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 -v, 
 
 University of California Berkeley 
 
 From the book collection of 
 BERTRAND H. BRONSON 
 
 bequeathed by him 
 or donated by his wife 
 
 Mildred S. Bronson 
 
PIECES 
 
 OP 
 
 Ancient Popular 
 
PIECES 
 
 OF 
 
 .ancient IJojwlar 
 
 FROM AUTHENTIC MANUSCRIPTS AND OLD PRINTED COPIES. 
 
 BY JOSEPH RITSON, ESQ. 
 
 crrontr CTution. 
 ADORNED WITH CUTS. 
 
 Co mafce gudjc trifclg it agket!) 0omc counnpno;. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 WILLIAM PICKERING 
 1833 
 
C. WHITTINGHAM, LONDON. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 THE first edition of this little Collection, 
 printed in 1791, having become scarce and 
 dear, a republication of it, with the original 
 wood-cuts, and Mr. Ritsons additions and 
 corrections, may not, it has been presumed, 
 be unacceptable to the public. 
 
 It is proper, however, to notice, that for 
 the explanation of obsolete or difficult words 
 occurring in " Sir Peny," and elsewhere, 
 distinguished in the " Glossary" by brackets, 
 and, indeed, for the correct transcription of 
 the poem itself, the present editor alone is 
 answerable. 
 
 Stock ton-u pon-Tees, 
 21st June, 1833. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THE genius which has been successfully 
 exerted in contributing to the instruction or 
 amusement of society, in even the rudest 
 times, seems to have some claim upon its 
 gratitude for protection in more enlightened 
 ones. It is a superannuated domestic, whose 
 passed services entitle his old age to a com- 
 fortable provision and retreat; or rather, 
 indeed, a humble friend, whose attachment 
 in adverse circumstances demands the warm 
 and grateful acknowlegements of prosperity. 
 The venerable though nameless bards whom 
 
Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 the generosity of the public is now courted 
 to rescue from oblivion and obscurity, have 
 been the favourites of the people for ages, 
 and could once boast a more numerous train 
 of applauding admirers than the most cele- 
 brated of our modern poets. Their compo- 
 sitions, it may be true, will have few charms 
 in the critical eye of a cultivated age ; but it 
 should always be remembered, that, without 
 such efforts, humble as they are, cultivation 
 or refinement would never exist, and bar- 
 barism and ignorance be eternal. It is to 
 an ENNIUS, perhaps, that we are indebted 
 for a VIRGIL; to such writers as PEELE and 
 GREENE, or others still more obscure, that 
 we owe the admirable dramas of our divinest 
 SHAKSPEARE ; and if we are ignorant of the 
 comparatively wretched attempts which called 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 forth the deservedly immortal powers of 
 HOMER or CHAUCER, it is by no means to 
 be inferred that they were the earliest of 
 poets, or sprung into the world, as has been 
 said of the inimitable dramatist already men- 
 tioned, like Minerva out of the head of Ju- 
 piter, at full growth, and mature. 
 
 Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona 
 Multi ; set! omnes illacrymabiles 
 Urgentur, ignotique longa 
 Nocte. 
 
 Any inquiry, it is presumed, after the 
 authors of these fugitive productions is at 
 present impossible. It can only be conjec- 
 tured that they were written (or, more accu- 
 rately speaking, perhaps, imagined and com- 
 mitted to memory) by men, who made it their 
 profession to chant or rehearse them, up and 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 down the country, in the trophied hall or 
 before the gloomy castle, and at marriages, 
 wakes and other festive meetings, and who 
 generally accompanied their strains, by no 
 means ruder than the age itself, with the 
 tinkling of a harp, or sometimes, it is appre- 
 hended, with the graces of a much humbler 
 instrument. It may, indeed, be conceived 
 that they would now and then be furnished 
 with a superior performance from the cloister 
 or college; as even the great sir Thomas 
 More has left us something of the same 
 kind.* But, however it was, they seem to 
 have been more attentive to temporary ap- 
 plause or present emolument than to future 
 
 * " A meiy jest how a sergeaunt would learhe to play 
 the frere. Written in hys youth (for his pastime)." See 
 his Workes, 1557, and the History of the English lan- 
 guage," prefixed to Dr. Johnsons Dictionary. 
 
PREFACE. XI 
 
 fame, of which they had possibly no idea, 
 and, while they consigned their effusions to 
 the casual protection of an auditors memory, 
 were totally indifferent whether they were 
 remembered or forgotten. The consequence 
 is that while we are indebted for those which 
 remain to accident and good fortune, numbers 
 have perished, not less, and possibly even 
 more, worthy of preservation. The reader 
 who wishes for further information concern- 
 ing this set of men may find his curiosity 
 gratified by consulting Dr. Percys very in- 
 genious and elegant " Essay on the ancient 
 English Minstrels/' prefixed to his" Reliques 
 of ancient English Poetry" and some " Ob- 
 servations" on the same character in a col- 
 lection of "Ancient Songs," published [1790] 
 by J. Johnson, in St. Pauls Church-yard.* 
 * Republished in two volumes 8vo. 1829. 
 
Xll PREFACE. 
 
 It might naturally enough excite the sur- 
 prise of the intelligent reader, that in a pro- 
 fessed republication of popular poetry, no- 
 thing should occur upon a subject indisput- 
 ably the most popular of all the history of 
 our renowned English archer, ROBIN HOOD. 
 Some apology is undoubtedly necessary on 
 this head, as the omission is by no means 
 owing to ignorance or neglect. In fact, the 
 poems, ballads, and historical or miscella- 
 neous matter, in existence, relative to this 
 celebrated outlaw, are sufficient to furnish 
 the contents of even a couple of volumes 
 considerably bulkier than the present; and 
 fully deserve to appear in a separate publi- 
 cation.* 
 
 * The intention here intimated is well known to have 
 been carried into effect; and the high estimation which 
 
PREFACE. Xlii 
 
 It would be no trifling gratification to the 
 editor of this little volume, and contribute in 
 some degree, he is persuaded, to the amuse- 
 ment of even the literary part of the public, 
 if the present attempt should be productive 
 of others of a similar nature. Many of our 
 old poems, which would even now be of ac- 
 knowledged excellence, are scarcely known 
 by name. Such, for instance, are " The wife 
 lapped in Morels skin, or The taming of a 
 shrew," " The high waif to the spittle house,' 
 " The schole home of women," " The unlucky 
 Jirmentie" and some others ; all or most of 
 
 Robin Hood" has obtained is proved by its scarcity and 
 price. An edition, enriched with the numerous addi- 
 tional notes, illustrations, and corrections, subsequently 
 made by Mr. Ritson, has been lately published by the 
 present editor. 
 
XVI PREFACE. 
 
 which abound with a harmony, spirit, keen- 
 ness, and natural humour, little to be ex- 
 pected, perhaps, in compositions of so remote 
 a period, and which would by no means 
 appear to have lost their relish. These 
 pieces, indeed, are not only of much greater 
 length than, but of a very different structure 
 from, those in the following collection, and 
 evidently appear to have been written for the 
 press. The popularity of the two first is 
 evinced by their being mentioned by Lane- 
 ham (or Langham), in his Letter signifying 
 the Queenz entertainment at Killingwoorth 
 Castl, 1575, along with several others, among 
 which are some of those here printed, as 
 extant in the whimsical but curious library 
 of Captain Cox, a mason of Coventry, who 
 had " great oversight in matters of storie," 
 
PREFACE. XV 
 
 and appears to have been a wonderful admirer 
 and collector of old poetry, romances, and 
 ballads. 
 
 It is not the editors inclination to enter 
 more at large into the nature or merits of the 
 poems he has here collected. The originals 
 have fallen in his way on various occasions, 
 and the pleasing recollection of that happier 
 period of which most of them were the fami- 
 liar acquaintance,* has induced him to give 
 them to the public with a degree of elegance, 
 fidelity, and correctness, seldom instanced in 
 republications of greater importance. Every 
 poem is printed from the authority referred 
 to, with no other intentional license than was 
 
 * " The age when human bliss stands still. 
 
 Enjoys the good without the fear of ill." 
 
XVI PREFACE. 
 
 occasioned by the disuse of contractions, and 
 a regular systematical punctuation, or be- 
 came necessary by the errors of the original, 
 which are generally, if not uniformly, noticed 
 in the margin, the emendation being at the 
 same time distinguished in the text. Under 
 these circumstances, the impression is com- 
 mitted to the patronage of the liberal and 
 the candid, of those whom the artificial re- 
 finements of modern taste have not rendered 
 totally insensible to the humble effusions of 
 unpolished nature, and the simplicity of old 
 times ; a description of readers, it is to be 
 hoped, sufficiently numerous to justify a wish 
 that it may never fall into the hands of any 
 other. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I. ADAM BEL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGHE, AND 
 
 WYLLYAM OF CLOUDESLE .... 1 
 
 II. A MERY GESTE OF THE FRERE AND THE 
 
 BOYE 31 
 
 III. THE KING AND THE BARKER .... 57 
 
 IV. HOW A MERCHANDE DYD 11YS WYFE 
 
 BETRAY 69 
 
 V. HOW THE WISE MAN TAUGHT HIS SON . 85 
 
 VI. SIR PENY 99 
 
 VII. THE LIFE AND DEATH OF TOM THUMBS . 109 
 
 VIII. THE LOVERS QUARREL*. OR, CUPIDS 
 
 TRIUMPH . .133 
 
ADAM BEL, 
 CLYM OF THE CLOUGHE, 
 
 AND 
 
 WYLLYAM OF CLOUDESLE. 
 
THIS very ancient, curious, and popular performance, ap- 
 parently composed for the purpose of being sung in 
 public to the harp, is extant in an old quarto, in black letter, 
 without date, " Imprinted at London in Lothburye by 
 Wyllyam Copland," and preserved among Mr. Gar- 
 ricks Old Plays, now in the British Museum, whence it 
 is here given. This copy was made use of by Dr. Percy, 
 who has published the poem in his " Reliques of Ancient ,* 
 
 English Poetry," with some corrections ^ supplied by ' 
 another in his folio MS. which may possibly account for 
 the many different readings between that publication and 
 the presentjjthough it would seem highly probable that the 
 MS. copy is nothing more than a mere blundering tran- 
 script, by master BJounts clerk, of the printed edition. No 
 earlier edition than Coplands is known. It was re- 
 printed in 1605 by James Roberts, along with " The 
 second part," a very inferior and servile production, of 
 which there was, likewise, an edition in 1616, with con- 
 siderable variations. Both these are in the Bodleian 
 Library. 
 
 As there is no other memorial of these celebrated archers 
 than the following legend, to which all the passages cited, 
 from different authors, by the learned editor already men- 
 tioned, are evident allusions, any inquiry as to the time or 
 reality of their existence must be little else than the sport of 
 imagination. The passages referred to are, however, un- 
 questionable proofs of the great popularity of the poem, 
 which in fact has gone through numberless editions; 
 chiefly, it must be confessed, in the character of a penny- 
 history. 
 
 The " Englishe-wood " mentioned in v. 16, &c. is 
 Englewood or Inglewood, an extensive forest in Cum- 
 berland, which was sixteen miles in length, and reached 
 
from Carlisle to Penrith.* A similar observation has 
 been already made by Dr. Percy, who adds, that " Engle 
 or Ingle-wood signifies wood for firing." But, with sub- 
 mission to so good a judge, it should rather seem, in 
 the present instance, to design a wood or forest in 
 which extraordinary fires were made on particular occa- 
 sions ; a conjecture which will appear the more plausible, 
 when it is considered that the identical spot on which 
 Penrith beacon now stands, and where a beacon has 
 stood for ages, was formerly within the limits of this very 
 forest ;f and that Ingleborough, one of " the highest hills 
 between Scotland and Trent," has obtained this name from 
 the fires anciently lighted up in the beacon erected on its 
 flat top, where the foundation, [as the editor has been in- 
 formed by an eye-witness, is still visible. 
 
 " Clym of the Clough" is properly explained by the 
 above ingenious editor to mean Clem or Clement of the 
 Valley. " Cloudesle" r seems to be the same with Clodsley 
 
 " Tho he was in erthe y-brought <fc leyd under cloudes cold." 
 Romance of St. Gregory, MS. Boswell, Edin. 
 
 On the 16th of August, 1586, was allowed by the sta- 
 tioners company to Edward White " A ballad of William 
 Clowdisley (never printed before)." 
 
 Edward the First, hunting in this forest, in September, 1280, is 
 said to have killed two hundred deer. " Rex, in venatu suo, at 
 dicebatur, cepit tune CC. cervos & cervas in Ingelwod." Chronicon de 
 Lanercost, Clau. D. vii. Bishop Gibson, citing the same authority, 
 adds " in one day." (Additions to Cumberland, in Camdens Bri- 
 tannia, 1695.) 
 
 f Ibi. and Burns Cumberland, p. 390. 
 
MERY it was in grene forest, 
 
 Amonge the leves grene, 
 Wher that men walke east and west, 
 
 Wyth bowes and arrowes kene, 
 To ryse the dere out of theyr denne, 
 
 Such sightes hath ofte bene sene, 
 As by ' thre' yemen of the north countrey, 
 
 By them it is I meane : 
 The one of them hight Adam Bel, 
 
 The other Clym of the Clough, 
 The thyrd was William of Cloudesly, 
 
 An archer good y no ugh. 
 
 10 
 
 V. 6. as haili. 
 
 V. 7. the. 
 
 V. 8. as I. 
 
6 ADAM BEL, ETC. 
 
 They were outlawed for venyson, 
 
 These yemen everechone ; 
 They swore them brethren upon a day, 
 
 To Englysshe-wood for to gone. 
 Now lith and lysten, gentylmen, 
 
 That of myrthes loveth to here : 
 Two of them were single men, 
 
 The third had a wedded fere ; 20 
 
 Wyllyam was the wedded man, 
 
 Muche more then was hys care, 
 He sayde to hys brethren upon a day, 
 
 To Carelel he would fare. 
 For to speke with fayre Alse hys wife, 
 
 And with hys chyldren thre. 
 By my trouth, sayde Adam Bel, 
 
 Not by the counsell of me ; 
 For if ye go to Caerlel, brother, 
 
 And from thys wylde wode wende, so 
 
 If the justice mai you take, 
 
 Your lyfe were at an ende. 
 If that I come not tomorowe, brother, 
 
 By pryme to you agayne, 
 Truste not els but that I am take, 
 
 Or else that I am slayne. 
 He toke hys leave of hys brethren two, 
 
 And to Carlel he is gon, 
 There he knocked at hys owne windowe, 
 
 Shortlye and anone. 40 
 
 V. 18. And that. 
 
ADAM BEL, ETC. 7 
 
 Where be you, fayre Alyce my wyfe ? 
 
 And my chyldren three ? 
 Lyghtly let in thyne owne husbaude, 
 
 Wyllyam of Cloudesle. 
 Alas ! then sayde fayre Alyce, 
 
 And syghed wonderous sore, 
 Thys place hath ben besette for you, 
 
 Thys half yere and more. 
 Now am I here, sayde Cloudesle, 
 
 I woulde that I in were ; 50 
 
 Now feche us meate and drynke yuoughe, 
 
 And let us make good chere. 
 She fetched hym meat and drynke plenty, 
 
 Lyke a true wedded wyfe, 
 And pleased hym wyth that she had, 
 
 Whome she loved as her lyfe. 
 There lay an old wyfe in that place, 
 
 A lytle besyde the fyre, 
 Whych Wyllyam had found of cherytye 
 
 More then seven yere ; 60 
 
 Up she rose and walked full styll, 
 
 Evel mote she spede therefoore, 
 For she had not set no fote on ground 
 
 In seven yere before. 
 She went unto the justice hall, 
 
 As fast as she could hye ; 
 Thys nyght is come unto this town 
 
 Wyllyam of Cloudesle. 
 
 V. 41. your. V. 50. In woulde. V. 62. speiule. 
 
8 ADAM BEL, ETC. 
 
 Thereof the justice was full fayne, 
 
 And so was the shirife also ; 70 
 
 Thou shalt not travaile hether, dame, for nought, 
 
 Thy meed thou shalt have or thou go. 
 They gave to her a ryght good goune, 
 
 Of scarlat it was as I heard ' sayne,' 
 She toke the gyft and home she wente, 
 
 And couched her downe agayne. 
 Theyr[a]ysed the towneof mery Carlel, 
 
 In all the hast that they can, 
 And came thronging to Wyllyames house, 
 
 As fast as they myght gone. so 
 
 Theyr they besette that good yeman, 
 
 Round about on every syde ; 
 Wyllyam hearde great noyse of folkes, 
 
 That heyther-ward they hyed. 
 Alyce opened a ' shot '-wyndow, 
 
 And loked all about, 
 She was ware of the justice and shirife bothe, 
 
 Wyth a full great route. 
 Alas ! treason ! cry'd Aleyce, 
 
 Ever wo may thou be ! 90 
 
 * Go ' into my chambre, my husband, she sayd, 
 
 Swete Wyllyam of Cloudesle. 
 
 V. 71. fore. 
 
 V. 74. saye. Percy reads Of scarlate and of graine. 
 
 V. 85. shop. Percy reads back window. 
 
 V. 88. great full great. 
 
 V.91.Gy. 
 
ADAM BEL, ETC. 
 
 He toke hys sweard and hys bucler, 
 
 Hys bow and hy[s] chyldren thre, 
 And wente into hys strongest chamber, 
 
 Where he thought surest to be. 
 Fayre Alice folowed him as a lover true, 
 
 With a pollaxe in her hande ; 
 He shal be dead that here cometh in 
 
 Thys dore whyle I may stand. 100 
 
 Cloudesle bent a wel good bowe, 
 
 That was of trusty tre, 
 He smot the justise on the brest, 
 
 That hys arrowe brest in thre. 
 Gods curse on his hartt, saide William, 
 
 Thys day thy cote dyd on, 
 If it had ben no better then myne, 
 
 It had gone nere thy bone. 
 Yelde the Cloudesle, sayd the justise, 
 
 And thy bowe and thy arrowes the fro. no 
 Gods curse on hys hart, sayde fair Alice, 
 
 That my husband councelleth so. 
 Set fyre on the house, saide the sherife, 
 
 Syth it wyll no better be, 
 And brenne we therin William, he saide, 
 
 Hys wyfe and chyldren thre. 
 They fyred the house in many a place, 
 
 The fyre flew up on hye ; 
 Alas ! then cryed fayr Alice, 
 
 I se we here shall dy. iso 
 
10 ADAM BEL, ETC. 
 
 William openyd hys backe wyndow, 
 
 That was in hys chambre on hye, 
 And wyth shetes let hys wyfe downe, 
 
 And hys chyldren thre. 
 Have here my treasure, sayde William, 
 
 My wyfe and my chyldren thre, 
 For Christes love do them no harme, 
 
 But wreke you all on me. 
 Wyllyam shot so wonderous well, 
 
 Tyll hys arrowes were all * ygo,' iso 
 
 And the fyre so fast upon hym fell, 
 
 That hys bowstryng brent in two. 
 The spercles brent and fell hym on, 
 
 Good Wyllyam of Cloudesle ! 
 But than wax he a wofull man, 
 
 And sayde, thys is a cowardes death to me. 
 Lever I had, sayde Wyllyam, 
 
 With my sworde in the route to renne, 
 Then here among myne ennemyes wode, 
 
 Thus cruelly to bren. 140 
 
 He toke hys sweard and hys buckler, 
 
 And among them all he ran, 
 Where the people were most in prece, 
 
 He smot downe many a man. 
 There myght no man stand hys stroke, 
 
 So fersly on them he ran ; 
 Then they threw wyndowes and dores on him, 
 
 And so toke that good yeman. 
 
 V. 122. was on. V. 130. gon. 
 
ADAM BEL, ETC. 11 
 
 There they hym bounde both hand and fote, 
 
 And in depe dongeon hym cast ; 150 
 
 Now, Cloudesle, sayd the hye justice, 
 
 Thou shalt be hanged in hast. 
 One vow shal I make, sayde the sherife, 
 
 A payre of new galowes shall I for the make, 
 And the gates of Caerlel shal be shutte, 
 
 There shall no man come in therat. 
 Then shall not helpe dim of the Cloughe, 
 
 Nor yet shall Adam Bell, 
 Though they came with a thousand mo, 
 
 Nor all the devels in hell. 160 
 
 Early in the mornyng the justice uprose, 
 
 To the gates first gan he gon, 
 And commaundede to be shut full cloce, 
 
 Lightile everychone. 
 Then went he to the market-place, 
 
 As fast as he coulde hye, 
 A payre of new gallons there dyd he up set, 
 
 Besyde the pyllory. 
 A lytle boy stod them amonge, 
 
 And asked what meaned that gallow tre ; 170 
 They sayde, to hange a good yeaman, 
 
 Called Wyllyam of Cloudesle. 
 That lytle boye was the towne swyne-heard, 
 
 And kept ' fayre' Alyce swyne, 
 Oft he had scene Cloudesle in the wodde, 
 
 And geven hym there to dyne. 
 
 V. 174. there. 
 
12 
 
 ADAM BEL, ETC. 
 
 He went out att a creves in the wall, 
 
 And lightly to the wood dyd gone, 
 There met he with these wight yonge men, 
 
 Shortly and anone. iso 
 
 Alas ! then sayde that lytle boye, 
 
 Ye tary here all to longe ; 
 Cloudeste is taken and dampned to death, 
 
 All readye for to honge. 
 Alas ! then sayde good Adam Bell, 
 
 That ever we see thys daye ! 
 He myght her with us have dwelled, 
 
 So ofte as we dyd him praye ! 
 He myght have taryed in grene foreste, 
 
 Under the shadowes sheene, 190 
 
 And have kepte both hym and us in reaste, 
 
 Out of trouble and teene ! 
 Adam bent a ryght good bow, 
 
 A great hart sone had he slayne, 
 Take that, chylde, he sayde to thy dynner, 
 
 And bryng me myne arrowe agayne. 
 Now go we hence, sayed these wight yong men, 
 
 Tary we no lenger here ; 
 We shall hym borowe, by gods grace, 
 
 Though we bye it full dere. too 
 
 To Caerlel went these good yemen, 
 
 On a mery mornyng of Maye. 
 Here is a fyt of Cloudesli, 
 
 And another is for to saye. 
 
 V. 201. Cyerlel. 
 
ADAM BEL, ETC. 13 
 
 [THE SECOND FIT.] 
 
 AND when they came to mery Caerlell, 
 
 In a fay re mornyng tyde, 
 They founde the gates shut them untyll, 
 
 Round about on every syde. 
 Alas ! than sayd good Adam Bell, 
 
 That ever we were made men ! tio 
 
 These gates be shut so wonderous wel, 
 
 That we may not come here in. 
 Then spake him Clym of the Clough, 
 
 Wyth*a wyle we wyl us in bryng; 
 Let us saye we be messengers, 
 
 Streyght come nowe from our king. 
 Adam said, I have a letter written wel, 
 
 Now let us wysely werke, 
 We wyl saye we have the kinges seales, 
 
 I holde the portter no clerke. sso 
 
 Then Adam Bell bete on the gate, 
 
 With strokes great and strong, 
 The porter herde suche noyse therat, 
 
 And to the gate he throng. 
 Who is there nowe, sayde the porter, 
 
 That maketh all thys knocking ? 
 We be tow messengers, sayde Glim of the Clough, 
 
 Be come ryght from our kyng. 
 
14 ADAM BKL, KTC. 
 
 We have a letter, sayd Adam Bel, 
 
 To the justice we must it bryng ; 230 
 
 Let us in our messag to do, 
 
 That we were agayne to our kyng. 
 Here commeth none in, sayd the porter, 
 
 Be hym that dyed upon a tre, 
 Tyll a false thefe be hanged, 
 
 Called Wyllyam of Cloudesle. 
 Then spake the good yeman Clym of the Clough, 
 
 And swore by Mary fre, 
 And if that we stande longe wythout, 
 
 Lyke a thefe hanged shalt thou be. 240 
 
 Lo here we have the kynges seale ; 
 
 What ! lordeyne, art thou wode ? 
 The porter went it had ben so, 
 
 And lyghtly dyd of hys hode. 
 Welcome be my lordes seale, he saide, 
 
 For that ye shall come in. 
 He opened the gate full shortlye, 
 
 An evyl openyng for him. 
 Now are we in, sayde Adam Bell, 
 
 Thereof we are full faine, tso 
 
 But Christ know[s], that harowed hell, 
 
 How we shall com out agayne. 
 Had we the keys, said Clim of the Clough, 
 
 Ryght wel then shoulde we spede ; 
 Then might we come out wel ynough, 
 When we se tyme and nede. 
 
 V. 230. me. V. 254. shaulde. 
 
ADAM BEL, ETC. 15 
 
 They called the porter to counsell, 
 
 And wrange hys necke in two, 
 And caste him in a depe dongeon, 
 
 And toke hys keys hym fro. 6o 
 
 Now am I porter, sayde Adam Bel, 
 
 Se brother the keys have we here, 
 The worst porter to merry Caerlel, 
 
 That ye had thys hundred yere : 
 And now wyll we our bowes bend, 
 
 Into the towne wyll we go, 
 For to delyver our dere brother, 
 
 That lyveth in care and wo. 
 [And thereupon] they bent theyr bowes, 
 
 And loked theyr stringes were round, 270 
 
 The market-place in mery Caerlel, 
 
 They beset that stound ; 
 And as they loked them besyde, 
 
 A paire of new galowes ther thei see, 
 And the justice with a quest of squyers, 
 
 That had judged Cloudesle there hanged to be : 
 And Cloudesle hymselfe lay redy in a carte, 
 
 Fast both fote and hand, 
 And a stronge rop about hys necke, 
 
 All readye for to hange. o 
 
 The justice called to him a ladde, 
 
 Cloudesle[s] clothes should he have, 
 To take the measure of that yeman, 
 
 And therafter to make hys grave. 
 
 V. 275. they. 
 
16 ADAM BEL, ETC. 
 
 I have seer as great a mearveile, said Cloudesli, 
 
 As betwyene thys and pryme, 
 He that maketh thys grave for me, 
 
 Himselfe may lye therin. 
 Thou speakest proudli, saide the justice, 
 
 I shall the hange with my hande : $90 
 
 Full wel herd hys brethren two, 
 
 There styll as they dyd stande. 
 Then Cloudesle cast hys eyen asyde, 
 
 And saw hys to brethren [stand] 
 At a corner of the market place, 
 
 With theyr good bows bent in ther hand. 
 I se comfort, sayd Cloudesle, 
 
 Yet hope I well to fare ; 
 If I might have my handes at wyll, 
 
 Ryght lytle wolde I care. soo 
 
 Then spake good Adam Bell, 
 
 To Clym of the Clough so free, 
 Brother, se ye marke the justyce wel, 
 
 Lo yonder ye may him see ; 
 And at the shyr[i]fe shote I wyll, 
 
 Strongly with arrowe kene, 
 A better shote in mery Caerlel 
 
 Thys seven yere was not sene. 
 
 V. 293. Claudesle. V. 294. brethen. 
 
 V. 295. marked. 
 
 V. 296. Here the old edition adds, 
 
 ' Redy the justice for to chaunce.' 
 V. 2P8. will. 
 
ADAM BEL, ETC. 17 
 
 They lowsed ' their ' arrowes both at once, 
 
 Of no man had ' they ' dread, 310 
 
 The one hyt the justice, the other the sheryfe, 
 
 That both theyr ' sides * gan blede. 
 All men voyded that them stode nye, 
 
 When the justice fell downe to the grounde, 
 And the sherife fell nyghe hym by, 
 
 Eyther had his deathes wounde. 
 All the citezens fast gan flye, 
 
 They durst no longer abyde, 
 They lyghtly ' then ' loused Cloudesle, 
 
 Where he with ropes lay tyde. s?o 
 
 Wyllyam sterte to an officer of the towne, 
 
 Hys axe out of hys hande he wronge, 
 On eche syde he smote them downe, 
 
 Hym thought he taryed all to long. 
 Wyllyam sayde to hys brethren two, 
 
 Thys daye let us lyve and dye, 
 If ever you have nede as I have now, 
 
 The same shall you fynde by me. 
 They shot so well in that tyde, 
 
 For theyr stringes were of silke ful sure, sw 
 That they kept the stretes on every * side ! ' 
 
 That batayle dyd longe endure. 
 The[y] fought together as brethren tru, 
 
 Lyke hardy men and bolde, 
 Many a man to the ground they thrue, 
 
 And many a herte made colde. 
 
 V. 309. thre. V. 312. sedes. V. 319. they. 
 V.325.brethen. V.331.sede. V. 336. made many a hertc. 
 
18 ADAM BEL, ETC. 
 
 But when their arrowes were all gon, 
 
 Men preced to them full fast, 
 They drew theyr swordes then anone, 
 
 And theyr bowes from them cast. 340 
 
 They went lyghtlye on theyr way, 
 
 Wyth swordes and buclers round, 
 By that it ' was ' myd of the day, 
 
 They made mani a wound. 
 There was an out-home in Caerlel bio wen, 
 
 And the belles bacward did ryng ; 
 Many a woman sayd alas ! 
 
 And many theyr handes dyd wryng. 
 The mayre of Caerlel forth com was, 
 
 And with hym a ful great route, 350 
 
 These yemen dred him full sore, 
 
 For of theyr lyves they stode in great doute. 
 The mayre came armed a full great pace, 
 
 With a pollaxe in hys hande, 
 Many a strong man wyth him was, 
 
 There in that stowre to stande. 
 The mayre smot at Cloudleste with his bil, 
 
 Hys bucler he brust in two, 
 Full many a yeman with great evyll, 
 
 Alas ! treason ! they cryed for wo. .160 
 
 Kepe we the gates fast they bad, 
 
 That these traytours thereout not go. 
 But al for nought was that the[y] wrought, 
 
 For * so' fast they downe were layde, 
 
 V. 343. mas. V. 364. to. 
 
.ADAM BEL, ETC. 19 
 
 Tyll they all thre, that so manfulli fought, 
 
 Were gotten without abraide. 
 Have here your keys, sayd Adam Bel, 
 
 Myne off[i]ce I here forsake, 
 Yf you do by ray councell, 
 
 A new porter do ' ye ' make. 370 
 
 He threw theyr keys at theyr heads, 
 
 And bad them evell to thryve, 
 And all that letteth any good yeman 
 
 To come and comfort hys wyfe. 
 Thus be these good yemen gon to the wod, 
 
 And lyghtly as ' lefe' on lynde, 
 The[y] lough an[d] be mery in theyr mode, 
 
 Theyr ennemyes were fer[r]e behynd. 
 When they came to Englyshe-wode, 
 
 Under the trusty tre, nao 
 
 They found bowes full good, 
 
 And arrowes full great plentye. 
 So god me help, s[a]yd Adam Bell, 
 
 And Clym of the Clough so fre, 
 I would we were in mery Caerlel, 
 
 Before that fayre meyny. 
 They set them downe and made good chere, 
 
 And eate and drynke full well. 
 Here is a fet of these wyght yong mon, 
 
 An other I wyll you tell. 390 
 
 V. 368, 369. misplaced in the old edition. 
 V. 370. we. V. 376. left. 
 
20 ADAM BEL, ETC, 
 
 [THE THIRD FIT.] 
 
 As they sat in Englyshe-wood 
 
 Under theyr trusty tre, 
 They thought they herd a woman wepe, 
 
 But her they mought not se. 
 Sore then syghed the fayre Alyce, 
 
 And sayde, alas! that ever I sawe thys daye! 
 For now is my dere husband slayne, 
 
 Alas ! and wel a way ! 
 Myght I have spoken wyth hys dere brethren, 
 
 Or with eyther of them twayne, *>o 
 
 [To let them know what him befell] 
 
 My hart were put out of payne ! 
 Cloudesle walked a lytle besyde, 
 
 And loked under the grenewood linde, 
 He was ware of hys wife and chyldren thre, 
 
 Full wo in hart and mynde. 
 Welcome wife, then sayde Wyllyam, 
 
 Under ' this' trusti tre ; 
 I had wende yesterday, by swete saynt John, 
 
 Thou shulde me never ' have' se. 410 
 
 V. 393. thaught. V. 399. brethen. 
 
 V. 401. supplied from a modern edition. 
 V. 408. thus. V. 410. had. 
 
ADAM BEL, ETC. 21 
 
 Now well is me, she sayde, that ye be here, 
 
 My hart is out of wo. 
 Dame, he sayde, be mery and glad, 
 
 And thanke my brethren two. 
 Hereof to speake, sayd Adam Bell, 
 
 I wis it is no bote ; 
 The meat that we must supp withall 
 
 It runneth yet fast on fote. 
 Then went they down into a launde, 
 
 These noble archares all thre, o 
 
 Eche of them slew a hart of greece, 
 
 The best they could there se. 
 Have here the best, Al[y]ce my wyfe, 
 
 Sayde Wyllyam of Cloudesle, 
 By cause ye so bouldly stod by me, 
 
 When I was slayne full nye. 
 Then went they to supper, 
 
 Wyth suche meat as they had, 
 And thanked god of ther fortune, 
 
 They were both mery and glad. 4.10 
 
 And when they had supped well, 
 
 Certayne without any leace, 
 Cloudesle sayd, we wyll to our kyng, 
 
 To get us a charter of peace ; 
 Alee shal be at our sojournyng, 
 
 In a nunry here besyde, 
 My tow sonnes shall wyth her go, 
 
 And ther they shall abyde : 
 
 V. 414. brethen. V. 421. graece. V. 427. whent. 
 
22 ADAM BEL, ETC. 
 
 Myne eldest son shall go wyth me, 
 
 For hym have I no care, -no 
 
 And he shall you breng worde agayn 
 
 How that we do fare. 
 Thus be these yemen to London gone, 
 
 As fast as they might hye, 
 Tyll they came to the kynges pallace, 
 
 Where they woulde nedes be. 
 And whan they came to the kynges courte, 
 
 Unto the pallace gate, 
 Of no man wold they aske no leave, 
 
 But boldly went in therat; 450 
 
 They preced prestly into the hall, 
 
 Of no man had they dreade, 
 The porter came after and dyd them call, 
 
 And with them began to chyde. 
 The ussher sayed, yemen, what wold ye have? 
 
 I pray you tell me ; 
 You myght thus make ofTycers shent : 
 
 Good syrs of whence be ye? 
 Syr we be outlawes of the forest, 
 
 Certayne without any leace, 460 
 
 And hether we be come to our kyng, 
 
 To get us a charter of peace. 
 And whan they came before the kyng, 
 
 As it was the lawe of the lande, 
 The[y] kneled downe without lettyng, 
 
 And eche helde up his hand. 
 The[y] sayed, lord we beseche the here, 
 
 That ye wyll graunt us grace, 
 
ADAM BEL, ETC. 23 
 
 For we have slaine your fat falow der, 
 
 In many a sondry place. 470 
 
 What be your nam[e]s? then said our king, 
 
 Anone that you tell me. 
 They sayd, Adam Bel, Clim of the Clough, 
 
 And Wyllyam of Cloudesle. 
 Be ye those theves, then sayd our kyng, 
 
 That men have tolde of to me ? 
 Here to god I make a vowe, 
 
 Ye shal be hanged al thre ; 
 Ye shal be dead without mercy, 
 
 As I am kynge of this lande. *a> 
 
 He commanded his officers everichone 
 
 Fast on them to lay hand. 
 There they toke these good yemen, 
 
 And arested them all thre. 
 So may I thryve, sayd Adam Bell, 
 
 Thys game lyketh not me. 
 But, good lorde, we beseche you now, 
 
 That you graunt us grace, 
 Insomuche as we be to you comen, 
 
 Or els that we may fro you passe, 190 
 
 With suche weapons as we have here, 
 
 Tyll we be out of your place; 
 And yf we lyve this hundreth yere, 
 
 We wyll aske you no grace. 
 Ye speake proudly, sayd the kynge, 
 
 Ye shal be hanged all thre. 
 That were great pitye, then sayd the quene, 
 
 If any grace myght be. 
 
24 ADAM BEL, KTC. 
 
 My lorde, whan I came fyrst into this lande, 
 
 To be your wedded wyfe, 500 
 
 The fyrst bowne that I wold aske, 
 
 Ye would graunt it me belyfe ; 
 And I asked never none tyll now, 
 
 Therefore, good lorde, graunt it me. 
 Now aske it, madam, sayd the kynge, 
 
 And graunted shall it be. 
 Then, good my lord, I you beseche, 
 
 These yemen graunt ye me. 
 Madame, ye myght have asked a bowne, 
 
 That shuld have ben worth them all three : sio 
 Ye myght have asked towres and towne[s], 
 
 Parkes and forestes plenty. 
 None soe pleasaunt to mi pay, she said, 
 
 Nor none so lefe to me. 
 Madame, sith it is your desyre, 
 
 Your askyng graunted shal be; 
 But I had lever have geven you 
 
 Good market townes tbre. 
 The quene was a glad woman, 
 
 And sayd, lord, gramarcy, 520 
 
 I dare undertake for them 
 
 That true men shal they be. 
 But, good lord, speke som mery word, 
 
 That comfort they may se. 
 I graunt you grace, then said our king, 
 
 Wasshe, felos, and to meate go ye. 
 They had not setten but a whyle, 
 
 Certayne without lesynge, 
 
ADAM BEL, ETC. 25 
 
 There came messengers out of the north, 
 
 With letters to our kyug. 530 
 
 And whan the[y] came before the kynge, 
 
 They kneled downe upon theyr kne, 
 And sayd, lord, your offycers grete you wel, 
 
 Of Caerlel in the north cuntre. 
 How fare my justice, sayd the kyng, 
 
 And my sherife also ? 
 Syr, they be slayne, without leasynge, 
 
 And many an officer mo. 
 Who hath them slayne? sayd the kyng, 
 
 Anone thou tell me. 540 
 
 Adam Bel, and Clime of the Clough, 
 
 And Wyllyam of Cloudesle. 
 Alas ! for rewth ! then sayd our kynge, 
 
 My hart is wonderous sore, 
 I had lever [th]an a thousand pounde, 
 
 I had knowne of thys before ; 
 For I have graunted them grace, 
 
 And that forthynketh me, 
 But had I knowne all thys before, 
 
 They had been hanged all thre. 550 
 
 The kyng opened the letter anone, 
 
 Hymselfe he red it tho, 
 And founde how these thre outlawes had slaine 
 
 Thre hundred men and mo ; 
 Fyrst the justice and the sheryfe, 
 
 And the mayre of Caerlel towne, 
 Of all the constables and catchipolles 
 
 Alyve were left not one ; 
 
26 ADAM BEL, ETC. 
 
 The baylyes and the bedyls both, 
 
 And the sergeauntes of the law, 56o 
 
 And forty fosters of the fe, 
 
 These outlawes had yslaw ; 
 And broke his parks, and slaine his dere, 
 
 Over all they chose the best, 
 So perelous outlawes as they were, 
 
 Walked not by easte nor west. 
 When the kynge this letter had red, 
 
 Tn hys harte he syghed sore, 
 Take up the table anone he bad, 
 
 For I may eate no more. 570 
 
 The kyng called hys best archars, 
 
 To the buttes wyth hym to go ; 
 I wyll se these felowes shote, he sayd, 
 
 In the north have wrought this wo. 
 The kynges bowmen buske them blyve, 
 
 And the quenes archers also, 
 So dyd these thre wyght yemen, 
 
 With them they thought to go. 
 There twyse or thryse they shote about, 
 
 For to assay theyr hande, sao 
 
 There was no shote these yemen shot, 
 
 That any pry eke myght them stand. 
 Then spake Wyllyam of Cloudesle, 
 
 By him that for me dyed, 
 I hold hym never no good archar 
 
 That shuteth at buttes so wyde. 
 Wherat? then sayd our kyng, 
 
 V. 587. At what a butte now wold ye shot. Iteliqucs. 
 
ADAM BEL, ETC. 27 
 
 I pray thee tell me. 
 At suche a but, syr, he sayd, 
 
 As men use in my countree. 590 
 
 Wyllyam went into a fyeld, 
 
 And his to brethren with him, 
 There they set up to hasell roddes, 
 
 Twenty score paces betwene. 
 I hold him an archar, said Cloudesle, 
 
 That yonder wande cleveth in two. 
 Here is none suche, sayd the kyng, 
 
 Nor none that can so do. 
 I shall assaye, syr, sayd Cloudesle, 
 
 Or that I farther go. 600 
 
 Cloudesly, with a bearyng 1 arow, 
 
 Clave the wand in to. 
 Thou art the best archer, then said the king, 
 
 Forsothe that ever I se. 
 And yet for your love, sayd Wylliam, 
 
 I wyll do more maystry: 
 I have a sonne is seven yere olde, 
 
 He is to me full deare, 
 I wyll hym tye to a stake, 
 
 All shall se that be here, fiio 
 
 And lay an apele upon hys head, 
 
 And go syxe score paces hym fro, 
 And I myselfe, with a brode arow, 
 
 Shall cleve the apple in two. 
 Now haste the, then sayd the kyng, 
 
 By him that dyed on a tre, 
 
28 ADAM BEL, ETC. 
 
 But yf them do not as thou ' hast' sayde, 
 
 Hanged shalt thou be. 
 And thou touche his head or gowne, 
 
 In syght that men may se, <fco 
 
 By all the sayntes that be in heaven, 
 
 I shall hange you all thre. 
 That I have promised, said William, 
 
 I wyl it never forsake, 
 And there even before the kynge, 
 
 In the earth he drove a stake, 
 And bound therto his eldest sonne, 
 
 And bad hym stande styll therat, 
 And turned the childes face fro him, 
 
 Because he shuld not sterte ; fiso 
 
 An apple upon his head he set, 
 
 And then his bowe he bent, 
 Syxe score paces they were out met, 
 
 And thether Cloudesle went ; 
 There he drew out a fayr brode arrowe, 
 
 Hys bowe was great and longe, 
 He set that arrowe in his bowe, 
 
 That was both styffe and stronge ; 
 He prayed the people that was there, 
 
 That they would styll stande, 640 
 
 For he that shooteth for such a wager, 
 
 Behoveth a stedfast hand. 
 Muche people prayed for Cloudesle, 
 
 V. 617. best. 
 
ADAM BEL, ETC. 29 
 
 That hys lyfe saved myght be, 
 And whan he made hym redy to shote, 
 
 There was many a weping eye. 
 Thus Cloudesle clefte the apple in two, 
 
 That many a man myght se ; 
 Ouer gods forbode, sayde the kynge, 
 
 That thou shote at me ! * 650 
 
 I geve the xviii. pence a day, 
 
 And my bowe shalt thou beare, 
 And over all the north countre, 
 
 I make the chyfe rydere. 
 And I geve the xvii. pence a day, said the quene, 
 
 By god and by my fay, 
 Come feche thy payment when thou wylt, 
 
 No man shall say the nay. 
 Wyllyam, I make the a gentelman, 
 
 Of clothyng and of fe, 660 
 
 And thi two brethren yemen of my chambre, 
 
 For they are so semely to se ; 
 
 V. 648. Percy, instead of this line, reads 
 " His sonne he did not nee." 
 
 This seems the story of William Tell, founder of the 
 liberties of Switzerland, who was condemned by Gessler, the 
 Austrian Governor, to shoot an apple from the head of his 
 son ; which he did, like our Cloudesle, at the distance of 130 
 paces, without touching the child. He soon afterward shot 
 the governor. This happened in the year 1307. His in- 
 strument was a cross-bow, which is still preserved in the 
 armoury at Zurich. Saxo Grammaticus, however, tells a 
 similar story of Toke and Harold, at a much earlier period, 
 p. 184. ! 
 
30 ADAM BEL, ETC. 
 
 Your sonne, for he is tendre of age, 
 
 Of my wyne-seller shall he be, 
 And whan he commeth to mannes estate, 
 
 Better avaunced shall he be. 
 And, Wylliam, bring me your wife, said the quene, 
 
 Me longeth her sore to se, 
 She shal be my chefe gentelwoman, 
 
 To governe my nursery. 670 
 
 The yemen thanketh them full curteously, 
 
 And sayde, to some bysshop wyl we wend, 
 Of all the synnes that we have done 
 
 To be assoyld at his hand. 
 So forth be gone these good yemen, 
 
 As fast as they myght hye, 
 And after came and dwelled wyth the kynge, 
 
 And dyed good men all thre. 
 Thus endeth the lives of these good yemen, 
 
 God send them eternall blysse ! fiao 
 
 And all that with hande bowe shoteth, 
 
 That of heaven may never mysse ! 
 
A MERY GESTE OF 
 THE FRERE AND THE BOYE. 
 
THIS well-known tale is furnished, in its present dress, 
 by a copy in the public library of the university of Cam- 
 bridge, " Enprynted at London in Flete strete at the 
 sygne of the sonne by Wynkyn de Worde ;" compared 
 with a later edition in the Bodleian library, " Imprinted 
 at London at the long shop adjoyning unto Saint Mil- 
 dreds Church in the Pultrie by Edwarde Aide ;" both in 
 quarto and black letter, and of singular rarity, no du- 
 plicate of either being known to exist.* There is, indeed, 
 a very old, though at the same time a most vulgar and 
 corrupted copy extant in the first of those libraries (MSS. 
 More, Ee. 4. 35.) under the title of The Cheylde and 
 hes step-dame," of which, besides that almost every line 
 exhibits a various reading, the concluding stanzas are 
 entirely different, and have, on that account, been thought 
 worth preserving. But the most ancient copy of all 
 would probably have been one in the Cotton library, if 
 the volume which contained it had not unfortunately 
 perished, with many things of greater importance, in the 
 dreadful fire which happened in that noble repository, 
 anno 1731. Vide Smiths Catalogue, Vitellius D. XII. 
 ' In the Pepys collection (No. 358) is a modernized 
 copy, in the same stanza, apparently printed in Scotland, 
 about the year 1680, beginning 
 
 " There dwelt a man in my countrie;" 
 
 of which the editor has a very recent edition printed in 
 Dublin. The common English copy is entirely different. " 
 
 There was once a copy of one or other of the above editions, or 
 some different impression, with divers other curions pieces, in the 
 printed library of Anthony a Wood (No. 6) ; but the article, with 
 others of the like nature, appears to have been clandestinely taken 
 out. 
 
From the mention made in v. 429 of the city of 
 " Orlyaunce," and the character of the " Offycyal," it may 
 be conjectured that this poem is of French extraction ; 
 and, indeed, it is not at all improbable that the original is 
 extant in some MS. collection of old Fabliaux. A 
 punishment similar to that of the good wife in this story 
 appears to have been inflicted on the widow of St. 
 Gengulph, for presuming to question the reality of her 
 husbands miracles. See Heywoods History of Women, 
 p. 196. See also Wyntownes chronicle, i. 152. 
 
 The cut prefixed is an exact copy of one in the title of 
 the most ancient edition, which, the editor has a melan- 
 choly pleasure in reflecting, was traced for this purpose 
 by his learned, ingenious, and valuable friend, the late 
 John Baynes, esquire. 
 
 'The stanzas are not distinguished, nor the odd lines 
 indented, on account of the repeated irregularity of the 
 metre. See 11. 458, &c. 470, &c. ! 
 
GOD that dyed for us all, 
 
 And dranke both eysell and gall, 
 
 Brynge us out of bale, 
 
 And gyve them good lyfe and longe 
 
 That lysteneth to my songe, 
 
 Or tendeth to my tale. 
 
 There dwelled an husbonde in my countre 
 
 That had wyves thre, 
 
 By processe of tyme, 
 
 By the fyrst wyfe a sone he had, 10 
 
 That was a good sturdy ladde, 
 
 And an happy hyne. 
 
36 THE FRERE 
 
 His fader loved hym wele, 
 
 So dyde his moder never a dele, 
 
 I tell you as I thinke ; 
 
 All she thought was lost, by the rode, 
 
 That dyde the lytell boye ony good, 
 
 Other mete or drynke. 
 
 And yet y wys it was but badde, 
 
 And therof not halfe ynough he had, 20 
 
 But evermore of the worste : 
 
 Therfore evyll mote she fare, 
 
 For ever she dyde the lytell boye care, 
 
 As ferforth as she dorste. 
 
 The good wyfe to her husbonde gan saye, 
 
 I wolde ye wolde put this boye awaye, 
 
 And that ryght soone in haste ; 
 
 Truly he is a cursed ladde, 
 
 I wolde some other man hym had, 
 
 That wolde hym better chaste. so 
 
 Then sayd the good man agayne, 
 
 Dame, I shall to the sayne, 
 
 He is but tender of age ; 
 
 He shall abyde with me this yere, 
 
 Tyll he be more strongere, 
 
 For to wynne better wage. 
 
 We have a man, a stoute freke, 
 
 That in the felde kepeth our nete, 
 
 Slepynge all the daye, 
 
 He shall come home, so god me shelde, 40 
 
 And the boye shall into the felde, 
 
 To kepe our beestes yf he may. 
 
AND THE BOYE. 37 
 
 Than sayd the wyfe, verament, 
 
 Therto soone I assent, 
 
 For that me thynketh moost nedy. 
 
 On the morowe whan it was daye, 
 
 The lytell boye wente on his waye, 
 
 To the felde full redy ; 
 
 Of no man he had no care, 
 
 But sung, Hey howe, awaye the mare* so 
 
 And made joye ynough ; 
 
 Forth he wente, truly to sayne, 
 
 Tyll he came to the playne, 
 
 Hys dyner forth he drough : 
 
 Whan he sawe it was but bad, 
 
 Ful lytell lust therto he had, 
 
 But put it up agayne ; 
 
 Therfore he was not to wyte, 
 
 He sayd he wolde etc but lyte, 
 
 Tyll nyght that he home came. 60 
 
 And as the boye sate on a hyll, 
 
 An olde man came hym tyll, 
 
 Walkynge by the waye ; 
 
 Sone, he sayde, god the se. 
 
 * This is the beginning of an old catch. Maystres Jyll of 
 Brentford takes notice of it in her " Testament." 4 to. b. 1. 
 
 " Ah syrra, mary, away the mare." 
 Again, in Skeltons Elinour Ramming : 
 
 " With now away the mare 
 And let us slay care." 
 
 V. 60. came home. DC W. 
 
38 THE FRERE 
 
 Syr, welcome mote ye be, 
 
 The lytell boye gan saye. 
 
 The olde man sayd, I am an hongred sore, 
 
 Hast thou ony mete in store, 
 
 That thou mayst gyve me ? 
 
 The chylde sayd, so god me save, 70 
 
 To such vytayle as I have 
 
 Welcome shall ye be. 
 
 Therof the olde man was gladde, 
 
 The boye drewe forth suche as he had, 
 
 And sayd, do gladly. 
 
 The olde man was easy to please, 
 
 He etc and made hym well at ease, 
 
 And sayd, sone, gramercy. 
 
 Sone, thou haste gyven mete to me, 
 
 I shall the gyve thynges thre, so 
 
 Thou shalt them never forgete. 
 
 Than sayd the boye, as I trowe, 
 
 It is best that I have a bowe, 
 
 Byrdes for to ' shete.' 
 
 A bowe, sone, I shall the gyve, 
 
 That shall last the all thy lyve, 
 
 And ever a lyke mete, 
 
 Shote therin whan thou good thynke, 
 
 For yf thou shote and wynke, 
 
 The prycke thow shake hytte, 90 
 
 Whan he the bowe in honde felte, 
 
 And the boltes tinder his belte, 
 
 V. 84. shote. De. W. shoote. A. 
 
AND THE BOYE. 39 
 
 Lowde than he lough ; 
 
 He sayd, now had I a pype, 
 
 Though it were never so lyte, 
 
 Than were I gladde ynough. 
 
 A pype, sone, thou shalte have also, 
 
 In true musyke it shall go, 
 
 I put thee out of doubt ; 
 
 All that may the pype here 100 
 
 Shall not themselfe stere, 
 
 But laugh and lepe aboute. 
 
 What shall the thyrde be? 
 
 For I wyll gyve the gyftes three, 
 
 As I have sayd before. 
 
 The lytell boye on hym lough, 
 
 And sayd, syr, I have ynough, 
 
 I wyll desyre no more. 
 
 The olde man sayd, my trouth I plyght, 
 
 Thou shalte have that I the hyght ; no 
 
 Say on now and let me se. 
 
 Than sayd the boye anone, 
 
 I have a stepdame at home, 
 
 She is a shrewe to me : 
 
 Whan my fader gyveth me mete, 
 
 She wolde theron that I were cheke, 
 
 And stareth me in the face ; 
 
 Whan she loketh on me so, 
 
 I wolde she sholde let a rappe go, 
 
 V. 99. I do the well to wyte. De W. 
 V. 105. to the before. Idem. 
 
40 THE FREKE 
 
 That it myght rynge over all the place. 1*0 
 
 Than sayd the olde man tho, 
 
 Whan she loketh on the so 
 
 She shall begyn to blowe ; 
 
 All that ever it may here 
 
 Shall not themselfe stere, 
 
 But laugh on a rowe. 
 
 Farewell, quod the olde man. 
 
 God kepe the, sayd the chylde than, 
 
 I take my leve at the ; 
 
 God, that moost best may, 130 
 
 Kepe the bothe nyght and day. 
 
 Gramercy, sone, sayd he. 
 
 Than drewe it towarde the nyght, 
 
 Jacke hym hyed home full ryght, 
 
 It was his ordynaunce ; 
 
 He toke his pype and began to blowe, 
 
 All his beestes on a rowe, 
 
 Aboute hym they can daunce. 
 
 Thus wente he pypynge thrugh the towne, 
 
 His beestes hym folowed by the sowne, 1*0 
 
 Into his faders close ; 
 
 He wente and put them up echone, 
 
 Homewarde he wente anone, 
 
 Into his faders hall he gose. 
 
 His fader at his souper sat, 
 
 Lytell Jacke espyed well that, 
 
 And sayd to hym anone, 
 
 Fader, I have kepte your nete, 
 
 I praye you gyve me some mete, 
 
AND THE BOYE. 41 
 
 I am an hongred, by Saynt Jhone : i*> 
 
 I have sytten metelesse 
 
 All this daye kepynge your beestes, 
 
 My dyner feble it was. 
 
 His fader toke a capons wynge, 
 
 And at the boye he gan it flynge, 
 
 And badde hym etc apace. 
 
 That greved his stepmoders herte sore, 
 
 As I tolde you before, 
 
 She stared hym in the face, 
 
 With that she let go a blaste, 160 
 
 That they in the hall were agaste, 
 
 It range over all the place. 
 
 All they laughed and had good game, 
 
 The wyfe waxed red for shame, 
 
 She wolde that she had ben gone. 
 
 Quod the boye, well I wote, 
 
 That gonne was well shote, 
 
 As it had ben a stone. 
 
 Cursedly she loked on hym tho, 
 
 Another blaste she let go, 170 
 
 She was almoost rente. 
 
 Quod the boye, wyll ye se 
 
 How my dame letteth pellettes fle, 
 
 In fayth or ever she stynte ? 
 
 The boye sayde unto his dame, 
 
 Tempre thy bombe, he sayd, for shame : 
 
 She was full of sorowe. 
 
 Dame, sayd the good man, go thy waye, 
 
 For I swere to the by my faye, 
 
42 THE FRERE 
 
 Thy gero is not to borowe. ieo 
 
 Afterwaide as ye shall here, 
 
 To the hous there came a frere, 
 
 To lye there all nyght ; 
 
 The wyfe loved him as a saynt, 
 
 And to hym made her complaynt, 
 
 And tolde hym all aryght : 
 
 Wee have a boye within ywys, 
 
 A shrewe for the nones he is, 
 
 He dooth me moche care ; 
 
 I dare not loke hym upon, 190 
 
 I am ashamed, by Saynt John, 
 
 To tell you how I fare : 
 
 I praye you mete the boy tomorowe, 
 
 Bete hym well and gyve hym sorowe, 
 
 And make the boye lame. 
 
 Quod the frere, I shall hym bete. 
 
 Quod the wyfe, do not forgete, 
 
 He dooth me moche shame : 
 
 I trowe the boye be some wytche. 
 
 Quod the frere, I shall hym teche, 200 
 
 Have thou no care ; 
 
 I shall hym teche yf I may. 
 
 Quod the wyfe, I the praye, 
 
 Do hym not spare. 
 
 On the morowe the boye arose, 
 
 Into the felde soone he gose, 
 
 His beestes for to dryve ; 
 
 V. 186. So A. and MS. all omitted in De W. 
 
AND THE BOYE. 43 
 
 The frere ranne out at the gate, 
 
 He was aferde leest he came to late, 
 
 He ranne fast and blyve. sio 
 
 Whan he came upon the londe, 
 
 Lytell Jacke there he fonde, 
 
 Dryvynge his beestes all alone ; 
 
 Boye, he sayd, god gyve the shame, 
 
 What hast thou done to thy dame ? 
 
 Tell thou me anone : 
 
 But yf thou canst excuse the well, 
 
 By my trouth bete the I wyll, 
 
 I wyll no lenger abyde. 
 
 Quod the boye, what eyleth the ? 220 
 
 My dame fareth as well as ye, 
 
 What nedeth ye to chyde ? 
 
 Quod the boye, wyll ye wete 
 
 How I can a byrde shete, 
 
 And other thynge withall ? 
 
 Syr, he sayd, though I be lyte, 
 
 Yonder byrde wyll I smyte, 
 
 And gyve her the I shall. 
 
 There sate a byrde upon a brere, 
 
 Shote on boy, quod the frere, 230 
 
 For that me lysteth to se. 
 
 He hytte the byrde on the heed, 
 
 That she fell downe deed, 
 
 No ferder myght she flee. 
 
 V. 211. So A. and MS. a londe. De W. 
 
44 THE FRERE 
 
 The freie to the busshe wente, 
 
 Up the byrde for to hente, 
 
 He thought it best for to done. 
 
 Jacke toke his pype and began to blowe, 
 
 Then the frere, as I trowe, 
 
 Began to daunce soone ; 240 
 
 As soone as he the pype herd, 
 
 Lyke a wood man he fared, 
 
 He lepte and daunced aboute ; 
 
 The breres scratched hym in the face, 
 
 And in many an other place, 
 
 That the blode brast out ; 
 
 And tare his clothes by and by, 
 
 His cope and his scapelary, 
 
 And all his other wede. 
 
 He daunced amonge thornes thycke, 250 
 
 In many places they dyde hym prycke, 
 
 That fast gan he blede. 
 
 Jacke pyped and laughed amonge, 
 
 The frere amonge the thornes was thronge, 
 
 He hopped wunders hye ; 
 
 At the last he held up his honde, 
 
 And sayd I have daunced so longe, 
 
 That I am lyke to dye ; 
 
 V. 255. A hoppyd wonderley hey ; 
 
 The boy seyde, and lowhe with all, 
 
 Thes ys a sport reyall, 
 
 For a lord to se. MS. More. 
 
AND THE BOYE. 45 
 
 Gentyll Jacke, holde thy pype styll, 
 
 And my trouth I plyght the tyll, 260 
 
 I will do the no woo. 
 
 Jacke sayd, in that tide, 
 
 Frere skyppe out on the ferder syde, 
 
 Lyghtly that thou were goo. 
 
 The frere out of the busshe wente, 
 
 All to-ragged and to-rente, 
 
 And tome on every syde ; 
 
 Unnethes on hym he had one cloute, 
 
 His bely for to wrappe aboute ; 
 
 His harneys for to hyde. 270 
 
 The breres had hym scratched so in the face, 
 
 And [in] many an other place, 
 
 He was all to-bledde with blode ; 
 
 All that myght the frere se, 
 
 Were fayne awaye to flee, 
 
 They wende he had ben wode. 
 
 Whan he came to his hoost, 
 
 Of his iourney he made no boost, 
 
 His clothes were rente all ; 
 
 Moche sorowe in his herte he had, 280 
 
 And every man hym dradde, 
 
 Whan he came in to the hall. 
 
 The wyfe said, where hast thou bene ? 
 
 In an evyll place I wene, 
 
 Me thynketh by thyn araye. 
 
 Dame, I have ben with thy sone, 
 
 The devyll of hell hym overcome, 
 
 For no man elles may. 
 
46 THE FRERE 
 
 With that came in the good man, ^yo 
 
 The wife sayd to hym than, 
 
 Here is a foule araye ; 
 
 Thy sone that is the lefe and dere, 
 
 Hath almoost slayne this holy frere, 
 
 Alas ! and welawaye ! 
 
 The good man sayd, benedicite ! 
 
 What hath the boye done frere to the ? 
 
 Tell me without lette. 
 
 The frere sayd, the devyll hym spede, 
 
 He hath made me daunce, maugre my hede, 
 
 Amonge the thornes, hey go bette* 
 
 The good man sayd to hym tho, 
 
 Haddest thou lost thy lyfe so, 
 
 It had ben grete synne. 
 
 The frere sayd, by our lady, 
 
 The pype went so meryly, 
 
 That I coude never blynne. 
 
 Whan it drewe towarde the nyght, 
 
 The boye came home full ryght, 
 
 As he was wont to do ; 310 
 
 Whan he came into the hall, 
 
 Soone his fader gan hym call, 
 
 And badde hym to come hym to. 
 
 * The name, it is probable, of some old dance. To 
 " dance hey go mad" is still a common expression in the 
 North. 
 
 V. 312. His fader dyde hym soone call. De W. 
 
AND THE BOYE. 47 
 
 Boye, he sayd, tell me here, 
 
 What hast thou done to the frere ? 
 
 Tell me without lesynge. 
 
 Fader, he sayd, by my faye, 
 
 I dyde nought elles, as I you saye, 
 
 But pyped him a sprynge. 
 
 That pype, sayd his fader, wolde I here. 3-.o 
 
 Mary, god forbede ! sayd the frere ; 
 
 His handes he dyde wrynge. 
 
 Yes, sayd the good man, by goddes grace. 
 
 Then, sayd the frere, out alas ! 
 
 And made grete mournynge. 
 
 For the love of god, quod the frere, 
 
 If ye wyll that pype here, 
 
 Bynde me to a post ; 
 
 For 1 knowe none other rede, 
 
 And I daunce I am but deed, w 
 
 Well I wote my lyfe is lost. 
 
 Stronge ropes they toke in honde, 
 
 The frere to the poste they bonde, 
 
 In the myddle of the halle ; 
 
 All that at the souper sat 
 
 Laughed and had good game therat, 
 
 And said the frere wolde not fall. 
 
 Than sayd the good man, 
 
 Pype sonne, as thou can, 
 
 Hardely whan thou wylle. 140 
 
 V. 327. that he pype De. W. 
 
 V. 339. Pype on good sone. Idem. 
 
48 THE FRERE 
 
 Fader, he sayd, so mote I the, 
 
 Have ye shall ynough of gle, 
 
 Tyll ye bydde me be styll. 
 
 As soon as Jacke the pype hent, 
 
 All that there were verament, 
 
 Began to daunce and lepe ; 
 
 Whan they gan the pype here, 
 
 They myght not themselfe stere, 
 
 But hurled on an hepe. 
 
 The good man was in no dyspayre, .150 
 
 But lyghtly lepte out of his chayre, 
 
 All with a good chere ; 
 
 Some lepte over the stocke, 
 
 Some stombled at the blocke, 
 
 And some fell flatte in the fyre. 
 
 The good man had grete game, 
 
 How they daunced all in same ; 
 
 The good wyfe after gan steppe, 
 
 Evermore she kest her eye at Jacke, 
 
 And fast her tayle began to cracke, 360 
 
 Lowder than they coude speke. 
 
 The frere hymselfe was almoost lost, 
 
 For knockynge his heed ayenst the post, 
 
 He had none other grace ; 
 
 The rope rubbed hym under the chynne, 
 
 That the blode downe dyde rynne, 
 
 In many a dyvers place. 
 
 V. 361. Lowde. De W. 
 
AND THE BOYE. 49 
 
 Jacke ranne into the strete, 
 
 After hym fast dyde they lepe, 
 
 Truly they coude not stynte ; 370 
 
 They wente out at the dore so thycke, 
 
 That eche man fell on others necke, 
 
 So pretely out they wente. 
 
 Neyghbours that were fast by, 
 
 Herde the pype go so meryly, 
 
 They ranne into the gate ; 
 
 Some lepte over the hatche, 
 
 They had no time to drawe the latche, 
 
 They wende they had come to late. 
 
 Some laye in theyr bedde, sao 
 
 And helde up theyr hede, 
 
 Anone they were waked ; 
 
 Some sterte in the waye, 
 
 Truly as I you saye, 
 
 Stark bely naked. 
 
 By that they were gadred aboute, 
 
 I wys there was a grete route, 
 
 Dauncynge in the strete ; 
 
 Some were lame and myght not go, 
 
 But yet ywys they daunced to, 390 
 
 On handes and on fete. 
 
 The boye sayd, now wyll I rest. 
 
 Quod the good man, I holde it best, 
 
 With a mery chere ; 
 
 V. 392. They. W. 
 E 
 
THE FREKE 
 
 Sease, sone, whan thou wylte, 
 In fayth this is the meryest fytte 
 That I herde this seven yere. 
 They daunced all in same, 
 Some laughed and had good game, 
 And some had many a fall. 
 Thou cursed boye, quod the frere, 
 Here I somon the that thou appere 
 Before the offycyall ; 
 Loke thou be there on frydaye, 
 I wyll the mete and I may, 
 For to ordeyne the sorowe. 
 The boye sayd, by god avowe, 
 Frere, I am as redy as thou, 
 And frydaye were tomorowe. 
 Frydaye came as ye may here, 
 Jackes stepdame and the frere 
 Togeder there they mette ; 
 Folke gadered a grete pase, 
 To here every mannes case, 
 The offycyall was sette. 
 There was moche to do, 
 Maters more than one or two, 
 Both with preest and clerke ; 
 Some had testamentes for to preve, 
 And fayre women, by your leve, 
 
 V. 402, 403. Y som' the affor the coraserey. M.S'. 
 
AND THE BOYE. 51 
 
 That had strokes in the derke. 
 
 Every man put forth his case, 
 
 Then came forth frere Topyas, 
 
 And Jackes stepdame also ; 
 
 Syr offycyall, sayd he, 
 
 I have brought a boye to thee, 
 
 Which hath wrought me moche wo ; 
 
 He is a grete nygromancere, 
 
 In all Orlyaunce is not his pere, 
 
 As by my trouth I trowe. 4*0 
 
 He is a wytche, quod the wyfe : 
 
 Than, as I shall tell you blythe, 
 
 Lowde coude she bio we. 
 
 Some laughed without fayle, 
 
 Some sayd, dame, tempre thy tayle, 
 
 Ye wreste it all amysse. 
 
 Dame, quod the offycyall, 
 
 Tel forth on thy tale, 
 
 Lette not for this. 
 
 The wyfe was afrayed of an other cracke, o 
 
 That no worde more she spacke, 
 
 She durst not for drede. 
 
 The frere sayd, so mote I the, 
 
 Knave, this is long of the, 
 
 That evyl mote thou spede. 
 
 The frere sayd, syr offycyall, 
 
 V. 423. Than cam soret capias. MS. V. 432. blyve. A. 
 
52 THE FRF. HE 
 
 The boye wyll combre us all, 
 
 But yf ye may him chaste ; 
 
 Syr, he hath a pype truly, 
 
 Wyll make you daunce and lepe on hye, 450 
 
 Tyll your herte braste. 
 
 The offycyall sayd, so mot I the, 
 
 That pype wolde I fayne se, 
 
 And knowe what myrth that he can make. 
 
 V. 453, That pype well y se, 
 &c. He seyde, boy, hes het her? 
 Ye seer, be mey ffay, 
 Anon pype us a lay, 
 And make us all cher. 
 The offeciall the pype hent, 
 And blow tell his brow hen bent, 
 Bot therof cam no gle ; 
 The offeciall seyde, this ys nowth, 
 Be god that me der bowthe, 
 Het ys not worthe a sclo. 
 Be mey fay, qod the freyr, 
 The boy can make het pype cler, 
 Y bescro hem for hes mede. 
 The offeciall bad the boy asay. 
 Nay, qod the freyr, er that a way, 
 For that y forbede. 
 
 Pype on, qod the offeciall, and not spar. 
 The freyr began to star, 
 Jake hes pype hent, 
 As sone as Gake began to blow, 
 All they lepyd on a rowe, 
 And ronde abowt they went. 
 
AND THE BO YE. 53 
 
 Mary, god forbede, than sayd the frere, 
 That he sholde pype here, 
 Afore that I hens the waye take. 
 Pype on, Jacke, sayd the ofFycyall, 
 1 wyll here now how thou canst playe. 
 Jacke blewe up, the sothe to saye, 460 
 
 And made them soone to daunce all. 
 
 The offeciall had so gret hast, 
 
 That boyt hes schenys brast, 
 
 Apon a blockys hende. 
 
 The clerkys to dans they hem sped, 
 
 And som all ther eynke sched, 
 
 And som ther bekes rent, 
 
 And som cast ther boky[s] at the wall, 
 
 And som over ther felowys can fall, 
 
 So weytley they lepyd. 
 
 Ther was withowt let, 
 
 They storabylled on a hepc, 
 
 They dansed all abowthe, 
 
 And yever the freyr creyd owt, 
 
 Y may no lengger dans for soyt, 
 
 Y haffe lost halffe mey cod war, 
 
 When y dansed yn the thornes. 
 
 Som to crey they began, 
 
 Mey boke ys all to-toren : 
 
 Som creyd withowt let, 
 
 And som bad hoo ; 
 
 Som seyde het was a god game, 
 
 And som seyde they wer lame, 
 
 Y may no leynger skeppe ; 
 
54 THE FRERE 
 
 The offycyall lepte over the deske, 
 And daunced aboute wonder faste, 
 Tyll bothe his shynnes he all to-brest, 
 Hym thought it was not of the best, 
 Than cryed he unto the chylde, 
 To pype no more within this place, 
 But to holde styll for goddes grace, 
 And for the love of Mary mylde. 
 
 Som dansed so long, 
 
 Tell they helde owt the townge, 
 
 And a nethe meyt hepe. 
 
 The offeciall began to star, 
 
 And seyde, hafe for they heyr, 
 
 Stent of they lay, 
 
 And boldeley haske of me, 
 
 What thou welt hafe for thy gle, 
 
 Y schall the redey pay. 
 
 Then to stend Jake began, 
 
 The offeciall was a werey man, 
 
 Mey trowet y pleyt y the, 
 
 Thes was a god gle, 
 
 And seyde the worst that ever they se, 
 
 For het was er neyth. 
 
 Then bespake the offeciall, 
 
 And leytley Gake can call, 
 
 Hes pype he hem hent, 
 
 And gaffe hem xx s. 
 
 And ever mor hes blesyng, 
 
 For that merey fet. 
 
AND THE BO YE. 55 
 
 Than sayd Jacke to them echone, 470 
 
 If ye wolde me graunte with herte tre, 
 That he shall do me no vylany, 
 But hens to departe even as I come. 
 Therto they answered all anone, 
 And promysed him anone ryght, 
 In his quarell for to fyght, 
 And defende hym from his fone, 
 
 When Gake had that money hent, 
 
 Anon homard he went, 
 
 Glad therof was he ; 
 
 He waxed a wordeley marchande, 
 
 A man of gret degre. 
 
 1 Irs stepdame, y dar say, 
 
 Dorst never after that day, 
 
 Nat wonley ones desplese. 
 
 They lowyd togedyr all thre, 
 
 Hes father, hes stepdame and he, 
 
 Affter yn gret eys. 
 
 And that they ded, soyt to say, 
 
 Tho hewyn they toke the way, 
 
 Withowtyn eney mes. 
 
 Now god that dyed for os all, 
 
 And dranke aysell and gall, 
 
 Bryng them all to they bles, 
 
 That belevet on the name Jhc. 
 
56 T11E FRERE, ETC. 
 
 Thus they departed in that tyde, 
 The offycyall and the sompnere, 
 His stepdame and the frere, 
 With great joye and moche pry do. 
 
 480 
 
THE KING 
 
 AND 
 
 THE BARKER. 
 
THE following equally rude and ancient piece is given 
 from the manuscript volume in the public library, Cam- 
 bridge, already described. It is the undoubted original 
 of " the merry, pleasant, and delectable history between 
 K. Edward the fourth and a tanner of Tamworth," re- 
 printed by Dr. Percy ; who ought, perhaps, to have 
 informed his readers that the old copies contain a great 
 many stanzas which he has, not injudiciously, suppressed. 
 
 Dantre is Daventry (vulgarly pronounced Daintry,) in 
 Northamptonshire. 
 
 The writer of this manuscript should seem to have 
 been some provincial rustic. In one place of the volume 
 he enters the following saw, which appeared worth pre- 
 serving, for the sake of its singularity. 
 
 Ther ys leythe reythe and meythe, 
 
 Meythe overset reythe for the defawte of leythe, 
 
 Bot and reythe methe com to leythe, 
 
 ' Scholde' never meythe overset reythe. 
 
 1 ** Mr. Ritson intended, in any future edition, to 
 have suppressed this piece, which was originally printed 
 chiefly with a view of bringing to light some more accu- 
 rate copy; an effect which has not been, nor is now likely 
 to be, produced. The present editor, however, is tempted 
 to preserve it, as a singular curiosity, notwithstanding 
 the excessive and irremediable corruption of the MS. j 
 
WELL yow her a god horde to make yow ' all 
 
 lawhe?' 
 
 How het fell apon a tyme, or eney man het know, 
 The kyng rod a hontyng as that tyme was, 
 For to hont a der y trow lies hope was. 
 As he rode he hovertoke yn the wey 
 A tannar of Dantre yn a queynte araye; 
 Blake kow heydys sat he apon, 
 The hornys heyng besyde, 
 The kyng low and had god game, 
 To se the tannar reyde. 10 
 
 Howr kyng bad hes men abeyde, 
 And he welde sper of hem the wey ; 
 
 V. l.lawheall. 
 
62 THE KING AND 
 
 Yffe y may her eney new tythyng 
 
 Y schall het to yow saye. 
 
 Hovvr kyng prekyd, and seyde, ser, god the saffe. 
 
 The tannar seyde, well mot yow ffar. 
 
 God felow, seyde ' howr' kyng, off on thyng y 
 
 the pray, 
 
 To Drayton Baset well y reyde, wyche ys the wey ? 
 That can y tell the fro hens that y stonde, 
 When thow comest to the galow tre, torne upon 
 
 the lyft honde. 20 
 
 Gramercy, felow, seyde owr kyng, withowtyn eney 
 
 ' wone,' 
 
 I schall prey they lord Baset thanke the sone. 
 God felow, seyde owr kyng, reyde thou with me, 
 Tell y com to Drayton Baset, now y het se. 
 Nay be l mey feyt,' seyde the barker thoo, 
 Thow may sey y wer a fole and y dyd so ; 
 I hast yn mey wey as well as thow hast yn theyne, 
 Reyde forthe and seke they wey, thi hors ys better 
 
 nar meyne. 
 
 The tanner seyde, what maner man ar ye ? 
 A preker abowt, seyd the kyng, yn maney a 
 
 contre. 30 
 
 Than spake the thanner, foil scredely ayen, 
 Y had a brother vowsed the same 
 Tull he cowde never the. 
 
 V. 13. now. V. H.yowr. 
 
 V. 21.woyt. V. 25. meyt. 
 
THE BARKER. 63 
 
 Than < howr' kyng smotley gan smeyle, 
 
 Y prey the felow reyde with me a meyle. 
 
 What devell, quod the tanner, art thou owt off 
 
 they wet ? 
 
 Y most horn to mey deyner, for I am fastyng yet. 
 Good felow, seyde owr kyng, car the not for no 
 
 mete, 
 Thou schalt haffe mete ynow to neyght, and yeffe 
 
 thou welt ette. 
 
 The tanner toke gret skorne of hem, 40 
 
 And swar be Creyst ys pyne, 
 Y trow y hafe mor money in mey pors 
 Nar thow hast yn theyne : 
 Wenest thou y well be owt on neyght ? nay, and 
 
 god be for, 
 
 Was y never owt a neyt sen y was bor. 
 The tanner lokyd a bake tho, 
 The heydes began to fall, 
 He was war of the keyngs men, 
 Wher they cam reydyng all. 
 Thes ys a theffe, thowt the tanner, 50 
 
 Y prey to god geffe hem car, 
 He well haffe mey hors, 
 Mey heydes, and all mey chaffar. 
 For feleyschepe, seyde the tannar, 
 Yet wel y reyde with the ; 
 Y not war y methe with the afterward 
 Thow mast do as meche for me. 
 
 V. 34. yowr. 
 
64 THE KING AND 
 
 God a mar[sey], seyde owr kyng, withowt eny 
 
 wone, 
 
 Y schall prey the lord Basel to thanke the sone. 
 Owr keyng seyde, what new tydyng herest as 
 
 thou ryd? 60 
 
 I wolde fayne wet for thow reydest weyde. 
 Y know now teytheyng, the thanner seyde, herke 
 
 and thou schalt here, 
 Off al the chaffar that y know kow heydys beyt 
 
 der. 
 Owr keyng seyde, on theyng, as mey loffe y the 
 
 prey, 
 
 What herest sey be the lord Baset yn thes contrey ? 
 I know hem not, seyde the tanner, with hem y 
 
 hafe lytyll to don, 
 Wolde he never bey of me clot lether to clowt ' his 
 
 schoyn.' 
 Howr kyng seyde, y loffe the well, of on thyng y 
 
 the praye, 
 Thow hast harde hes servants speke, what welde 
 
 they saye ? 
 
 Ye for god, seyde the tanner, that tell y can, 70 
 Thay sey thay leke hem well, for he ys a god man. 
 Thos they reyd together talkyng, for soyt y yow 
 
 tell, 
 Tull he met the lord Baset, on kneys downe they 
 
 fell. 
 
 V. 60. now. V. 67. with schoys. 
 
THE BARKER. 6/5 
 
 Alas, the thanner thowt, the kyng ylone thes be, 
 
 Y schall be hongyd, wel y wot, at men may me se. 
 
 He had no meynde of hes hode, nor cape ner adell, 
 
 Al for drede off hes leyffe he wende to halfe ler. 
 
 The thanner wolde astole awey, 
 
 Whyle he began to speke, 
 
 Howr kyng had yever an ey on hem, o 
 
 That he meyt not skape. 
 
 God felow, with me thow most abeyde, seyd owr 
 
 For thow and y most an hontyng reyde. 
 
 Whan they com to Kyng chas meche game they 
 
 saye. 
 Howr kyng seyde, felow what schall y do, my hors 
 
 ys so hey ? 
 God felow, lend thow me theyne, and hafe her 
 
 meyne. 
 Tho the tannar leyt done, and cast a downe hes 
 
 heydys ; 
 Howr kyng was yn hes aadell, no leyngger he 
 
 beydes. 
 Alas, theyn the than ner thowt, he well reyde a way 
 
 with mey hors, 
 
 Y well after to get hem and y may. 90 
 
 He welde not leffe hes heydys beheynde for no- 
 
 theyng, 
 He cast them yn the kyngs schadyll, that was a 
 
 neys seyte ; 
 
 Tho he sat aboflfe them, as y ouw saye, 
 He prekyd fast after hem and fond the redey wey. 
 p 
 
66 THE KING AND 
 
 The hors iokyd abowt hem, and sey on every seyde 
 
 The kow homes blake and wheyte ; 
 
 The hors went he had bor the devell on hes bake ; 
 
 The hors prekyd as he was wode, 
 
 Het mestoret to spor hem not ; 
 
 The barker cleynt on hem fast, 100 
 
 He was sor aferde for to fall, 
 
 The kyng lowhe, and was glad to folow the chas, 
 
 * Yette ' he was agast lest the tanner welde ber 
 
 hem downe. 
 The hors sped hem sweythyli, he sped hem won- 
 
 derley fast, 
 
 Ayen a bow of an oke the thanneres hed he barst, 
 With a stombellyng as he rode the thanner downe 
 
 he cast ; 
 The kyng lowhe and had god game, and seyde 
 
 thou rydyst to fast. 
 The kyng lowhe, and had god game, and swar be 
 
 sent John, 
 
 Seche another horsman say y never none. 
 Owr kyng lowhe, and had god bord, and swar be 
 
 sent ' Jame,' no 
 
 Y most nedyst lawhe and thow wer mey dame. 
 Y bescro the same son, seyde the barker tho, 
 That seche a bord welde haffe to se hes dame so wo. 
 When ' ther' hontyng was ydo, they changyd hors 
 
 agen, 
 
 V. 103. Yeffe. V. 110. Jane. 
 
 V 114. her. 
 
THE BARKER. 67 
 
 Tho the barker had hes howyn, theyrof he was 
 
 ' fayne.' 
 Godamarsey, seyd our kyng, of they serveyse to 
 
 daye, 
 
 Yeffe thow hafe awt to do with me, or owt to saye, 
 They frende schall y yeffor be, be god that ys bet on. 
 Godamarsey, seyde the barker tho, thow semyst 
 
 a felow god, 
 Yeffe y met the yn Dantre thou schalt dreynke be 
 
 [the] rode. 120 
 
 Be mey feyt, seyde owr kyng, or els wer y to blame ; 
 Yeff y met the yn Lecheffelde thou schalt hafe the 
 
 same. 
 
 Thus they rod talkyng togeder to Drayton hall, 
 Tho the barker toke hes leffe of the lordes all. 
 Owr kyng comand the barker yn that tyde, 
 A C. s. yn hes pors to mend hes kow heydys. 
 Ther owr kyng and the barker partyd feyr atwyn. 
 God that set yn heffen so hey breyng os owt of sen ! 
 
 V. 115. of fayne. 
 
HOW A MERCHANDE DYD 
 HYS WYFE BETRAY. 
 
 
THE story of this ancient poem seems to have appeared 
 in all possible shapes. It is contained in a tract intitled 
 " Penny-wise, pound-foolish; or a Bristow diamond, set 
 in two rings, and both crack'd. Profitable for married 
 men, pleasant for young men, and a rare example for all 
 good women," London, 1631, 4to. b. 1. and is well 
 known, at least in the North, by the old ballad called 
 " The Pennyworth of Wit." It likewise appears, from 
 Langhams Letter, 1575, to have been then in print, under 
 the title of " The Chapman of a Pennyworth of W it ;" 
 jhough no edition of that age is now known to exist. 
 We learn, however, from the industrious Herbert, that 
 " A pany worth of wytt" was licensed to John Awdeley, 
 in 1560 (p. 188); and, it would seem, from an enumeration 
 as well of " Copies which were Sampson Awdeleys," as 
 of such " as belonged to James Roberts," had been ac- 
 tually printed. See p. 1031, 1104.^ The following copy 
 is from a transcript made by the late Mr. Baynes from 
 one of Bp. Mores manuscripts in the public library at 
 Cambridge (Ff. 2. 38, or 690), written apparently about 
 the reign of Edward the fourth or Richard the third ; 
 carefully but unnecessarily examined with the original. 
 The poem itself however is indisputably of a greater age, 
 and seems from the language and orthography to be of 
 Scotish, or at least of North country extraction. The 
 fragment of a 'less correct! copy, containing innumerable 
 variations, is preserved in a MS. of Henry the 6ths time 
 in the British Museum (Bib. Har. 5396); 'and in a large 
 collection of old English poetry in the advocates library 
 Edinburgh, is an entirely different, and (in point of date, 
 at least) much more ancient poem upon the same story, 
 in a similar dialect. The first lines remaining, (a couplet 
 
or two being lost by the cutting out of the preceding leaf) 
 are as follows : 
 
 Of a chance I chil you telle 
 
 That whilom, in this lond bifelle, 
 
 Ones it was a marchaunde riche, 
 
 No whar nas non his liche, 
 
 Of gold and of warldes winne, 
 
 In the cite that he wond inne, &c. &c. 
 
 The undoubted original of this story is to be found in 
 the old fabliau of La bourse pleine de sens by Jehans li 
 Galois d j Aubepierre, printed in the first volume of 
 Fabliaux et Contes, published by M.Barbazan; and mo- 
 dernized in prose by M. le Grand (Fabliaux ou Contes, 
 fyc. Paris, 1781, tome 3). But, as the merchant in that 
 poem, instead of making a sea voyage, only goes to the 
 fair of Troyes, it is highly probable that there has been 
 some later story, from which both the following poem, 
 and that in the Edin. MS. are translations. La bourse 
 de bon sens, evidently modernized from the above fabliau, 
 is in a little tract of the Bibliotheque bleue, intitled 
 <( Vieilles nouvelles rajeunies, &c." Troyes, 1716, 
 It has evidently been designed to be sung to the harp. 
 
LYSTENYTH, lordyngys, y you pray, 
 
 How a merchand dyd hys wyfe betray, 
 
 Bothe be day and be nyght, 
 
 Yf ye wyll herkyn aryght. 
 
 Thys songe ys of a merchand of thys cuntre, 
 
 That had a wyfe feyre and free ; 
 
 The marchand had a full gode wyfe, 
 
 Sche lovyd hym trewly as hur lyfe, 
 
 What that evyr he to hur sayde, 
 
 Evyr sche helde hur wele apayde : 
 
 The marchand, that was so gay, 
 
 By another woman he lay ; 
 
74 HOW A MERCHANDE DYD 
 
 He boght hur gownys of grete pryce, 
 
 Furryd with menyvere and with gryse, 
 
 To hur hedd ryall atyre, 
 
 As any lady myght desyre ; 
 
 Hys wyfe, that was so trewe as ston, 
 
 He wolde ware no thyng upon : 
 
 That was foly be my fay, 
 
 That fayrenes schulde tru love betray. 2 
 
 So hyt happenyd, as he wolde, 
 
 The marchand over the see he schulde ; 
 
 To hys leman ys he gon, 
 
 Leve at hur for to tane ; 
 
 With clyppyng and with kyssyng swete, 
 
 When they schulde parte bothe dyd they wepe. 
 
 Tyll hys wyfe ys he gon, 
 
 Leve at her then hath he tan ; 
 
 Dame, he seyde, be goddys are, 
 
 Haste any money thou woldyst ware ? .1 
 
 Whan y come beyonde the see 
 
 That y myght the bye some ryche drewre. 
 
 Syr, sche seyde, as Cryst me save, 
 
 Ye have all that evyr y have ; 
 
 Ye schall have a peny here, 
 
 As ye ar my trewe fere, 
 
 Bye ye me a penyworth of wytt, 
 
 And in youre hert kepe wele hyt. 
 
 Styll stode the merchand tho, 
 
 Lothe he was the peny to forgoo, 4 
 
II YS WYFE BETRAY. 75 
 
 Certen sothe, as y yow say, 
 
 He put hyt in hys puree and yede hys way. 
 
 A full gode wynde god hath hym sende, 
 
 Yn Fraunce hyt can hym brynge [an ende] ; 
 
 A full gode schypp arrayed he 
 
 Wyth marchaundyce and spycere. 
 
 Certen sothe, or he wolde reste, 
 
 He boght hys lemman of the beste, 
 
 He boght hur bedys, brochys and ryngys, 
 
 Nowchys of golde, and many feyre thyngys ; so 
 
 He boght hur perry to hur hedd, 
 
 Of safurs and of rubyes redd ; 
 
 Hys wyfe, that was so trew as ston, 
 
 He wolde ware nothyng upon : 
 
 That was foly, be my fay, 
 
 That fayrenes schulde trew love betray. 
 
 When he had boght all that he wolde, 
 
 The marchand ovyr the see he schulde. 
 
 The marchandys man to hys mayster dyd speke, 
 
 Oure dameys peny let us not forgete. fio 
 
 The marchand swore, be seynt Anne, 
 
 Zyt was that a lewde bargan, 
 
 To bye owre dame a penyworth of wytt, 
 
 In all Fraunce y can not fynde hyt. 
 
 ' An' olde man in the halle stode, 
 
 The marchandys speche he undur/ode ; 
 
 V. 65. And. 
 
70 HOW A MERCHANDE DYD 
 
 The olde man to the marchand can say, 
 
 A worde of counsell y yow pray, 
 
 And y schall selle yow a penyworth of wyt, 
 
 Yf ye take gode hede to hyt : 70 
 
 Tell me, marchand, be thy lyfe, 
 
 Whethyr haste thou a leman or a wyfe ? 
 
 44 Syr, y have bothe, as have y reste, 
 
 But my paramour love I beste." 
 
 Then seyde the olde man, withowten were, 
 
 Do now as y teche the here ; 
 
 When thou comyst ovyr the salte fome, 
 
 Olde clothys then do the upon, 
 
 To thy lemman that thou goo, 
 
 And telle hur of all thy woo ; > 
 
 Syke sore, do as y the say, 
 
 And telle hur all thy gode ys loste away, 
 
 Thy schyp ys drownyd in the fom, 
 
 And all thy god ys loste the from ; 
 
 Whan thou haste tolde hur soo, 
 
 Then to thy weddyd wyfe thou go ; 
 
 Whedyr helpyth the bettur yn they nede, 
 
 Dwelle with hur, as Cryste the spede. 
 
 The marchand seyde, wele must thou fare, 
 
 Have here thy peny, y have my ware. 90 
 
 When he come over the salte fome, 
 
 Olde clothys he dyd hym upon, 
 
 VV. 79, 80. These two lines are in the MS. inserted after 
 the four following. 
 
HYS WYFE BETRAY. 77 
 
 Hys lemman lokyd forthe and on hym see, 
 
 And seyde to hur maydyn, how lykyth the? 
 
 My love ys comyn fro beyonde the see, 
 
 Come hedur, and see hym wyth thyn eye. 
 
 The maydyn seyde, be my fay, 
 
 He ys yn a febull array. 
 
 Go down, maydyn, in to the halle, 
 
 Yf thou mete the marchand wythalle, 100 
 
 And yf he spy ire aftyr me, 
 
 Say, thou sawe me wyth non eye ; 
 
 Yf he wyll algatys wytt, 
 
 Say in my chaumbyr y lye sore syke, 
 
 Out of hyt y may not wynne, 
 
 To speke wyth none ende of my kynne, 
 
 Nother wyth hym nor wyth none other, 
 
 Thowe he were myn own brother. 
 
 Alias ! seyde the maydyn, why sey ye soo? 
 
 Thynke how he helpyed yow owt of moche wo. 
 
 Fyrst when ye mett, wythowt lesynge, 
 
 Youre gode was not worthe xx s., 
 
 Now hyt ys worthe cccc pownde, 
 
 Of golde and sylvyr that ys rounde ; 
 
 Gode ys but a lante lone, 
 
 Some tyme men have hyt, and some tyme none ; 
 
 Thogh all hys gode be gon hym froo, 
 
 Nevyr forsake hym in hys woo. 
 
 Go downe, maydyn, as y bydd the, 
 
 Thou schalt no lenger ellys dwelle wyth me. 
 
78 HOW A MEUCHANDE DYD 
 
 The maydyn wente in to the halle, 
 
 There sche met the marchand wythall. 
 
 " Where ys my lemman ? where ys sche ? 
 
 Why wyll sche not come speke wyth me ? " 
 
 " Syr, y do the wele to wytt, 
 
 Yn hyr chaumbyr sche lyeth full syke, 
 
 Out of hyt sche may not wynne, 
 
 To speke wyth non ende of hur kynne, 
 
 Nother wyth yow nor wyth non other, 
 
 Thowe ye were hur owne brother." no 
 
 " Maydyn, to my lemman that thou go, 
 
 And telle hur my gode ys loste me fro, 
 
 My schyp ys drownyd in the fom, 
 
 And all my gode ys loste me from ; 
 
 A gentylman have y slawe, 
 
 Y dar not abyde the londys lawe ; 
 
 Pray hur, as sche lovyth me dere, 
 
 As y have ben to hur a trewe fere, 
 
 To kepe me prevy in hur chaumbyr, 
 
 That the kyngys baylyes take me nevyr." i4< 
 
 Into the chaumbyr the maydyn ys goon, 
 
 Thys tale sche tolde hur dame anone. 
 
 " In to the halle, maydyn, wynde thou downe, 
 
 And bydd hym owt of my halle to goon, 
 
 Or y schall send in to the towne, 
 
 And make the kyngys baylyes to come ; 
 
 Y swere, be god of grete renown, 
 
 Y wyll nevyr harbur the kyngys feloun." 
 
IIYS WYFE BETRAY. 79 
 
 The maydyn wente in to the halle, 
 
 And thus sche tolde the merchand alle ; iso 
 
 The marchand sawe none other spede, 
 
 He toke hys leve and forthe he yede. 
 
 Lystenyth, lordyngys, curtes and hende, 
 
 For zyt ys the better fytt behynde. 
 
 [THE SECOND FIT.] 
 
 LYSTENYTH, lordyngys, great and small: 
 
 The marchand ys now to hys own halle ; 
 
 Of hys comyng hys wyfe was fayne, 
 
 Anone sche come [to] hym agayne. 
 
 Husbonde, sche seycle, welcome ye be, 
 
 How have ye farde beyonde the see ? ifia 
 
 Dame, he seyde, be goddys are, 
 
 All full febyll hath be my fare ; 
 
 All the gode that ever was thyn and myn 
 
 Hyt ys loste, be seynt Martyn ; 
 
 In a storme y was bestadde, 
 
 Was y nevyr halfe so sore adrad, 
 
 Y thanke hyt god, for so y may, 
 
 That evyr y skapyd onlyve away ; 
 
 My schyp ys drownyd in the fom, 
 
 And all my gode ys loste me from ; 170 
 
80 HOW A MERCIIANDE DYD 
 
 A gentylman have y slawe, 
 
 may not abyde the londys lawe ; 
 I pray the, as thou lovest me dere, 
 As thou art my trewe weddyd fere, 
 In thy chaumber thou woldest kepe me dern. 
 Syr, sche seyde, no man schall me warne : 
 Be stylle, husbonde, sygh not so sore, 
 He that hathe thy gode may sende the more ; 
 Thowe all thy gode be fro the goo, 
 I wyll nevyr forsake the in thy woo ; io 
 
 Y schall go to the kyng and to the quene, 
 And knele before them on my kneen, 
 There to knele and nevyr to cese, 
 Tyl of the kyng y have getyn thy pees : 
 I can bake, brewe, carde and spynne, 
 My maydenys and y can sylvyr wynne, 
 Evyr whyll y am thy wyfe, 
 To maynten the a trewe mannys lyfe. 
 Certen sothe, as y yow say, 
 All nyght be hys wyfe he lay, 190 
 
 On the morne, or he forthe yede, 
 He kaste on hym a ryall wede, 
 And bestrode a full gode stede, 
 And to hys lemmans hows he yede. 
 Hys lemman lokyd forthe and on hym see, 
 As he come rydyng ovyr the lee, 
 Sche put on hur a garment of palle, 
 And mett the marchand in the halle, 
 
HYS WYFE BETRAY, 81 
 
 Twyes or thryes, or evyr he wyste, 
 
 Trewly sche had hym kyste. soo 
 
 Syr, sche seyde, be seynt John, 
 
 Ye were nevyr halfe so welcome home. 
 
 Sche was a schrewe, as have y hele, 
 
 There sche currayed favell well. 
 
 Dame, he seyde, be seynt John, 
 
 Zyt ar not we at oon ; 
 
 Hyt was tolde me beyonde the see, 
 
 Thou haste another leman then me, 
 
 All the gode that was thyn and myne, 
 
 Thou haste gevyn hym, be seynt Martyn . 210 
 
 " Syr, as Cryste bryng me fro bale, 
 
 Sche lyeth falsely that tolde the that tale ; 
 
 Hyt was thy wyfe, that olde trate, 
 
 That nevyr gode worde by me spake ; 
 
 Were sche dedd (god lene hyt wolde !) 
 
 Of the have all my wylle y schulde ; 
 
 Erly, late, lowde and stylle, 
 
 Of the schulde y have all my wylle : 
 
 Ye schall see, so muste y the, 
 
 That sche lyeth falsely on me*" 2o 
 
 Sche leyde a canvas on the flore, 
 
 Longe and large, styffe and store, 
 
 Sche leyde theron, wythowten lyte, 
 
 Fyfty schetys waschen whyte, 
 
 Pecys of sylvyr, masers of golde ; 
 
 The marchand stode hyt to beholde : 
 
82 HOW A MERCIIANDE DYD 
 
 He puthyt in a wyde sakk, 
 
 And leyde hyt on the hors bakk ; 
 
 He bad hys chylde go belyve, 
 
 " And lede thys home to my wyve." sso 
 
 The chylde on hys way ys gon, 
 
 The marchande come aftyr anon ; 
 
 He caste the pakk downe in the flore, 
 
 Longe and large, styf and store, 
 
 As hyt lay on the grounde, 
 
 Hyt was wele worthe cccc pownde : 
 
 They ondedyn the mouth aryght, 
 
 There they sawe a ryall syght. 
 
 Syr, sayde hys wyfe, be the rode, 
 
 Where had ye all thys ryall god e? 4o 
 
 Dame, he seyde, be goddys are, 
 
 Here ys thy peny worth of ware ; 
 
 Yf thou thynke hyt not wele besett, 
 
 Gyf hyt another can be ware hytt bett ; 
 
 All thys wyth thy peny boght y, 
 
 And therfore y gyf hyt the frely ; 
 
 Do wyth all what so evyr ye lyste, 
 
 I wyll nevyr aske yow accowntys, be Cryste. 
 
 The marchandys wyfe to hym can say, 
 
 Why come ye home in so febull array ? 250 
 
 Then seyde the marchand, sone ageyn, 
 
 Wyfe, for to assay the in certeyn ; 
 
 For at my lemman was y before, 
 
 And sche by me sett lytyll store, 
 
HYS WYFE BETRAY. 83 
 
 And sche lovyd bettyr my gode then me, 
 
 And so wyfe dydd nevyr ye. 
 
 To telle hys wyfe then he began, 
 
 All that gode he had takyn fro hys lemman ; 
 
 " And all was becawse of thy peny, 
 
 Therfore y gyf hyt the frely ; 6o 
 
 And y gyf god a vowe thys howre, 
 
 Y wyll nevyr more have paramowre, 
 
 But the, myn own derlyng and wyfe, 
 
 Wyth the wyll y lede my lyfe." 
 
 Thus the marchandys care began to kele, 
 
 He lefte hys folye every dele, 
 
 And levyd in clennesse and honeste ; 
 
 Y pray god that so do we. 
 
 God, that ys of grete renowne, 
 
 Save all the gode folke of thys towne : 270 
 
 Jesu, as thou art hevyn kynge, 
 
 To the blys of hevyn owre soules brynge. 
 
HOW THE WISE MAN TAUGHT 
 HIS SON. 
 
THIS little moral piece, which, for the time wherein it 
 was written, is not inelegant, is given from a manuscript 
 collection in the Harleian library in the British Museum 
 (No. 5396), compiled in the reign of King Henry the sixth. 
 [Thoughjit is not supposed to have been before printed, 
 there is a striking coincidence of idea in Mr. Gilbert 
 Coopers beautiful elegy intitled " A father's advice to his 
 son," as well as in the old song of " It's good to be merry 
 and wise ;" which the more curious reader may consult at 
 his leisure. JA few readings have been obtained, for this 
 edition, from a very corrupt and imperfect copy in the 
 above library (No. 2399). 
 
 A longer poem, in couplets, of a similar nature, and 
 about the same age, may be found in the Cotton library 
 (Vespasian D. XIII.) beginning 
 
 " Myne awen dere sone, and thou will lere, 
 Of syndry wittis and thou will here." 
 
 Peter Idle, esquire, of Kent, is very prolix in his parental 
 instructions. See the Harleian MSS. No. 172. or Bp. 
 Mores, No. 121. 
 
 The most ancient thing of the kind is a French poem, 
 extant in the Harleian MS. Num. 225 3 (written not long 
 after the year 1300) " containing many moral, civil, and 
 pious advices and instructions given by one Urban to his 
 son." It begins 
 
 " Un sage houme de graunt valour." 
 
 There is another copy in the Public Library at Cambridge 
 (Ff. II. xxxviii), which appears to have escaped Mr. Ritson's ~| 
 attention. ED. J 
 
LYSTENYTH all, and ye well here 
 
 How the wyse man taght hys son ; 
 Take gode tent to thys matere, 
 
 And fond to lere yf the can. 
 Thys song be yonge men was begon, 
 
 To make hem trysty' and stedfast ; 
 But yarn that is oft-tyme yll sponne, 
 
 Evyll hyt comys out at the last. 
 
 A wyse man had a fayre chyld, 
 * That was* of fyftene wynter age, 
 
 4 Of maners he was' meke an4 mylde, 
 Fayre of body and vesage ; 
 
 V. 6. Tyrsty 
 
 
90 HOW THE WISE MAN 
 
 Gentyll of kynde and of corage, 
 For he schulde be hys fadur eyre ; 
 
 Hys fadur thus, yn hys langage, 
 
 ' Taght ' hys sone bothe weyll and fayre : 
 
 And sayd, son, kepe thys word yn hart, 
 
 And thenke theron tylP thou be ded; 
 * Every ' day, thy furst werke, 
 
 Loke thys be don yn ylke stede : 20 
 
 Furst se thye god yn forme of brede,* 
 
 And serve hym ' well ' for hys godenes, 
 And afturward, sone, by my rede, 
 
 Go do thy worldys besynes. 
 
 Forst, worschyp thy god * onys ' a day, 
 
 And, sone, thys schall thou have to * mede/ 
 [Loke] skyllfully what thou pray, 
 
 He wyll the graunt withoutyn drede, 
 And send the al that thou hast nede, 
 
 As * fer' as meser longyyth to strech, 30 
 
 This lyfe in mesur that thou lede, 
 
 And of the remlant thou ne rech. 
 
 1 And/ sone, thy tong thou kepe also, 
 
 And be not tale-wyse be no way ; 
 Thyn owen tonge may be thy fo, 
 
 Therfor beware, sone, i the pray, 
 
 V. 16. That. V. 18. thyll. V. 22. wyll. 
 
 V. 26. mad. * i. e. go to mass. 
 
TAUGHT HIS SON. 91 
 
 Where and when, son, thou schalt say, 
 
 And be whom thou spekyst oght ; 
 For thou may speke a word to-day 
 
 That seven yere thens may be forthoght. 40 
 
 Therfore, sone, be ware be-tyme, 
 
 Desyre no offys for to bere, 
 For of thy neyborys mawgref, 
 
 Thou most hem bothe dysplese and dere, 
 Or ellys thy self thou must * forswere,' 
 
 And do not as thyn offys wolde, 
 And gete the mawgrefe, here and there, 
 
 More then thank a thousand fold. 
 
 And, sone, yf thou wylt lyf at ese, 
 
 And warme among thy neyburs syt, 50 
 
 Lat [no] newefangylnes the plese 
 
 Oftyn to remewe nor to flyt ; 
 For and thou do thou wantys wyt, 
 
 For folys they remewe al to wyde ; 
 And also, sone, an evyl ' sygne' ys hyt, 
 
 A mon that can no wher abyde. 
 
 And, sone, of syche thyng i the warne, 
 And on my blyssyng take gode hede, 
 
 Thou use never the taverne ; 
 
 And also dysyng i the forbede : 60 
 
 V. 45. for swete. V. 55. sagne. 
 
92 HOW THE WISE MAN 
 
 For thyse two thyngys, withoutyn drede, 
 
 And comon women, as i leve, 
 Makes yong men evyle to spede, 
 
 And * falle' yn danger and yn myschefe. 
 
 And, sone, the more gode thou hast, 
 
 The rather here the meke and lowe ; 
 Lagh not mych, for that ys wast, 
 
 For folys ben by laghing * knowe.' 
 And, sone, quyte wele that thou owe, 
 
 So that thou be of dettes clere ; 71 
 
 And thus, my lefe chylde, as i trowe, 
 
 Thou mest the kepe fro daungere. 
 
 And loke thou wake not to longe, 
 
 Ne use not rere-soperys to late ; 
 For, were thy complexion nevyr so strong, 
 
 Wyth surfet thou mayst fordo that. 
 Of late wakyng fallys oftyn debate, 
 
 On nyghtys for to syt and drynke ; 
 Yf thou wylt rule thyn astate, 
 
 Betyme go to bed and wynke. so 
 
 And, sone, as far furth as thou may, 
 
 On non enquest that thou come, 
 Nor no fals wytnesse bere away, 
 
 Of no manys mater, all ne sum : 
 
 V. 64. fulle. V. 68. knone. V. 77. walkyng. 
 
TAUGHT HIS SON. 93 
 
 For better the were be defe and dowm, 
 
 Then for to be on eny ' enquest,' 
 That aftyr myght be undurnome, 
 
 A trewe man had hys quarel lest. 
 
 And, sone, yf thou wylt have a wyfe, 
 
 Take hur for no covetyse, 90 
 
 But loke, sone, sche be the lefe, 
 
 Thou ' wysely' wayt and wele awyse, 
 That sche be gode, honest, and wyse, 
 
 Thof sche be pore take thou not hede, 
 For sche ' schaT do the more servys, 
 
 Then schall a ryche withowtyn drede. 
 
 For bettyr it is in rest and pes, 
 
 A mes of potage and no more, 
 Then for to have ' an hundred* mes, 
 
 With gret dysese and angyr sore. 100 
 
 Therfore [lewe] sone, thynk on thys lore, 
 
 Yf thou wylt have a wyfe with ese, 
 By hur gode set thou no store, 
 
 Thof sche wolde the bothe feffe and sesse. 
 
 And yf thy wyffe be meke and gode, 
 And serve the wele and ' plesantly,' 
 
 Loke that thou be not so wode, 
 To charge hur then to owtragely; 
 
 : V. 86. engucst.] V. 95. schalt. V. 106. plesantyl. 
 
94 HOW THE WISE MAN 
 
 But then fare with hur esyly, 
 
 And cherysch hur for hur gode dede, no 
 
 For thyng overdon unskylfully, 
 
 Makys wrath to growe where ys no nede. 
 
 I wyl neyther glos ne * paynt,' 
 
 But waran the on anodur syde ; 
 Yf thy wyfe come to make pleynt, 
 
 On thy servandys l be tyme or tyde,' 
 Be nott to hasty them to chyde, 
 
 < Wreke the not' or thou wytt the sothe, 
 For wemen ' their' wrethe they can not hyde, 
 
 But sone they reyse a smokei rofe. 120 
 
 Nor, sone, be not jelows, i the pray, 
 
 For, and thou falle in jelosye, 
 Let not thy wyfe wyt in no way, 
 
 For thou may do no more foly ; 
 For, and thy wyfe may onys aspye 
 
 That thou any thyng hur mystryst, 
 In dyspyte of thy fantesy, 
 
 To do the wors ys all hur lyst. 
 
 V. 113. praynt. 
 JV. 116. on any syde. MS. 5396. 
 
 Upon thy meyne be tyme or tyde. MS. 2399. 
 V. 118. So MS. 2399. The other reads Nor wreth the not. 
 V. 119. yn. "} 
 
TAUGHT HIS SON. 95 
 
 Therfore, sone, i byd the 
 
 Wyrche with thy wyfe as reson ys, iso 
 
 Thof sche be servant in degre, 
 
 In som degre she felaw ys. 
 1 They be not wys,' so have i blys, 
 
 That can not rewle theyr wyves aryght, 
 * Hyt makyth hem ofte to do amys, 
 
 And settyn by wedlok al to lyght.' 
 
 Nor, sone, bete nott thy wyfe i rede, 
 
 For theryn may no help ' aryse,' 
 Betyng may not stond yn stede, 
 
 But rather make hur ' the to despyse :' 140 
 Wyth lovys awe, sone, thy wyfe chastyse, 
 
 And let fayre wordys be thy yerde ; 
 Lovys awe ys [ever] the best gyse, 
 
 My sone, to make thy wyfe aferd. 
 
 Nor, sone, thy wyfe thou schalt not chyde, 
 
 Nor calle hur by no vyleus name, 
 For sche that schal ly be thy syde, 
 
 To calle hur fowle yt ys thy schame ; 
 
 [V. 132. In som partys thy felow sche ys. MS. 2399. 
 V. 133. Laddys that ar bundyn. 
 VV. 135, 136. That makys wemen, so have i blys, 
 
 To do often wrong yn plyght. MS. 5396. 
 Hyt makyt ofte hem to do amys, 
 
 And settyn by goodys wedlok al to lyght 
 MS. 2399. 
 V. 140. to despyse the. 
 
96 HOW THE WISE MAN 
 
 Whan thou thyne owen wyfe wyl dytfame, 
 
 Wele may anothyr man do so : 150 
 
 Soft and fayre men make tame 
 Hert and buk and wylde roo. 
 
 And, sone, thou pay ryght wele thy tythe,* 
 
 And pore men of thy gode thou dele ; 
 And loke, sone, be thy [very] lyfe, 
 
 [In erth] thou gete thy sowle sum hele. 
 Thys werld hyt turnys evyn as a whele, 
 
 All day be day hyt wyl enpayre, 
 And so, sone, thys worldys wele, 
 
 Hyt faryth but as a chery fayre. ifio 
 
 For all that evyr man doth here, 
 
 Wyth besynesse and travell bothe, 
 All ys, wythowtyn were, 
 
 For cure mete, drynk, and clothe ; 
 More getys he not, wythowtyn othe, 
 
 Kyng or prynce whether that he be, 
 Be hym lefe, or be hym loth, 
 
 A pore man has as mych as he. 
 
 And many a man here gadrys gode 
 
 All hys lyfe dayes for othyr men, no 
 
 That he may not, by the rode, 
 
 Hym self onys etc of an henne ; 
 
 L * The author, from this and other admonitions, is supposed 
 to have been a parish-priest. " 
 
TAUGHT HIS SON. 97 
 
 But be he dolvyn yn hys den, 
 
 Anothyr schal come at hys last ende, 
 
 Schal have hys wyf and catel then, 
 
 That he has gadred another schal spende. 
 
 Therfor, sone, be my counseyle, 
 
 More then ynogh thou nevyr covayt, 
 
 Thou ne wost wan deth wyl the assayle, 
 
 Thys werld ys but the fendys bate. iso 
 
 For deth ys, sone, as i trowe, 
 
 The most thyng that certyn ys, 
 And non so uncerteyn for to knowe, 
 
 As ys the tyme of deth y wys ; 
 And therfore, sone, thou thynk on thys, 
 
 And al that i have seyd beforn : 
 And Jhesu * bryng' us to hys blys, 
 
 That for us weryd the crowne of thorn. 
 
 V. 180. The latter part of this stanza seems to be wanting. 
 V. 187. brynd. 
 
SIR PENY. 
 
THIS excellent poem was intended to have been added to 
 the present collection by Mr. Ritson, and is therefore now 
 given, from a manuscript in the Cotton library (Galba 
 E. 9. fo. 47, b). There is a fragment of it containing 
 forty-five verses somewhat differing from this copy, and 
 of inferior merit, in the library of Caius College, Cam- 
 bridge, (No. 174.) 
 
IN erth it es a littill thing, 
 And regnes als a riche king, 
 
 Whare he es lent in land ; 
 Sir Peni es his name calde, 
 He makes both yong and aide 
 
 Bow untill his hand. 
 
 Papes, kinges, and emperoures, 
 Bisschoppes, abbottes, and priowres, 
 
 Person, prest, and knyght, 
 Dukes, erles, and ilk barowne, 
 To serve him er thai ful boune, 
 
 Both bi day and nyght. 
 
104 SIR PENY. 
 
 Sir Peni chaunges [ofte] mans mode, 
 And gers tham oft to doun thaire node, 
 
 And to rise him ogayne. 
 Men honors him with grete reverence, 
 Makes ful mekell obedience 
 
 Unto that litill swaine. 
 
 In kinges court es it no bote, 
 
 Ogaines sir Peni for to mote, co 
 
 So mekill es he of myght ; 
 He es so witty and so strang, 
 That be it never so mekill wrang, 
 
 He will mak it right. 
 
 With Peny may men wemen till 
 Be thai never so strange of will, 
 
 So oft may it be sene, 
 Lang with him will thai noght chide, 
 For he may ger tham trayl syde 
 
 In gude skarlet and grene. so 
 
 He may by both hevyn and hell, 
 And ilka thing that es to sell. 
 
 In erth has he swilk grace, 
 He may lese and he may bind. 
 The pouer er ay put bihind, 
 
 Whare he cumes in place. 
 
 V. 13. ofte. MS. Caius. 
 
SIR PENY, 105 
 
 When he bigines him to mell, 
 He makes meke that are was fell, 
 
 And walk that bald has bene. 
 All ye nedes ful sone er sped, 40 
 
 Bath withowten borgh and wed, 
 
 Whare Peni gase bitwene. 
 
 The domes-men he mase so blind, 
 That he may noght the right find, 
 
 Ne the suth to se. 
 For to gif dome tham es ful lath, 
 Tharwith to mak sir Peni wrath, 
 
 Ful dere with tham es he. 
 
 Thare strife was, Peni makes pese, 
 
 Of all angers he may relese, so 
 
 In land whare he will lende, 
 Of fase may he mak frendes sad, 
 Of counsail thar tham never be rad, 
 
 That may have him to frende. 
 
 That sire es set on high dese, 
 And served with mani riche mese 
 
 At the high burde. 
 The more he es to men plente, 
 The more yernid alway es he, 
 
 And halden dere in horde. 60 
 
106 SIR PETTY. 
 
 He makes mani be forsworne, 
 And sum life and saul forlorne, 
 
 Him to get and wyn. 
 Other god will thai none have, 
 Bot that litil round knave, 
 
 Thaire bales for to blin. 
 
 On him halely thaire hertes sett, 
 Him for to luf will thai noght let, 
 
 Nowther for gude ne ill. 
 All that he will in erth have done, 70 
 
 Ilka man grantes it ful sone, 
 
 Right at his awin will. 
 
 He may both lene and gyf ; 
 
 He may ger both sla and lif, 
 
 Both by frith and fell. 
 
 [Sir] Peni es a gude felaw, 
 
 Men welcums him in dede and saw, 
 
 Cum he never so oft ; 
 He es noght welkumd als a gest, 
 But evermore served with the best, so 
 
 And made at sit ful soft. 
 
 Who so es sted in any nede, 
 With sir Peni may thai spede, 
 
 V. 75. Half of this stanza appears to be wanting. 
 
SIR PENY. 107 
 
 How so ever they bytide. 
 He that sir Peni es with-all, 
 Sail have his will in stede and stall, 
 
 When other er set byside. 
 
 Sir Peny gers, in riche wede, 
 Ful mani go and ride on stede, 
 
 In this * werlde* wide. 90 
 
 In ilka gamin and ilka play, 
 The maystri es gifen ay 
 
 To Peny, for his pride. 
 
 Sir Peny over all gettes the gre, 
 Both in burgh and in cete, 
 
 In castell and in towre. 
 Withowten owther spere or schelde, 
 Es he the best in frith or felde, 
 
 And stalworthest in stowre. 
 
 In ilka place, the suth es sene, 100 
 
 Sir Peni es over al bidene, 
 
 Maister most in mode. 
 And all es als he will cumand : 
 Ogains his stevyn dar no man stand, 
 
 Nowther by land ne flode. 
 
 Sir Peny mai ful mekill availe 
 To tham that has nede of cownsail, 
 
 V. 90. werldes. MS. Cott. 
 
108 SIR PENY. 
 
 Als sene es in assise 
 He lenkithes life and saves fro ded 
 Bot luf it noght over wele, I rede, no 
 
 For sin of covaityse. 
 
 If thou have happ tresore to win, 
 Delite the noght to mekill tharin, 
 
 Ne nything thareof be, 
 Bot spend it als wele als thou can, 
 So that thou luf both god and man 
 
 In perfite charite. 
 
 God grante us grace with hert and will, 
 The gudes that he has gifen us till, 
 
 Wele and wisely to spend ; izo 
 
 And so oure lives here for to lede, 
 That we may have his blis to mede, 
 
 Ever withouten end. 
 
THE LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 OF 
 
 TOM THUMBE. 
 
IT is needless to mention the popularity of the following 
 story. Every city, town, village, shop, stall, man, woman, 
 and child, in the kingdom, can bear witness to it. Its 
 antiquity, however, remains to be enquired into, more 
 especially as no very ancient edition of it has been dis- 
 covered. That which was made use of on the present 
 occasion bears the following title : " Tom Thumbe, his 
 life and death : wherein is declared many marvailous 
 acts of manhood, full of wonder, and strange merriments. 
 Which little knight lived in king Arthurs time, and iamous 
 in the court of Great Brittaine. London, printed for 
 John Wright. 1630." It is a small 8vo. in black letter, 
 was given, among many other curious pieces, by Robert 
 Burton, author of the Anatomy of Melancholy, to the 
 Bodleian Library (Seld. Art. L. 79.), and is the oldest 
 copy known tobe extant. There is a later edition, like- 
 wise in black letter, printed for F. Coles, and others, in 
 Antony a Woods collection, which has been collated, as 
 has also a different copy, printed for some of the same 
 proprietors, in the editors possession. All three are 
 ornamented with curious cuts, representing the most me- 
 morable incidents of our heros life. They are likewise 
 divided into chapters by short prose arguments, which, 
 being always unnecessary, and sometimes improper, as 
 occasioning an interruption of the narrative, are here 
 omitted. 
 
 In Ben Jonsons Masque of the Fortunate Isles, de- 
 signed for the Court, on the Twelfth Night, 1626, Skelton, 
 one of the characters, after mentioning Elinor Rumming, 
 and others, says 
 
 Or you may have come 
 In, THOMAS THUMB, 
 
 IN A PUDDING FAT, 
 
 With Doctor Rat. 
 
Then " The Antimasque follows : consisting of these 
 twelve persons, Owl-glass, the four Knaves, two Ruffians, 
 Fitz-Ale, and Vapor, Elinor Humming, Mary Ambree, 
 Long Meg of Westminster, TOM THUMB, and Doctor 
 Rat."* 
 
 Five years before there had appeared " The History of 
 Tom Thumbe, the Little, for his small stature surnamed, 
 King Arthurs Dwarfe : Whose Life and adventures con- 
 taine many strange and wonderful accidents, published 
 for the delight of merry Time-spenders. Imprinted at 
 London for Tho. Langley, 1621, (12mo. bl. 1.)" This 
 however was only the common metrical story turned into 
 prose with some foolish additions by R. I. [Richard 
 Johnson.] The Preface or Introductory Chapter is as 
 follows, being indeed the only part of the book that de- 
 serves notice. 
 
 " My merry Muse begets no Tales of Guy of War- 
 wicke, nor of bould Sir Bevis of Hampton ; nor will I 
 trouble my penne with the pleasant glee of Robin Hood, 
 little John, the Fryer and his Marian ; nor will I call to 
 minde the lusty Pindar of Wakefield, nor those bold 
 Yeomen of the North, ADAM BELL, CLEM OFTHECLOUGH, 
 nor WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY, those ancient archers of all 
 England, nor shal my story be made of the mad merry 
 pranckes of Tom of Bethlem, Tom Lincolne, or Tom a 
 Lin, the Divels supposed Bastard, nor yet of Garagantua 
 that monster of men,f but of AN OLDER TOM, A TOM OF 
 MORE ANTIQUITY, a Tom of a strange making, I meane 
 
 * Works, by Whalley, vi. 195. " Doctor Rat, the curate," is one 
 of ihe Dramatis Person* in " Gammar Gurtons Needle." 
 
 t This is scarcely true; the titles of the two last chapters being, 
 1. " How Tom Thumbe riding forth to take the ay re, met with the 
 great Garagantua, and of the speech that was betweene them." *. 
 " How Tom Thumbe after conference bad with great Garagantui 
 returned, and how he met with King T\vadle." 
 
Little Tom of Wales, no bigger then a Millers Thumbe, 
 and therefore for his small stature, surnamed Tom Thumbe 
 
 The ANCIENT TALES of Tom Thumbe IN THE OLDE 
 
 TIME, have beene the only revivers of drouzy age at mid- 
 night ; old and young have with his Tales chim'd 
 Mattens till the cocks crow in the morning; Batchelors 
 and Maides with his Tales have compassed the Christmas 
 fire-blocke, till the Curfew-Bell rings candle out; the old 
 Shepheard and the young Plow boy, after their dayes 
 labour, have carold out a Tale of Tom Thumbe to make 
 them merry ' withall' : and who but little Tom, hath made 
 long nights seem short, and heavy toyles easie ? Therefore 
 (gentle Reader) considering that old modest mirth is 
 turned naked out of doors, while nimble wit in the great 
 Hall sits upon a soft cushion giving dry bobbes; for 
 which cause I will, if I can, new cloath him in his former 
 livery, and bring him againe into the Chimney Corner, 
 where now you must imagine me to sit by a good fire, 
 amongst a company of good fellowes over a well spic'd 
 Wassel-bowle of Christmas Ale telling of these merry 
 Tales which hereafter follow." / 
 
 [Johnsons tract appears to have been published before 
 1595, being alluded to in Nash's " Pierce Penilesse his 
 Supplication to the Divell," printed in that year. " Every 
 grosse braind Idiot is suffered to come into print : who 
 if he set forth a pamphlet of the praise of pudding-pricks, 
 or write a Treatise of Tom Thum, or the exploits of 
 Untrusse ; it is bought up thicke and threefold." ] 
 
 In the panegyric verses (by Michael Drayton and 
 others) upon Tom Coryate and his Crudities, London, 
 1611, 4to. our hero is thus introduced, along with a 
 namesake, of whom, unfortunately, we know nothing 
 further : 
 
" TOM THUMBE is dumbe, untill the pudding creepe, 
 In which he was intomb'd, then out doth peepe. 
 TOM PIPER is gone out, and mirth bewailes, 
 He never will come in to tell us tales."* 
 We are unable to trace our little hero above half a 
 century further back, when we find him still popular, 
 indeed, but, to our great mortification, in very bad com- 
 pany. " IN OUR CHILDHOOD (says honest Reginald 
 Scot) our mothers maids have so terrified us with an 
 ouglie divell -. . and have so fraied us with bull beggers, 
 spirits, witches, urchens, elves, hags, fairies, satyrs, pans, 
 faunes, sylens, kit with the cansticke, tritons, centaurs, 
 dwarfes, giants, imps, calcars, conjurors, nymphes, chang- 
 lings, incubus, Robin good-fellow, the spoorne, the mare, 
 the man in the oke, the helle waine, the fieredrake, the 
 puckle, TOM THOMBE, hob-gobblin, Tom tumbler, boneles, 
 and such other bugs, that we are afraide of our owne 
 shadowes."f 
 
 To these researches we shall only add the opinion of 
 that eminent antiquary Mr. Thomas Hearne, that this 
 History, " however looked upon as altogether fictitious, 
 yet was CERTAINLY founded upon some AUTHENTICK 
 
 * In a different part of the work we find other characters 
 mentioned, whose story is now, perhaps, irretrievably forgpt: 
 I am not now to tell a tale 
 Of George a Green, or Jacke a Vale, 
 Or yet of Chittiface. 
 
 t Discoverie of Witchcraft. London, 1584, 4to. p. 155. See also 
 Archb. Harsnets Declaration of Popish Impostures. Ibi. 1604, 4to. 
 p. 135. JTom Tumbler occurs in " a pleasant interlude, intitled, 
 Like will to like quoth the devill to the collier, by Ulpian Fulwel, 
 1587, 4to. b. 1. where the vice exclaims, on the devils entering: 
 " Sancte benedicite, who have we heere? TOM TUMBLER, or els 
 some dauncing beare 1 "*~J 
 
HISTORY, as being nothing else, originally, but a descrip- 
 tion of KING EDGAR'S DWARF."* 
 
 fit is strongly suspected that the present poem has 
 been modernized by some ballad-writer of Queen Eliza- 
 beths time ; very probably, indeed, by the same Richard 
 Johnson who is here mentioned to have afterward turned 
 it into prose." : 
 
 Bmedictus Abbas, Appendix ad Prcefationem, p. LV. Mr. 
 Hearne was probably led to fix upon this monarch by some ridiculous 
 lines added, about his own time, to introduce a spurious second and 
 third part. See the common editions of Aldermary church-yard, 
 &c. or that iutitled " Thomas Redivivus : or, a compleat history of 
 the life and marvellous actions of Tom Thumb. In three tomes. 
 Interspers'd with that ingenious comment of the late Dr. Wagstaff : 
 and annotations by several hands. To which is prefix'd historical 
 and critical remarks on the life and writings of the author." 
 London, 1729. FOLIO. Dr. Wagstalfs comment was written to 
 ridicule that of Mr. Addison, in the Spectator, upon the ballad of 
 Chevy-Chase, and u inserted in his Works. 
 
IN Arthurs court Tom Thumbe did live, 
 
 A man of mickle might, 
 The best of all the table round, 
 
 And eke a doughty knight : 
 
 His stature but an inch in height, 
 
 Or quarter of a span ; 
 Then thinke you not this little knight, 
 
 Was prov'd a valiant man ? 
 
118 LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 His father was a plow-man plaine, 
 
 His mother milkt the cow, 10 
 
 But yet the way to get a sonne 
 
 ' This' couple knew not how, 
 
 Untill such time this good old man 
 
 To learned Merlin goes, 
 And there to him his deepe desires 
 
 In secret manner showes, 
 
 How in his heart he wisht to have 
 
 A childe, in time to come, 
 To be his heire, though it might be 
 
 No bigger than his Thumbe. eo 
 
 Of which old Merlin thus foretold, 
 
 That he his wish should have, 
 And so this sonne of stature small 
 
 The charmer to him gave. 
 
 No blood nor bones in him should be, 
 
 In shape and being such, 
 That men should heare him speake, but not 
 
 His wandring shadow touch : 
 
 But so unseene to goe or come 
 
 Whereas it pleas'd him still ; so 
 
 Begot and borne in halfe an houre, 
 
 To fit his fathers will : 
 
 V. 12. these. 
 
OF TOM THUMBE. 119 
 
 And in foure minutes grew so fast, 
 
 That he became so tall 
 As was the plowmans thumbe in height, 
 
 And so they did him call 
 
 TOM THUMBE, the which the Fayry-Queene 
 
 There gave him to his name, 
 Who, with her traine of Goblins grim, 
 
 Unto his christning came. 40 
 
 Whereas she cloath'd him richly brave, 
 
 In garments fine and faire, 
 Which lasted him for many yeares 
 
 In seemely sort to weare. 
 
 His hat made of an oaken leafe, 
 
 His shirt a spiders web, 
 Both light and soft for those his limbes 
 
 That were so smally bred ; 
 
 His hose and doublet thistle downe, 
 Togeather weav'd full fine ; so 
 
 His stockins of an apple greene, 
 Made of the outward rine ; 
 
 His garters were two little haires, 
 
 Pull'd from his mothers eye, 
 His bootes and shooes a mouses skin, 
 
 There tan'd most curiously. 
 
120 LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Thus, like a lustie gallant, he 
 
 Adventured forth to goe, 
 With other children in the streets 
 
 His pretty trickes to show. & 
 
 Where he for counters, pinns, and points, 
 
 And cherry stones did play, 
 Till he amongst those gamesters young 
 
 Had loste his stocke away. 
 
 Yet could he soone renue the same, 
 
 When as most nimbly he 
 Would dive into their' cherry-baggs, 
 
 And there partaker* be, 
 
 Unseene [< unfelt'] by any one, 
 
 Untill a scholler shut ro 
 
 This nimble youth into a boxe, 
 
 Wherein his pins he put. 
 
 Of whom to be reveng'd, he tooke 
 
 (In mirth and pleasant game) 
 Black pots, and glasses, which he hung 
 
 Upon a bright sunne-beame. 
 
 The other boyes to doe the like, 
 
 In pieces broke them quite ; 
 For which they were most soundly whipt, 
 
 Whereat he laught outright. 
 
 80 
 
 V. 67. the. V. 63. a laker. ;[V. 69. or felt.] 1 
 
OF TOM TIIUMBE. 121 
 
 And so Tom Thumbe restrained was 
 
 From these his sports and play, 
 And by his mother after that 
 
 Compel'd at home to stay. 
 
 Whereas about a Christmas time, 
 
 His father a hog had kil'd, 
 And Tom * would' see the puddings made, 
 
 ' For fear' they should be spil'd. 
 
 He sate upon the pudding-boule, 
 
 The candle for to hold ; 90 
 
 Of which there is unto this day 
 
 A pretty pastime told: 
 
 For Tom fell in, and could not be 
 
 For ever after found, 
 For in the blood and batter he 
 
 Was strangely lost and drownd. 
 
 Where searching long, but all in vaine, 
 
 His mother after that 
 Into a pudding thrust her sonne, 
 
 Instead of minced fat. 100 
 
 Which pudding of the largest size, 
 
 Into the kettle throwne, 
 Made all the rest to fly thereout, 
 
 As with a whirle-wind blowne. 
 V. 87. to. V. 88. Fear'd that. 
 
122 
 
 LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 For so it tumbled up and downe, 
 
 Within the liquor there, 
 As if the devill had there been boyl'd ; 
 
 Such was his mothers feare, 
 
 That up she tooke the pudding strait, 
 
 And gave it at the doore 1I( 
 
 Unto a tinker, which from thence 
 In his blacke budget bore. 
 
 But as the tinker climb'd a stile, 
 
 By chance he let a cracke : 
 Now gip, old knave ! out cride Tom Thumbe, 
 
 There hanging at his backe : 
 
 At which the tinker gan to run, 
 
 And would no longer stay, 
 But cast both bag and pudding downe, 
 
 And thence hyed fast away. 120 
 
 From which Tom Thumbe got loose at last 
 
 And home return 'd againe : 
 Where he from following dangers long 
 
 In safety did remaine. 
 
 Untill such time his mother went 
 
 A milking of her kine, 
 There Tom unto a thistle fast 
 
 She linked with a twine. 
 
OF TOM THUMBE. 123 
 
 A thread that helde him to the same, 
 
 For feare the blustring winde 130 
 
 Should blow him thence, that so she might 
 Her sonne in safety finde. 
 
 But marke the hap, a cow came by, 
 
 And up the thistle eate. 
 Poore Tom withall, that, as a docke, 
 
 Was made the red cowes meate : 
 
 Who being mist, his mother went 
 
 Him calling every where, 
 Where art thou Tom ? where art thou Tom ? 
 
 Quoth he, Here mother, here : 140 
 
 Within the red cowes belly here, 
 
 Your sonne is swallowed up. 
 The which into her feareful heart 
 
 Most carefull dolours put. 
 
 Meane while the cowe was troubled much, 
 
 In this her tumbling wombe, 
 And could not rest until that she 
 
 Had backward cast Tom Thumbe : 
 
 Who all besmeared as he was, 
 
 His mother tooke him up, so 
 
 To beare him thence, the which poore lad 
 
 She in her pocket put. 
 
1^4 LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Now aftei this, in sowing- time, 
 
 His father would him have 
 Into the field to drive his plow, 
 
 And thereupon him gave 
 
 A whip made of a barly straw, 
 
 To drive the cattle on : 
 Where in a furrow'd land new sowne, 
 
 Poore Tom was lost and gon. I6o 
 
 Now by a raven of great strength 
 
 Away he thence was borne, 
 And carried in the carrions beake 
 
 Even like a graine of corne, 
 
 Unto a giants castle top, 
 
 In which he let him fall, 
 Where soone the giant swallowed up 
 
 His body, cloathes and all. 
 
 But in his belly did Tom Thumbe 
 
 So great a rumbling make, 170 
 
 That neither day nor night he could 
 
 The smallest quiet take, 
 
 Untill the gyant had him spew'd 
 
 Three miles into the sea, 
 Whereas a fish soone tooke him up 
 
 And bore him thence away. 
 
OF TOM THUMBE. 125 
 
 Which lusty fish was after caught 
 
 And to king Arthur sent, 
 Where Tom was found, and made his dwarfe, 
 
 Whereas his dayes he spent ieo 
 
 Long time in lively jollity, 
 
 Belov'd of all the court, 
 And none like Tom was then esteem'd 
 
 Among the noble sort. * 
 
 Amongst his deedes of courtship done, 
 
 His highnesse did command, 
 That he should dance a galliard brave 
 
 Upon his queenes left hand. 
 
 The which he did, and for the same 
 
 The king his signet gave, 190 
 
 Which Tom about his middle wore 
 
 Long time a girdle brave. 
 
 Now after this the king would not 
 
 Abroad for pleasure goe, 
 But still Tom Thumbe must ride with him, 
 
 Plac't on his saddle-bow. 
 
 Where on a time when as it rain'd, 
 
 Tom Thumbe most nimbly crept 
 In at a button hole, where he 
 
 Within his bosome slept. 200 
 
126 LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 And being neere his highnesse heart, 
 
 He crav'd a wealthy boone, 
 A liberall gift, the which the king 
 
 Commanded to be done, 
 
 For to relieve his fathers wants, 
 
 And mothers, being old ; 
 Which was so much of silver coyne 
 
 As well his armes eould hold. 
 
 And so away goes lusty Tom, 
 
 With three pence on his backe, 210 
 
 A heavy burthen, which might make 
 
 His wearied limbes to cracke. 
 
 So travelling two dayes and nights, 
 
 With labour and great paine, 
 He came into the house whereas 
 
 His parents did remaine ; 
 
 Which was but halfe a mile in space 
 
 From good king Arthurs court, 
 The which in eight and forty houres 
 
 He went in weary sort. 220 
 
 But comming to his fathers doore, 
 
 He there such entrance had 
 As made his parents both rejoice, 
 
 And he thereat was glad. 
 
OF TOM TIIUMBE. 127 
 
 His mother in her apron tooke 
 
 Her gentle sonne in haste, 
 And by the fier side, within 
 
 A walnut shell, him plac'd : 
 
 Whereas they feasted him three dayes 
 
 Upon a hazell nut, 230 
 
 Whereon he rioted so long 
 He them to charges put ; 
 
 And there- upon grew wonderous sicke, 
 
 Through eating too much meate, 
 Which was sufficient for a month 
 
 For this great man to eate. 
 
 But now his businesse call'd him foorth, 
 
 King Arthurs court to see, 
 Whereas no longer from the same 
 
 He could a stranger be. 240 
 
 But yet a few small April drops, 
 
 Which setled in the way, 
 His long and weary journey forth 
 
 Did hinder and ' sore ' stay. 
 
 Until his carefull father tooke 
 
 A birding ' trumpe ' in sport, 
 And with one blast blew this his sonne 
 
 Into king Arthurs court. 
 
 /[V. 244. so.] [ V. 246. trunke.] 
 
128 LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Now he with tilts and turnaments 
 
 Was entertained so, tao 
 
 That all the best of Arthurs knights 
 
 Did him much pleasure show. 
 
 As good Sir Lancelot of the Lake, 
 
 Sir Tristram, and sir Guy ; 
 Yet none compar'd with brave Tom Thum, 
 
 For knightly chivalry. 
 
 In honour of which noble day, 
 
 And for his ladies sake, 
 A challenge in king Arthurs court 
 
 Tom Thumbe did bravely make. 260 
 
 Gainst whom these noble knights did run, 
 
 Sir Chinon, and the rest, 
 Yet still Tom Thumbe with matchles might 
 
 Did beare away the best. 
 
 At last sir Lancelot of the Lake 
 
 In manly sort came in, 
 And with this stout and hardy knight 
 
 A battle did begin. 
 
 Which made the courtiers all agast, 
 
 For there that valiant man 270 
 
 Through Lancelots steed, before them all, 
 In nimble manner ran. 
 
OF TOM THUMBE. 129 
 
 Yea horse and all, with speare and shield, 
 
 As hardly he was scene, 
 But onely by king Arthurs selfe 
 
 And his admired queene, 
 
 Who from her finger tooke a ring, 
 
 Through which Tom Thumb made way, 
 
 Not touching it, in nimble sort, 
 
 As it was done in play. ?o 
 
 He likewise cleft the smallest haire 
 
 From his faire ladies head, 
 Not hurting her whose even hand 
 
 Him lasting honors bred. 
 
 Such were his deeds and noble acts 
 
 In Arthurs court there showne, 
 As like in all the world beside 
 
 Was hardly scene or knowne. 
 
 Now at these sports he toyl'd himselfe 
 
 That he a sicknesse tooke, ego 
 
 Through which all manly exercise 
 He carelesly forsooke. 
 
 Where lying on his bed sore sicke, 
 
 King Arthurs doctor came, 
 With cunning skill, by physicks art, 
 
 To ease and cure the same. 
 
130 LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 His body being so slender small, 
 
 This cunning doctor tooke 
 A fine prospective glasse, with which 
 
 He did in secret looke soo 
 
 Into his sickened body downe, 
 
 And therein saw that Death 
 Stood ready in his wasted guts 
 
 To sease his vitall breath. 
 
 His armes and leggs consum'd as small 
 
 As was a spiders web, 
 Through which his dying houre grew on, 
 
 For all his limbes grew dead. 
 
 His face no bigger than an ants, 
 
 Which hardly could be scene : sio 
 
 The losse of which renowned knight 
 
 Much griev'd the king and queene. 
 
 And so with peace and quietnesse 
 
 He left this earth below ; 
 And up into the Fayry Land 
 
 His ghost did fading goe. 
 
 Whereas the Fayry Queene receiv'd, 
 
 With heavy mourning cheere, 
 The body of this valiant knight, 
 
 Whom she esteem'd so deere. sso 
 
OF TOM TIIUMBE. 131 
 
 For with her dancing nymphes in greene, 
 
 She fetcht him from his bed, 
 With musicke and sweet melody, 
 
 So soone as life was fled : 
 
 For whom king Arthur and his knights 
 
 Full forty daies did mourne ; 
 And, in remembrance of his name 
 
 That was so strangely borne, 
 
 He built a tomb of marble gray, 
 
 And yeare by yeare did come sw 
 
 To celebrate the mournefull day, 
 And buriall of Tom Thum. 
 
 Whose fame still lives in England here, 
 
 Amongst the countrey sort ; 
 Of whom our wives and children small 
 
 Tell tales of pleasant sport. 
 
THE LOVERS QUARREL: 
 
 OR, 
 CUPIDS TRIUMPH. 
 
THIS " pleasant History," which " may be sung to the 
 tune of Floras Farewell," is here republished from a copy 
 printed at London for F. Cotes and others, 1677, 12mo. 
 bl. 1. preserved in the curious and valuable collection of 
 that excellent and most respected antiquary Antony a 
 Wood, in the Ashmolean Museum ; compared with ano- 
 ther impression, for the same partners, without date, in 
 the editors possession.^ A different copy of the poem, 
 more in the ballad-form, was published, /and may be 
 found among the kings pamphlets in the Brit. Museum. 
 Both copies are conjectured to have been modernised, by 
 different persons, from some common original, which has 
 hitherto eluded the vigilance of collectors, but is strongly 
 suspected to have been the composition of an old North 
 country minstrel. 
 
 The full title is "The Lovers quarrel: or Cupids 
 Triumph : being the pleasant history of Fair Rosamond 
 of Scotland. Being daughter to the lord Arundel, whose 
 love was obtained by the valour of Tommy Pots: who 
 conquered the lord Phenix, and wounded him, and after 
 obtained her to be his wife. Being very delightful to 
 read." 
 
OF all the lords in Scotland fair, 
 
 And ladies that been so bright of blee, 
 
 There is a noble lady among them all, 
 And report of her you shall hear by me. 
 
 For of her beauty she is bright, 
 
 And of her colour very fair, 
 She's daughter to lord Arundel, 
 
 Approv'd his parand and his heir. 
 
 He see this bride, lord Phenix said, 
 
 That lady of so bright a blee, 
 And if I like her countenance well, 
 
 The heir of all my lands she'st be, 
 
138 THE LOVERS QUARREL. 
 
 But when he came the lady before, 
 Before this comely maid came he, 
 
 god thee save, thou lady sweet, 
 My heir and parand thou shalt be. 
 
 Leave off your suit, the lady said, 
 
 As you are a lord of high degree, 
 You may have ladies enough at home, 
 
 And I have a lord in mine own country ; 20 
 
 For I have a lover true of mine own, 
 
 A serving-man of low degree, 
 One Tommy Pots it is his name, 
 
 My first love, and last that ever shall be. 
 
 If that Tom Pots [it] is his name, 
 I do ken him right verily, 
 
 1 am able to spend fourty pounds a week, 
 
 Where he is not able to spend pounds three. 
 
 God give you good of your gold, she said, 
 
 And ever god give you good of your fee, so 
 
 Tom Pots was the first love that ever I had, 
 And I do mean him the last to be. 
 
 With that lord Phenix soon was mov'd, 
 
 Towards the lady did he threat, 
 He told her father, and so it was prov'd, 
 
 How his [fair] daughters mind was set. 
 
THE LOVERS QUARREL. 139 
 
 O daughter dear, thou art my own, 
 
 The heir of all my lands to be, 
 Thou shalt be bride to the lord Phenix, 
 
 If that thou mean to be heir to me. 40 
 
 O father dear, I am your own, 
 
 And at your command I needs must be, 
 
 But bind my body to whom you please, 
 My heart, Tom Pots, shall go with thee. 
 
 Alas ! the lady her fondness must leave, 
 And all her foolish wooing lay aside, 
 
 The time is come, her friends have [fix'd], 
 That she must be lord Phenix bride. 
 
 With that the lady began to weep, 
 
 She knew not well then what to say, 50 
 
 How she might lord Phenix deny, 
 
 And escape from marriage quite away. 
 
 She call'd unto her little foot-page, 
 
 Saying, I can trust none but thee, 
 Go carry Tom Pots this letter fair, 
 
 And bid him on Guildford-green meet me : 
 
 For I must marry against my mind, 
 
 Or in faith well proved it shall be ; 
 And tell to him I am loving and kind, 
 
 And wishes him this wedding to see. 60 
 
 j V. 47. appointed. : 
 
140 THE LOVEIIS QUARREL. 
 
 But see that thou note his countenance well, 
 And his colour, and shew it to me ; 
 
 And go thy way and [' hie '] thee again, 
 And forty shillings I will give thee. 
 
 For if he smile now with his lips, 
 
 His stomach will give him to laugh at the heart, 
 Then may I seek another true love, 
 
 For of Tom Pots small is my part. 
 
 But if he blush now in his face, 
 
 Then in his heart he will sorry be, 70 
 
 Then to his vow he hath some grace, 
 
 And false to him I'le never be. 
 
 Away this lacky-boy he ran, 
 
 And a full speed forsooth went he, 
 
 Till he came to Strawberry-castle, 
 And there Tom Pots came he to see. 
 
 He gave him the letter in his hand, 
 
 Before that he began to read, 
 He told him plainly by word of mouth, 
 
 His love was forc'd to be lord Phenix bride. BO 
 
 When he look'd on the letter fair, 
 
 The salt tears blemished his eye, 
 Says, I cannot read this letter fair, 
 
 Nor never a word to see or spy. 
 V. 63. high. T 
 
THE LOVERS QUARREL. 141 
 
 My little boy be to me ttue, 
 
 Here is five marks I will give thee, 
 
 And all these words I must peruse, 
 And tell my lady this from me : 
 
 By faith and troth she is my own, 
 
 By some part of promise, so it's to be found, 90 
 Lord Phoenix shall not have her night nor day, 
 
 Except he can win her with his own hand. 
 
 On Guildford-green I will her meet, 
 Say that I wish her for me to pray, 
 
 For there Tie lose my life so sweet, 
 Or else the wedding I mean to stay. 
 
 Away this lackey-boy he ran, 
 
 Then as fast as he could hie, 
 The lady she met him two miles of the way, 
 
 Says, why hast thou staid so long, my boy ? 100 
 
 My little boy, thou art but young, 
 
 It gives me at heart thou'l mock and scorn, 
 
 He not believe thee by word of mouth, 
 Unless on this book thou wilt be sworn. 
 
 Now by this book, the boy did say, 
 And Jesus Christ be as true to me, 
 
 Tom Pots could not read the letter fair, 
 Nor never a word to spy or see. 
 
142 THE LOVERS QUARREL. 
 
 He says, by faith and troth you are his own, 
 By some part of promise, so it's to be found, 110 
 
 Lord Phenix shall not have you night nor day, 
 Except he win you with his own hand. 
 
 On Guildford-green he will you meet, 
 
 He wishes you for him to pray, 
 For there he'l lose his life so sweet, 
 
 Or else the wedding he means to stay. 
 
 If this be true, my little boy, 
 These tidings which thou tellest to me, 
 
 Forty shillings I did thee promise, 
 
 Here is ten pounds I will give thee. 120 
 
 My maidens all, the lady said, 
 
 That ever wish me well to prove, 
 Now let us all kneel down and pray, 
 
 That Tommy Pots may win his love. 
 
 If it be his fortune the better to win, 
 
 As I pray to Christ in trinity, 
 He make him the flower of all his kin, 
 
 For the young lord Arundel he shall be. 
 
THE LOVERS QUARREL. 143 
 
 THE SECOND PART. 
 
 LET'S leave talking of this lady fair, 
 
 In prayers full good where she may be ; iso 
 Now let us talk of Tommy Pots, 
 
 To his lord and master for aid went he. 
 
 But when he came lord Jockey before, 
 
 He kneeled lowly on his knee, 
 What news? what news? thou Tommy Pots, 
 
 Thou art so full of courtesie. 
 
 What tydings ? what tydings ? thou Tommy Pots, 
 
 Thou art so full of courtesie ; 
 Thou hast slain some of thy fellows fair, 
 
 Or wrought to me some villany. 140 
 
 I have slain none of my fellows fair, 
 
 Nor wrought to you no villany, 
 But I have a love in Scotland fair, 
 
 And I fear I shall lose her with poverty. 
 
 If you'l not believe me by word of mouth, 
 But read this letter, and you shall see, 
 
 Here by all these suspitious words 
 That she her own self hath sent to me. 
 
144 THE LOVERS QUARREL. 
 
 But when he had read the letter fair, 
 
 Of all the suspitious words in it might be, 150 
 
 Tommy Pots, take thou no care, 
 Thou'st never lose her with poverty. 
 
 For thou'st have forty pounds a week, 
 
 In gold and silver thou shalt row, 
 And Harvy-town I will give thee, 
 
 As long as thou intend'st to wooe. 
 
 Thou'st have forty of thy fellows fair, 
 
 And forty horses to go with thee, 
 Forty of the best spears I have, 
 
 And I myself in thy company. 160 
 
 1 thank you, master, said Tommy Pots, 
 
 That proffer is too good for me ; 
 
 But, if Jesus Christ stand on my side, 
 
 My own hands shall set her free. 
 
 God be with you, master, said Tommy Pots, 
 Now Jesus Christ you save and see ; 
 
 If ever I come alive again, 
 Staid the wedding it shall be. 
 
 O god be your speed, thou Tommy Pots, 
 
 Thou art well proved for a man, 170 
 
 See never a drop of blood thou spil, 
 Nor yonder gentleman confound. 
 
THE LOVERS QUARREL. 145 
 
 See that some truce with him thou take, 
 
 And appoint a place of liberty ; 
 Let him provide him as well as he can, 
 
 As well provided thou shalt be. 
 
 But when he came to Guildford-green, 
 And there had walkt a little aside, 
 
 There he was ware of lord Phenix come, 
 
 And lady Rosamond his bride. iw 
 
 Away by the bride then Tommy Pots went, 
 But never a word to her he did say, 
 
 Till he the lord Phenix came before, 
 He gave him the right time of the day. 
 
 O welcome, welcome, thou Tommy Pots, 
 
 Thou serving-man of low degree, 
 How doth thy lord and master at home, 
 
 And all the ladies in that country ? 
 
 My lord and master is in good health, 
 
 I trust since that I did him see ; 190 
 
 Will you walk with me to an out-side, 
 Two or three words to talk with me ? 
 
 You are a noble man, said Tom 
 
 And born a lord in Scotland free, 
 You may have ladies enough at home, 
 
 And never take my love from me. 
 L 
 
146 THE LOVERS QUARREL. 
 
 Away, away, thou Tommy Pots, 
 Thou serving-man stand thou aside ; 
 
 It is not a serving-man this day, 
 
 That can hinder me of my bride. 200 
 
 If I be a serving-man, said Tom, 
 
 And you a lord of high degree, 
 A spear or two with you Tie run, 
 
 Before Tie lose her cowardly. 
 
 Appoint a place, I will thee meet, 
 
 Appoint a place of liberty, 
 For there Tie lose my life so sweet, 
 
 Or else my lady I'le set free. 
 
 On Guildford-green I will thee meet, 
 
 No man nor boy shall come with me. 210 
 
 As I am a man, said Tommy Pots, 
 Tie have as few in my company. 
 
 And thus staid the marriage was, 
 
 The bride unmarried went home again, 
 
 Then to her maids fast did she laugh, 
 And in her heart she was full fain. 
 
 My maidens all, the lady said, 
 
 That ever wait on me this day, 
 Now let us all kneel [lowly] down, 
 
 And for Tommy Pots let us all Pray. 220 
 
THE LOVERS QUARREL. 147 
 
 If it be his fortune the better to win, 
 
 As I trust to god in trinity, 
 He make him the flower of all his kin, 
 
 For the young lord Arundel he shall be. 
 
 THE THIRD PART. 
 
 WHEN Tom Pots came home again, 
 To try for his love he had but a week, 
 
 For sorrow, god wot, he need not care, 
 For four days that he fel sick. 
 
 With that his master to him came, 
 
 Says,, pray thee, Tom Pots, tell me if thou doubt, 
 Whether thou hast gotten thy gay lady, 
 
 Or thou must go thy love without. 
 
 master, yet it is unknown, 
 
 Within these two days well try'd it must be, 
 He is a lord, I am but a serving-man, 
 I fear I shall lose her with poverty. 
 
 1 prethee, Tom Pots, get thee on thy feet, 
 
 My former promises kept shall be ; 
 As I am a lord in Scotland fair, 
 
 Thou'st never lose her with poverty. 240 
 
148 THB LOVERS QUARREL. 
 
 For thou'st have the half of my lands a year, 
 And that will raise thee many a pound, 
 
 Before thou shalt out-braved be, 
 Thou shalt drop angels with him on the ground. 
 
 I thank you, master, said Tommy Pots, 
 Yet there is one thing of you I would fain, 
 
 If that I lose my lady sweet, 
 
 How I'st restore your goods again ? 
 
 If that thou win the lady sweet, 
 
 Thou mayst well forth thou shalt pay me, 250 
 If thou loosest thy lady thou losest enough, 
 
 Thou shalt not pay me one penny. 
 
 You have thirty horses in one close, 
 You keep them all both frank and free, 
 
 Amongst them all there's an old white horse 
 This day would set my lady free ; 
 
 That is an old horse with a cut tail, 
 
 Full sixteen years of age is he ; 
 If thou wilt lend me that old horse, 
 
 Then could I win her easily. 2 6o 
 
 That's a foolish opinion, his master said, 
 And a foolish opinion thou tak'st to thee ; 
 
 Thou'st have a better then ever he was, 
 
 Though forty pounds more it should cost me. 
 
THE LOVERS QUARREL. 149 
 
 your choice horses are wild and tough, 
 And little they can skill of their train ; 
 
 If I be out of my saddle cast, 
 
 They are so wild they'l ne'r be tain. 
 
 Thou'st have that horse, his master said, 
 
 If that one thing thou wilt tell me ; 270 
 
 Why that horse is better then any other, 
 I pray thee Tom Pots shew thou to me. 
 
 That horse is old, of stomach bold, 
 
 And well can he skill of his train, 
 If I be out of my saddle cast, 
 
 He'l either stand still, or turn again. 
 
 Thou'st have the horse with all my heart, 
 
 And my plate coat of silver free, 
 An hundred men to stand at thy back, 
 
 To fight if he thy master be. ao 
 
 1 thank you master, said Tommy Pots, 
 
 That proffer is too good for me, 
 I would not for ten thousand pounds 
 Have man or boy in my company. 
 
 God be with you, master, said Tommy Pots, 
 
 Now as you are a man of law, 
 One thing let me crave at your hand, 
 
 Let never a one of my fellows know. 
 
 ^V. 270. me tell. 
 
150 THE LOVERS QUARREL. 
 
 For if that my fellows they did wot, 
 
 Or ken of my extremity, 290 
 
 Except you keep them under a lock, 
 
 Behind me I am sure they would not be. 
 
 But when he came to Guild ford-green, 
 
 He waited hours two or three, 
 There he was ware of lord Phenix come, 
 
 And four men in his company. 
 
 You have broken your vow, said Tommy Pots, 
 The vow which you did make to me, 
 
 You said you would bring neither man nor boy, 
 And now has brought more than two or three. 
 
 These are my men, lord Phenix said, 
 
 Which every day do wait on me ; 
 If any of these dare proffer to strike, 
 
 Tie run my spear through his body. 
 
 Tie run no race now, said Tommy Pots, 
 
 Except now this may be, 
 If either of us be slain this day, 
 
 The other shall forgiven be. 
 
 Tie make that vow with all my heart, 
 
 My men shall bear witness with me ; 310 
 
 And if thou slay me here this day. 
 
 In Scotland worse belov'd thou never shalt be. 
 
THE LOVERS QUARREL. 151 
 
 They turn'd their horses thrice about, 
 
 To run the race so eagerly ; 
 Lord Phenix he was fierce and stout, 
 
 And ran Tom Pots through the thick o' th' thigh. 
 
 He bor'd him out of the saddle fair, 
 Down to the ground so sorrowfully. 
 
 For the loss of my life I do not care, 
 
 But for the loss of my fair lady. svo 
 
 Now for the loss of my lady sweet, 
 
 Which once I thought to have been my wife, 
 I pray thee, lord Phenix, ride not away, 
 
 For with thee I would end my life. 
 
 Tom Pots was but a serving-man, 
 But yet he was a doctor good, 
 He bound his handkerchief on his wound, 
 And with some kind of words he stancht his blood .* 
 
 He leapt into his saddle again, 
 
 The blood in his body began to warm, sno 
 He mist lord Phenix body fair, 
 
 And ran him through the brawn of the arm : 
 
 He bor'd him out of his saddle fair, 
 Down to the ground most sorrowfully ; 
 
 Says, prethee, lord Phenix, rise up and fight, 
 Or yield my lady unto me. 
 
 * i. e. he made use of a charm for that purpose. 
 
152 THE LOVERS QUARREL. 
 
 Now for to fight I cannot tell, 
 
 And for to fight I am not sure ; 
 Thou hast run me throw the brawn o' the arm, 
 
 That with a spear I may not endure. 340 
 
 Thou'st have the lady with all my heart, 
 
 It was never likely better to prove 
 With me, or any nobleman else 
 
 That would hinder a poor man of his love. 
 
 Seeing you say so much, said Tommy Pots, 
 I will not seem your butcher to be, 
 
 But I will come and stanch your blood, 
 If any thing you will give me. 
 
 As he did stanch lord Phenix blood, 
 
 Lord ! in his heart he did rejoice ; sso 
 
 Tie not take the lady from you thus, 
 
 But of her you'st have another choice. 
 
 Here is a lane of two miles long, 
 
 At either end we set will be, 
 The lady shall stand us among, 
 
 Her own choice shall set her free. 
 
 If thou'l do so, lord Phenix said, 
 To lose her by her own choice it's honesty, 
 
 Chuse whether I get her or go her without, 
 
 Forty pounds I will give thee. s6o 
 
THE LOVERS QUARREL. 153 
 
 But when they in that lane was set, 
 
 The wit of a woman for to prove, 
 By the faith of my body, the lady said, 
 
 Then Tom Pots must needs have his love. 
 
 Towards Tom Pots the lady did hie, 
 
 To get on behind him hastily ; 
 Nay stay, nay stay, lord Phenix said, 
 
 Better proved it shall be. 
 
 Stay you with your maidens here, 
 
 In number fair they are but three ; 370 
 
 Tom Pots and I will go behind yonder wall, 
 
 That one of us two be proved to dye. 
 
 But when they came behind the wall, 
 
 The one came not the other nigh, 
 For the lord Phenix had made a vow, 
 
 That with Tom Pots he would never 'try.' 
 
 O give me this choice, lord Phenix said, 
 To prove whether true or false she be, 
 
 And I will go to the lady fan-, 
 
 And tell her Tom Pots slain is he. 3ao 
 
 When he came from behind the wall, 
 With his face all bloody as it might be, 
 
 O lady sweet, thou art my own, 
 For Tom Pots slain is he. 
 
 V.376. fight. 
 
1.54 THE LOVERS QUARREL. 
 
 Now have I slain him, Tommy Pots, 
 
 And given him deaths wounds two or three; 
 
 O lady sweet, thou art my own, 
 Of all loves, wilt thou live with me ? 
 
 If thou hast slain him, Tommy Pots, 
 
 And given him deaths wounds two or three, 390 
 Tie sell the state of my fathers lands, 
 
 But hanged shall lord Phenix be. 
 
 With that the lady fell in a swound, 
 
 For a grieved woman, god wot, was she ; 
 
 Lord Phenix he was ready then, 
 To take her up so hastily. 
 
 O lady sweet, stand thou on thy feet, 
 
 Tom Pots alive this day may be ; 
 Tie send for thy father, lord Arundel, 
 
 And he and I the wedding will see : too 
 
 Tie send for thy father, lord Arundel, 
 And he and I the wedding will see ; 
 
 If he will not maintain you well, 
 
 Both lands and livings you'st have of me. 
 
 I'le see this wedding, lord Arundel said, 
 Of my daughters luck that is so fair, 
 
 Seeing the matter will be no better, 
 
 Of all my lands Tom Pots shall be the heir. 
 
THE LOVERS QUARREL. 155 
 
 With that the lady began for to smile, 
 
 For a glad woman, god wot, was she ; 410 
 
 Now all my maids, the lady said, 
 Example you may take by me. 
 
 But all the ladies of Scotland fair, 
 
 And lasses of England, that well would prove, 
 Neither marry for gold nor goods, 
 
 Nor marry for nothing but only love : 
 
 For I had a lover true of my own, 
 
 A serving-man of low degree ; 
 Now from Tom Pots Tie change his name, 
 
 For the young lord Arundel he shall be. *?o 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 ABU AIDE. 7*Ae word at seem* to be wanting: 
 At a braide ; at a push; at a start. It may, 
 however, only mean abroad. 
 
 Adrad. afraid. 
 
 Albidene. [altogether, wholly, entirely.] 
 
 Algatys. by all means. 
 
 Als. [as.] 
 
 Among, between, occasionally. 
 
 And. an, if. 
 
 Apayde. satisfied, contented. 
 
 Are. Goddys are. Gods heir or son, i. e. Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
 Array, dress, clothing. 
 
 Arrayed, freighted, furnished. 
 
 Assay. Assaye. essay, try, prove. 
 
 Assoyld. absolved. 
 
 At. [to.] 
 
 Atwyn. asunder. 
 
 Avaunced. advanced, preferred. 
 
 Avowe. a vow, an oath. 
 
158 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Awyse. advise, consider, take heed? 
 
 Ayenst. against. 
 
 Bald, [bold, certain, well-assured. Sax.] 
 
 Bale, misery, sorrow, evil. 
 
 Bargan. business, commission. 
 
 Barker, a tanner, so called from his using bark. 
 
 Bedys. beads. 
 
 Belyfe, Belyve. immediately. 
 
 Bescro. beshrew, curse. 
 
 Besett. laid out, bestowed, disposed of. 
 
 Bestadde. situated, placed, circumstanced. 
 
 Bett. better. Ware hytt belt. p. 82. lay it out 
 
 to more advantage. 
 Bil. bill, an old English weapon, also called "a 
 
 poll-axe" 
 
 Blee. colour, complexion. 
 Blin. Blynne. stop, cease, give over. 
 Blythe. Blyve. blithe, with spirit. 
 Boltes. arrows. 
 Bor. born. 
 Bord. Borde. jest. 
 Borgh. Borowe. bail, redeem, become pledges 
 
 for, [surety]. 
 
 Bote. boot, remedy, advantage. 
 Boune. [ready.] 
 Bowne. boon, favour. 
 Brast, Braste. burst. 
 Brede. bread. 
 
GLOSSARY. 159 
 
 Bren. Brenne. burn. 
 
 Brent, burnt. 
 
 Brest, bursty broke. 
 
 Brochys. ornamental pins, or buckles, like the 
 
 Roman fibulae, (with a single prong) for the 
 
 breast or head-dress. 
 Burde. [board, table.] 
 
 Buske. busked, addressed, prepared, got ready. 
 Chaste, chastise, correct. 
 Cheke. choaked. 
 Chery fare. p. 96. 
 Clennesse. cleanness, chastity. 
 Clerk, scholar. 
 Cleynt. clung. 
 
 Clot-lether. clouting or patching leather. 
 Clyppyng. embracing. 
 Comand. commanded, ordered. 
 Combre. incumber, be too many for. 
 Corage. heart, spirit, inclination, disposition. 
 Curtes. courteous. 
 Dame, mistress. Oure dameys peny. Our 
 
 mistresses penny. 
 Dampned. condemned. 
 Ded. [death.] 
 Den. grave. 
 Dere. hurt. 
 Dern. secret. 
 Dese. [Daw. an elevated part of the floor at the 
 
160 GLOSSARY. 
 
 upper end of the hall, upon which the great 
 dining-table stood.] 
 
 Do gladly, eat heartily. 
 
 Dolvyn. delved, buried. 
 
 Domes-men, [judges."] 
 
 Dongeon. prison. The prison in old castles was 
 generally under-ground. 
 
 Dradde. dreaded, feared. 
 
 Drede. fear, doubt. 
 
 Drewre. The word properly signified love, court- 
 ship, SfC. and hence a love-token, or love-gift ; 
 in which sense it is used by Bp. Douglas. 
 
 Drough. drew. 
 
 Dyd of. put off. 
 
 Dyd on. put on. 
 
 Enpayre. impair. 
 
 Everechone, Everichone, Everychone. every one. 
 
 Eyre. heir. 
 
 Eysell. vinegar. A Jew is thus supposed to 
 address Christ on the cross. 
 
 Your thrust, ser hoberd, for to slake, 
 Eyzil and guile here i the take, 
 Is not this good drynk 1 
 C.C.C.P. Vespa. D. viii. fo. 183, b. 
 
 Fadur. father, his fadur eyre, his fathers heir. 
 
 Fare. go. 
 
 Fase. [foes.] 
 
 Favell./attery, cajolery. See Skeltons Bowge of 
 
GLOSSARY. 161 
 
 Courte. " There she currayed Favell well." 
 There she flattered or cajoled him finely. 
 Favell was anciently the name of a dun-co- 
 loured horse, as Bayard was that of a bay, 
 and Liard of a grey one. From this origin 
 " To curry Favell" came to signify to flatter 
 or cajole. [See Ducange, v. Favellus.] Bar- 
 clay, in his " Eclogues" speaks of" Flatterers, 
 and Hers, corien of fafell ;" and Puttenham 
 calls " Curry-favel," a figure in poetry. It is 
 now corrupted into curry favour. 
 
 Fay, Faye. faith. 
 
 Fayne. fain, glad. 
 
 Feble, Febull, Febyll. poor, wretched, miserable. 
 
 Feche. fetch. 
 
 Feffe. enfeof. 
 
 Fell, [hill, mountain.] 
 
 Fere, wife, husband, lover, friend. 
 
 Fet. fit, part, canto, v. Fyt. 
 
 Feyt. faith. 
 
 Flyt. shift, [place, remove.] 
 
 Folys. fools. 
 
 Fom, Fome. sea. 
 
 Fond, endeavour, try. 
 
 Fone. foes. 
 
 Forbode. commandment. Over gods forbode. 
 (Prater dei prseceptum sit.) q. d. God for- 
 bid. (PERCY.) 
 
 Fordo, undo, ruin, destroy. 
 
 M 
 
162 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Forlorne. [lose, porilopen, Sax.] 
 
 Forth, p. 148. 
 
 Forthoght. thought of, remembered. 
 
 Forthynketh. grieveth, vexeth. 
 
 Fosters, foresters. 
 
 Fote. foot. 
 
 Found, supported, maintained 
 
 Freke. fellow. 
 
 Frith. [wood t forest.] 
 
 Froo. from. 
 
 Fyt, Fytt, Fytte. jit, part, canto, strain. 
 
 Gamin, [game, pleasure, sport, jamen, Sax.] 
 
 Gar, Ger. [cause, make.] 
 
 Gest. [guest.] 
 
 Gip, Guep. a term of contempt. 
 
 God, Gode. goods, merchandize, property. 
 
 Godamarsey. a corruption of Gramercy. See 
 
 Gramarcy. 
 Goo. gone. 
 Goon. go. 
 
 Gramarcy. thanks, grand mercie. 
 Gre. [prize.] 
 
 Greece. Hart of Greece, p. 21. 
 Gryse. a species of fur. 
 Gyse. way, manner, method. 
 Harowed. ravaged, ransacked. Christ, after 
 
 his crucifixion, made an inroad into hell, and 
 
 plundered it of all the souls he thought worth 
 
 carrying off. 
 
GLOSSARY. 163 
 
 Hatche. a low or half door. 
 
 He. [they.] 
 
 Hedur. hither. 
 
 Hele. health. 
 
 Hem. him. 
 
 Hende. civil, gentle. 
 
 Hente. take. 
 
 Hes. his. 
 
 Het. it. 
 
 Hie, Hy. go, run, come, hasten, return speedily. 
 
 Hight. was called. 
 
 Honge. hang, be hanged. 
 
 Howr. our. 
 
 Howyn. own. 
 
 Hyght. promised. 
 
 Hyne. p. 35. a hind is a servant. 
 
 Ilk, Ilka, [each, every.] 
 
 Kele. cool. 
 
 Kneen. knees. 
 
 Kynd. nature. 
 
 Lagh. laugh. 
 
 Laghing. laughing. 
 
 Lante. lent. 
 
 Launde. plain, open part of a forest : 
 
 lande, F. 
 Leace, Leasynge, Lesynge. lying, falsehood, 
 
 doubt. 
 
 Lee. plain, openjield. 
 Lefe. p. 24. agreeable, that is the lefe. p. 46. 
 
164 GLOSSARY. 
 
 that is so dear to thee ; whom thou art so 
 fond of; dear, or beloved. Be hym lefe, or 
 hym lothe. p. 96. Let him like it or not ; 
 let him be agreeable or unwilling. 
 
 Leffe. leave. 
 
 Leman, Lemman. mistress, concubine, lover, gal- 
 lant, paramour. 
 
 Lene. lend. 
 
 Lenger. longer. 
 
 Lenkithes. [lengthers.] X/tfA//*** 
 
 Lere. learn. 
 
 Lese. [unbind, loosen.] 
 
 Lette. p. 46. delay. Lette not for this. p. 51. be 
 not hindered or prevented by what has hap- 
 pened from proceeding. 
 
 Letteth. let, hinder, prevent. 
 
 Leve. believe. 
 
 Lever, rather, sooner. 
 
 Lewde. foolish. 
 
 Lewe. [dear, beloved.] 
 
 Lightile, Lyghtly, Lyghtlye, quickly, nimbly. 
 
 Linde, Lynde. the linden or lime tree ; a tree in 
 general. 
 
 Lith. incline, attend. 
 
 Lordeyne. fellow. From lourdin or falourdin, Fr. 
 
 Lordyngys. sirs, masters, gentlemen. 
 
 Lore, doctrine. 
 
 Lough, Low, Lowhe. laugh, laughed. 
 
 Loves. Of all loves, p. 154. an adjuration fre- 
 
GLOSSARY. 165 
 
 quently used by Shakspeare and contemporary 
 
 writers. 
 Lowde and stylle. windy and calm ; foul and 
 
 fair ; i. e. in all seasons ; at all times. 
 Lowsed. let go, let fly. 
 Luf. [love.] 
 
 Lust, Lyt. desire, inclination. 
 Lystenyth. listen. 
 Lyte. little. 
 Lyve. life. 
 Mase. [makes.] 
 Masers. drinking cups. 
 Maugre. in spite of. 
 Maugref, Mawgrefe. ill-will. 
 Maystry. More maystry. something in a more 
 
 masterly or capital stile; a still cleverer 
 
 thing, [mastership, control.] 
 Mell. [meddle, interfere.] 
 Menyvere. a sort of fur. 
 Mese. [messes, dishes.] 
 Mestoret. needed. 
 Met. meet, meted, measured. 
 Metelesse. meatless, without meat. 
 Meyny. assembly, multitude. 
 Mo. more. 
 
 Mote, might, may, [moot, contend.] 
 Mought. might. 
 
 Myrthes. pleasant passages, merry adventures. 
 Nar. nor, than. 
 
166 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Ne. [nor.] 
 
 Nete. cows, horned cattle. 
 
 Newefangylnes. novelty. 
 
 Neys. nice,jftne. 
 
 Noght. [not.] 
 
 Nones, nonce, occasion. 
 
 Nowchys of golde. ornaments for a womans 
 dress; but not certain whether necklaces or 
 hair pins. 
 
 Nygromancere. necromancer. 
 
 Ny thing, [sparing, niggardly. This Saxon 
 word, used apparently in the same sense, in 
 " The geste of kyng Horn," (Met. Rom. 
 ii. 99.) Mr. Ritson explains, (from Lye) 
 a wicked or good-for-nothing man, an outlaw 
 or vagabond:" an interpretation which in 
 neither of these instances can be properly ap- 
 plicable.] 
 
 Offycyal. the commissary or judge of a bishops 
 court. 
 
 Oudedyn. undid, untied. 
 
 Onlyve. alive. 
 
 Oon. Not at oon. Not at one, not friends. 
 
 Ordynaunce. enjoined or regular practice. 
 
 Other, either. 
 
 Out home, summoning horn, horn blown (as if 
 to a.-ms) in time of danger. 
 
 Paramour, Paramowre. mistress, concubine. 
 
 Parand. His parand and his heir. p. 137. his 
 
GLOSSARY. 167 
 
 heir apparent. My heir and parand. p. 138. 
 my heir apparent. 
 
 Pay. satisfaction. 
 
 Pees, peace, pardon. 
 
 Pellettes. [balls.] 
 
 Perry, jewels, precious stones. 
 
 Plyght. pledge, give, plight, condition. 
 
 Prece. Inprece. in a press, in a crowd, in a throng. 
 
 Preced. pressed, thronged; pressed forward. 
 
 Preker. rider. 
 
 Prekyd. rode up, rode. 
 
 Prestly. readily, quickly. 
 
 Preve. prove. 
 
 Pryme. morning ; " The first quarter of the 
 artificial day ." (TYUWHITT.) 
 
 Pyne. pain, torment. 
 
 Quarel. cause, suit. 
 
 Quest, inquest, jury. 
 
 Quod, quoth, said. 
 
 Quyte. quit, pay, discharge. 
 
 Rad. [afraid.] 
 
 Rech. reck, care for. 
 
 Rede, advice, counsel, advise. 
 
 Remewe. remove. 
 
 Remlant. [rest, remainder, remnant.] 
 
 Renne. run. 
 
 Rere-soperys. after-suppers, " little small ban- 
 quets, intermixed with collations and reer- 
 suppers." Rabelais, 1653. 
 
168 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Rewth. ruth, pity. 
 
 Rode, Rood, cross. 
 
 Ryall, royal, magnificent. 
 
 Sad. [sound, steady.] 
 
 Saffe. save. 
 
 Safurs. sapphires. 
 
 Same. All in same. [All together. " To daunce 
 
 they wente alle yn same." Launtal. (v. 64.) 
 
 Ritson, Met. Rom. i. 199.] 
 Saw. [saying, dede and saw, word and deed.] 
 Saye. saw. 
 Sayne. say. 
 
 Schrewe. shrew, wicked or cursed one. 
 Scredely. shrewdly. 
 Se. seen, see, regard, superintend, keep in 
 
 sight. 
 Sen. since. 
 Sesse. Fesse and sesse. enfeof and seise, sub. 
 
 in house or land. 
 Sheene. p. 12. 
 Shent. Make officers shent. cause them to be 
 
 Shete. shoot. 
 
 Shot-window, a window that opens and shuts by 
 
 a sliding frame. 
 Side. [long. Trail side, to have a sweeping 
 
 train.] 
 
 Slawe. slain. 
 Smotley. pleasantly. 
 
GLOSSARY. 169 
 
 Sompnere. summoner or apparitor; an officer 
 who serves the summonses or citations of the 
 spiritual court. See Chaucers Canterbury 
 Tales. 
 
 Sothe, Suth. truth. 
 
 Sowne. sound. 
 
 Soyt. soth, sooth, truth. 
 
 Sper, Spyrre. ask, enquire. 
 
 Spercles. sparks (ofjire). 
 
 Sprynge. [a tune.} 
 
 Spycere. spices. 
 
 Stalworthest. [strongest.} 
 
 State, estate. 
 
 Sted. [bested, circumstanced.] 
 
 Stede and Stall, [place and country.] 
 
 Stere. steer, rule, govern. 
 
 Sterte. started, flew. Sterte in the waye. 
 started, rushed hastily, flew into the street. 
 
 Stevyn. [voice.] 
 
 Store, strong, value. 
 
 Stound. hour, time. 
 
 Stowre. fight. 
 
 Stynte. stay. 
 
 Suspitious. significant. 
 
 Sweythyli. swiftly. 
 
 Swilk. [such.] 
 
 Syke. sigh. 
 
 Syth. since. 
 
 Tale-wyse. addicted to tale-bearing. 
 
170 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Tan. taken. 
 
 Tane. take. 
 
 Teene. grief, sorrow. 
 
 Tempre. correct, manage. 
 
 Tent. heed. 
 
 The. thrive. 
 
 Tho. then. 
 
 Throng, ran. 
 
 To. two. 
 
 Trate. hag. 
 
 Trew mannys lyfe. the life of an honest man. 
 
 Trysty. trusty. 
 
 Undurnome. taken up, received, or entertained 
 
 (as a notion). 
 Undurzode. understood. 
 Unnethes. scarcely. 
 Verament. truly. 
 Villany, Vylany. mischief, injury. 
 Vowsed. p. 62. [used?] 
 Voyded. avoided, withdrew, made off, got out of 
 
 the way. 
 
 Vyleus. vile, villainous, shameful. 
 Waik. [weak.] 
 Waran. warn. 
 
 Ware, expend, lay out, purchase. 
 Warne. prevent, hinder. 
 Wed. [pledge, pawn.] 
 Wede. coat, cloak, dress, attire, clothing. 
 Werke. " Thy furst werke," p. 90, thy first 
 
GLOSSARY. J71 
 
 working ; the first thing thou doest. So in 
 " The book of thensygnemens and techy nges of 
 the knyght of the Toure" printed by Caxton : 
 " And by cause that thefyrst werke and labour 
 that man or woman ought to doo is for to 
 adoure and worshipe our lord and saye his ser- 
 vyse, $rc." Sig. a iij. Again, in " The history of 
 kynge Ponthus of Galyce," 1511, " And his 
 first werke was whan he was arysen to wasshe 
 his handes to saye his prayers and to here his 
 masse ryght devoutely." By an unaccountable 
 mistake it was, in the former edition , printed 
 and explained "Thy furst weke, at thy first 
 waking." 
 
 Wend. go. 
 
 Wende. weened, thought. 
 
 Were. p. 96. 
 
 Wet, Wete. know. 
 
 Wight, WYGHT. strong. 
 
 Wis, Wys. trow, think, take it. 
 
 Witty, [wise.] 
 
 Wode, WOOD. mad. 
 
 Wone. hesitation. 
 
 Wost. wottest, knowest. 
 
 Wreste. turn. Wreste it all amysse, p. 51. turn 
 it the wrong way : a metaphor from tuning 
 the harp. 
 
 Wyle. feint, device, trick. 
 
 Wynde. wend, go. 
 
172 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Wynke. sleep. 
 
 Wynne, earn, get ; come. 
 
 Wyrche. work, conduct thyself. 
 
 Wyste. knew, was aware. 
 
 Wyte. blame. 
 
 Wytt. know. Do the wele to wytt. let thee per- 
 fectly know. 
 
 Y. /. 
 
 Y-do. done. 
 
 Yede. went. 
 
 Yeffe. if. 
 
 YefFor. ever. 
 
 Yerde. [rod.] 
 
 Yernid. [coveted, desired.] 
 
 Yong men. Yonge men. Yeomen. See Spel- 
 manni Glossarium, vv. Juniores, Yeoman. 
 
 Yslaw. slain. 
 
 Ywys. / trow, I know. 
 
 Zyt. yet. 
 
 THE END. 
 
WORKS OF MR. RITSON, 
 
 edited by his nephew, and published, in cr. 8vo., by 
 PAYNE AND FOSS, AND WILLIAM PICKERING. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE LIFE OF KING ARTHUR. 
 
 From Ancient Historians and Authentic Documents, !<)\. 
 II. 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE CELTS, OR GAULS. 
 
 12*. . 
 III. 
 
 ANNALS OF THE CALEDONIANS, 
 
 Picts and Scots ; and of Strath clyde, Cumberland, Galloway, 
 and Murray. 2 vols. M. i. 
 
 IV. 
 
 ANCIENT SONGS AND BALLADS, 
 
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 V. 
 
 FAIRY TALES. 
 
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 1. ON PYGMIES. 2. ON FAIRIES. 9*. 
 
 VI. 
 
 ROBIN HOOD. 
 
 A collection of all the ancient Poems, Songs, and Ballads, 
 extant, relative to that celebrated English Outlaw. With 
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 Edition, with Additions. 2 vols. 1 1. If. 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE LETTERS OF JOSEPH RITSON, ESQ. 
 
 Chiefly from originals in the possession of his nephew. To 
 which is prefixed A MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. By Sir Harris 
 Nicolas, K.C. M.G. 2 vols. I-