catch the bird. 
 
 I will goe range abroad, 
 
 He find fome other thing : 
 If I had knowne you would have flowne, 
 
 I would have dipt your .wing. — 
 Would you have dipt my wing ? 
 
 me anfwered me againe : 
 You might have done it in the wood ; 
 
 you know the time and when. 
 
 Farewell, my deareft love, 
 
 to thee I made my fute ; 
 Hard hap had I to graft the tree, 
 
 another reape the fruite. 
 I alwaies waile in woe, 
 
 I travaile ftill in paine : 
 I fee my true love where fhe goes ; 
 
 I hope fhee'l come againe. 
 
 I heard a pretty tune 
 
 concerning to a fong, 
 A lover mourning for his love, 
 
 and faid fhe did him wrong : 
 He had her in the wood, 
 
 he might have wrought his will ; 
 
The Lover's Complaint. 
 
 Pittie it was to doe him good 
 that he had no better fkill. 
 
 In woods, or defert place, 
 
 had I ere my love fo, 
 I thinke I would have plaid with her, 
 
 before I had let her goe : 
 Had fhe been light of love, 
 
 I mould have foone efpied ; 
 I trow I would a dipt her wing, 
 
 and caus'd her to abide. 
 
 Should I let fcape the bird 
 
 that I had faft on fift ? 
 Then, let her laugh and fcoffe at me, 
 
 and ufe me as fhe lift. 
 He ftill doth beate the bum, 
 
 although the bird be loft, 
 And being flothfull in his fuit, 
 
 thus fortune hath him coft. 
 
 If with my love in woods 
 
 fo happy were I fped, 
 I mould fuppofe my hap were hard, 
 
 to mhTe her maiden head. 
 Good friend, be rul'd by me 
 
 that made this morall fong ; 
 If thou wander up and downe, 
 
 thy felfe hath done thee wrong. 
 
 p p 
 
 289 
 
2QO 
 
 The Lover's Complaint. 
 
 
 Thou alwaies wailft in woe, 
 
 
 thou travaileft frill in paine : 
 
 
 Looke, yonder, where my true love goes, 
 
 
 me will never come againe ! 
 
 
 Therefore be rulde by me, 
 
 
 and let thy lover paffe : 
 
 
 If thou looke well, thy chance may be 
 
 
 to find another laiTe. 
 
 
 Finis. 
 
 
 Ilifii 
 
 • 
 
 iIk 
 
 
 m 
 
291 
 
 The Coach's Overthrow. 
 
 To the Tune of " Old King Harry." 
 
 [As early as 1601 Coaches in London had become fuch a nuifance 
 that the legiflature found it neceffary to interpofe " to reftrain the ex- 
 ceflive ufe" of them : not long afterwards, we are told that, not fewer 
 than 6000 were conftantly crowding the narrow ftreets. About 1630 
 Sedans alfo came into general requeft, and they are alluded to by R. 
 Brome and other dramatifts of the time. In 163 1 the inhabitants of 
 Blackfriars petitioned the Privy Council againft the number of coaches 
 bringing auditors to the theatre there— (Hift. Engl. Dram. Poetry and 
 the Stage II. 31., III. 408); and John Taylor's " World runs on 
 Wheels," was written to ridicule the increafing fafhion. In 1636 was 
 printed a ludicrous difcuffion between a Coach and a Sedan ; and to 
 about this period the following fong, which contemplates the fuppref- 
 fion of hackney coaches, feems to belong. It is called, in the undated 
 broadfide, " The Coaches Overthrow, or a joviall Exaltation of divers 
 Tradefmen and others for the fuppreffion of troublefome Hackney 
 Coaches:" for "exaltation" we ought doubtlefs to read exultation^ 
 but we have never met with more than one copy, which was " Printed 
 for Francis Grove." Other obvious mifprints occur, which it is not 
 worth while to point out, and in one place a line has been nearly cut 
 off: we have fupplied the deficiency by conjecture.] 
 
 S I pafs'd by the other day, 
 
 where facke and claret fpring, 
 I heard a mad crew by the way, 
 that lowd did laugh and ling 
 High downe, dery, dery downe, 
 
 with the hackney coaches downe ! 
 
292 The Coach's Overthrow, 
 
 Tis cry'd aloud, 
 They make fuch a crowd, 
 Men cannot paffe the towne. 
 
 The boyes that brew ftrong ale, and care 
 
 not how the world doth fwing, 
 So bonny, blith, and joviall are, 
 
 their lives are drinke and ling ; 
 Hey downe, dery, dery downe, 
 
 with the hackney coaches downe ! 
 To make them roome 
 They may freely come, 
 And liquor the thirfty towne. 
 
 The Collier he's a fack of mirth, 
 and though as black as foote, 
 Yet ftill he tunes and whittles forth, 
 
 and this is all the note : 
 Heigh downe, dery, dery downe, 
 with the hackney coaches downe ! 
 They long made fooles 
 Of poore Carry-coales, 
 
 But now muft leave the towne. 
 
 • 
 
 The Carriers of every fhire 
 
 are, as from cares immune, 
 So joviall in this packe horfe quire, 
 
 and this is all their tune, 
 Hey downe, dery, dery downe, 
 
The Coach's Overthrow. 
 
 293 
 
 with the hackney coaches downe ! 
 
 
 Farewell, adew 
 
 
 To the jumping crew, 
 For they muft leave the towne. 
 
 
 Although a Carman had a cold, 
 he ftraind his March-bird voice, 
 
 
 And with the beft a part did hold, 
 
 
 to ring and to rejoyce. 
 Heigh downe, dery, dery downe, 
 with the hackney coaches downe ! 
 
 
 The Carmen's cars, 
 
 
 And the merchants wares, 
 
 
 May paile along the towne. 
 
 
 The very flugs did pipe for joy 
 
 that coachmen hence mould hye, 
 
 - 
 
 And that the coaches muft away, 
 
 
 a mellowing up to lye. 
 Hey downe, dery, dery downe, 
 
 with the hackney coachmen downe ! 
 
 
 Parle they their fcope, 
 As round as a rope, 
 Wee'l jogge them forth of the towne. 
 
 
 Promoters and the informers, 
 
 
 that oft offences hatch, 
 
 
 In all our times the money-wormes, 
 
 
 and they are for to catch, 
 
 
294 
 
 The Coach's Overthrow. 
 
 Heigh downe, dery, dery downe, 
 with the hackney coaches downe ! 
 
 For thefe reftraints 
 
 Will with complaints 
 Fill all [the noify towne]. 
 
 The world no more mall run on wheels 
 
 with coach-men, as't has done, 
 But they muft take them to their heeles, 
 
 and try how they can run. 
 Heigh downe, dery, dery downe, 
 
 With the hackney coaches downe ! 
 Wee thought they'd burft 
 Their pride, fince firft 
 SwelPd fo within the towne. 
 
 The Sedan does (like Atlas) hope 
 
 to carry heaven pick-pack, 
 And likewife, fince he has fuch fcope, 
 
 to beare the towne at's back. 
 Heigh downe, dery, dery downe, 
 
 With the hackney coachmen downe ! 
 Arife, Sedan, 
 Thou fhalt be the man 
 To beare us about the towne. 
 
 I love Sedans, caufe they doe plod 
 and amble every where, 
 
The Coach's Overthrow, 
 
 295 
 
 Which prancers are with leather mod, 
 
 and neere difturbe the eare. 
 Heigh downe, dery, dery downe, 
 
 With the hackney coaches downe ! 
 Their jumpings make 
 The pavement make, 
 Their noyfe doth mad the towne. 
 
 The elder brother fhall take place, 
 
 the youngeft brother rife ; 
 The middle brother's out of grace, 
 
 and every tradefman cryes, 
 Heigh downe, dery, dery downe, 
 with the hackney coaches downe ! 
 Twould fave much hurt, 
 Spare duft and durt, 
 Were they cleane out of towne. 
 
 The fick, the weake, the lame alfo, 
 
 a coach for eafe might beg, 
 When they on foot might lightly goe, 
 
 that are as right's leg. 
 Heigh downe, dery, dery downe, 
 
 With the hackney coaches downe ! 
 Lets foot it out, 
 Ere the yeare comes about, 
 Twill fave us many a crowne. 
 
296 The Coach's Overthrow. 
 
 What though we trip ore boots and fhoes, 
 
 twill eafe the price of leather : 
 We fhall get twice what once we loofe, 
 
 when they doe fall together. 
 Heigh downe, dery, dery downe, 
 with the hackney coaches downe ! 
 Though one trade fall, 
 Yet in generall 
 Tis a good to all the towne. • 
 
 Tis an undoing unto none 
 
 that a profeffion ufe : 
 Tis good for all, not hurt to one, 
 
 confidering the abufe. 
 Then heigh downe, dery, dery downe, 
 with the hackney coaches downe ! 
 Tis fo decreed 
 By a royall deed, 
 To make it a happy towne. 
 
 Coach-makers may ufe many trades 
 
 and get enough of meanes ; 
 And coach-men may turne off their jades, 
 
 and helpe to draine the fens. 
 Heigh downe, dery, dery downe, 
 
 With the hackney coaches downe ! 
 The fythe and flayle, 
 Cart and plow-tayle, 
 Doe want them out of towne. 
 
The Coach's Overthrow. 
 
 297 
 
 
 But to conclude, tis true, I heare, 
 
 
 they'l foone be out of fafhion ; 
 
 
 Tis thought they very likely are 
 to have a long vacation. 
 
 
 Heigh downe, dery, dery downe, 
 
 With the hackney coaches downe ! 
 
 
 Their terme's neere done, 
 
 
 And mall be begun 
 
 
 No more in London towne. 
 
 
 
 \\ Gff&dk ^vVfflR^SLft iff 
 
 
 
 
 
 l^^^^liI)B^i^)i \ ^*JMm ^ \ 
 
 
 
 
 Bill 
 
 
 
 
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 v-Bm 
 
 
 ^^Wj^^^ 
 
 
 ffiiRp^ii 
 
 ?^7 ^H 
 
 
 ^^»AJ^iL^#-- 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 <^<L 
 
298 
 
 The Bad Hufband turn'd 
 
 Thrifty. 
 
 To the Tune of^ Hey ho my Honey. 
 
 [The name at the end of the enfuing ballad has not occurred before, 
 and we can give no account of John Wade, or of his other productions : 
 this may have been printed for the firft time " for W. Thackeray, T. 
 Paflinger and W. Whitwood, ,, towards the middle of the feventeenth 
 century, but it may alfo have appeared confiderably earlier, and it con- 
 tains no peculiar note of time. The title of the broadfide is, " A Ca- 
 veat for Young Men, or the bad Hufband turn'd Thrifty," followed 
 by eight lines enforcing the moral of the performance. We have in- 
 ferted no other ballad to the fame tune.] 
 
 LL you young ranting blades 
 that fpend your time in vain, 
 Remember that old age 
 you cannot it refrain ; 
 And whiift that you are young 
 
 this Caveat take of me : 
 Be ruled by no tempting tongue 
 
 to bring you to poverty. 
 / have been a bad hnjband long, 
 
 and have fpent Jlore offilver and gold ; 
 Tet now lie fave fomething whiljl I am young 
 to keep me when I am old. 
 
The Bad Hufband turn'd Thrifty, 
 
 299 
 
 I had good ftore of means, 
 
 and liv'd moft gallantly ; 
 But yet upon wenches, and on queans 
 
 I fpent it by and by. 
 My hoaftis fhe was full of laughter 
 
 fo long as I had money good ftore ; 
 And my children muft drink fair water, 
 
 whilft I in the ale-houfe did roar. 
 / have been &c. 
 
 My wife would me intreat 
 
 the ale-houfe to refrain ; 
 Then I with anger great 
 
 made anfwear ftraight again : — 
 If you begin to fcold 
 
 then I will bang thy coat. — 
 What woman her tongue can hold, 
 
 when a man fwallows all down his throat ? 
 / have been &c. 
 
 My children and I muft fit 
 
 until we ftarve and pine, 
 Whilft you your guts full get 
 
 of tobacco, beer and wine. 
 Half that you fpend in vain, 
 
 and meerly throw away, 
 Our family would maintain, 
 
 and our houfe-rent it would pay. 
 i" have been &c. 
 
3°° 
 
 The Bad Hufband 
 
 But yet Ide not be rul'd 
 
 by thefe words fhe did fay : 
 My felf I often fool'd, 
 
 which brought me to decay. 
 I no fooner had fold a cow 
 
 but ftrait to the ale-houfe I ran ; 
 My hoaftis unto me would bow, 
 
 until all my money was gone. 
 I have been&c. 
 
 She'd chuck me under the chin, 
 
 and perhaps would give me a kifs ; 
 As Venus drew Adonis in, 
 
 my hoaftis would never mifs : 
 She'd tell me it was too early, 
 
 or elfe it was too late, 
 Until by the oyl of barley 
 
 they had gotten my whole eftate. 
 / have been &c. 
 
 Thus day and night I ranted, 
 and no company did refufe ; 
 
 Whilft my wife and children wanted, 
 I did my felf abufe. 
 
 I could not fcarce afford 
 
 my children clothes to wear, 
 
 Nor my wife one good word, 
 
turn'd Thrifty. 
 
 301 
 
 fuch was her grievous care. 
 / have been &c. 
 
 The more my wife did fpeak, 
 
 the worfer I would be ; 
 Fde drinke till my brains did ake, 
 
 onely to anger fhe : 
 So long as I had a penny 
 
 Tde never give out for game ; 
 But iince I have found by many, 
 
 a good fellows a coftly name. 
 / have been &c. 
 
 At laft I did perceive 
 
 my eftate was almoft gone ; 
 Then it was time to leave, 
 
 and fome words I thought upon. 
 I went into an ale-houfe, 
 
 where all my coyn I had drown'd 
 In company with good fellows 
 
 I had fpent an hundred pound. 
 / have been &c. 
 
 I then thefe words replied : — 
 Hoaftis, money I have none. 
 
 A flagon fhe me denied, 
 
 and bid me ftraight be gone. 
 
3°2 
 
 The Bad Hufband 
 
 What, will you not truft me a flagon ? 
 
 thofe words replied I : 
 No, quoth fhe, not a nogging, 
 
 if you mould flarve and dye. 
 / have been &c. 
 
 I then went fighing home, 
 
 and a vow ftraightway did make, 
 They mould fit whilft day of doom 
 
 before one penny of me mould take, 
 A new life I will now begin ; 
 
 the ale-wives mall fit like elves, 
 They mail both card and fpin, 
 
 or elfe go hang themfelves. 
 i" have been &c. 
 
 Now, I all men advife 
 
 this Caveat think upon ; 
 Be ruled by your wives, 
 
 for old age it will come. 
 If they know you have money, 
 
 the ale-wives with you will crack ; 
 They'l fuck you, as bees fuck honey, 
 
 then hang you behind your back. 
 I have been &c. 
 
 Therefore in time be ruled 
 
 fave fomething while you have it ; 
 
turn'd Thrifty. 
 
 3°3 
 
 By no ale-wives be you fooled, 
 
 and then repent too late : 
 For when that all is gone, 
 
 and you have but little flock, 
 If to the ale-wives you make moan, 
 
 they will you but jear and mock. 
 / have been a bad hujband long, 
 
 and have /pent ft ore ofjilver and gold, 
 Tet now lie fave fome thing whiljl I am young 
 
 to keep me when I am old, 
 
 John Wade. 
 
3°4 
 
 The Pedlar's Lamentation. 
 
 To the Tune of " My life and my death." 
 
 [An excellent ballad for Autolycus, though, from various allufions 
 in it, of too modern a date. The contents of a Pedlar's pack, foon after 
 a licenfe became neceflary, are very minutely ftated, and, even to the 
 " choice fongs and merry books," accord well with the articles in which 
 " the rogue" of "The Winter's Tale" dealt. The ballad was " Printed 
 for J. Back, at the Black-boy on London-bridge," under the following 
 title : — " The forrowful Lamentation of the Pedlars and Petty Chap- 
 men, for the hardnefs of the times, and the decay of trade."] 
 
 T^lfHE times are grown hard, more harder then 
 ftone, 
 And therefore the Pedlars may well make 
 their moan, 
 Lament and complain that trading is dead, 
 That all the fweet golden fair days now are fled. 
 Then, maidens and men, come fee what you lack. 
 And buy the fine toys that I have in my pack ! 
 
 Come hither and view, here's choice and here's ftore, 
 Here's all things to pleafe ye, what would you have 
 
 more ? 
 Here's points for the men, and pins for the maid, 
 
The Pedlar's Lamentation. 
 
 3°5 
 
 Then open your purfes and be not afraid. 
 
 Come, maidens &c. 
 
 Let none at a tefter repent or repine : 
 
 Come bring me your money, and Fie make you fine ; 
 
 Young Billy fhall look as fpruce as the day, 
 
 And pretty fweet Betty more finer then May. 
 
 Then, maidens &c. 
 
 To buy a new licenfe your money I crave ; 
 
 'Tis that which I want, and 'tis that which you have : 
 
 Exchange then a groat for fome pretty toy, 
 
 Come, buy this fine whiftle for your little boy. 
 
 Come, maidens &c. 
 
 Here's garters for hofe, and cotten for fhooes, 
 And there's a guilt bodkin, which none would refufe : 
 This bodkin let John give to fweet Miftrifs Jane, 
 And then of unkindnefs he fhall not complain. 
 
 Come, maidens &c. 
 
 Come buy this fine coife, this drefling, or hood, 
 And let not your money come like drops of blood : 
 The Pedlar may well of his fortune complain, 
 If he brings all his ware to the market in vaine. 
 
 Then, maidens &c. 
 
 Here's band firings for men, and there you have lace, 
 Bone-lace to adorne the fair virgins fweet face : 
 
 R R 
 
306 
 
 The Pedlar's Lamentation. 
 
 What ever you like, if you will but pay, 
 As foon as you pleafe you may take it away. 
 
 Then, maidens &c. 
 
 The world is fo hard that we find little trade, 
 Although we have all things to pleafe every maid : 
 Come, pretty fair maids, then make no delay, 
 But give me your hanfel, and pack me away. 
 
 Come, maidens &c. 
 
 Here's all things that's fine, and all things that's rare, 
 All modifh and neat, and all new London ware : 
 Variety here you plainly may fee, 
 Then, give me your money, and we will agree. 
 
 Come, maidens &c. 
 
 We travail all day through dirt and through mire, 
 To fetch you fine laces and what you defire ; 
 No pains do we fpare to bring you choice ware, 
 As gloves and perfumes, and fweet powder for hair. 
 
 'Then, maidens &c. 
 
 We have choice of fongs, and merry books too, 
 All pleafant and witty, delightful and new, 
 Which every young fwain may whiftle at plough, 
 And every fair milk-maid may fing at her cow. 
 
 Then, maide?zs &c. 
 
 Since trading's fo dead we muft needs complain, 
 And, therefore, pray let us have fome little gain : 
 
If you will be free, we will you fupply 
 With what you do want ; therefore, pray come and buy. 
 The world is fo hard, that although we take pains y 
 When we look in our purfes we find little gains. 
 
 Finis. 
 
melancholy 
 
 Poor Robin's Dream, commonly 
 called Poor Charity. 
 
 To the Tune of " A Game at Cards." 
 
 [An ancient ballad, but clearly with forrre modern interpolations, 
 efpecially near the end. It is a fort of Morality, or Moral-play, in the 
 form of a fong, and the allufions to the ftage and to imperfonations 
 upon it, fuch as Time, Confcience, Plain-dealing, DifTimulation, 
 Youth, Age, &c. are obvious. Poor Robin figured afterwards very 
 prominently in many popular productions. To the title we have placed 
 at the head, the following diftich is added : — 
 
 " I know no reafon but this harmlefs riddle 
 May as well be printed, as fung to a fiddle ;" 
 
 and it was accordingly " Printed by J. Lock for J. Clark at the Harp 
 and Bible in Weft Smith-field :" this certainly was not the earlieft im- 
 preflion, though no older copy has yet come to light. The information 
 regarding the tune, in a ftill more modern impreilion, is unufually 
 minute : — " To a compleate Tune, well known to Mufitians and many- 
 others, or a game at Cards."] 
 
 OW now, good fellow ! what, all amort ? 
 I pray thee, tell me what is the news ? — 
 Trading is dead, and I am forry for't, 
 Which makes me look worfe then I ufe. 
 If a man hath no employment, whereby to get penny, 
 He hath no enjoyment in that he wanteth money ; 
 And charity is not ufed by many. 
 
Poor Robin's Dream 
 
 3°9 
 
 I have nothing to fpend, nor Ive nothing to lend ; 
 
 Ive nothing to do, I tarry at home. 
 Sitting in my chair, drawing near to the fire, 
 
 I fell into a fleep, like an idle drone ; 
 And as I flept I fell into a dream: 
 I faw a play acted without er'e a theam, 
 But I could not tell what the play did mean. 
 
 But afterwards I did perceive, 
 
 and fomething more I did underftand : 
 
 The ftage was the world wherein we live, 
 the actors they were all mankind ; 
 
 And when the play is ended the ftage down they fling. 
 
 There will be no difference in this thing 
 
 Between a Beggar and a King. 
 
 The firft that acted, I proteft, 
 
 was Time, with a glafs and a fithe in his hand, 
 With the globe of the world upon his breaft, 
 
 to mew that he could the fame command. 
 There's a time for to work, and a time for to play, 
 A time for to borrow, and a time for to pay, 
 And a time that doth call us all away. 
 
 Confcience in order takes his place, 
 
 and very gallantly plays his part : 
 He fears not to fly in a rulers face, 
 
 although it cuts him to the heart. 
 He tells them all, this is the latter age, 
 
3io 
 
 Poor Robin's Dream 
 
 Which put the actors in fuch a rage, 
 
 That they kickt poor Confcience off the ftage. 
 
 Plain-dealing prefently appears, 
 
 in habit like a fimple man : 
 The actors at him made mocks and jears, 
 
 pointing their fingers as they ran. 
 How came this fellow in our company ? 
 Away with him ! many a gallant did cry, 
 For Plain-dealing will a beggar dye. 
 
 Diffimulation mounted the ftage; 
 
 but he was cloathed in gallant attire : 
 He was acquainted with Youth and Age ; 
 
 many his company did defire. 
 They entertain'd him in their very breaft ; 
 There he could have harbor, and quietly reft, 
 For diffemblers and turn-coats fare the beft. 
 
 Then cometh in poor Charity : 
 
 methinks fhe looked wondrous old ; 
 
 She quiver'd and fhe quak't moft piteoufly, 
 
 it griev'd me to think fhe was grown fo cold. 
 
 She had been in the city, and in the country, 
 
 Amongft the lawyers and nobility ; 
 
 But there was no room for poor Charity. 
 
 Then comes in Truth, well cloathed in wool, 
 
 but like unto Youth in his white lawn fleeves, 
 And fays, the land it is full, full, full, 
 
Poor Robin's Dream. 
 
 3n 
 
 too full of rebels worfe then theeves. 
 The city's full of poverty, the French are full of pride, 
 Fanaticks full of envy, which order can't abide ; 
 And the ufurers bags are full befide. 
 
 Hark, how Bellona's drums they do beat ! 
 
 inethinks it goes rattling through the town. 
 Hark, how they thunder through the flreet, 
 
 as though they would make the chimneys down ! 
 Then comes in Mars, the great god of war, 
 And bids us face about, and be as we were ; 
 But when I awakt I fat in my chair. 
 
God fpeed the Plough, And 
 
 blefs the Corn-mow. 
 
 The Tune rj, " I am the Duke of Norfolk." 
 
 [This is the earlieft known impreffion of .a ballad-dialogue, which to 
 this day has been orally preferved in fome parts of the country : in Mr. 
 J. H. Dixon's " Ancient Poems" &c, (printed for the Percy Society) 
 is one of thefe traditional verfions, and another is given in Air. Davies 
 Gilbert's " Chriftmas Carrols." Our copy is, like our other ballads, 
 in black letter, but without any printer's name, fo that we have more 
 imperfect means than ufual of fixing its date. The title — " God fpeed 
 the Plow, and blefs the Corn-mow, a Dialogue between the Hufband- 
 man and Serving-man," — is followed by fix lines ftating the particular 
 purpofe of the ballad, viz. to fhow the fuperiority of the life of the 
 former to the latter. The tune may ferve to prove the antiquity of 
 the ballad, fince it was, doubtlefs, derived from fome lyrical produc- 
 tion on the execution of the Duke of Norfolk in 1572.] 
 
 Y noble friends, give ear, 
 If mirth you love to hear ; 
 
 Fie tell you, as fa ft as I can, 
 A ftory very true : 
 Then, mark what doth enfue, 
 Concerning a Hufband-man. 
 
 A Serving-man did meet 
 A Hufband-man in the ftreet, 
 and thus unto him he began. 
 
God fpeed the Plough. 
 
 3*3 
 
 I pray you, tell to me 
 Of what calling you be, 
 
 or if you be a Serving-man ? — 
 
 Quoth he, my brother dear, 
 The coaft I mean to clear, 
 
 and the truth you mail underftand. 
 I do no one difdain, 
 But this I tell you plain, 
 
 I am an honeft Hufband-man. 
 
 Serving-man. 
 If a Hufband-man you be, 
 Then, come along with me ; 
 
 Tie help you, as foon as I can, 
 Unto a gallant place, 
 Where in a little fpace 
 
 you mall be a Serving-man. 
 
 Hujband-man. 
 Sir, for your diligence 
 I give you many thanks, 
 
 then anfwered the Plowman again : 
 I pray you, to me mow 
 Whereby that I might know, 
 
 what pleafures hath a Serving-man. 
 
 Serving-man. 
 A Serving-man hath pleafure, 
 Which paffeth time and meafure, 
 
 when the hawk on his fift doth ftand 
 
 s s 
 
3*4 
 
 God fpeed the Plough 
 
 His hood and his verrils brave, 
 And other things we have, 
 
 which yields joy to a Serving-man. 
 Hujband-man. 
 My pleafure's more than that, 
 To fee my oxen fat, 
 
 and to profper well under my hand ; 
 And therefore I do mean, 
 With my horfe and team, 
 
 to keep my felf a Hufband-man. 
 
 Serving-man. 
 O ! 'tis a gallant thing, 
 In the prime time of the Spring, 
 
 to hear the huntfman, now and than, 
 His beaugle for to blow, 
 And the hounds run all a row 
 
 this is pleafure for a Serving-man, 
 
 To hear the beagle cry, 
 And to fee the faulcon fly, 
 
 and the hare trip over the plain ; 
 And the huntfman, and the hound 
 Make hill and dale refound : 
 
 this is pleafure for a Serving-man. 
 
 Hujband-man. 
 'Tis pleafure, you do know, 
 To fee the corn to grow, 
 
 and to grow fo well on the land : 
 
God Ipeed the Plough. 
 
 315 
 
 The plowing and the fowing, 
 The reaping and the mowing, 
 
 yeelds pleafure to the Hufband-man. 
 
 Serving-man. 
 At our table you may eat 
 All forts of dainty meat, 
 
 Pig, cony, goofe, capon and fwan ; 
 And with lords, and ladies fine, 
 You may drink beer, ale, and wine : 
 
 this is pleafure for a Serving-man. 
 
 Hufband-man. 
 While you eat goofe and capon, 
 Tie feed on beefe and bacon, 
 
 and a piece of hard cheefe now and than: 
 We pudding have, and foufe, 
 Always ready in the houfe ; 
 
 which contents the honeft Hufband-man. 
 
 Serving-man. 
 At the Court you may have 
 Your garments fine and brave, 
 
 and cloak with gold lace layd upon ; 
 A fhirt as white as milk, 
 And wrought with fineft filk : 
 
 that's pleafure for a Serving-man. 
 
 Hujhand-man. 
 Such proud and coftly gear 
 Is not for us to wear 
 
316 
 
 God fpeed the Plough. 
 
 
 amongft the bryers, and brambles many one : 
 
 
 A good ftrong ruflet coat, 
 
 
 And at your need a groat, 
 
 
 will fuffice for the Hufband-man. 
 
 
 A proverb here I tell, 
 
 
 Which likes my humour well, 
 
 
 and remember it well I can : 
 
 
 If a Courtier be too bold, 
 
 
 He'l want when he is old : . 
 
 
 then, farewell to the Serving-man. 
 
 
 Serving-man, 
 
 
 It needs muft be confer!, 
 
 
 That your calling is the befr. : 
 
 
 no longer difcourfe with you I can ; 
 
 
 But henceforth I will pray, 
 
 
 By night and by day, 
 
 
 Heavens blefs the honert Hufband-man ! 
 
 
 jl 
 
 
 if 
 
Z^7 
 
 The 
 
 Merry Man's Refolution. 
 
 To a gallant new Tune^ called " The Highlander's new Rant." 
 
 [The initials L. P., at the end of this production, mew that it was 
 by Lawrence Price, of whom we have before fpoken : it contains a 
 fingular enumeration of the questionable localities of London, not very 
 long before the Reftoration. It was " Printed for Francis Grove, on 
 Snow Hill," and the full title is this :— " The Merry Man's Refolu- 
 tion, or his laft farewel to his former acquaintance, 
 
 " Declaring how he rambled up and down 
 Through all the Suburbs of fair London Town, 
 Where pretty wenches he did plenty find, 
 But fome of them agreed not with his mind ; 
 Till, at the laft, by chance he found out one 
 Which pleafed him beft, fo left the reft alone : 
 To her he then dinged clofe, as I heard tell, 
 Made her his mate, and bid the reft farewell."] 
 
 OW, farewel to Saint Gilefes 
 that ftandeth in the fields, 
 And farewel to Turnbul ftreet, 
 for that no comfort yields : 
 Farewel unto the Grey-hound, 
 
 and farewel to the Bell, 
 And farewel to my land-lady, 
 1 whom I do love fo well. 
 
3 1 8 The Merry Man's Refolution. 
 
 With a come Love, 
 Stay Love, 
 go not from me ; 
 For all the world He forfake for thee. 
 
 Farewel to Long- Acre 
 
 that ftands near the Mews, 
 And farewel to Drury Lane 
 
 where pretty wenches ufe ; 
 And farewel unto Sodom,- 
 
 and all her painted drabs, 
 And farewel unto Bloomfbury, 
 
 and all their vapouring fcabs : 
 And come Love, 
 Stay Love, 
 
 go not from me ; 
 For all the world He forfake for thee. 
 
 Farewel to Croffe-lane, 
 
 where lives fome babes of graces ; 
 Farewel to Common-garden, 
 
 and all her wanton places : 
 Farewel unto Weftminfter, 
 
 and farewel to the Strand, 
 Where I had choice of Mopfies 
 
 ever at my own command. 
 Sing, come Love, 
 Stay Love, 
 
The Merry Man's Refolution. 
 
 go along with me ; 
 For all the world He forfake for thee. 
 
 Farewel to the Bank-fide, 
 
 farewel to Blackmans-ftreet, 
 Where with my bouncing lafles 
 
 I oftentimes did meet : 
 Farewel to Kent-ftreet garrifon, 
 
 farewel to Horfly-down, 
 And all the fmirking wenches 
 
 that dwell in Redriff town. 
 And come Love, 
 Stay Love, 
 
 go along with me ; 
 For all the world He forfake for thee, 
 
 Now farewel unto Wapping, 
 
 and farewel to Black-wall : 
 Farewel to Ratclife High-way, 
 
 Rofemary-lane and all : 
 And farewel unto Shore-ditch, 
 
 and More-fields eke alfo, 
 Where mobs to pick up callies 
 
 a night walking do go. 
 
 Then, come Love, 
 Stay Love, 
 
 go along with me ; 
 For all the world He forfake for thee, 
 
320 The Merry Man's Refolution 
 
 In White-croffe-ftreet, and Golden-lane, 
 
 do ftraping laffes dwell, 
 And fo there do in every ftreet 
 
 twixt that and Clarken-well : 
 At Cow-croffe and Smith-field 
 
 I have much pleafure found, 
 Where wenches, like to Fayeries, 
 
 did often trace the round. 
 Yet, come Love, 
 Stay Love, 
 
 go not from me ; 
 For all thofe girls He forfake for thee. 
 
 Yet fomething more He fpeak off, 
 
 which feems to many ftrange ; 
 There's ftore of pretty wenches 
 
 live neere to the Exchange : 
 And many more there are, fure, 
 
 that dwelleth in Cheap-fide, 
 And other ftreets in London, 
 
 which are both broad and wide. 
 Yet, come Love, 
 Stay Love, 
 
 go not from me ; 
 For all thofe girles Me forfake for thee. 
 
 To all the country Mopfies, 
 wherever they do dwell, 
 
The Merry Man's Refolution, 
 
 In this my laft conclufion 
 
 I likewife bid farewel : 
 Though they were ufed, in former time, 
 
 to come when I did call, 
 I take thee for the boldeft, 
 
 and beft among them all. 
 Then, come Love, 
 Stay Love, 
 
 go not from me ; 
 For all the world He forfake for thee. 
 
 At Briftol and at Glocefter 
 
 I had of loves great ftore, 
 But now I find enough of thee ; 
 
 I will defire no more : 
 And what I have faid to thee 
 
 thou malt find true and right ; 
 He doe thee trufty fervice 
 
 at morning and at night. 
 
 Then, come Love, 
 Stay Love, 
 
 go not from me ; 
 For all the world He forfake for thee. 
 
 Farewel unto black patches, 
 and farewel powdered locks, 
 
 And farewel Luthner's ladies, 
 for they are full of mocks. 
 
 321 
 
 T T 
 
322 
 
 The Merry Man's Refolution 
 
 Farewel the Cherry-garden, 
 
 for evermore adue ; 
 And farewel to Spur-Alley, 
 and all that wanton crew. 
 And, come Love, 
 Stay Love, 
 go not from me ; 
 For all thofe girles He forfake for thee. 
 
 L. P. 
 
 Finis. 
 
 
 \ 
 
 
 
 ^^^yJ^^^Ty iljl^JsMffiffiL 
 
 
 Ml 
 
 11 
 
 
 ^ il ^ 
 
 lln 
 
 ^=^ 
 
323 
 
 Well matched at laft. 
 
 To the Tune of " I know what I know." 
 
 [This comic ballad was certainly pofterior to another in our collec- 
 tion, (p. 97.) becaufe the name of the tune to which it was fung was 
 derived from " Few Words are beft," the burden of which is " I know 
 what I know." What follows was " Printed at London, for J. 
 Wright, junior, dwelling at the upper end of the Old Bailey," as 
 ufual, without date; and it was called, "A pleafant new Ditty, intituled 
 
 Though rich golden Booties your luck was to catch, 
 Your laft was the beft, caufe you met with your match." 
 
 Several modern fongs have been written in imitation of it, but we 
 have never feen it reprinted, unlefs the old copy, which we have em- 
 ployed, were itfelf a reprint.] 
 
 RICH wealthy batchelour, thirty and odde, 
 Had now a new crotchet crept into his 
 pate : 
 
 A wife he muft have, what-foever betide, 
 And well linde with rubbifh to inrich his ftate. 
 
 Faire maidens were offer'd him, two, three and four, 
 Sufficient men's daughters, with money to boote, 
 •Yet his greedy mind did ftill gape after more, 
 For he faid, 'twas too little for him to go to'te. 
 
324 
 
 Well Matched at laft. 
 
 His meanes did afford him three hundred a yeere, 
 And three bonny laffes had thoufands apeece ; 
 Yet for it, and them, hee a pin did not care, 
 Though one of them was to a gentleman neece. 
 
 Shall I for a paltery poore thoufand pound 
 A young wench goe marry with nothing but breed, 
 Confume me in longings, in fafhions and toyes ? 
 No ; yet it is time, and I now will take heed. 
 
 There is a brifk widdow, that dwelleth hard by, 
 In money hath ten thoufand pounds at the leaft : 
 He fpruce my felfe up, then, incontinently, 
 And to her He goe as a fhutering gueft. 
 
 This batchelour foone did attaine his defire ; 
 The day was appointed when they mould be wed. 
 His youthfull faire bride was but threefcore and ten, 
 For fhee had but a tooth and a halfe in her head. 
 
 Some three or foure yeares did this bonny laffe live, 
 Then grim goodman Death tooke her life cleane away; 
 And griefe for her lone had the man almoft fped, 
 But that a new widdow his journey did flay. 
 
 His wife being buried, next morning he went 
 Another fpruce widdow agen for to fee, 
 Where mounted on crutches he ftraight one efpide : 
 Who in ftate of riches was better than fhee ? 
 
 His mother's fmocke fure did this widdower weare, 
 For no fooner woo'd, but he prefenly fped : 
 
Well Matched at laft. 
 
 3 2 5 
 
 A licence he fetcht, and he marri'd her ftraight ; 
 Then fhe threw downe her ftilts, and fhe hobbl'd to bed. 
 
 Not full ten yeeres older then was his laft wife 
 Was this fame dryd mummey that lay by his fide : 
 With fnorting and grunting fhe air'd fo the bed, 
 That never had groome fuch a night with a bride. 
 
 But ftill did her money perfume all againe, 
 And in a moneth after fhe bed-rid did lye : 
 Seven winters and fummers fhe lay at fmall eafe, 
 And then fhe departed, becaufe fhe muft dye. 
 
 Five hundred a yeere fhe augmented his ftate ; 
 Ten thoufand pound cleare by the other he got : 
 Meane time of another fpruce widdow he heard, 
 Then he praid unto Jove that fhe might be his lot. 
 
 This widdow feem'd not above fifty at moft, 
 
 So fpruce and fo neat was her carkas bedreft ; 
 
 She wanted no meanes for to fet her to fale, 
 
 They lik't, and were marri'd : now, marke well the reft. 
 
 She feerrfd fo compleate and fo comely of fhape, 
 That he doted on her more than on both the reft. 
 She faid then, fweet hufband, be not you difmaid, 
 For the truth muft be knowne when you fee me undreft. 
 
 Two rowes of white teeth fhe tooke out of her mouth, 
 And put "em ftraight into a little round boxe ; 
 A glafie eye likewife fhe pull'd out of her head, 
 Which made the man feare that his wife hadgotknocks. 
 
326 
 
 Well Matched at laft. 
 
 Her pouldred curld locks, that fo faire did appeare, 
 Came off with more eafe than a new fcalded pigge. 
 I wonder her hufband could laughing forbeare, 
 When he faw his wife looke like an oftridge's egge. 
 
 Then, ftraightway down ftooped this comely fweet bride, 
 Unlac't, and ungirded her neat woodden legge : 
 The bridegroome was like to runne out of his wits, 
 For his eyes ne'er before did behold fuch a hagge. 
 
 Then, for to revive him, unto him fhe flung 
 Her keyes, that did lead him to treafure great ftore : 
 This made him to love her, fo both went to bed, 
 Where he did imbrace her: what would you have more? 
 
 Such luck had this hufband to tumble them o're, 
 That ere one moneth ended fhe changed her life. 
 A rich wealthy mifer invited him home, 
 And faid, if you pleafe, fir, He fhow you a wife. 
 
 He fhow'd him his daughter, a girle of fifteene, 
 But fhe would no liking nor favour him fhow : 
 Her friends made the match, and they marri'd with fpeed ; 
 But fhe ne'r endur'd him, I tell you but fo. 
 
 This young marri'd wife to fuch cunning was grown, 
 That fhe fell a longing his coine for to wafte : 
 French kickfhaws of ten pound a dim fhe would have, 
 With other dear meats for to fit her fine tafte. 
 
 No phyfick, no doctors, no coft did fhe fpare ; 
 On pride and new fangles fhe fet her delight : 
 
Well Matched at laft. 
 
 327 
 
 Her hufband began for to favour of feare, 
 
 And to wifh that fhe ne'r had beene feene in his fight. 
 
 No love, nor no liking, this young wife e're had, 
 Becaufe fhe was forc't to be wed to her hate. 
 He fickned and dyde, and was laid in his grave ; 
 So fhe did enjoy his three widdowes eflate. 
 
 A young man, that firfl was this maiden's true love, 
 With all expedition they made their difpatch : 
 For wedding and bedding they both were agreed, 
 And the three widows hufband did meet with his match. 
 
 Finis. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ^3 
 
 
 
 
 
Death's uncontrolable Summons 
 
 To the Tune of « My bleeding Heart." 
 
 [This ballad is, moft likely, one of the oldeft in our collection, and 
 the burden of it is the fame as that to a " Roundelay " in " England's 
 Helicon," 1600, 4to. Sign. D. 2. When it was firft printed we have 
 no means of afcertaining, and the tune to which it was fung was not 
 a common one. The fubjecl: is very old, and has been treated in a 
 variety of ways, to one or more of which -a fimilar title was given. 
 The reprefentation of Death as an old man, and not, according to the 
 vulgar notion, an unfightly fkeleton, deferves remark. Our original was 
 publifhed after the Reftoration " for P. Brookfby, at the Golden Ball 
 in Pye Corner," under the following title : — " Death's uncontrollable 
 Summons, or the Mortality of Mankind. Being a Dialogue between 
 Death and a Young-man."] 
 
 N flumber and fleep my fenfes fall, 
 hey ho, hey ho ! then flept I : 
 The bright fun rais'd a mift withal, 
 eclipfed in the darkfome fky. 
 
 An ancient Father flood by me, 
 
 hey ho, hey ho ! hollow eyes ; 
 A foul deformed wight was he : 
 
 I thought my youth did him defpife. 
 
 His cloak was green, his head was gray, 
 
 hey ho, hey ho ! iilver hair ; 
 His face was pale as any clay, 
 
 his countenance made me much to fear. 
 
Death's uncontrolable Summons, 
 
 329 
 
 Amazed at the fudden fight ; 
 
 hey ho, hey ho ! youthful boy : 
 I flood as one amazed quite ; 
 
 hey ho, hey ho ! difmal day. 
 
 Father, quoth I, tell me your name, 
 hey ho, hey ho ! tell me true ; 
 
 I pray you tell to me the fame : 
 
 my joynts do tremble at thy view. — 
 
 Youth, youth, quoth he, I tell to thee, 
 hey ho, hey ho ! thy thred is fpun : 
 
 My name is Death, I come for thee, 
 hey ho, hey ho ! thy glafs is run. — 
 
 For me, fweet Death ? I hope not fo ; 
 
 hey ho, hey ho ! I am young : 
 Let me be old before I go ; 
 
 alas ! my time hath not been long. 
 
 I have this worldly wealth at will, 
 hey ho, hey ho ! afk and have ; 
 
 Let me enjoy thofe pleafures ftill : 
 oh ! my foul abhors the grave. — 
 
 I fcorn thy treafure and thy pelf; 
 
 hey ho, hey ho ! hafle away : 
 Thy goods fhall perifh with thy felf ; 
 
 'tis not thy wealth my ftroak fhall flay, 
 
 Oh Death ! what will my true love fay ? 
 hey ho, hey ho ! fhee'l complain 
 
 u u 
 
3 3° 
 
 Death's uncontrolable Summons 
 
 On thee for taking me away : 
 
 fweet Death, with her let me remain. — 
 
 I tell thee yet thou ftriveft in vain ; 
 
 hey ho, hey ho ! go, 'tis time. 
 Thy vital thread is cut in twain : 
 
 oh! hark and hear the dulfome chyme. - 
 
 Then, woe is me ! I muft be gone, 
 hey ho, hey ho ! heavy heart : 
 
 My world's delight and all is done ; 
 Was never man fo loath to 'part. 
 
 Mark well my fall, you youthful buds, 
 Hey ho, hey ho ! view my fall : 
 
 My pleafures, plenty, life and goods ; 
 hey ho, hey ho ! Death ends all. 
 
Notes. 
 
 in his 
 
 Page 3, line 21. 
 
 " I bring to you Saint Giles his bowle." 
 
 HIS line refers to the old cuftom of prefenting criminals, 
 
 on their way to Tyburn, with a cup of water, at or near 
 
 the Church of St. Giles in the Fields. It is alluded to by 
 
 feveral writers, and among them by Thomas Churchyard, 
 
 Mirror of Man," 1594, 4to. 
 
 " Trufting in friendfhip makes fome be truft up, 
 Or ride in a cart to kis Saint Giles his cup." 
 
 Page 12, line 1. 
 
 cc Chriftmas Lamentation." 
 
 In the Pepyfian Collection is an anfwer to this ballad, under the 
 title of " Old Chriftmas return'd, or Hofpitality revived," &c. It was 
 " Printed for P. Brookfby." 
 
 Page 14, line 24. 
 
 " Madam, forfooth, in her coach muft wheele." 
 
 Stephen GofTon, in his " Quippes for upftart new-fangled Gentle- 
 women," 1596, 4to, thus alludes to the then ordinary ufe of coaches : 
 
 " To carrie all this pelfe and trafh, 
 becaufe their bodies are unfit, 
 Our wantons now in coaches dafh 
 
 from houfe to houfe, from ftreet to ftreet. 
 Were they of ftate, or were they lame, 
 To ride in coach they need not fhame." 
 
 See alfo p. 52 and 291 of this volume. 
 
334 
 
 Notes. 
 
 Page 26, line I. 
 cc R a gg e d and Torne and True." 
 
 This ballad was fo popular, that afterwards others were compofed " to 
 the tune of Ragged and Torne and True :" one, called " Knavery in 
 all Trades," was written by Martin Parker, and printed for F. Grove. 
 
 Page 27, line 1. 
 
 " He be no knight of the poft." 
 
 Knights of the poft were thofe who for money confented to take 
 falfe oaths : they are mentioned by moft of the comic writers of the 
 time, but, as far as we recollect, it nowhere appears why they were 
 called knights of the poft : perhaps it was becaufe they ftood at a poft, 
 ready to fwear anything when called upon. 
 
 Page 29, line 20. 
 
 cc And fays, cc Gramercy horfe." 
 
 For the fuppofed origin of the expreflion " Gramercy horfe," and 
 " God 'a mercy horfe," fee " Tarlton's Jefts," printed by the Shake- 
 fpeare Society, p. 23. The faying is however older than the time of 
 Tarlton, though it is there imputed to him. 
 
 Page 35, line 21. 
 <c Nor that mad fpirit Robin, 
 
 that plagues both wife and maid." 
 
 The reafon why we ftate, in the introduction to this ballad, " that 
 'The Mad Pranks' of Robin Goodfellow had been printed before 
 1588" is, that they are clearly alluded to in Tarlton's "News out 
 of Purgatory," which, though without date, muft have been publifhed 
 juft after his death in Sept. 1588. 
 
 Page 49, line 26. 
 
 " While Mock-beggar Hall {lands empty." 
 
 On the word " Mockbeggar" Mr. Halliwell inferts the following, 
 in his u Dictionary of Archaic and Provincial Words." " Forby has, 
 Mockbeggar-hall, a houfe looking well outfide, but having a poor in- 
 terior. There is a houfe fo called at Claydon." 
 
Notes. 
 
 335 
 
 Page 51, line 1. 
 
 Cf Their prodigal fons have fold for gilt." 
 
 i. e. for gelt A. S. money. Our old writers punned upon the word, 
 as in Middleton's " Family of Love," where Dryfat fays " Ay, 
 marry, there fpoke an angel : gilt's current, indeed." Dyce's Middle- 
 ton's Works ^ ii. 197. 
 
 Page 80, line 8. 
 
 A mifprint is here imputed by miftake : " made him tremble" is 
 correct, the ballad-writer having refumed the third perfon and the nar- 
 rative form. 
 
 Page 91, line 20. 
 
 cc The lifefome monthes of May and June." 
 
 For " lifefome" read lifefome. 
 
 Page 104, line 11. 
 
 It ought to have been here added, that the broadfide has no printer's 
 name nor date : perhaps they have been accidentally cut off. We 
 might fuppofe from the title, that Day's play, " The Fair Maid of 
 Briftow," 1605, was founded on this ballad ; but fuch is not the fa£t, 
 although it is probable that the ftriking incidents of it were dramatized 
 at the time. 
 
 Page 135, line 11. 
 
 cc In the pofTeflion of Lord Francis Egerton." 
 
 Since this was printed Lord Francis Egerton has been raifed to the 
 peerage by the title of Earl of Ellefmere. 
 
 Page 135, line 12. 
 
 It is ufually faid that John Heywood was born at North Mims, but 
 the only authority for this ftatement is Peacham's " Complete Gen- 
 tleman," and all he afTerts is, that Heywood had property there. On 
 the other hand, Bale informs us that he was civis Londinenfs^ but not 
 that he was born there ; and the fa£t, as we have mentioned, feems 
 to be that he was born in Kent, probably at Canterbury. 
 
 Page 135, line 21. 
 
 cc Nor need I ring this fong untill." 
 
 The meaning of this line is " Nor need I fing this fong unto them : " 
 the Scotch ftill ufe " until " for unto. 
 
336 
 
 Notes 
 
 Page 138, line 3. 
 
 " The happy man's without a fhirt." 
 
 Alluding to the old Italian novel of the fearch after a perfectly 
 happy man : the only happy man found in the world had no fhirt to 
 his back. It has been verfified by Cafti, Nov. II. 
 
 Page 148, line 13. 
 
 " Nothing in all the world be finde." 
 
 For " be " read we. 
 
 Page 157, line 18. 
 
 cc And here hangs pictures two or three." 
 
 The "pictures" here alluded to were Jiatues of kings and queens. 
 At that time (as various inftances might eftablilh) the words " picture" 
 and "ftatue" were ufed indifferently : many ftatues were then both 
 ftatues and pictures, being painted to imitate life. 
 
 Page 163, line 1. 
 
 cc Conftance of Cleveland." 
 
 There is a copy of this ballad in the Pepyfian Collection, " Printed 
 at London for J. Wright." 
 
 Page 173, line 5. 
 
 cc The Monmouth Cap, the Taylors thrum." 
 
 Monmouth caps are mentioned by Shakefpeare and by many other 
 writers of his time. In a note in Collier's Shakefpeare, iv. 552, it is 
 faid that " they were worn both by foldiers and failors," and our ballad 
 affords proof of it : in this line it is called " the faylors thrum," and 
 in the next ftanza but one we have " The fouldiers that the Mon- 
 mouth wear." 
 
 Page 173, line 18. 
 
 " The perriwig, the Cap of late." 
 
 Barnaby Rich, in 158 1, fpeaks of " perriwigs" having then come 
 into famion : fee his u Farewell to Military Profeflion," (reprinted for 
 the Shakefpeare Society) in what he calls the " Conclufion." The 
 fame point may be eftablifhed from Philip Stubbes' " Anatomy of 
 Abufes," 1583, and many other authorities. 
 
Notes. 
 
 337 
 
 Page 178, line 24. 
 
 cc The Butterboxes potion." 
 
 Butterbox was a common nick-name for a Dutchman, in reference 
 to one chief product of his country. 
 
 Page 180, line 25. 
 cc And gorrill'd guts will quarrel." 
 See Collier's Shakefpeare, iv. 255, n. 8. 
 
 Page 185, line 7. 
 
 cc Our knockers make no noife." 
 
 We ought perhaps to read knackers for " knockers." See a fong in 
 Middleton's " Spanifh Gipfey," (edit. Dyce, iv. 146.) in the meafure 
 of this ballad, and doubtlefs to the fame tune. 
 
 Page 207, line 28. 
 
 cc In London all the yeare." 
 
 A highly curious enumeration in verfe of the principal Cries of Lon- 
 don is given in T. Heywood's u Rape of Lucrece," 1608, where, as 
 was ufual with our old dramatifts, the manners of the metropolis of 
 England are imputed to Rome. Several of the Cries are identical with 
 thofe in our ballad. 
 
 Page 208, line 9. 
 
 u Anye welflet oyfters." 
 
 " Welflet oyfters " may be a mifprint for Wainfleet oyfters. 
 
 Page 208, line 13. 
 
 " For why, the are but Kentifh." 
 
 The letter y has dropped out in this line, which ought to run, " For 
 why, they are but Kentifh." 
 
 Page 213, line 2. 
 
 cc With nimming of a fee/' 
 
 It is fcarcely necefTary to fay that to nim is to fnatch or take nimbly ; 
 from the A. S. niman : in modern German it is nehmen. 
 
 X X 
 
338 
 
 Notes. 
 
 Page 227, line 16. 
 For u fecond ftanza " read third ftanza. 
 
 Page 259, line 4. 
 
 cc Old Flatcap is laid in his grave." 
 
 Flatcap was of old not an unufual derifive defignation for a citizen, 
 as in the well-known pafTage from Ben Jonfon's " Every Man in his 
 Humour," Act ii. Sc. 1. 
 
 — " mock me all over, 
 
 From my flatcap unto my mining fhoes." 
 
 On page 211 we have already had a moft appofite illuftration of the 
 laft part of the quotation. 
 
 Page 264, line 3. 
 
 This tune mould feem, from the correfponding meafure of the two 
 ballads, to be the fame as " To drive the cold winter away." 
 
 Page 269, line 17. 
 
 "Where I fung Lachrima." 
 
 Lachrymts, here called Lachryma for the fake of the rhime, was a 
 very celebrated old tune, mentioned by Maflinger and many other 
 authors : from its character it is generally termed " the doleful tune of 
 Lachrymae." 
 
 Page 272, line 4. 
 
 cc And bidden beware of the cut-purfe fo bold." 
 
 Purfes were formerly worn fufpended at the girdle, and could eafily 
 be cut away : hence, perhaps, the origin of the term " cut-purfe," the 
 modern equivalent of which is " pick-pocket." 
 
 Page 279, line 14. 
 
 cc For ftill in debt and danger." 
 
 A debtor was formerly faid to be " within the danger " of his cre- 
 ditor, (" Merchant of Venice," Act iv. Sc. 1.) and hence the proverb 
 " Out of debt out of danger. * 
 
Notes 
 
 339 
 
 Page 280, line 4. 
 
 cc Then, pafTe thou not a pin." 
 
 The phrafe " pafs thou not a pin," is equivalent to " care thou not a 
 pin." Shakefpeare, 2 Henry VI. Act iv. Sc. 2, has " pafs not " for care 
 not ; and in the fame place in the older play of the " Contention," the 
 precife words "pafs not a pin" occur. Collier's Shakefpeare, v. 189. 
 
 Page 284, line 12. 
 
 " To cry, c What doe you lacke.' " 
 
 Shopkeepers and their 'prentices in former times flood at their doors 
 inquiring of paflengers " What do you lack ? " They are often ridi- 
 culed by thefe terms. 
 
 Page 289, line 18. 
 
 " Thus fortune hath him coft." 
 
 For " coft " read croft. 
 
 Page 292, line 20. 
 
 cc Of poore Carry-coales." 
 
 Referring to the proverbial expreffion, made familiar to all ears 
 by the firft fcene of " Romeo and Juliet." 
 
 Page 295, line 20. 
 
 cc That are as right's leg." 
 
 This line no doubt ought to run, " that are as right as his leg." 
 
 Page 309, line 12. 
 
 <c And when the play is ended, the ftage down they fling." 
 
 Alluding to the temporary ftages, in early times erected in inn-yards, 
 at fairs, &c. which were removed, or flung down, as foon as the per- 
 formance was at an end. 
 
 Page 314, line 1. 
 
 cc His hood and his verrils brave." 
 
 Poflibly here we ought to read terrils or terrials, as in T. Heywood's 
 " Woman killed with Kindnefs :" 
 
 " The terrials of her legs were ftain'd with blood." 
 
34° 
 
 Notes. 
 
 Page 314, line 16. 
 
 cc And the hounds run all a row." 
 
 A colon fhould have been placed at the end of this line. 
 
 Page 315, line 15. 
 cc We puddings have and foufe." 
 " Soufe " fometimes feems to be ufed for any kind of pickled meat, 
 but ftrictly it means the pickled ears of fwine. See Dyce's Beaumont 
 and Fletcher, vii. 125, and viii. 216. 
 
 Pa g e 3 r 5> 1Ine 2 3- 
 cc And wrought with fineft filk." 
 
 Philip Stubbes, in the 2nd. edit, of his " Anatomy of Abufes," 
 8vo. 1583, ftates that in his time thefe fhirts fometimes coft 5/. or even 
 10/. each. fo. 23. b. This pafTage, like many other curious additions, 
 is not in the firft impreffion printed in the fame year. 
 
 Page 319, line 23. 
 "Where mobs to pick up callies." 
 For " callies " we ought doubtlefs to read cullies. 
 
 Page 324, line 12. 
 cc And to her He go as a fhutering gueft." 
 
 The words " fute " and u fuitor " feem of old to have often been 
 pronounced Jhute and Jhuter ; and Shakefpeare in " Love's Labours 
 Loft," Act iv. Sc. 1. founds a pun upon the circumftance. Drayton, 
 in his " Idea, the Shepheard's Garland," 1593, has 
 
 " Though JLiwyfute her feven-times poyfned dartes ; " 
 and Stubbes calls Shooter's Hill Suters Hill. 
 
 THE END 
 
 C WHITTINGHAM, CHISWICK. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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