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 PR1181.S55 
 
 The Shirburn baHads. JiSBS-lfJ^ 
 
 3 1924 013 291 194 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/cletails/cu31924013291194 
 
\iiui .tri- 1} bcfnUd ^^fT^v^-jtVeA&A. 
 
 'A maide . . .of Meurs . . . that hath not taken any foode this 
 
 i6 yeares.' — From a contemporary print. ^ variant of 
 
 No.JC: seep.iS- 'Whether" = 'Wherefor' 
 
THE 
 
 SHIRBURN 
 B ALLADS 
 
 EDITED FROM THE MS 
 
 BY 
 
 ANDREW CLARK 
 
 Honorary Fellow of Lincoln College 
 
 O X F0R2) 
 
 AT THE CLARENDON PRESS 
 
 1907 
 
 1) 
 
HENRY FROWDE, M.A. 
 
 PUBLISHEK TO THB UHIVERSITV OF OXFORD 
 
 LONDON, EDINBURGH 
 
 NEW YORK AND TORONTO 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTION i 
 
 BALLADS, WITH INTRODUCTORY NOTES . .11 
 
 SUPPLEMENTARY BALLADS FROM A RAWLINSON 
 
 MS 334 
 
 GRAMMAR NOTES 365 
 
 INDEX OF TUNES 367 
 
 INDEX OF FIRST LINES 368 
 
 GLOSSARIAL INDEX 370 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 FROM BLACK-LETTER COPIES 
 
 P. 12. When he in prison lay full poore : I [3] I. 
 
 A person looks in through the prison-bars to the cell in which a prisoner 
 is fettered : Wood 401, f. 144. The engraver was so accustomed to put 
 tufts of grass at the feet of his figures that he could not leave bare the floor 
 of the prison. 
 
 P. 20. A gentleman he was of courage bould : II [3] i. 
 
 The gallant : from the Black-letter copy of this ballad in 4to Rawl. 566, 
 f. 204 (olim 315). In Wood 401, f. 89', the figure is very dim and faces 
 the other way. 
 
 P. 23. The man of death his part did playe : II [22] I. 
 
 Execution scene : from the Black-letter copy of this ballad : 4to Rawl. 
 566, f. 304 (olim 315) ; Wood 401, f, 90. 
 
 P. 25. Good people all, repent with speede : III [i] i. 
 
 ' The sign of the son of man,' a favourite heading in day-of-judgement 
 ballads : from the Black-letter copy of No. VI in 4to Rawl. 566, f. 163 
 (olim 260). 
 
 P. 36. The Lord thy God is comminge: VI [i] 5. 
 
 Another block on same subject as preceding, but with the face looking to 
 right, not to left. Prefixed to a 1652 Black-letter copy of this ballad in 
 Wood 401, f. 159^ 
 
 P. 40. Consider death must ende our dayes : VII [i] 2. 
 
 Death, as slayer by dart and consigner to the sexton's spade, is followed 
 by Time, with hour-glass and scythe. From a Black-letter copy of the 
 ballad on the pestilence at the Oxford Assizes in July, 1577 : 4to Rawl, 566, 
 f. 203 (olim 314). The engraver's inexpertness is seen by the difficulty he 
 experienced with Time's forelock and Death's nether jaw. 
 
 P. 43. That finallye we may possesse 
 
 the heavenly ioyes most bright : VIII [28] 3, 4. 
 A Christian tramples Death (represented by scull and cross-bones) under 
 foot, in reliance on the heavenly promise. In the background, beyond the 
 Thames, are the Tower and Westminster Abbey : from a Black-letter A.B.C. 
 ballad in 4to Rawl. 566, f. 99 (olim 178). 
 
 P. 50. Who viewes the lyfe of mortall men : IX [i] I. 
 
 An example of the combination of several small blocks. On the left 
 a soldier, between two imprints of a lady ; underneath, a skeleton, be- 
 tokening that beauty and valour alike descend to the grave. On the right 
 the same topic is worked out by classical imagery, Death with fatal dart 
 driving before him Mars and Venus. From ' A Looking Glass for a Christian 
 Family ' in 4to Rawl. 566, f. 31 (olim 69). 
 
 P. 60. Angels they syng ' behould the kinge ! ' XI [6] 5. 
 
 Virgin and child, and 'angels' with palm-branches: from the Black- 
 letter copy of this ballad in 4to Rawl. 566, f. 156 (olim 253). 
 
 V 
 
Illustrations from Black-letter copies 
 
 p. 72. The Devill, in Frier's weed, appeard to me : XV [5] I. 
 
 Faustus, his book of conjuring, and the fiend he has called up. From the 
 Black-letter copy of this ballad in Wood 401, f. 53'. The engraver has 
 forgotten, or felt himself unable, to array the fiend in a friar's gown. The 
 second block gives the engraver's idea of scholastic dress. 
 
 P. 76. From whence rose vp three ghostly shapes : XVI [7] 7. 
 
 From second column of a 'very godly song' in 4to Rawl. 566, f. 181, 
 which the ' clerk of Bodnam made upon his Death-Bed.' 
 
 P. 81. Therefore, i'le neuer wooe her more : XVII [i] 8. 
 
 From the Black-letter, 'The Resolved Lover' : 4to Rawl. 566, f. 118 
 (olim 201). 
 
 P. 88. I that haue oft on the Sea beene in danger : XX [4] I. 
 
 A sea-fight. The swimming figures, who have all retained their hats, 
 suggest that several ships have sunk. The cross of St. George flies bravely 
 at the tops of the chief English ship. From ' a dainty new Ditty of a Saylor 
 and his Love ', 4to Rawl. 566, f. 32 (olim 70). 
 
 P. 91. A whiffe of your Trinidado : XXI [15] I. 
 
 Tavern-scene from 4to Rawl. 566, f. 155 (olim 251). One man standing, 
 glass in hand, seems to be trolling out a song ; and one of those seated, to 
 be taking up the chorus. A third is smoking. The woman is pushing 
 forward a back-gammon board. The drawer brings foaming tankards. 
 
 P. 96. Into his mouth he thrust it long : XXIII [25] 3. 
 
 From the Black-letter copy of tliis ballad : Wood 40a, f. a^. The en- 
 graver is careless as to the details in the ballad. The lance is not thrust 
 into the vulnerable mouth, but through the neck. Sabra is not seemly 
 attired, as in stanza 18 ; the engraver probably copied an old engraving in 
 Ariosto. 
 
 P. 116. Vnto my mill I praye yow range : XXIX [9] 3. 
 
 Mill, maid, miller, and miller's man : from ' Merry Tom of all Trades ' in 
 4to Rawl. 566, f. 186 (olim 291). 
 
 P. 134. It had two faces strange : XXXIII [10] 5. 
 
 The monster, with ruff, birch, mirror, and roses on insteps : from the 
 Black-letter copy of this ballad. Wood 401, f. 157' 
 
 P. 140. And there I playd at dice : XXXIV [18] 2. 
 
 Dicing in a tavern: from a Black-letter ballad. Wood 401, f, 178, which 
 Anthony Wood bought ' In the beginning of March i66i[-a].' 
 
 P. 146. rie leave the world, and seeke a grave : XXXV [12] 6. 
 
 Emblems of mortality : from the Black-letter, ' The woful complaint ... of 
 a forsaken Lover' : 4to Rawl. 566, f. 175 (olim 280). 
 
 P. 159. And hangM for the fact : XXVIII [11] 8. 
 
 An execution scene, showing the ladder which gave the drop when 
 pulled away, and the mode of tying the noose : Wood 401, f. 143'. 
 
 P. 164. The earth did open immediatelye : XXXIX [14] 3. 
 
 This is a favourite cut, balladists vying with each other to supply 
 incidents in which evil-doers were swallowed up quick. From 'A wonder- 
 ful example of God's justice ', Wood 401, f. 98. 
 
 P. 179. The Noblest Queene that ever was seene : XLII [l] 4, 5. 
 From 4to Rawl. 566, f. 171 (olim 272). 
 vi 
 
Illustrations from Black-letter copies 
 
 p. 182. Thus, with my bell and Lanthorn : XLIII [13] i. 
 
 The bellman : from Black-letter copy of ' Awake, Awake, oh England I ' 
 (No. VI) ! Wood 401, f. 160. 
 
 P. 186. Abroad let vs be walking : XLIV [i] 2. 
 
 From 4to RawL 566, f. 96 (olim 175) : a favourite cut at the top of 
 amatory ditties. 
 
 P. 192. The king a daughter had : XLVI [i] 5. 
 
 From Wood 401, f. 119'. A medallion of Henri, due d'Anjou (Elizabeth's 
 suitor, Nov. 1570 ; crowned King of Poland, Feb. 24, 1573-4 j crowned 
 King of France as Henri III, Feb. 13, 1574-5 j assassinated, Aug. a, 1589), 
 is made to do duty as a portrait of the legendary king. The picture of the 
 princess was obtained by taking half of the block on p. 81, and in doing so 
 the face was damaged. 
 
 P. 197. A Prince of England came : XLVI [i] 9. 
 
 From Wood 401, f. 120. The black mark on the horse's head is a drop 
 of ink which was let fall when the volume was foliated. 
 
 P. 200. But I was borne, with shame to dye : XLVI I [15] 3. 
 
 A military execution : from a Black-letter ballad, of date 1635-6, in 
 Wood 401, f, 130. The second block may stand for London or any other 
 town. 
 
 P. 212. Goe, pine thyselfe j repent, and dye : L [10] 4. 
 
 Death's summons by fatal dart, and ringing the passing knell. From 
 a Black-letter ballad, ' Hitberfs Ghost ' : 4to Rawl. 566, f. 194 (olim 302). 
 
 P. 216. Thus they went all along vnto the miller's bowse : LI [7] i. 
 
 From ' King Edward the fourth and a tanner of Tamworth ' Black-letter : 
 Wood 401, f. 43^ 
 
 P. 223. Tyll we two meete again : LIII [8] 8. 
 
 From a Black-letter, ' The Lovers Final Farwel ' : 410 Rawl. 566, f. 147 
 (olim 241). 
 
 P. 241. My walles are battered downe: LX [2] 9. 
 
 From the Black-letter ballad , ' Shrowsbvry for me ' : 4to Rawl. 566, f. 26 
 (olim 61). Siege of a town : in front besieger's battery of eight guns, each 
 with a man and a linstock, firing across moat. To our right hand, in a blur, 
 an assailing column charging over the bridge ; in background, smoke from 
 burning houses. 
 
 P. 273. Then once more did they sally foorth : LXVII [13] 5. 
 
 Siege-piece, from a Black-letter ballad of 1640 : Wood 401, f. 133'. In 
 foreground the besiegers are withdrawing their guns and ammunition- 
 wagons, fleeing from a strong column of pikemen, which has crossed the 
 moat by the bridge. In Wood 401, f. 131^, the blank spaces are filled up by 
 the words Newcastle (in background), Scots (by the wagon), English (at 
 pikeman's foot). 
 
 P. 277. To mighty Carthage walles was brought : LXVIII [2] 4. 
 
 From the illustrations to this ballad in Wood 402, f. 2^. Two English 
 men-of-war, with St. George's cross at their tips, firing off guns, do duty 
 for the Trojan fleet. Polonius himself might find it too great a demand on 
 his courtliness to pronounce the wallowing monster in the foreground 
 ' very like a whale ', for which the engraver intended it. The second block 
 represents Aeneas, sword in belt and feather in cap, coming to Dido, 
 seated in a chair of state, outside the towers of Carthage. 
 
 vii 
 
Illustrations from Black-letter copies 
 
 p. 279. Which vnto thee such welcome made : LXVIII [15] 4. 
 
 Gallant, with sword ; lady, with fan, ruff, and flaunting feather ; stock 
 pieces as headings of amatory ditties : e. g. to the second part of 
 this ballad, Wood 402, f. 3. From inability to treat the gallant's right-foot 
 spur the engraver has twisted it round in a most awkward way. 
 
 P. 297. On me she lookt askance : LXXIII [2] 10. 
 
 The bashful shepherd, with crook (broken in this cut') and bag, averts 
 his face. She has fan in left hand, and warns him off with uplifted right 
 hand. Her heels suggest ' the altitude of a chopine ' {Hamlet, ii. a. 445'). 
 Heading of the Black-letter 'The Complaint of the Shepherd Harpalus': 
 4to Rawl. 566, f. 164 (olim 362). The top-corner emblems suggest an April 
 day, alternate sun and shower. 
 
 P. 302. Send then some faythfull one to me : LXXIV [18] 5. 
 
 Lady and Suitor. From the Black-letter, ' The Lovely London Lass, 
 long lamenting for a husband ' : 4to Rawl. 566, f. 50 (olim loi). The lady 
 seems to be trying ' loves me, loves me not,' while blowing off the down 
 from some thistleheads. To provide for continuance of the game she has 
 ready to her hand an additional bundle which looks something like b 
 wheatsheaf. 
 
 P. 323. The auncient fight oi England: LXXVIII [11] 4- 
 From a Black-letter Robin Hood ballad : Wood 402, i. 10. 
 
 P. 325. The Pikemen there, like souldiers good : LXXVIII [8] I. 
 
 Pikemen and musketeers, from ' John Armstrong's last good night ', Wood 
 401, f. 94. In front a sergeant, followed by twelve musketeers, marching 
 three abreast. Each has musket sloped over left shoulder, and carries the 
 rest (to lean it on when kneeling to fire) in right hand as a walking-stick. 
 From bandoleers strapped across the shoulders hang powder-flask, bullet-bag, 
 and match-bag. Each wears a sword. The defensive armour is the plain 
 morion. Behind a drummer walk pikemen, with long pike on left shoulden 
 with morion on head, and plate-armour on breast. Behind are a captain 
 (with a most monstrous halbert) and an ' insygne-bearer ' with flag (cross 
 of St. George on a canton, stripes of different colours). The musketeers in 
 background have musket on right shoulder, rest in left hand, probably only 
 because the engraver was not equal to drawing them with musket on left 
 shoulder and rest in right hand. 
 
 P. 328. And yeeldes my selfe vnto the blowe : LXXIX [8] 4. 
 
 Beheading of the earl of Essex : heading to Wood 401, f. 75^, ' Sweet 
 England's pride is gone.' It will be noticed that the victim is lying face 
 downwards, at full length, on the scaffolding, with throat on the block. 
 The stroke of the axe has caused the severed head to roll round and it is 
 now lying on its right ear. The engraver has not studied uniformity in the 
 halberts of the guard. Nor has he succeeded in giving the headsman 
 a good grip of the axe-haft. Later this block was freely used to illustrate 
 the beheading of Charles I : e.g. Wood 401, f. 145'. 
 
 FACSIMILES OF THE MUSIC NOTES IN THE MS. 
 
 1. Fol. 187T 188 to face f age lib 
 
 2. Fol. 212^ 213 ,, ^, 236 
 
 3. Fol. 2I6^ 217 „ ^^ 246 
 
 4. Fol. 229^, 230 „ „ 272 
 
 Vlll 
 
THE SHIRBURN BALLADS 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Description of the MS. The MS., the contents of which are 
 now made public, is one of the treasures of the Earl of 
 Macclesfield's noble library at Shirburn Castle, Oxfordshire ; 
 shelf-mark, Shirburn North Library 119 D 44. The warmest 
 thanks of lovers of English letters are due to Lord Maccles- 
 field's Trustees for generosity in granting permission to publish 
 this MS. and for facilities afforded for transcription and 
 collation. The MS. is a neat paper volume, closely written on 
 both sides of the leaf, each leaf 6\ inches by 3I inches. With 
 the binding (by Hatton, Manchester, i860), the book is | inch 
 thick. It now contains i6a leaves, marked by an old hand 
 98-na, 113 [a], 113 [b], 114-183, 184 [a], 184 [b], 185-357- 
 Since foliation the volume has thus lost its first 97 leaves. It 
 had suffered mutilation previous to foliation, a leaf or leaves 
 being wanting between laa, 133; 145, 146; 313, 214. When 
 the library was catalogued by Edward Edwards in i860 the 
 volume no doubt required the re-binding which it then received ; 
 but it is to be regretted that he made no note of its then con- 
 dition and outward marks of provenance. The internal evidence 
 as to its history is as follows. The MS. is wrongly made up. 
 The second part, from fol. 184 b, both by handwriting and 
 contents, must be the earlier portion. It begins with No. XLII, 
 whose date is November, 1600, and contains no piece later 
 than April, 1603 (No. LXXVII). I take it that these leaves 
 were written by one person at intervals between 1600 and 
 1603, the handwriting varying slightly according to the quill 
 and the ink used. In consonance with this conclusion ai-e the 
 facts that this portion contains, with two exceptions (Nos. IV, 
 XXIX), all the coarser pieces, and that in it are found' also the 
 four places in which the music is given. Second in order of 
 time, I put the present first part of the MS., fols. 98-i84a. 
 In this come all the ballads which are later than the accession 
 of James I, the latest being October, 1616 (No. XIV). Here 
 also are all the graver ballads, natural to more advanced life. 
 The handwriting is a very good Elizabethan-formed hand, 
 using for the most part English and not Roman letters. It is 
 that of a well-educated person. The signature Edwarde Hull 
 is written, in this hand, at foot of leaf 155, and may be the 
 name of the transcriber. I have called this ' the second hand ', 
 for reasons of time, but imagine that it is the same hand as 
 
 SHIRB. B i ^ I 
 
Shirburn Ballads 
 
 that which wrote the portion already described, only resuming^ 
 after an interval of years. I regard these leaves as written at 
 intervals between 1609 and i6i5. In this portion of the MS. 
 a few pieces are written in a third hand. This is of a later 
 formation, approximating to the Roman letters of the later 
 Stuart period. From the fact that the pages have been ruled for 
 it, in pencil or ink, and from its frequent clerical errors, this 
 hand may be inferred to be that of a lad, imperfectly educated, 
 set to relieve an older man, his relative or teacher. The second 
 hand has in places amended the slips of this third hand. 
 
 Throughout the MS. it is plain that the ballads are copied 
 from printed exemplars. Thus, the copyist constantly changes 
 his writing from English characters to Roman where the 
 printed copies would make the same change, as in proper 
 names, refrains, and the like. Interesting problems, but 
 impossible to solve, are (i) to determine why the copyist set 
 himself to write out so much printed matter, and (ii) whence 
 he got' the necessary Broadsides. Several possibilities suggest 
 themselves. He may have borrowed Black-letter sheets from 
 a wide circle of friends ; or he may have rented a house whose 
 owner had papered the walls with them. It will be remem- 
 bered that at Gloucester, in 1 635, John Aubrey {Brief Lives, 
 ii. 349) saw the engraved description of Sir Philip Sidney's 
 funeral doing duty as a chimney-piece. 
 
 Later owners have made various scribbles in the MS. in 
 somewhat illiterate late seventeenth- or early eighteenth-century 
 hands. On fol. 205^ is ' Thomas Sturgies is the right Oner of 
 this booke in t[he] name of the father and of the sone '. 
 ' Thomas Sturgis ' occurs also on fol. 234 ; and ' Edward 
 Sturgis' on fols. lai, 163, 215^ 234. 'William Halford ' comes 
 on fol. 161'' ; ' Richard Halford,' "fol. 163 ; ' Thomas Manton,' 
 fols. 137, 162 ; ' Richard Manton,' fol. 163. 
 
 Aim of this edition. This edition, being a special edition 
 for students of Elizabethan letters and social conditions, ex- 
 hibits the actual text of the MS. in its present order, with the 
 minimum of change or omission. The punctuation, which in 
 the MS. is haphazard (mostly a conima or colon at the end of 
 each line) and misleading, has been amended. Ordinary con- 
 tractions, e. g. &, f, and the like, have been expanded, as 
 non-significant. The spelling, however, of the MS. has been 
 rigidly followed, as also the varying use of i and j, u and v. 
 The use of capitals or small letters in the body of the text 
 follows that of the MS., and the use of capitals or small 
 letters at the beginning of lines follows the general practice of 
 the MS., only somewhat reduced to rule. Occasionally, dropt 
 letters, syllables, and words have been supplied in square 
 brackets. Many obvious errors of the MS. have been allowed 
 (O 
 
Introduction " 
 
 to stand in the text, but they are amended in the footnotes. 
 The types used suggest the difference of type in the Broadside 
 originals, where English letters supply the body of the text, 
 and Roman letters perform the function of our Italics in head- 
 lines, refrains, and proper names. 
 
 In almost every text of this period the questions of softening 
 offensive words and omitting offensive matter present them- 
 selves importunately. In these respects I have bowed to the 
 direction of weighty authorities, and, in this special edition, 
 left the text practically untouched. Some of the pieces, which 
 are rankest in themselves, yet throw much light on various 
 social questions hinted at in Shakespeare's plays and explain 
 many of their covert allusiras. All of them are eloquent as 
 to the baseness of popular taste in Shakespeare's time. 
 
 Just before undertaking to issue these ballads, I had, by 
 the extreme kindness of the Corporation, full access to the 
 hitherto uncalendared and unsearched miscellaneous papers of 
 the Essex borough of Maldon. These have supplied a number 
 of notes, illustrative of the social conditions here alluded to. 
 These notes not only emphasize the historical accuracy of 
 the ballads, but (coming from one source) suggest that the 
 incidents recorded in them were of everyday occurrence. 
 
 Early printed ballads. The form taken by ballads was 
 peculiarly suitable to the limitations of the art of printing in 
 its infancy. A ballad occupied a single page, and so was 
 printed on one side only of a folio sheet. It could thus be set 
 up, and struck off, by an inexperienced workman, with a rude 
 machine. A slightly later plan, securing safer locking of the 
 forme for the press as well as greater handiness of the final 
 issue, was to place two quarto pages of type sideways in the 
 folio-size forme, so that, when struck off, the two pages lay 
 alongside of e&ch other, allowing the folio sheet to be folded 
 in the middle. From occupying only one side of the sheet, 
 ballads are called Broadsides or Singlesheets. The type used 
 was that now called English, corresponding closely to that 
 which has continued in use in Germany ; hence these ballads 
 are also known as Black-letter ballads. Long after the 
 adoption of Roman letters, this English fount continued in 
 use for two purposes only — for ballads, and for the decrees of 
 various crown-offices issued by the king's printers. To cut 
 down compositors' expenses, and to attract customers' eyes, 
 recourse was had, at a very early date, to rude wooden blocks, 
 which supplied an engraving or set of engravings for the top 
 of one or both of the quarto pages, thus greatly reducing the 
 amount of printed matter on the sheet. 
 
 The earliest printed ballad extant is said to be of the year 
 1513. The evidence shows that, from the first, there was a large 
 
 B2 (3) 
 
Shirburn Ballads 
 
 and steady demand for printed ballads. In academic Oxford 
 in 1520 the Dutchman John Dome (F. Madan in Oxford 
 Historical Society's Collectanea, vol. i) sold from his book- 
 booth 196 ballads (broadsides, no doubt) at the price of \d. 
 each, but making an allowance when a bundle was taken, e.g. 
 giving, on occasion, 7 ' balets' for 3^. ; 12 for ^. ; 13 for 6d. ; 
 23 for lorf. 
 
 Most of these early issues have, of course, perished as to their 
 then form, but several are well known in reprints, e. g. ' The 
 Not-brone Mayd' (O. H.S. Coll. i. 87), ' Roben Hod' (i. 79), 
 and our own No. XXXVII, ' The fryre end boy ' (ii. 459). 
 
 Later collections of ballads. Of the ballads which were put 
 out by the Black-letter press from say 1650 to 1680, large 
 collections were made by connoisseurs, who had foresight to 
 perceive that these perishable sheets would in time outweigh 
 in interest and value the ponderous folios and quartos of 
 contemporary law, medicine, and divinity. Two collectors 
 stand out head and shoulders above the rest, as the St. 
 Christophers of ballad-literature, Samuel Pepys and Anthony 
 Wood. Pepys' collection, in five volumes, rests in the safe 
 quarters which he provided for his books in his own college, 
 Magdalene College, Cambridge. Wood's collection, partly in 
 bound volumes, partly in loose bundles, was long in attaining 
 the security of the Bodleian at Oxford, and reached it only 
 after most serious loss. According to William Chappell's 
 count {Roxburghe Ballads, i. p. vii) Pepys has 1376 Black- 
 letter ballads ; Wood only 279. But, in critically estimating 
 the personal labours of the two collectors, we ought to deduct 
 from Pepys the John Selden collection which he acquired as 
 a whole {Roxburghe Ballads, viii. p. xxxviii) ; and large addi- 
 tions, more than doubling or even trebling Wood's total, must 
 be made from ballads which ought to be, but are no longer, 
 in the Wood collection. Robert Harley (d. 1724), first earl 
 of Oxford, brought together two thick volumes of Black-letter 
 ballads (now vols, i and ii of the Roxburghe collection in 
 British Museum Library). Harley's binder has taken advan- 
 tage of their being printed on one side of the sheet to paste 
 these ballads into folio volumes, a form convenient for preser- 
 vation and reference, but destructive of their original appear- 
 ance. By cutting off the margins he has removed nearly all 
 marks of provenance. In vol. i, however, some traces of 
 paging, in Wood's handwriting, remain on the dipt edges, 
 which show that part at least of the ballads came from Wood's 
 collection. In vol. ii the clipping of the edges is more 
 complete, and is suggestive of a wish to destroy damaging 
 evidence of ' conveyance '. The same is true of the ballads 
 collected for himself by Hariey's caterer, John Bagford (d.1716), 
 (4) 
 
Introduction 
 
 which are now Bagford Ballads, three volumes, in the British 
 Museum Library. The closely pared edges, from which every 
 shred of margin has been removed, have a guilty look. To the 
 original Harleian volumes, John Ker (d. 1804), third duke of 
 Roxburghe, added a bulky third volume. His Grace's binder was 
 more tender of margins, and (from lapse of time) was under no 
 apprehension of the cry of ' Stop thief ! ' He has not, therefore, 
 been careful to remove marks of provenance ; and from these 
 we can safely conclude that all the ballads in Roxburghe 
 collection, vol. iii, pp. 10-263, came by stealth from Wood's 
 collection. These marks are (i) pages noted in Wood's hand- 
 writing when he had the ballads bound in a volume, ranging 
 from p. 7 (iii. 159) to p. 375 (ib. 241); (ii) notes by Wood, 
 giving dates of his acquisition of the ballads (1662-3, "'• "^i?) ! 
 1681, ib. 245) ; and (iii) notes by Wood, explaining the sequence 
 of the ballads in his bound volume (iii. 237, 262, 269). When 
 Wood's collection was catalogued in the Ashmolean Museum 
 about 1 7 10, it had a large volume of Black-letter ballads 
 (Wood 400), which was missing when the collection was 
 recatalogued in 1837. It is satisfactory to know that most, at 
 least, of its contents have only migrated to Roxb. Coll. iii, 
 and not perished utterly. I am also suspicious, from the old 
 paging, that the volume, now 4to Rawlinson 566, once con- 
 taining 339 Black-letter ballads, of which now remain 217, with 
 the edges where others have been torn out, is also by origin 
 a Wood volume. Rawlinson's caterers are known, in other 
 cases, to have procured for their patron papers and MSS. from 
 ' Mr. Wood's Study ' in the ill-guarded Ashmolean. 
 
 These, and other collections, have made privileged stu- 
 dents, who have had access to them, familiar with the issues 
 of the London Black-letter press — their rough woodcuts, 
 their worn-out type, their abundant misprints. A wider circle, 
 perhaps, will make acquaintance with their character through 
 the facsimiles given in this edition. 
 
 Dr. Thomas Plume, vicar of Greenwich, heard, about 1663, 
 and recorded in his note-book (MS. at Maldon), a pretty 
 anecdote, illustrative of the zest with which an earlier genera- 
 tion of ballad collectors had pursued their quest. In 1641, 
 as an act of conciliation towards the Calvinists in the Church, 
 Charles I nominated their leader, John Prideaux, Regius 
 Professor of Divinity at Oxford, to the see of Worcester. 
 When Prideaux went to be installed, a Worcestershire gentle- 
 man, who attended the ceremony, ended his speech of welcome 
 with the sentence: 'Lend me what ballads you have, and 
 I will let you see what I have : I know you to love all such 
 things.' 
 
 Recently the Rev. Joseph Woodfall Ebsworth, M.A., 
 
 (S) 
 
Shirburn Ballads 
 
 St. John's College, Cambridge, F.S.A., poet, musician, en- 
 graver, in his monumental editions of the Bagford Ballads 
 and the Roxburghe Ballads for the Ballad Society (instituted 
 1868), has conquered this whole province of English letters; 
 and, by corrected texts, collation of different copies, reproduc- 
 tions of woodcuts, identifications of tunes, and full indexes, 
 has made it for ever accessible to students. 
 
 Relation of the Shirburn MS. to the printed collections. 
 Although a veritable Saul among Davids, and possessed of 
 only eight tens of ballads, as against the many hundreds 
 of the great collections, the Shirburn set has several features 
 of unique interest. It has preserved a number of pieces, of 
 no slight value, which, certainly, are not found in the great 
 collections; and which, possibly, are found nowhere else. 
 Further, it bridges over the gap between early ballads' and 
 post-Restoration ballads, and shows that many of the ordinary 
 issues of the Black-letter press of Charles II's and James II's 
 reigns had been in common circulation under Elizabeth and 
 James I. It also opens up an inviting field of textual 
 criticism, furnishing earlier, and often better, texts than the 
 printed copies ; but sometimes carrying back obvious corrup- 
 tions, destructive alike of rhyme and reason, for a period of 
 eighty years. Far-reaching textual conclusions may thus 
 be drawn, not without bearing on the condition of the text 
 of the great Elizabethans. It is, above all, a singularly 
 representative collection, embracing ballads of almost every 
 type in circulation, and so presenting us with just the library 
 which was found in most English households in Shakespeare's 
 time. The one exception, a striking one, is the Robin Hood 
 ballad, which is quite unrepresented. A set, of these may well 
 have been in the missing ninety-seven leaves. 
 
 Distribution oj ballads. The ballads were sold in bundles 
 by the printer to wandering minstrels, who sang them at 
 markets and fairs to recommend them to the public, teaching 
 purchasers the tunes. For success as a ballad-monger a 
 wheedling manner was requisite, with discferament of character 
 to press, on possible buyers, just the sort of verses they 
 wanted, and by just the arguments which appealed to them ; 
 but, above all, a good voice was needed. In 161 1 Shakespeare, 
 in Autolycus {A Winter s Tale, Act iv. Scene 3), depicted 
 the man and his manners. It so happens that we have in real 
 people of the time the very persons who might have sat for 
 this portrait. At Maldon, 1594, the ^ Town-clerk's list of 
 persons disaffected towards the Puritan magistracy includes 
 ' Thomas Spickernell 1, somtyme apprentice to a bookebynder ; 
 after, a vagrant pedler ; then, a ballett singer and seller ; and 
 
 " Alternative spelling ' Spigurnell ' ; an old Maldon stock. 
 (6) 
 
Introduction 
 
 now, a minister ^ and alehouse-keeper in Maldon '. In John 
 Aubrey's Brief Lives, i. 184, we have this vivid portrait of 
 Richard Corbet, M.A. 1605, D.D. 1617 : — 
 
 ' After he was Doctor of Divinity, he sang ballads at the 
 Crosse at Abingdon on a market-d)ay. He and some of his 
 camerades were at the taverne. The ballad singer complaynd, 
 he had no custome, he could not putt off his ballades. The 
 jolly Doctor putts off his gowne, and putts on the ballad- 
 singer's leathern jacket ; and being a handsome man, and had 
 a rare full voice, he presently vended a great many, and had 
 a great audience.' Put together Spigurnell and Corbet ; 
 voUd Autolycus! 
 
 Contents of the ballads. The roughest classification of 
 these ballads shows the important place they occupied in the 
 intellectual life of the nation. 
 
 They served, for one thing, as a weekly newspaper. The 
 farmer and his man heard, in the market, the ballad-singer 
 proclaiming the events of the day, great battle abroad, damage 
 by thunderstorm, execution of a noted highwayman, dreadful 
 murder, sad accident, and the like ; and bought, and took 
 home to farm-house and cottage, the broad-sheet which 
 promised a true and particular account of the event. Thus, 
 we have notices of the Earl of Bedford's death, 1585, No. LXII ; 
 the Spanish sack of Calais, 1596, No. LX ; Essex's Irish 
 campaign, 1599, LXXVIII ; Elizabeth's anniversary, 1600, 
 XLII ; in 1601, a triple record, the execution of Essex, 
 LXXIX, the campaign in the Netherlands, LXVII, and the 
 Spanish invasion of Ireland, XXXI ; and, in 1603, the acces- 
 sion of James I, LXXVII. The Norwich thunderstorm 
 of 1601 comes in No. XLVIII. Highwaymen figure in 
 Nos. XXXII (1597) and II (after 1603). Murderers come 
 in XXV, XXVI, XXVII. A drowning accident (1616) is 
 described and declaimed on in No. XIV. 
 
 Secondly, the ballads represent modern fiction, in something 
 of its variety of interest and diversity of source. Thus, we 
 have novels of domestic life, some professedly of English 
 origin (Nos. I, XLIX, LXIV), others (as No. LXXI) 
 based on those Italian novelle, from which the Elizabethan 
 dramatists chiefly derived their plots. Nos. XLVI, LI, 
 LXXVI have a sort of historical setting, and anticipate in 
 a way the historical novel. Of romance, pure and simple, 
 we have examples drawn from Teutonic fairy-tale (XV, 
 XXXVII), from church legend (XXIII), and from classical 
 story, filtered through Italian novelle (LV, LXVIII). 
 
 Thirdly, the ballads discharged the functions of the modern 
 pulpit. Parson might be a ' homilist ', like Thomas Hobbes's 
 
 ' Of what sect? 
 
 (7) 
 
Shirburn Ballads 
 
 father (Aubrey's Brief Lives, i. 333), and not preach ; or 
 a pedant, quoting Greek and Hebrew ; or a drone, who sent 
 men to sleep ; but, in Saturday's market, any staid house- 
 holder could buy a sermon in verse, to be sung, or recited, 
 at whatever 'good exercise' (No. IX, stanza 10) he used in his 
 household on Sunday evening. These religious pieces differ 
 widely in type and in merit. Nos. XI, XII, XXIV, XLI 
 are expository of Scripture; Nos. XVIII, XL are devotional 
 pieces. In both sets direct contact with the very words of 
 Scripture gives a depth of feeling and a wealth of thoughtful 
 expression, which invest them with a greater dignity than 
 they might otherwise have attained, a feature not unknown 
 in modern hymnals. Nos. Ill, VII, XXXVI are high 
 musings on the vanity of life and the certainty of judgement, 
 in the tone of, and not unworthy comparison with, Edmund 
 Spenser's Small Poemes of the Worlds Vanitie and the 
 earlier Spanish Coplas of Don Jorge Manrique (Englisht by 
 H. W. Longfellow). With these may be placed Nos, XXVIII 
 and LIX, similar musings, inspired by Stoic philosophy 
 rather than by Christianity, and so comparable to Francis 
 Bacon's The World's a Bubble. Nos. V, VI, VIII, IX, XLI 1 1, 
 LXIII are hortatory sermons, not altogether devoid of truth 
 or force or music. Several pieces, however, are wretched 
 exaggerations by way of ' improving ' special occasions (such 
 as monstrous births, executions, pestilence), or are mere 
 canting fictions. From these, melody and truth have jointly 
 fled. Of this sort are X, XVI, XXXIII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, 
 XLVII, XLIX, LXXII. The stage is not much in evidence 
 and little in favour in these ballads. No. XXV, stanza 7, 
 mentions the play-house in a list of demoralizing agencies. 
 No. LXI, however, is a dramatic sketch of interest and merit. 
 Two social questions are treated with much wit and spirit, 
 the ecclesiastical courts (LXXV) and temperance (XXXIV). 
 The remaining ballads relate to the perennial topics of wooing 
 and marriage, conviviality and funerals, often sinking into 
 doggerel. A few, however, have that bird-like melody of the 
 lyrics in Shakespeare's plays, which Milton possibly had in 
 his thoughts when he pictured him as 'warbling his native 
 wood-notes wild '.y It is a singular ethical fact, and one much 
 to the front in these ballads, that, while this gift of melody 
 vanishes at the least intrusion of pharisaical preaching, it 
 often remains where the ideas have sunk to mere filth. 
 
 Dated ballads. Of the eighty ballads contained in the 
 MS., twenty-eight possess in themselves, either in statement 
 or in allusion, fairly definite dates. In order of time, these 
 run : — 
 
 C8) 
 
Introduction 
 
 I. Elizabethan — 15. 
 
 35 July ^^^^, No. LXII. Apr. 1596, LX. 3 Dec. 1597, 
 XXXII. 23 Apr. 1599, LXXVIII. 8 Sept. 1600, XLVII. 
 17 Nov. 1600, XLII. 35 Feb. 1600-1, LXXIX. 29 Apr. 
 1601, XLVIII. 31 July 1601. LXVII. 1601 1, XXVI, 
 XXVII. 9 Jan. i6oi-2, XXXI. 16 March 1 601-2, LXXII. 
 Before 25 March 1603, XLIII, LVIII. 
 
 II. Jacobean— 13. 
 
 April 1603, No. LXXVII. After James I's accession, 
 Nos. P, II, III, VII, VIII, XXXVI. 1609, XXXIII. 35 Dec. 
 1612, XXXVIII. Feb. 1612-13, X. 1614, IX. 20 Sept. 
 1616, XVI. 15 Oct. 1616, XIV. 
 
 In the undated pieces, I can find nothing suggestive of 
 a later date than 1616; and I think they may be divided 
 between the two reigns in something like the above proportion. 
 
 Re-dating of ballads. The printers of ballads brought their 
 successive issues up to date by silently altering the dates and 
 other marks of time. Thus, the same ballads which had 
 appeared in Elizabeth's reign with a parting prayer for ' our 
 Queen', go on appearing in James I's reign, with the style 
 changed to 'our King'. This renders it a diflScult task to 
 pronounce as to the actual date, or the historical accuracy, of 
 many ballads. Nos. XXVI, XXVII are cases in point. 
 Taking the date, 1601, as unhesitatingly assigned in the MS. 
 to the quadruple execution I caused the burial registers 
 of Barnstaple to be searched for the years 1600 to 1602. 
 Finding no reference to George Strangwidge or Eulalia Page 
 there, I was inclined to regard the story as mere romance. 
 I afterwards found that' the ballads had already appeared 
 in 1591, and that the date 1601 was a figment of the printer 
 to make his reprint appear a new issue. Mr. C. E. Doble then 
 supplied me with the exact reference.' 
 
 Place-names. Printed ballads frequently have attributions 
 of town or county intended to commend them to special 
 audiences by local interest. These Shirburn ballads are 
 somewhat singular, in being mostly of a general type; 
 but a few local names occur. London is naturally the most 
 frequent: Nos. I, V, XIV, XXI, XXII, XXV, XLVII. 
 Others are :— Barnstaple, XXVI ; Coventry, XXIII ; Kendal, 
 II; Lichfield, LXXV; Manchester, XXIX; Margate, LXIV; 
 Norwich, XLVIII ; Nottinghamshire, LI, LXXVI ; Worcester, 
 L ; York, XL. No. XXXII revels in place-names, from 
 Devonshire to Essex. 
 
 ' But reprints from 1591. ' But a reprint from 1597. 
 
 (9) 
 
SHIRBURN BALLADS 
 
 No. I 
 Of the kind widow of Watling Street 
 
 Fol. 98 ; with second part on fol. 100''. Text given in Roxburgke 
 Ballads, viii. 8, from several later Black-letter exemplars. The ballad 
 was entered at Stationers' Hall, 15 August, 1597; but the present text, 
 from the mention of James I in stanzas 33 and 40, is later than 1602-3. 
 In 1607 was printed a comedy ' The Puritaine, or the Widdow of Watling- 
 streete, . . . Written by W. S.', initials expanded in later issues, by the 
 impudence of the booksellers, to William Shakespeare. The plot is 
 altogether different from the ballad, but \!a&personae are the same in both — 
 a rich widow, three daughters, and a prodigal son. 
 
 Watling Street is still found in the map of London. It leads eastwards 
 from St. Paul's Churchyard, north of, and parallel to. Cannon Street. 
 
 The statement (stanza 16) of the ' Custom of London ' shows that the 
 writer had only an indistinct knowledge of the facts. That custom 
 (R. R. Sharpe's Introduction, p. xxxiii, to vol. i of Calendar of Hustings 
 Wills, London, 1889) required that a freeman of London must leave one- 
 third of his personalty (movables) to his widow, and one-third to his 
 children, but might dispose of the remaining third at his pleasure. By 
 ordinary law, prevalent in London (I assume) as elsewhere, the widow 
 would be entitled also to life-rent of one-third of the real property. This 
 is not alluded to in the ballad : but a novelist's law must not be examined 
 too narrowly. 
 
 The appeal (stanzas 19 and 23) to the Lords of the Privy Council, in a 
 matter within the province of the law courts, seems strange to us, but is 
 historically correct. The Council, at the date of the ballad, exercised 
 indefinite judicial functions, to which litigants had recourse by petition, 
 ignoring the courts of law. About 1600 tiiere was a dispute at Maldon, 
 between the corporation and John Cade, about some new buildings at 
 Cade's wharf, which the corporation regarded as encroaching on town-land. 
 Cade went straight to the Privy Council, and accused the corporation of 
 •trespass against him in his wharifs and wharfages '. Maldon authorities 
 had to defend themselves before the Council in London, where their 
 tteirges were ^5. The Council decided in their favour, and Cade was 
 ' greatly rebuked as a troublesome fellow '. 
 
 (lO 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ 1 
 
 V$t fir0t part of f^t tUiboiU of watUng streete 
 
 anb ^ti 3 baugiitei-s, anb ][iotu ^zt toicfeeb 
 
 0onne accuiseb $ei: for a liarlot, anb $10 srt^ters 
 
 6aistarb0, etc. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Bragandary. 
 
 Of the kind widow of watlinge streete 
 
 I will the story tell, 
 Who by her husband deere was left 
 in substance rich and well. 
 
 A prodigall sonne likewise had shee, 
 and fay re young daughters louely three. 
 Great misery, sorrow and misery, 
 commeth for want of grace. 
 
 Title] The 'etc' of the MS. replaces 'only to deprive them of 
 their portions' of the B.-L. copy, 
 [i] 7 Refrain to follow each stanza. 
 
 (I2) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ I 
 
 For, by his dayly practises, 
 
 which were both lewde and ill. 
 His father's hart from him was drawne, 
 his loue, and his goodwill. 
 
 But yet, what chaunce so ere befell, 
 his mother loued him dearely and well. 
 
 [3] 
 When he in prison lay full poore 
 
 for debt which he did owe. 
 His father would not styrr out of doore 
 for to release his woe. 
 
 But, when his mother his greefe did see 
 she found the meanes to sett him free. 
 
 [4] 
 And, when her husband fell full sicke, 
 
 and went to make his will, 
 ' O husband, remember your sonne,' she said, 
 'although he hath beene ill. 
 
 ' But yet, noe doubt, he may returne, 
 ' repentinge the evill that he hath done.' 
 
 [S] 
 ' Remember, wife, that sorrow and care 
 
 ' through him I dayly found, 
 ' Who, through his lewd vngratious deeds, 
 'hath spent me many a pound. 
 
 ' And therefore, let him sinke or swimme, 
 ' I meane not for to deale with him ; 
 
 [6] 
 ' And, therefor, sole Executor heere 
 
 ' I doe thee only make, 
 ' To pay the debts and legasyes : 
 ' the rest vnto thee take.' 
 
 'Not soe, my husband deare,' quoth shee 
 ' but let my sonne be ioynde with me : 
 
 [7] 
 ' For why ? he is our child,' shee said, 
 
 'we can it not denye, 
 ' The first that ever graced yow 
 'with father's dignitye. 
 
 ' Or, yf that ever yow did me love, 
 'graunt this request for his behove. 
 
 [7] 5- Or] read Oh. 
 
 (13) 
 
Shirburn 'Ballads^ I 
 
 [8] 
 'Thy love, deare wife, was evermore 
 
 ' most precious vnto me ; 
 'And therefore, for thy sweete love's sake, 
 ' I grant thy suyt to thee. 
 
 ' But, ere the yeare be fully spent, 
 ' I know thow wilt the same repent.' 
 
 [9] 
 
 Now was the sonne receiufed home, 
 
 and, with his mother deare. 
 Was ioynd Executor of the will, 
 which did his courage cheere. 
 
 The old man, dyinge, buried was : 
 but now, behould, what came to passe. 
 
 [loj 
 
 The funerall being ended quite, 
 
 it fell vpon a daye 
 Some frinds did fetch the widow forth, 
 to drive conceyts awaye. 
 
 While she was forth, and thought no ill, 
 her wicked sonne doth worke his will. 
 
 ["] 
 Possession of the howse he tooke, 
 
 in most despitefull wise, 
 Throwing his systers out of dores, 
 with sad lamenting cryes. 
 
 When this they did their mother shew, 
 she would not beleeue he would do so. 
 
 [12] 
 
 But, when she came vnto her howse, 
 
 and found yt trew in deede, 
 Shee cald vnto her son, and sayd 
 (although her heart did bleed), 
 
 ' Come downe, my son, come downe,' quoth she, 
 'let in thy mother, and systers three.' 
 
 [13] 
 
 ' I will not let in my mother,' he said, 
 
 'nor sisters any one. 
 'The howse is mine; I will it keepe; 
 ' therefore, awaye be gone ! ' 
 
 'O sonne, canst thow indure to see it? 
 'thy mother and systers to lye in the streete. 
 (14) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ I 
 
 [h] 
 
 ' Did not thy father, by his will, 
 
 ' for tearme of this my lyfe, 
 'Giue me this howse for to enioye, 
 ' without all further strife ? 
 
 'And more, of all his goods,' quoth shee, 
 ' I am an Executor, ioyned with thee.' 
 
 ' My father left yow the howse ; ' he said, 
 
 ' but this was his intent : 
 'That yow therefore, during your lyfe, 
 ' should paye me yearely rent. 
 
 'A hundrede pounde a yeare, therefore, 
 ' yow shall me giue ; or giue it o're. 
 
 [i6] 
 
 'And, syth the Cittye's custome is 
 'that yow the thirde must haue 
 ' Of all my father's movables, 
 ' I graunt what lawe doth crave ; 
 'But not a penny more will I 
 ' discharge of any legasye.' 
 
 [17] 
 
 ' O wicked son,' quoth shee, ' that seeks 
 
 'thy mother thus to fleece. 
 'Thy father to his daughters gave 
 'Three hundred pound a peece. 
 
 'Tell me who shall their portions pay, 
 'appointed, at their mariage daye.' 
 
 [18] 
 
 Then, with a scornefull smile, he sayd : 
 
 'What talke yow of soe much? 
 'Tenn pound a peece I will gyve them, 
 'my charytye is such.' 
 
 'Now fye vpon thee, beast!' quoth she, 
 'that thus dost deale with them and mee. 
 
 [19] 
 
 'But, eare that I will take 
 'this inurye at thy hand, 
 ' The chiefest Peers of England shall 
 'the matter vnderstande.' 
 
 ' Nay yf yow goe to that,' quoth he ; 
 'mark well what I shall tell to thee. 
 
 [19] I that 1] read that they and I. 2 inurye] read iniurj e. 
 
 (is) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ I 
 
 [20] 
 
 Thow hast a secret Harlot bin 
 
 '(and this I'le prove full plaine), 
 'That in my father's lyfe aliue did 
 'leud Ruffians intertaine, 
 
 ' The which did then beget of thee, 
 'in wicked sort, these bastards three. 
 
 [21] 
 
 'No daughters to my father then 
 
 'were they in any wise, 
 'As he supposd them for to be, 
 'thus blindinge soe his eyes. 
 
 'Therefore no right at all have they 
 'to anye pennye gyven this daye.' 
 
 ["] 
 When we did heare her shamelesse son 
 
 for to defame her soe, 
 She, with her lovely daughters three, 
 with greife awaye did goe : 
 
 But, how this matter out did fall, 
 the seconde part shall shew yow all. 
 \Great misery, sorrow and misery, 
 Cometh for want of gracei\ 
 
 K^z 0etonb jpart of t^z tutdbotu of watUnge 
 
 streete ant) \Zt X^UZ daUg^tftSi. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF The wanton wife. 
 
 [23] 
 
 The beautyfuU widdow of Wailing street 
 
 being falsly accused by her sonne. 
 With her three daughters of favour so sweet, 
 whose beauty the love of soe many had won. 
 
 With her daughter three for succour went she 
 vnto the King's Counsell of noble degree. 
 Now fy vpon falshood and forgery frailel 
 for great is the truth, and it will preuaile, 
 
 [20] 3 lyfe aliue] read lyfe-time. [21] 4 thus] read thou. 
 
 [22] I we] read she. [23] 5 daughter] read daughters. 
 
 6 King's] i. c. James I. 7 Refrain to follow each stanza. 
 
 (16) 
 
Shir burn Ballads^ I 
 
 [.24] 
 
 Her Sonne by writ now sommonfed is 
 
 at the Star Chamber with speed to appeare, 
 To answeare there the abuses of his : 
 
 the Lords of the Counsell the matter will heare. 
 This newes was brought; his wits he sought, 
 which way his villany best might be wrought. 
 
 Then, vp and downe the Cytye so fayre, 
 
 he seeketh companions to serve his turne, 
 A sort of vagabonnds, naked and bare, 
 
 the which to worke murthers for mony are won. 
 These wretches, behould ! for mony and gould 
 he hirbd, for witnes his lyes to uphould. 
 
 [26] 
 
 'My maisters,' quoth he, *my mother, by name, 
 
 'to be a lewd strumpet accused I haue; 
 'And, havinge no witnes to prove the same, 
 'your ayd and assistance herein I doe crave. 
 
 'Therefore, without feare, before the lords there, 
 'that this thing is certaine, yow syx shall it sware. 
 
 ' The first two,' quoth he, ' shall sware, of a booke, 
 
 'that sixteene yeares past they plainely did see, 
 'As they through the garden hedg sadly did looke, 
 ' that she in one hower was abusbd by three ; 
 'And how it fell, as the[y] markt it well, 
 'that iust nine mo[n]thes after she had her first girle. 
 
 [28] 
 
 'The second couple shall sware in this sort, 
 'that at bristow fayre, about 17 years past, 
 'She with her owne aprenties did fall in such sport 
 'that her second daughter was got at the last.' 
 
 ' Now trust vs,' quoth they, ' wee'le sware what yow say, 
 'Or any thing els, for mony, this daye.' 
 
 ' And now the third couple their oth shall now take 
 
 'that, as at the bath she stayed one day, 
 'For ach in her bones (as the scuse she did make), 
 'how she with a courtier the wanton did play, 
 'And how well yow wot, in the pleasant plot, 
 'her dearest young daughter for certaine was got. 
 
 [37] I of a] rrai/ on the. [a8] 2 17] thirteen. 3. aprenties] prentice. 
 [29] I And now] read And thus. 
 
 SHIM. C ( 17 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ I 
 
 [30] 
 
 ' But now, yow masters, your' names let me knowe, 
 
 'that I may provid yow apparell with speed. 
 ' Like syxe grave Cittizens so must yow goe ; 
 • the better the speeches the Lords will heede. 
 ' So shall I, with scorne, ere Saterday morne, 
 'prove her a harlot; my sisters, base-borne.' 
 
 [31] 
 ' My name is Make-shifty the first man did saye ; 
 and 'Francis Light-finger I the second like-wise ; 
 '■Cutbert Creepe-window,' the third to displaye; 
 and ^Rowland Rob-man^ with foule staringe eyes. 
 
 'Jack Shameles ' come then ; with ' Harry Stele-hen '. 
 ' Yow are,' quoth the widdow, ' some right honest men 1 ' 
 
 [32] 
 Before the Lords, most prudent and wise, 
 this wretch doth with his witnes come. 
 The mother complaines, and iustice doth crave, 
 of all the offences that he hath her done. 
 
 ' My Lords ! ' then quoth she, ' I pray yow heare me. 
 'The law, for my deeds, my warrant shall be. 
 
 [33] 
 'I say shee is a Harlot most vile, 
 
 'and those be her bastards that stand here in place: 
 'And that shee hath often her body defilde, 
 'by very good witnes I'le prove to her face.' 
 
 ' This thing of thy mother thow oughtest for to smother : 
 ' 'tis shame for a child to speake ill of the mother. 
 
 [34] 
 'But, yf this matter be provbd vntrewe, 
 
 'and thow a false lyar be found to thy face, 
 ' Worse then an Infidell, Pagon, or Jew, 
 
 'thow oughtest to be punisht and plaged in this case. 
 ' And therefore, draw neere : and now let vs heare 
 'what sayes the witnes that here doth appeare.' 
 
 [35] 
 When the first couple did come to sware, 
 
 the[y] quivered and quakt in most wonderous sort. 
 The Lords' very countenance did put them in feare, 
 and now they knew not what to report. 
 
 The second, likewise, so stared with their eyes ; 
 They stammered; and knew not what to devise. 
 
 [30] I yow] read my 4 the speeches] read your speeches. 
 
 [31] 5 come] read came. [3a] 1 wise] read grave. a witnes] 
 
 read witnesses. 5 she] read he. 
 
 (18) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ I 
 
 [36] 
 
 The Lords, perceiuyng the case how it went, 
 
 did aske the last couple what they had to saye. 
 Who fell on theire knees, incontinent, 
 
 sayinge they were hyr'd for mony that day. 
 
 Quoth they : ' It is so : the truth for to shew, 
 'Against the poore widow nothing we do know.' 
 
 [37] 
 Thus was the widdow deliuered from blame, 
 
 with her three daughters of beauty most bright ; 
 Her Sonne, reprochfed with sorrow and shame, 
 having his iudgment appointed him right — 
 To loose at the least the good he possest, 
 to lose both his eares, and banisht to rest. 
 
 [38] 
 When he hard this iudgment pronounced to be, 
 
 the teares fell bitterly from his face ; 
 To mother and systers he kneeled on his knee, 
 confessing that lucre had wrought his disgrace. 
 
 That 'for my owne gaine, I sought to detaine 
 my sisters' three portions; this lye I did frame. 
 
 [39] 
 Therefore, deare mother, forgivnes I crave 
 
 'of yow and my sisters, offended soe sore. 
 • My body from perill yf yow will but saue, 
 'I sware I will greeve and offend yow no more.' 
 The Lords then replide : ' The law iustly tride, 
 'the punis[h]ment now thow art like to abide. 
 
 [40] 
 'Therefore to prison now thow shalt go, 
 
 'where thow shalt the King's pleasure abide. 
 'From thence to be brought, with shame and with wo, 
 'to suffer thy punishment dew for thy pride. 
 'Then, out of hand, thow shalt vnderstand, 
 'that presently thow shalt be banisht the land.' 
 
 [41] 
 Now, while in prison this prisoner did rest, 
 
 himselfe he hangfed in desperate sort 
 Such horror of conscience possessed his brest; 
 
 a[n]d, being cast forth, the ravens pict out his eyes. 
 All children behould what heare hath bin tould; 
 accuse no man falsely for lucre of gould. 
 
 NffW fie vpon falshood and forgery fraile ! 
 and great is the truth, and it will prevaile. 
 
 [37] 5 loose] read lose. good] read goods. [38] 2 from] 
 
 reed down from. 6 frame] read faine (i.e. feign). [40] a King's] 
 i.e. James I. [41] a sort] read wise. 4 the ravens] omit the. 
 
 C 2 ( 19 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ II 
 
 No. II 
 To lodge it was my luck of late 
 
 Fol. 102''; with second part on fol. 103^. Text given in Roxburghe 
 Ballads, vii. 604, from Black-letter exemplars, in which the tune is named 
 Wharton. The tune (known as 'Down Plumpton Park', or 'Plumpton 
 Park'), and refrain, belong to an older ballad. This Plumpton is in 
 Cumberland, north of Penrith, and a long way from Kendal in West- 
 morland. There is another Plumpton in Northamptonshire. The king's 
 receiver was an official who, personally or by deputy, went on_ circuit, 
 at the usual term-days, to the different county towns to collect quit-rents, 
 fines, and other dues belonging to the crown. 
 
 C$e lamentation of Jhon Musgrwe, to|^o 
 toais ejcecuteD at Kendall for robbtnge tj^e 
 feing'js IJeceiuet of great store of treasure. 
 
 To A NEWE TUNE. 
 
 v\ 
 
 To lodge yt was my lucke of late, 
 
 at Kendall, in the Sises weeke; 
 Where I sawe many a gallant state 
 
 was walking vp and downe the streete. 
 (20) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ II 
 
 Downe Plumton Parke as T did passe, 
 I hard a Bird sing in a glend: 
 
 The cheefest of her song it was — 
 ' Farewell, the flower of serving men.' 
 
 Sometimes I hard the musicke sweete: 
 
 it was delightful! vnto me. 
 At length, I hard one waile and weepe, 
 
 a gallant youth condemnd to dye. 
 Downe Plumton Parke, etc. 
 
 [3] 
 A gentleman he was of courage bould ; 
 
 his like I never sawe before; 
 But when-as I did him behould, 
 
 my greefe it grew still more and more. 
 
 [4] 
 Of watery eyes there was great store, 
 
 for all did weepe that did him see. 
 He made the hearts of many sore ; 
 
 and I lamented for companye. 
 
 [S] 
 'To god above,' quoth he, 'I call, 
 
 'that sent his sonne to suffer death, 
 'For to receaue my sinfuU soule 
 
 ' so soone as I shall lose my breath. 
 
 [6] 
 ' O god, I haue deserved to death 
 
 ' for deeds that I haue done to thee : 
 'Yet never lyvd I like a theefe, 
 
 'till I mett with ill companye. 
 
 [7] 
 ' For I maye curse the dismall hower, 
 
 'first time that I did giue consent 
 'for to Rob the King's Receiuer, 
 
 'and to take awaye his rent. 
 
 [8] 
 'Yow gallants all, be warned by me: 
 
 'learne cards and dice for to refraine; 
 'Flye whores; eschewe ill companye, — 
 
 'For those three things will breed your pain. 
 
 [i] 6 g'lend] i.e. glen. [2] 5 Refrain to follow every stanza. 
 
 [6] I deserved to death (death substituted for dye)"] read deserved 
 death. [7] 4 and] read and for. 
 
 (") 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ II 
 
 [9] 
 
 'All earthly treasure is but vaine; 
 
 'and worldly wealth is vanitye. 
 ' Search nothing else but heaven to gods, 
 
 'Remember, all, that we must dye. 
 
 [10] 
 
 'Farwell, good fellowes, lesse and more. 
 
 'Be not dismaid by this my fall. 
 'I never did offende before; 
 
 'Jhon Musgrave man my name do call.' 
 Downe Plumton Parke as I did passe, 
 
 I hard a Bird sing in a gknd ; 
 The chief est of her songe it was — 
 'farewell, the flower of Serving men.' 
 
 K^t jseconb part of tje ^amentatim of 
 
 yAon Musegrave. 
 
 To A NEWE TUNE. 
 ["] 
 
 'The bayte begyles the bonny fish. 
 
 'Some care not what they sware or saye. 
 'The Lambe[s] become the foxes' dishe, 
 
 'when as the old Sheepe runne awaye. 
 Downe Plumton, etc. 
 
 [12] 
 
 'The fowlers, that the Plovers get, 
 ' take glistring glasse their net to set. 
 
 'The ferret, when her mouth is cropt, 
 'doth drive the conye into the net. 
 
 [13] 
 
 'The Pike devoureth the Salmon frie, 
 'which is a better fish then her selfe. 
 
 'Some care not howe others' children crye, 
 'soe they themselues can prosper well. 
 
 [9] 3 gods] rtad^sxa. [10] 4 man] readm.e.n. 
 
 [12] 3 cropt] ? stopt. [13] 4 B.-L. copies read ' themselues 
 
 may keep their pelf'. 
 
 (22) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ II 
 
 [h] 
 
 'Farwell, good fellowes, lesse and more; 
 
 'both rich and poore, that did me ken. 
 ' Farewell great, and farwell small ; 
 
 'and farewell all good servingmen, 
 
 ' God, by my death, yow all may knowe, 
 ' that this same lesson yow may learne : 
 
 ' Of high degree, or what yow bee, 
 'clyme not to high above your reach. 
 
 'Good gentlemen, I yow intreat, 
 
 'that haue more sonnes then yow have land, 
 ' In idlenesse doe not them keepe ; 
 
 'learne them to labour with their hand. 
 
 [17] 
 [' For idlenesse is the root of evill ; 
 
 'and this sin never goes alone, 
 ' But Theft and Robbery follows after, 
 
 ' as by my self is plainly shown.] 
 
 [14] 2 B.-L. copies read ' both great and small '. 3 B.-L. 
 
 copies read ' Farewell rich, and farewell poore,' preserving the 
 Thyme. [15] a read (possibly) ' doth this same lesson to 
 
 yow teach '. 3 reati (possibly) ' Of high degree be yow, 
 
 «r low'. [17] Stanza added from B.-L. copy : Wood 
 
 401, fol. 90. 
 
 (23) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ II 
 
 [i8] 
 
 ' For youth, as age, will not vnderstand 
 ' that friends in want they be but could : 
 
 ' If they spend their portions, and lacke land, 
 'they will begge for it when they be old. 
 
 [19] 
 
 ' Farewell, farwell, my brother deere ! 
 
 'Sweete sister, make noe dole for me. 
 'My death at hand I doe not feare; 
 
 'we are all mortall and borne to dye. 
 
 [20] 
 
 ' I knowe that christ for me did die : 
 'noe earthly pleasure would I haue. 
 
 'I care not for this world a flye; 
 'but mercy, good lord, on thee I crave. 
 
 ' Come mace of death, and doe me right ; 
 
 ' my glasse is runne ; I cannot staye. 
 'With CHBiST I hope to lodge this night, 
 
 ' and all good people for me praye.' 
 
 [22] 
 
 The man of death his part did playe, 
 
 which made the teares blind many an eye. 
 He is with christ, as I dare saye; 
 the Lord grant yt that soe we maye. 
 
 Downe Plumton Parke, as I did passe, 
 I hard a Bird sing in a glend ; 
 
 The chiefest of her songe it was — 
 ' Farewell, the flower of Servingmen ! ' 
 
 [20] 4 good lord, on] read lord, of. crave] substiluted for aye. 
 [31] I mace] read man : man of death = the hangman. [aa] 4 
 
 read grant us that soe maye we. 
 
 (24) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ III 
 
 No. Ill 
 Good people all, repent with speed 
 
 Fol. 104''. There is a duplicate copy on fol. 138, interesting as showing 
 how arbitrary is the spelling of the period. A few of the alternate 
 lections have been noted. There is a later Black-letter copy in 4to 
 Rawl. 566, fol. 124 {plim 208). 
 
 9i TlKMarrange to iKKorMng? to learne 
 
 To THE TUNE OF The Lady^s fall. 
 
 Good people all, repent with speede; 
 
 high time it is to praye. 
 Tempt not that iust and righteous god 
 
 with vaine and longe delaye; 
 And, while it is to-day indeede, 
 
 for mercy call and crye. 
 O would that man would beare in minde 
 
 that one day he must dye. 
 
 Title a.l. Warning for. [i] 3 that] a./, the. S to-day] 
 
 a.l. the day. 7 Same refrain follows stanzas a, 3, 4. 
 
 (25) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ III 
 
 [^] 
 
 Thy selfe, in thy securitye, 
 
 why doost thow flatter so? 
 Deferring thy repentinge dayes 
 
 till age doth bring thee low, 
 And, further, to thy sickest howre 
 
 that heare thow hast to lye. 
 
 [3] 
 O dust and ashes, doost thow thinke 
 
 the glorious god of might 
 Will take in worth these wicked thoughts, 
 
 and wast on thy delight ? 
 O ! marke how sore and sodainelye 
 
 his wrath on some did lye. 
 
 [4] 
 Fpr what is he vpon the earth 
 
 ■ that can himselfe assure ? 
 Or say that 'for an howre space 
 
 ; 'my lyfe yt shall indure'? 
 No man [on] earth can warrant life 
 the twincklinge of an eye. 
 
 [5] 
 And, after death (assure thy selfe), 
 
 repentance comes to late ; 
 Not all the wealth within the world 
 
 can then thy paines abate. 
 For, as a tree doth take his fall, 
 
 even soe the same doth lye. 
 Therefore, in chiefest of thy health, 
 
 prepare thy selfe to dye. 
 
 [6] 
 And see'st not thow, in sicknesse, oft 
 
 man's memorye decaye. 
 Who many times doth rave and range 
 
 when they had neede to praye. 
 Whose hearts are bent to curse and ban 
 
 till death doth close their eye. 
 
 [2] a doostj a. I. dost. 5 to . . . howre] a. I. tyll . . . hours. 
 
 [3] I doost] a. I. dost. 4 wast] read wait : a. I. wayt. 
 
 [4] I what] a.l. who. 3 howre] a. I. how-er's. 4 yt] 
 
 "■ '■ it- [5] 2 to] i. e. too. 4 can then] a. I. that caii («« 
 
 error for then c&n). 7 a./, cheifest. Same refrain follows 
 
 stanzas 6, 8 to 14. [6] a decaye] a.l. deCayes. 3 range] 
 
 a. I. rage. 5 curse and ban] a. I. banne and curse. 
 
 (26) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ III 
 
 [7] 
 
 And, yf thow hast thy memorye 
 
 and vnderstanding right. 
 And of thy speech the perfect vse, 
 
 and brightnesse of thy sight, 
 Yet may the Lord withhould this grace, 
 
 and take thy fayth from thee. 
 That to repent thy folly past 
 
 thow shah not able bee. 
 
 [8] 
 But yet, admit our gratious god 
 
 in greatest mercye deale 
 That in thy sickenesse he vouchsafe 
 
 his mercy to revaile. 
 For thow shalt have of thousand griefes 
 
 to wring thy minde awrye. 
 
 [9] 
 
 For thow shall haue thy body then 
 
 disquieted all with paine ; 
 Thy head and hart will vexbd be, 
 
 and soe will every vaine. 
 The panges of death will feare thee sore, 
 
 whose force thow canst not flye. 
 
 [10] 
 
 The love of life will tempt thee much, 
 
 whose favour is soe sweete. 
 And thow wilt muse on many things 
 
 that for thy health is meete. 
 To thinke thow must forgoe thy goods 
 
 will nip thy hart full nye. 
 
 To see thy freends, and neighbours all, 
 
 thy dying howre abide : 
 To see thy wife and children small 
 
 cry out on every syde. 
 To thinke thow must forgoe them soe 
 
 will nip thy hart full nigh. 
 
 [7] 5 this] a.l. his. [8J 4 revaile] i. e. reveal. 5 For] 
 
 read Yet. of] read a. [9] i shall] a. I. shalt [10] 2 favour] 
 >-«jrf savour. 3 wilt] a.l. shalt. [11] 3 small] a. I. smale. 
 
 5 soe] a.l. all. 6 nigh] a.l. nye. 
 
 (27) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ III 
 
 [12] 
 
 Besides, to thinke vpon thy synnes 
 will much molest thy minde; 
 
 The fresh remembrance of the same 
 thow wilt most bitter finde; 
 
 Dispare and dread will drowne thy hart 
 for lyvinge soe awrye. 
 
 [13] 
 And thy accusing conscience then 
 
 will witnesse, to thy woe, 
 How wickedly vpon the earth 
 
 thow didst thy dayes bestowe; 
 And thus within thy pensyve breast 
 
 most grieuously will lye. 
 
 [14] 
 Then will the Divell most busye be 
 
 god's iustice to declare ; 
 And of his mercy he will still 
 
 procure thee to dispare, 
 Perswadinge thee thy grieuous sinnes 
 
 doth for hell-fire crye. 
 
 Heere maist thow see, o wretched man, 
 
 how bad a time thow hast 
 Prepared to repent thy sinnes 
 
 at this thy latter cast. 
 Therefore, put not repentaunce backe ; 
 
 do not God's grace deny; 
 But, in the chiefest of thy health 
 
 Prepare thyself, etc. 
 
 [16] 
 
 Let every one pray that the Lord 
 
 may blesse our King and Queene, 
 And that their yeares vpon the earth 
 
 like Nestor's may be scene, 
 And after death that they may lyve 
 
 in ioy eternallye. 
 Then let all people say Amen ! 
 
 And soe amen ! say I. 
 
 ifinisi. 
 
 [13] 5 thus] read ibis. 6 grieuously] a, /. greeuously. 
 
 [14] I Divell] a.l. Devill. 6 fire] a.l. fyre. [15] a bad] 
 
 a.l. hard. [16] a King and Queene] i.e. James I, Anne of 
 
 Denmark. 
 
 (28) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ IV 
 
 No. IV 
 In the merry month of May 
 
 Fol. 107. The second name of the tune is written sideways in the 
 margin, but by the same hand. The piece is of the same type as the 
 snatch sung by distraught Ophelia in Hamlet (1602), iv. S, base matter, 
 but the choice and order of words naive and tuneful. 
 
 jC$e lober'si replpe 
 to t]^e maitien'si fyefye. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Nay fye! Nay fyel 
 To THE TUNE OF Newton feilde. 
 
 \A 
 
 In the mery month of Maye, 
 
 when birds doe chirpe on thorne, 
 Wherein their sweetest laye 
 
 the season to adorne, 
 At midnight comes a Swaine 
 
 to the window of his love, 
 Nay fye I nay fye I nay fye I 
 
 her freindship for to prove. 
 
 \A 
 
 He whispered once or twise, 
 
 before his love did wake : 
 At last, with good advise, 
 
 she softly to him spake : 
 'I knowe thy sute,' quoth shee. 
 
 ' Then, prethee ! ope the gate.' 
 'Nay fyel nay fye t nay fyel 
 
 'Sweet love, 'tis too too late.' 
 
 [3] 
 
 At last, his smoothinge tongue 
 
 her chamber did attaine : 
 Such eloquence he sunge, 
 
 in the ende he did her gaine, 
 But then, o then, such warres 
 
 these lovers gan to prove. 
 But fyel but fyel but fye 1 
 
 none can well say but love. 
 
 [i] 4 to] read6a^. 
 
 (29) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ IV 
 
 [4] 
 For then they sylent laye, 
 
 tongue's office beinge voyd ; 
 And fairelye did they playe — 
 
 till day-breake thus they toyd. 
 But swift-wingd Tyme, at last, 
 
 did shew the morninge greye : 
 ' Then jye ! then fye I then fye /' 
 
 vnto him did shee saye. 
 
 [S] 
 ' Yow have beguild my trust : ' 
 
 quoth shee, ' leave off to strive. 
 ' My finger yow will burst : 
 
 'your strugling must not thrive. 
 ' Cease, cease ! what doe yow nowe ? 
 
 ' yow woe me but in vaine : 
 ' Then fye ! then Jye ! then jye ! 
 
 'your labour is bootlesse paine. 
 
 [6] 
 ' 'Tis day, deere love ! 'tis daye ! 
 
 ' fye ! fye ! yow lye to longe. 
 ' Goe ! goe from me awaye ! 
 
 'your pratlinge doth me wronge. 
 ' Fye ! fye ! what doe yow nowe ? 
 
 'yow shall not have your will. 
 ' Naye fye ! naye fye ! naye fye ! ' 
 
 'I praye yow then be still.' 
 
 [7] 
 "Tis time your prisoned flocke 
 
 ' by this vnfoulded were : 
 'For brights Aurora's clocke 
 
 'hath stroken fowre, my deare. 
 'Besides, my mother comes 
 
 ' at the risinge of the Sunne : 
 ' Then fye ! then fye 1 then fye I 
 
 'we shall be quite vndone.' 
 
 [8] 
 At last, she vrgde him soe, 
 
 that out of bed he flunge ; 
 But, after, did she goe, 
 
 and about his necke she hunge. 
 ' Come, come, deare love, againe ! 
 
 'I did but trye thy minde. 
 ' Although some crye fye I fye I 
 
 'in truth they will prove kinde. 
 
 [S] 6 woe] read woo. [7] 3 brights] read bright. 
 
 (30) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ IV 
 [9] 
 
 'Most maidens nowe and then 
 'will doe as I have done. 
 
 ' Although they crye fye ! fye I 
 in troth, they will be wonne.' 
 
 No. V 
 When fair Jerusalem did stand 
 
 Fol. 108. A Black-letter copy in Wood, 401 fol. 81, omits stanzas 5 and 
 II. The ultimate source of the ballad is, of course, the much-read 
 Josephus. John Stockwood, ' Schoolemaister ' of Tunbridge, published at 
 London, 1584, 'A very fruitfiill and necessarye sermon of the moste 
 lamentable destruction of lerusalem,' which contains, and may have 
 suggested, most of the points in the ballad. The portents (stanza 11) are 
 thus described by Stockwood (sign. B 7):— 'for a whole yeare's space 
 togeather, there was seene in the ayre a biasing starre hauing the fashion 
 of a sworde and did hang right ouer their Temple, as an vndoubted token 
 of God his wrath to fall vppon the same. . . . There were seene in 
 the element the likenesses of armed men cruellye fighting one against 
 another, and besieging of holdes.' The pestilence (stanza 8) comes on 
 sign. C 3 : — 'What with the stench of the great multitudes of dead bodyes 
 that laye everye where on heapes in the streetes without buriall, there 
 arose in the Citie a wonderfull great plague and pestilence.' The famine 
 (stanza 6) is on sign. C 3 verso : — ' a mother was compelled for verye hunger 
 to eate her owne deare Sonne.' One point in the ballad I can discover 
 no authority for. Josephus states that Titus rewarded his troops with 
 presents of silver, gold, garments, and military distinctions. The captives 
 that were spared were sent partly to the mines in Egypt; partly to 
 the amphitheatres, to be 'butchered to make a Roman holiday'- The 
 ballad says (stanza 10) that Titus allowed his soldiers to sell the captives. 
 Line 6 seems to be a turning of the tables on the Jews for their purchase 
 of Christ (St. Matt. xxvi. 15). For Christ they gave thirty ' pieces of silver ', 
 now thirty of them were sold for a (silver) 'penny'. 
 
 The title should probably run : — 
 
 ' A dolefuU destruction of faire Jerusalem, whose miserye and vn- 
 speakable plague is a Warning or Lanthome to London which doth,' etc. 
 The confusion in the MS. text is perhaps due to error in transcribing 
 an original printed copy in which the title was distributed round a wood- 
 cut. Wood's later B.-L. copy reads : — 
 
 ' A warning or Lanthorn to London by the dolefuU,' etc. 
 
 (31) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ V 
 
 % iuarning or ^lantj^orite to llonbon. 9i 
 bolefull bejstrurtion of faire Jerusalem, 
 to]^o0e mi^nist anb bn^peatcable plague i)ot]^ 
 mmt tti0flpe beisertje (3t\V9 $eab?e torat]^ 
 anb iubgment for t^z ^xwz^ anb totctiebnesi 
 of tlje people, ejccept 6p repentaunce tue call 
 to (Bn^i for ntercpe. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Bragatidaryc. 
 
 When faire Jerusalem did stande, 
 whom God did love soe deare, 
 Whom he did keepe with his right hand, 
 as plainelye did appeare — 
 
 Yet, when the people went awry, 
 great plagues he sent them presently — 
 With — sorrow, pUifull sorrow I 
 good Lord, thy vengeance spare I 
 
 {.A 
 Although his temple there did stand 
 
 whose beautye did surpasse, 
 The onely beauty of the land, 
 where God's true honour was — 
 
 Yet, when the Lord did on them frowne, 
 the same was spoyled and throwne downe— 
 With — o sorrowfull, etc. 
 
 [3] 
 And, for the people's wickednes 
 
 which in the Citye dwelt. 
 The land was brought to great distres, 
 and many plagues they felt. 
 
 Their enimies did so abound 
 
 that they besiegd the Citye round — 
 
 [4] 
 The mighty Emperor then of Rome 
 
 the Lord in furye sent. 
 To bringe them all to deadly doome 
 who would not once repent. 
 
 When halfe a yeare he there had lien 
 the people then began to pine — 
 
 [a] 6 spoyled and throwne] i. e. spoyl'd and throw-en. 7 sor- 
 rowful] read sorrow. Refrain to be repeated at end of each stanza. 
 [4] I Titus conducted the siege a.d. 70, but did not become 
 Emperor till a. d. 79. 
 
 (3O 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ V 
 
 [5] 
 For they had fteyther bread nor meat 
 
 their hunger to sustaine; 
 But dogg[s] and cats were glad to eate, 
 which late they did disdaine : 
 
 Yea, ratts and myce they counted sweete, 
 and eat their shooes from of their feete — 
 
 [6] 
 The vomit which one man did cast 
 
 another man did eate. 
 Their very dung they layd not wast, 
 but made therof their meate. 
 
 And, through the famyne long begunne, 
 the mother was glad to eate her sonne — 
 
 [7] 
 The gallant Ladyes of that place, 
 
 whose pride did late excell, 
 Full leane and withered was their face; 
 their bones a man might tell : 
 
 And they which were so daintye fine, 
 through hunger great, to death did pine — 
 
 [8] 
 
 The dead men covered all the ground 
 
 of fayre Jerusalem. 
 Such pestilence did thdr abound, 
 and soe infected them. 
 
 That many a thowsand there did lye, 
 which still vnburied there did lye — 
 
 [9] 
 Yet would not they gyve over the towne 
 
 for all this greeuous case, 
 Vntill their enimies puld it downe 
 and all the walles did race : 
 
 And all the Jewes that livfed then 
 they took them prisoners every one — 
 
 [10] 
 
 And those that were of noble birth 
 
 the conqueror tooke awaye; 
 And all the rest the Emperor made 
 his hardye soldiers' praye. 
 
 Who then for slaves did sell them bound, 
 even thirtye for a penny rounde — 
 
 [8]: 3 their] read there. 5 lye] read dye. [9] 1 over] i.e. o'er. 
 4 race] i.e. raze. [10] 3 Emperor] i.e. TituSv 
 
 SHIRB. D ( 33 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ V 
 
 ["] 
 
 Thus haue yow hard the great distresse 
 
 of faire Jerusalem, 
 Which, for their synnes and wickednes, 
 the Lord did sende to them; 
 
 Though long before great signes he shewed 
 that he would plague their sinnes so lewd — 
 
 [12] 
 
 For, two yeares' space before this warre, 
 
 within the skye, soe bright, 
 Most like a sword, and blazing starre 
 hung over the Cytye right ; 
 
 And, in the skyes, they might see plaine, 
 how men of warre did fight amaine — 
 
 [13] 
 Yet would not they their lives lament 
 
 in any kinde of case, 
 Nor once within their harts repent, 
 nor call to God for grace : 
 
 Vntill his wrath on them did fall, 
 and that they were destroyed all — 
 
 [14] 
 O noble London, warninge take 
 
 by fayre Jerusalem ; 
 And to thy God thy pray-ers make, 
 least thow be like to them ; 
 
 For, yf he would not spare the Jewes, 
 thinkest thow he will thy synnes excuse ? — 
 
 [IS] 
 Thy synnes as greatly doe abound : 
 
 fayre London, then, beware ! 
 Least God in wrath do thee confound 
 with sorrow, griefe, and care ; 
 
 For many signes he hath thee sent 
 that thow maist yet thy selfe lament — 
 
 [16] 
 
 Let not the wealthy of the land 
 
 in riches put their trust ; 
 Thow canst keepe them from the hand 
 of him that is soe iust. 
 
 Their gould will doe them little good, 
 yf he withhould their daylye foode — 
 
 tis] 3 and] nad^ [15] 6 maist] read \aa.y%\.. 
 
 [16] 3 Thow canst] read They cannot 
 
 (34) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ V 
 
 Thy woman eke, so fayre of face, 
 
 and of such dainty last, 
 Let them thinke on their greiuous case 
 Vhom famine did so wast; 
 
 And not despise the poore to feede, 
 least they do crye when they have neede- 
 
 [i8] 
 
 O Lord, we praye for Christes sake, 
 
 our greiuous plagues remove ; 
 And on this land some mercye take, 
 for Jesus Christe his love. 
 
 Preserve our Kinge from care and smart, 
 whose losse we should lament in hart — 
 With — o sorrme, pittifull sorrow! 
 good Lord, thy vengeaunce spare! 
 
 No. VI 
 Awake, awake, oh England ! 
 
 Fol. 109'. Text given in Roxburghe Ballads, iv. 467, from several later 
 Black-letter exemplars. The fondness of the age for apocalyptic studies 
 and predictions of judgement-day is faithfully reflected in this ballad ; see 
 also No. XVI. 
 
 The allusion to great buildings (stanza 13) was peculiarly apposite in the 
 later years of Elizabeth, and the earlier years of James I, when such 
 stately houses as Longleat, Wilts., 1567-9; Wollaton, Notts., 1580-8; 
 Beaudesert, Staffs., 1588; Holland House, Kensington, 1607; Temple 
 Newsam, Yorks., 161 2; and Audley End, Essex, 1603-16, were constructed: 
 see John Britton's Architectural Antiquities, vol. ii. 
 
 In the same stanza the allusion to deer-preservation has also something 
 distinctive. Sept. 9, 1609, James I issued a long proclamation setting forth 
 that although Elizabeth, a female sovereign, had neglected the royal deer- 
 parks, he himself was passionately fond of hunting, and would enforce to 
 the full the old forest-laws. The king's example was no doubt copied by 
 others. 
 
 [17] I woman] read women. 6 do] read too. [18] i Christes] 
 
 Christ his. 5 Kinge] i. e. James I. 
 
 D 2 ( 35 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ VI 
 
 ja proper iietD fiallab intituleiJ :— 
 
 A Bell-man for England 
 
 night and day doth stand, 
 To ringe, in ail men's hearinge, 
 
 ' God's vengeance is at hand ! ' 
 
 To THE TUNE OF O. man in desperation. 
 
 Awake ! Awake ! Oh Englande ! 
 
 sweete England, now awake ! 
 And to thy pray-ers, speedily, 
 
 do thow thy selfe betake. 
 The Lord thy God is comminge, 
 
 within the skyes soe cleere. 
 Repent with speed thy wickednesse — 
 
 the day it draweth neere, 
 
 [^] 
 
 The dreadful! day of vengeance 
 
 is shortly now at hand. 
 That fearfull burninge fire 
 
 shall wast both Sea and land : 
 And all men's harts shall faile them 
 
 to see such things appeare. 
 Repent therfore, oh England — 
 
 the, etc, 
 
 (36) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ VI 
 
 [3] 
 
 The worldly wise and prudent 
 shall fall besydes their witts, 
 
 And wishe the hylles to cover thera 
 in these their franticke fyts : 
 
 No succour, helpe, nor safegard, 
 for them shall then appeare : 
 
 Repent therfore, etc. 
 
 [4] 
 
 The Seaes and rivers runninge 
 shall roare in greevous wise; 
 
 The Beasts, in Pastures feedinge, 
 shall straine forth greevous cryes ; 
 
 The skyes shall flame with fire ; 
 the earth shall burne as cleere : 
 
 Repent therfore, etc. 
 
 [S] 
 
 The glorious holy Angels 
 
 shall then their trumpet sound; 
 The dead shall heare their voyces, 
 
 as they lye in the grounde ; 
 And then all graues shall open, 
 
 and deadmen shall appeare 
 Before the Lord in iudgeraent — 
 
 the day it draweth mere, 
 
 [6] 
 The Divell will there be ready 
 
 each creature to accuse ; 
 And shew, how in their life time, 
 
 they did themselues abuse. 
 And every man his conscience 
 
 for witnesse shall appieare. 
 Repent therefore thy wkhednesse — 
 the day it draweth neere. 
 
 [7] 
 
 The works of every creature, 
 their thoughts, and deedes, I saye, 
 
 Shall follow them together 
 in that most dreadful! day ; 
 
 And no respect of persons 
 shall at that tyme appeare. 
 
 Repent therefore, etc. 
 
 (37) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ VI 
 
 [8] 
 But such as haue done iustly 
 
 shall weare the crowne of lyfe. 
 The wicked shal be damnfed 
 
 to sorrow, paine, and strife, 
 In boylyng brands of brimstone, 
 
 with dolefull heavy cheere. 
 Repent therfore, etc. 
 
 [9] 
 
 But wo vnto that woman 
 
 that then with child shall go, 
 And to the syllye nurses 
 
 which doe giue sucke also, 
 When[as] the day of iudgment 
 
 so greevous shall appeare. 
 Repent therfore, etc. 
 
 [ro] 
 
 And pray, with harts most constant, 
 
 vnto the Lord of might 
 That in the frozen winter 
 
 yow doe not feele this flyght. 
 Nor that vpon the Saboath day 
 
 that perill doe appeare. 
 Repent^ therefore, oh England — 
 
 \th£ daye it draweth neare.] 
 
 ["] 
 Let all good christian people 
 
 repent, therefore, in tyme ; 
 And, from their harts lamentinge 
 
 each former greevous crime, 
 Prepare them selves with gladnes 
 
 to watch when Christ shall come. 
 The trumpe shall sounde on sudaine, 
 
 and no man knowes bow soone. 
 
 [12] 
 
 For all things are fullfillbd 
 
 which Christ before had tould : — 
 Smale faith is nowe remainynge, 
 
 and charyty is growne could ; 
 Great signes and wonders we haue seen, 
 
 both on the earth and skye. 
 Repent therefore, oh England — 
 
 the iudgment day is nye. 
 
 [9] i.e. St. Matt. xxiv. 19. [10] i.e. St. Matt. xxiv. 20, 
 
 (38) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ VI 
 
 [13] 
 
 Why dost [thow] put thy confidence 
 in strange and stately Towres? 
 
 Why tookest thow such pleasure 
 in building sumptuous bowers, 
 
 Reioycinge in thy pastures, 
 and Parke of follow deere ? 
 
 Repent therfore, etc. 
 
 [h] 
 
 Why seekest thow, deceitfullye^ 
 
 to purchase treasures great? 
 And why dost thow, through vsury, 
 
 the bloud of poore men eate ? 
 Why doth thy lyfe and lyvinge 
 
 see filthylye appeare? 
 Repent therfore, oh England ! 
 
 the iudgment day is neere. 
 
 Wherefore let all good people, 
 
 vpon their knees, proceede 
 In makinge earnest pray-er 
 
 (for never was more neede), 
 That god may spare his punishment, 
 
 even for his mercy meere, 
 And gyve vs grace to beare in mind 
 
 the iudgment day is neere. 
 
 [13] 3 tookest] read takest. 6 follow] read fallow. 
 
 [14] 2 purchase] i.e. acquire. 
 
 (39) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ VII 
 
 No. VII 
 All careful Christians, mark my song 
 
 Fol. 113 a. The refrain of this piece afterwards gave a new name to its 
 tune : see No. XVII. 
 
 3i tiffyt e;:cellcnt an& goDlp neto JBallab, 
 jsj^etDitige t]^e Jjitcertainetpe of t%^ present 
 Ipfe, t^t banitpe of Qe alluring loorlti, anb 
 t^t Sjnjipealtaiile iopeg of Ijeaben preparciJ 
 for tj^o^e tj^at tmfaineJjl^ Iieleebe in t$e 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Wigmot's GalUard. 
 
 \A 
 
 All careful! Christians, marke my Song; 
 
 consider death must ende our dayes. 
 This earthly lyfe it is not longe ; 
 and Christ shall come to iudge our wayes. 
 The glasse doth run, the cloche doth go. 
 Awcike from synne : why sleepe ye so f 
 
 Vncertaine is our sweetest lyfe ; 
 
 our pleasure scone is turnd to paine. 
 Our time is stuft with care and strife, 
 
 and griefe is all the bodye's gaine. 
 
 (40) 
 
 [i] 5 Refrain to follow every stanza. 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ VII 
 
 [3] 
 
 What doth availe our pompe and pride? 
 
 our costly garments garded round? 
 The fairest body it doth hide 
 
 must dye, and root within the ground. 
 
 w 
 
 Why doe we brag of beauty bright ? 
 
 of strength, or wit, or wealthy store ? 
 Syth tract of time puts all to flyght, 
 
 that we shall see those dayes noe more. 
 
 [S] 
 We cram this earthly carkas still, 
 
 with daintye store of costly price ; 
 With musicke sweete our eares to fill, 
 
 making this world a Paradice. 
 
 [6] 
 But then, when we haue wrought our will, 
 
 and satisfyed our fond desyre. 
 We will be sure, for toyes so ill, 
 
 to reape repentance for our hire. 
 
 [7] 
 With craft and guyle our goods we get ; 
 
 we keepe it with a carefull minde ; 
 And, though our harts thereon be set, 
 
 needs must we leaue it all behind. 
 
 [8] 
 Had we the wealth that Cressus woone, 
 
 or were of Sampson's strength and power, 
 Or wisedome like King David's sonne, 
 
 it could not length our lyfe one hower. 
 
 [9] 
 Doe not repentance then delay, 
 
 for tyme doth swiftly come and goe; 
 Out of this world we must awaye, 
 
 and no man doth the how-er knowe. 
 
 [10] 
 
 Then, for the time that here we staye, 
 
 vprightly let vs live on earth, 
 So that, when death takes life awaye, 
 
 Christ may receyve our fleeting breath. 
 
 [3] 2 garded] i. e. braided. 4 root] rot, [5] 3 to] 
 
 read we. [8] i Cressus] Croesus. 
 
 (4X) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ VII 
 
 ["] 
 
 Our conscience that shall witnesse beare, 
 the world and Devill we subdue; 
 
 We need not our accusers feare ; 
 
 and Christ will then our ioyes renew. 
 
 ["] 
 The gates of heaven shall open stand, 
 
 where glorious Angels waitinge be 
 To bring vs gently by the hand 
 
 where we our Saviour Christ may see, 
 
 [13] 
 Who then this sentence sweete shall say : — 
 
 'Welcome, my children deere, to me, 
 'Which doe my father's will obey, 
 
 'eschewing worldly vanitye. 
 
 ' For sorrow, now yow shall haue ioye ; 
 
 ' for care and griefe, eternall blisse ; 
 'And, for your former vile annoy, 
 
 'yow shall receiue great happinesse. 
 
 [is] 
 'With me yow shall for ever raigne, 
 
 ' in glory and in honour hye ; 
 'And all your foes I will disdaine, 
 
 'because yow loved me faithfully.' 
 
 [16] 
 
 O Christ, that shedst thy precious blood 
 from death and hell to set vs free, 
 
 Graunt vs thy grace, which is so good, 
 that we may truly worship thee ; 
 
 [17] 
 That, while this bride life doth last, 
 
 our ende we may remember styll, 
 And grieve for our offences past, 
 
 desiringe pardon for our ill. 
 
 [18] 
 
 Our gracious Kinge, O Lord, preserve; 
 
 and England^s welfare still defende. 
 Grant vs thy lawes so to observe 
 that we may make a blessed end. 
 
 The glasse doth run ; the docke doth go. 
 Awake from synne : why sleepe yow so ? 
 
 [it] I that] read then. 
 (42) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ VIII 
 
 No. VIII 
 Arise, and wake from wickedness 
 
 Fol. 113 (b)'. Text given in Roxburghe Ballads, iii. 160, from a Black- 
 letter exemplar. A. B. C. poems are common among Black-letter ballads. 
 In Roxburghe Ballads, ii. 651, is ' The Virgin's A. B.C.', followed, ib. 655, by 
 'The Young man's A. B.C.' In the originals the capital letters are on 
 engraved blocks. 
 
 
 ja rig!jt CBobl? anil ^%m&m%m. a. 6. c. 
 S)]^etuinge t^z iietot? of eljerp begve. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Rogero. 
 
 \A 
 
 Arise, and walke from wickednesse; 
 
 repent, and thow shall lyve, 
 or else, with sword and pestilence, 
 
 the Lord God will the[ej grieve. 
 
 Beware of lust and Letchery ; 
 
 keepe thow thy body chast, 
 or else frequent the remedy 
 
 that Paule doth say thow maist. 
 
 r il I walke] i. e. wake. ' Walk ' or ' wauk' is a northern spelling 
 for 'wake' : cp. Gude and Godlie Ballaiis, edit. A. F. Mitchell, 
 p. 137, ' walkand ' = ' waking.' [a] 4 »• e. i Cor. vii. 9. 
 
 (43) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ VIII 
 
 [3] 
 
 Confesse thy synnes, as Dauid did, 
 
 and turne vnto the Lord : 
 he will thee here before thow call, 
 
 so Esay doth record. 
 
 [4] 
 Deale with thy neighbours mercifully ; 
 
 deceiue no man by guile ; 
 take heed of all extor-ti-on, 
 
 it will thy soule defile. 
 
 [5] 
 C<xamine well thy wicked lyfe ; 
 
 hide not thy counsaile deepe ; 
 the Lord God threatneth wo to them 
 
 that secret synnes doe keepe. 
 
 [6] 
 Flye theft, and all vnthriftinesse ; 
 
 and labour in the Lord : 
 the ground of synne is idlenesse ; 
 
 with vices it is storde. 
 
 [7] 
 Giue almes vnto thy brethren poore; 
 
 turne not thy face them fro : 
 lend to the needy man thy goods ; 
 
 his pledge restore also. 
 
 •[8] 
 
 Hurt not thy neighbours willingly, 
 
 in body, goodes, or name : 
 remit offences willingly ; 
 
 let God revenge the same. 
 
 [9] 
 If God doe blesse thee with his giftes 
 
 of worldly goods and store, 
 let not thy hart on them be set ; 
 
 but prayse the Lord before. 
 
 [10] 
 
 Keepe not the hireling's wages backe; 
 
 God will his cry regard : 
 in poore men's matter be not slacke ; 
 
 the Lord will thee reward. 
 
 [3] 3 here] i. e. hear. 4 i. e. Isaiah Ixv. 24. [8] i willingly] 
 
 read wittingly. [9] 4 before] read therefore. 
 
 (44) 
 
Shirburn Ballads, VIII 
 
 J-fOve everye man vnfainedly; 
 
 hate no man in thy hart : 
 despise the waye of wicked men 
 
 pray God they may convert. 
 
 „ . [-] 
 
 Minister Justice, magistrate: 
 
 yow maisters, iustly deale : 
 yow Parentes all, least God's curse fall, 
 
 let youth correction feele. 
 
 ^^^^ 
 IMo guilefull speeches, nor lying talke, 
 
 vse not in any wayes : 
 
 eschew all evill ; in goodnesse walke, 
 
 yf thow wilt see good dayes. 
 
 Oppresse no man by vsury ; 
 
 refuse vnlawfull gaine : 
 giue plentiously vnto the poore ; 
 
 Christ will thee pay therefore. 
 
 Possesse your selues with pat-i-ence, 
 
 against this wicked world : 
 powre out your prayers with reverence 
 
 before the lyvinge Lord. 
 
 [16] 
 
 Quarrell with none ; quench such desire : 
 
 to anger be not bent : 
 remember God is mercifull, 
 
 when synners doe repent. 
 
 [17] 
 Redeemed from the Curse we are 
 
 by Christ, to lyve with him : 
 our members let vs more I-fye 
 
 which are all bent to synne. 
 
 [18] 
 
 Sanctifye the saboth; serve the Lord; 
 
 from labour see thow rest ; 
 then God will have regard to thee, 
 
 and make thy labour blest. 
 
 [13] I speeches] read speech. [14] 4 therefore] i.e. for that. 
 
 [17} 3 more I-fye] rtad mortifye. 
 
 (45) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ VIII 
 
 Take heed yow loue no swaringe false ; 
 
 sware not by God in vaine : 
 let all your talke attend vnto 
 
 the honour of his name. 
 
 [20] 
 V se no deceipt, nor uniust meanes, 
 
 to compasse worldly wealth : 
 extortion, fraud, and vsury, 
 
 and all such things, are stealth. 
 
 [21] 
 vValke not in fleshly lusts and synne ; 
 
 such worldly darknesse shunne : 
 but walke like Children of the light, 
 as Christ himselfe begunne. 
 
 [22] 
 Jvamples many are set forth 
 
 against the druncken sort ; 
 what deadly plagues are dew to them, 
 
 the Scripture doth report. 
 
 long folke, be sober, and chast of minde; 
 
 let God's word be alwayes your guide : 
 make cleane your wayes before the Lord, 
 and never from him slyde. 
 
 [34] 
 CiocM the Publican {S. Luke doth tell) 
 
 what zeale to Christ he had : 
 but to hould our Jewish hartes, 
 
 alasse ! it is to badde. 
 
 [25] 
 & plainly Luke doth specifye 
 
 of that man's Godly minde, 
 how to the poore most liberally 
 
 halfe of his goods he assigned. 
 
 £st in English doth specifye, 
 
 in speech, a latine verbe : 
 into our harts. Lord, powre the spirit, 
 
 wherby we may be stirde 
 
 [20] 4 stealth] i.e. stealing. [23] 2 be alwayes] omit 
 
 alwayes. [24] i S. Luke] omit S. 3 hould] read behould. 
 
 [25] 4 Read he halfe his goods assigned. [26] i Est] a 
 
 blunder for etc. The interpretation in the stanza follows the blunder. 
 
 (46) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ VIII 
 
 [27] 
 
 to sigh and groane vnfainedlye, 
 
 with sorrow, for our synne ; 
 and for to seeke the remedye, 
 
 a new lyfe to begynne. 
 
 [28] 
 
 Amen ! God graunt we slacke no time 
 to walke, while wee haue light; 
 
 that iinallye we may possesse 
 the heavenly ioyes most bright, 
 
 [29] 
 
 Our noble King, with Nestor's yeeres, 
 
 the Lord God long indew ; 
 With Sampson's strength, and Salotnon's wit, 
 
 his foes for to eschew. 
 
 [30] 
 
 God graunt him grace, great ioy, in honour 
 
 with pleasure here beneath. 
 To rule and raigne in royall seat, 
 
 so long as he heath breath. 
 
 No. IX 
 Who views the Hfe of mortal man 
 
 Fol. 1 16\ Text given, from this MS., in Roxburghe Ballads, viii, p. xxvii. 
 The ballad is a vigorous, and apparently sincere, censure of the evils of 
 the age ; and is amply justified by contemporary documents. 
 
 Offences against morality were supposed to be punished (stanza 4) 
 by the civil courts. At Maldon, for example, there was a specially 
 ignominious punishment, come down from Plantagenet times, called 
 'carrying the mortar about the town'. In 1572, \d. was allowed 'to the 
 Sonne of Simon Sawyer for the ringinge of the bason borne before the 
 surgeon wearinge the morter about his necke for baudry this yeare '. 
 
 Extravagance and novelty in dress are frequently arraigned in these 
 ballads, as here in stanza 5. Strong efforts were made by the government 
 to enforce the sumptuary laws. At Maldon we find in 1566, and again in 
 
 [30] I ioy, in honour] read possibly ioy, and state. 4 heath] read hath. 
 
 (47) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ IX 
 
 1 597, payment of 3j. \d. to the Queen's pursuivant bringing a proclamation 
 declaring orders for apparel. At the Easter sessions, 1562, proceedings 
 were taken against 'Jockye' (a servant) and ten others because they 
 ' excede in their apparell, as in great slopte hosen, in great roffes ' in their 
 shertes'. Similarly in 1 571, two tailor's-servants were prosecuted for 
 wearing ' greate and monsterus briches '. 
 
 In stanza 7 great complaint is made of profane swearing. At one time 
 many such expressions had been regarded as natural embellishments 
 of speech ; and old people, who had grown up in the practice of them, 
 found it difficult to avoid giving offence. Thus, in 1592, his recalcitrant 
 Puritan parishioners articled against the High-Church Vicar of All 
 Saints, Maldon, that 'within few yeares past diuers have harde yow 
 sweare Godd's wounds! Godd's blood/' In 1601, Parliament was 
 drafting a statute to deal with such offences, for on December i, 
 ' Amendments in the bill against Blasphemous and Usual Swearing, was 
 read and ordered to be ingrossed.' A statute against profanity was 
 actually passed in 1623 (21 Jac. I, cap. 20). In conformity with this, at 
 Maldon Easter sessions, 1630, a mason was indicted for having, on April 8, 
 twice sworn ' by the living God '. 
 
 Stanza 8 enlarges against drunkenness. In 1601 the House ot 
 Commons was engaged (Hey wood Townshend's The/our last Parliaments 
 of ElizabethfLonAov^, 1680, pp. 188, 267) on a 'Bill against Drunkards', 
 'the effect whereof was that common Drunkards should be presented as 
 common Barretters,' i. e. brawlers. No statute seems passed till 1604, when 
 there is 'An Acte to restraine the inordinate hauntinge and tipling in 
 Innes, Alehouses, and other Victuallinge Houses' (i Jac. I, cap. 9). 
 
 In stanza 10 Sabbath observance is touched on. Throughout Elizabeth's 
 reign the old idea that the sanctity of the day ceased with the performance 
 of Church service, leaving the remaining hours as a time for amusements, 
 was in collision with straiter Puritan opinion. At Maldon, John Morrys, 
 who had been one of the two Bailiffs (chief magistrates) of the borough in 
 1574, 1578, 1582, found himself, in 159°, in sharp conflict with his younger 
 Puritan successors in office. They indicted him for justifying against the 
 Bailiffs the 'misdemeanors of disordered, unrulie, and contemptuous 
 persons in their evell behaviour ; as when certein players played on the 
 Lord's day in the nyght, contrarie to both the earle of Essex' [High Steward 
 of Maldon] lettre and Mr. Baylieffs' commaundement, and Mr. Baylieffs 
 rebuking them for the same, Mr. Morrys spake openlie in the [town-]hall 
 that — Before tyme noble-men's menn hadd such entertaynement when 
 they came to the towne that the towne hadd the favour of noble-men, but 
 now noble-men's menn hadd such entertaynement that the towHe was 
 brought into contempt with noble-men. And when Mr. Morrys was 
 gonne out of the hall into the streete, he spake thes woords alowde — 
 A sort of precisians and Brownists ! ' There was also the abomination of 
 Sunday athletics in the town itself as well as that of the imported 
 Sunday theatre. At Midsummer sessions at Maldon, 1564, complaint was 
 made against the constables that they had suffered ' stole-ball ' to be 
 played on Sundays. At Easter sessions, 1583, Edward Anderkyn and 
 four others were indicted for playing at stool-ball on Sunday, 14 April. 
 At Easter sessions, 1623, three youths were indicted for playing at stool- 
 ball in time of afternoon service on Sunday, 27 April; and another, 
 for loitering in the fields that afternoon. Attendance at church was 
 enforced by fine. 1567, Easter sessions, a sawyer, of St. Mary's parish, 
 Maldon ; a linen-draper, of All Saints' parish ; and a currier, of St. Peter's 
 parish, were fined \s. each for every occasion of their absence from their 
 
 ' i.e. rufifs. 
 (48) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ IX 
 
 parish church. The fines went for poor relief in the several parishes. 
 The magistrates, during service time, were supposed to go from house to 
 house to discover absentees, bad neighbours, no doubt, making smooth their 
 task by tale-telling. At Maldon Easter sessions, 1623, Ann, wife of John 
 Carter, butcher, was indicted for insulting John Rudland, one of the chief 
 magistrates. Finding her in her house on Sunday morning, 12 January, 
 1622-3, and not at church, he had rebuked her. She had retorted that ' if 
 he would provide one to do her work, she would goe to church ', and that 
 she ' served God as well as hee '. 
 
 The feelings of well-disposed people as to the matters touched on 
 in stanzas 7 and 10 are well set out in Admiral Sir William Monson's 
 instructions to his son, prefixed to his narrative of military affairs from 
 1585-1602 : — ' The next and worst sin I would have you shun is swearing. 
 I do not advise you like a Puritan, that ties a man more to the observing 
 of Sundays, and from taking the name of God in vain, than to all the rest 
 of the Commaundments : but I wish you to avoid it for the greatness of the 
 sin it self, for the Plague of God hangeth over the House of the Blasphemer ' 
 (Megalopsychy, 1680 edition). 
 
 In stanza 11 it is stated that all sorts and conditions gamble at cards and 
 dice. A few examples from the Quarter-sessions book of Maldon show 
 this trouble to have been as prevalent in Elizabeth's reign as in James I's. 
 Complaint was made, at Midsummer sessions, 1559, that the curate of 
 Purley had played at Manning's ale-house at tables for money. At 
 Michaelmas sessions, 1568, a shoemaker and a glover were fined \^d. each 
 for playing at tables ' at Iryshe game ' at William Boxted's ; and Boxted 
 2 J. for suffering these serving-men to play in his house. In May, 1569, 
 Ralph Sparrow, tailor's apprentice, was fined \id. for playing at novetn 
 quinque at the Saracen's Head ; and the landlord \2d. for allowing it. 
 At Michaelmas sessions, 1569, John Hill was fined \%d. for suffering 
 Richard Chambers, cleric, and certain unknown seafaring men, to play at 
 cards at a game called The Mawe. At Epiphany sessions, 1569-70, John 
 Moore,ale-house-keeper, was fined 5 j.for allowing Richard Booth, scrivener, 
 to play at dice for money. Booth had staked and lost his cloak, worth 40J. 
 In 1571, Edmund Tyler, surgeon, was fined \od. for playing tray-trip in an 
 ale-house. In April, 1572, Alderman Thomas Eve was fined \2d. for 
 playing at dice at the Saracen's Head. At Easter sessions, 1616, the 
 landlord of the Blue Boar was fined is. for allowing William Mildmay, 
 gentleman, to play at dice for money in his inn. In 1623 fines of ds. Sd. 
 (reduced to is.) were inflicted on two labourers for playing cards in 
 an ale-house, and the landlord was fined 2j. for suffering them. See also 
 No. XXXIV. 
 
 The 'theme' mentioned in the title is possibly the text, St. Luke xxiii. 34, 
 'They know not what (they do).' 
 
 (49) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ IX 
 
 2, pi'opeu net!) ballad, "at'HA^t'n bpon t^t 
 t]^eam I know mt what ; iDj^ereitt iis sj^etoeb 
 l^oto «ten ougl^t not to nt t\tvi minbesi 
 on iDoilblp pleasure, %vit on t$e Ipbing 
 ^oiii. 1614. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Labandalashot. 
 
 [i] 
 
 Who viewes the lyfe of mortall men, 
 his state, and whereof he began, 
 Shall find such hugy heapes of woe, 
 as nether tongue nor pen can showe ; 
 Wherewith our minds may daunted be 
 from vsinge worldly mirth and glee, 
 And move us to consider well 
 what paines there are prepard in hell 
 For wicked people, as their lot, 
 which have done here they know not what. 
 
 If every man would heare God's word, 
 and reverently obey the Lord, 
 Then wickednesse would not abound; 
 but grace and vertue would be found 
 In younge and olde, in high and low, 
 in servaunts and children also, 
 In rich and poore, in great and small, 
 in Preachers and in people all, 
 
 Who now delight in this and that, 
 and often doe they know not what. 
 
 [i] I men] read man. 
 (50) 
 
 4 nether] nad neither. 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ IX 
 
 [3] 
 
 Looke round abowt on each degree, 
 
 and marke what faults and crimes we see. 
 
 Behould the Court, and Cuntry twoe; 
 
 and then note well what great adoe 
 
 There is in every kind of state : — 
 
 few are content with simple rate; 
 
 But every one will clime aloft, 
 
 till triall hath them plainely taught 
 
 'Tis vaine, in hope of this or that, 
 to say or doe they know not what. 
 
 [4] 
 
 Love is not found but here and there; 
 
 lewd lust doth florish every where. 
 
 Good lawes are made, but kept at will; 
 
 loose lyvinge now increaseth still. 
 
 Like swine, we wallow in the mire, 
 
 and seeke to follow vaine desire. 
 
 Let God or man say what they please, 
 
 we hunt for pleasure, wealth, and ease; 
 And, for the love of this and that, 
 we say and doe we know not what. 
 
 [5] 
 In pompe and pride we doe excell, 
 like Lucifer, the divell of hell. 
 All new-found fashions we do crave, 
 to make our bodyes fine and brave; 
 But for our soules we little care — 
 smale suites for it we do prepare. 
 We gard and lace vs round abowt ; 
 in Jigges and Jagges we iet it out. 
 
 Some will weare this, some will weare that ; 
 . and some will weare they know not what. 
 
 [6] 
 
 'All whoredome is but tricks of youth,' 
 say those that doe not know the truth. 
 Not one of twenty, when they wedd, 
 do bring vnto their marriage-bedd 
 Their bodies pure, as Christians ought: 
 but fleshlye pleasures first is sought, 
 And, for to cloake their filthy deed, 
 the[y] must be married with all speed. 
 
 Then do they lyve like dogge and cat, 
 because they did they knew not what. 
 
 [3] 3 twoe] read too. [5] fc it] read them. 
 
 E 2 (51 > 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ IX 
 
 [7] 
 Much swearing many a one doth vse, 
 and soe the name of God abuse. 
 Some sweare by wounds, [by] blood, and heart, 
 by foote and sydes, and every part ; 
 By masse, by Crosse, by light, by fire, 
 by bread, and all they can desire ; 
 By faith and troth, though they have none; 
 by Saincts, and Angels, and many a one. 
 
 Sorne sware by this, some sware by that ; 
 
 and some doe sware they know not what. 
 
 m 
 
 Fye on the drowsye drunken sort, 
 
 that in excesse delight and sport ! 
 
 Fye on the ale-knight[s] that will quaffe, 
 
 and make men drunken that they may laugh ! 
 
 Fye on all pot-mates that delight 
 
 to serve God Bacchus day and Night! 
 
 To them belonges red eyes and nose; 
 
 to them belongs the raggfed cloathes ; 
 
 For they styll drink of this and that, 
 vntill they doe they knowe not what. 
 
 [9] 
 O when will couetousnes be left, 
 with fraud, and guile, deceit and theft? 
 Or when will Vsury take his flyght, 
 with flattery, falshood, craft, and spite ? 
 When shall the poore in good state lyve 
 by helpes and gyftes that rich men gyve? 
 When will our Landlords be content 
 to let these farmes at the old rent? 
 Alasse ! they cannot heare of that, 
 but they would have they know not what. 
 
 [10] 
 
 See how the Saboath is abused, 
 and all good exercise refused. 
 O see what pastimes men devise 
 to please their carnall eares and eyes. 
 Few take delight to heare God's word; 
 but, lyke bruyt beasts, they rise from board. 
 To daunce, to bowle, to gawde and game, 
 though Preachers oft reproove the same. 
 ,Some follow this, some follow that; 
 and some do follow they know not what. 
 
 [9] 8 these] read, their. 
 (SO 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ IX 
 
 ["] 
 
 The Dice and Gardes esteemed be 
 of rich and poore, we dayly see : 
 Till all is gone there is no staye, 
 but at the Dice it must away. 
 The married man, the Batcheller, 
 the Prentise, and the traveller, 
 Do follow gaming earnestlye, 
 vntill they come to beggery. 
 
 Example drawes them not from that; 
 
 but still they doe they know not what. 
 
 [12] 
 
 Enforst I am to tell yow plaine 
 what synnes amongst vs doe remaine, 
 That trew repentaunce may abounde 
 while God his mercy may be founde: 
 For the time will come, when we shall say 
 'what fooles were we to goe astraye!' 
 And, yf we knew, 'twill be too late, 
 for we shall answered be at gate 
 
 ' Depart from henc, I know yow not, 
 which have done here yow know not what.' 
 
 bi\ 
 
 Repentaunce God doth not deny, 
 if we doe aske before we dye, 
 And put not of[f], from time to time, 
 the amendment of each fault and crime. 
 And marke also what things are taught, 
 and print them in your minde and thought. 
 Beat downe your will, with witt and grace; 
 and foster not in any case 
 
 Your lewd attempts to this or that; 
 
 but in God's word learne what is what. 
 
 [h] 
 
 In humble sort, pray we, pray we, 
 
 vnto one God and Persons three. 
 
 O let us magnifye his name, 
 
 and sound out prayses to the same; 
 
 For he in mercy did vs bringe 
 
 a godly, wise, and vertuous Kinge. 
 
 Nothinge we lacke, in these our dayes; 
 
 wherefore let vs walke in his wayes. 
 Regarding neyther this nor that, 
 but seeke to know still what is what. 
 
 [ii]i TheJreorfThat. [12] 5 the time] owiV the. 7 knew] 
 read do. 9 i. e. St. Matt. vii. 23. [14] a and] readm. 
 
 (S3) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ IX 
 
 [is] 
 
 Here will I knitt vp and conclude; 
 here will I ende my verses rude. 
 All yow that are disposed to singe, 
 to read, to heare, this simple thinge, 
 Desire of God (and soe will I) 
 that we may profit well hereby, 
 Even for his Sonne Christ Jesus sake : 
 to whom let vs our selues betake. 
 So shall we never be forgot, 
 for he will teach us what is what. 
 
 No. X 
 You gallant maidens of the world 
 
 Fol. 119-122^: written in the third, imperfectly-formed hand, for which 
 lines have been ruled. The small letters at the beginning of proper names 
 are an additional characteristic of this hand. The town of Moers, Mors, 
 Meurs, is thirty-six miles south-east of Diisseldorf. 
 
 We have a touch of the times in stanza 3. Sugared wines were a great 
 feature of Jacobean, and (before that) of Elizabethan, banquets. At 
 Maldon there was never a year without corporation entertainment, after 
 this fashion, to knight and lady, lawyer and church dignitary, preacher 
 and soldier ; from which we may infer its frequency at private parties. 
 Thus, in 1606, ' 4?. bd. for a pottell of sack, pottell of clarrett, and sugar, 
 to Sir John Sames, knt. and Sir William Ayloffe, knt. ; 2^. yi. for a quart 
 of sack, a quart of clarret wyne, and \ lb. of sugar, sent, to gratifie Mr. 
 [Daniel] Rogers the preacher, to the place where he stayed in the towne.' 
 In 1607, ' 2f. \od, for a pottell of wine, and sugar, to Mris. Mildmay, of 
 Danbury, at her resort in this towne.' In 1608, ' 5^. 4^. for a pottdl of 
 sack, a pottell of claret wyne, and a lb. of sugar to Archdeacon [Samuel] 
 Harsnett on his visitation; 24 May, i6j. for a gallon of sack, a gallon and 
 pottell of clarrett wyne, and 6 lb. of sugar on the earl of Sussex and the 
 lord Harrington at their coming to the town.' In 1611, 'gj. 2rf. in wyne 
 and sugar on Sir Edward Bullock, knt., captain of the trained band.' 
 
 Stanza 12 alludes to the maid's name as being well known, whereas it 
 is not given in the ballad. Probably the ballad puts into metre a 
 pamphlet, which did give the name : cf. No. XXXIII. 
 ' The ballad is nicely baited to trap English interest by the allusion 
 (stanza 13) to the Princess Royal of England, who had sailed from Kent, 
 26 April, 1613. Meurs lay near her route to her new home, and she may 
 have passed through it on her journey (being, 20 May, 1613, evening, at 
 Emmerich ; 21 May at Niederwesel ; 22 May at Diisseldorf), though she 
 certainly made no stay there. English readers were not likely to be 
 critical, and would cheerfully accept apocryphal tidings of the foreign 
 progress of their king's daughter. Her marriage had taken place 14 Feb. 
 1612-3. People had been naturally interested in the match, as the first 
 
 (54) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ X 
 
 royal wedding since 1554; and pleased with it, as to a Protestant. It had 
 also been brought home to every parish by the collection (first time since 
 1 502 ^) of the old feudal ' aid ', Precepts of the magistrates of Maldon to 
 the constables of two of the three parishes are extant, ' to collect, and 
 paie over unto us, all and every the somes herafter appering, for a 
 reasonable ayde to be paied to his maiestie towards the mariag of the 
 Lady Elizabeth, his highnes eldest daughter.' The sums are taxed accord- 
 ing to property, and are to be paid to Commissioners at Chelmsford on 
 Monday, 2 November, 1612. The amount actually collected in the two 
 parishes seems to be £,^ is. 2d. ; the ' arrears ', i. e. assessed amount 
 uncollected, £1 ^s. 6d. The rateable proportion paid by Maldon for its 
 corporate property was los. ; and 6s. 8ei. was allowed the Town-clerk for 
 ' making up the book of the aide for this towne paid to his maiestie for to 
 marie the lady Elizabeth, his highnesse eldest daughter '. Popular atten- 
 tion had also been drawn to the princess by the tours of her company of 
 players. Maldon accounts show, 1612, ' 20J. to the plaires of the right 
 noble princes[s] Lady Elizabeth coming to this towne this yeare.'.ri6i3, 
 ' loj. given to the plaires of the right noble princess Elizabeth comyng to 
 this towne this year.' The smaller grant of 1613 probably shows wincing 
 at the ' aid ' charges of 1612. 
 
 SDf a tnaide mtot btDeUing at tije totone of 
 mewrs in dutchland, tj^at j^atij not tafeen anp 
 foobe t^ii 16 pearesi, anb is not pet neitlrei: 
 ]^«ngrp nor tjirstp ; i^z iDijtc|j maibe \^t\ 
 latelp lieene pregenteb ttx t^t labp elizabeth, 
 t|ie fetng'0 baugl^ter of england. JCj^ig song 
 toajs mabe ip t^z maibe iiev m\iz, anb notD 
 tvanislateb into mgUsh. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF 7%[«] ladte's fall. 
 
 You gallant maidens of the world, 
 
 of beauty faire and fine, 
 Behould a heauenly blessing giuen 
 
 vnto this life of mine. 
 Full sixteene yeares are past and gone 
 
 since last I tasted foode. 
 And to this houre no meate nor drinke 
 
 can doe my body good. 
 
 No thirst nor hunger me annoyes, 
 
 nor weakenes my estate ; 
 But Hues like one that's finely fed 
 
 with dainties delicate. 
 
 1 Marriage of Margaret of England to James IV of Scotland : 
 see No. LXXVII. [a] 3 But lines] read I Hue. 
 
 (SS) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ X 
 
 For daily in my hand I beare 
 
 a pleasant smelling flower, 
 Which to maintaine me safe in health 
 
 hath still the blessfed power. 
 
 [3] 
 For, when that nature framd me first 
 
 a young and tender maide, 
 To liue as other damsels did 
 
 my heart grewe sore afraide, 
 And doubted much theies sugred wines, 
 
 and banquets of great cost, 
 Would drow my soule to wanton sin, 
 
 thereby to haue it lost. 
 
 [4] 
 Then downe vpon the ground I kneel'd, 
 and made my prayers to heauen 
 • That no such sweete delightfull ioyes 
 might to my minde be giuen, 
 But rather still to fast and pray 
 
 to quench all wanton fires 
 That in my bosome might take hold 
 or kindle vaine desires. 
 
 [S] 
 My pure vnspotted minde preuaild 
 
 according to my will, 
 And so my life preserufed is 
 
 by smelling flow-ers still, 
 That belly-gods and drunkards all 
 
 might hereby take good heede 
 How they their unsuffisfed mawes 
 
 doe daily stuffe and feede. 
 
 [6] 
 So neuer after this could foode 
 
 into my body goe, 
 Nor any art of man could bring 
 
 my nature thereunto ; 
 By which a wonder I became, 
 
 and people much did muse 
 How I could liue in perfect health 
 
 and sustenance refuse. 
 
 L7] 
 Within the towne of meurs, well known, 
 
 I liud thus many yeares, 
 Where much resort vnto me came 
 
 of states and noble peeres, 
 
 [3] 5 theies] read these. 7 drow] read draw. 
 
 (56) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ X 
 
 Who p[r]offerd me much curtesie 
 if I would with them eate. 
 
 As god would haue, I still refusd 
 all kindes of drinke and meate. 
 
 [8] 
 
 Amongst the rest, a countesse braue, 
 
 a lady of renowne, 
 On pleasure came, with all her traine, 
 
 to see this famous towne j 
 And, hearing of this meruaile strange 
 
 that I so long had usd, 
 In person came, her selfe to see 
 
 if foode I quight refusd. 
 
 KJ^z iseconb part, 
 
 [9] 
 
 Where, after many speaches past 
 
 and tryalls made in vaine, 
 The Countesse sought some other way 
 
 her purpose to obtaine. 
 And traind me to an Orchard forth 
 
 where pleasant cherries grew, 
 And vnawares the one of them 
 
 into my mouth she threw. 
 
 [10] 
 
 The iuyce there-of I tasted straight, 
 
 which downe my body past, 
 Whereby into a deadly swound 
 
 I sodainely was cast : 
 Where, if good meanes had not beene made 
 
 by phisicke cuning cure, 
 I neuer had recouered more, 
 
 but there had died most sure. 
 
 ["] 
 This strange attempt being spred abroad 
 
 to places farre and neare, 
 Did mooue the nobles of that land 
 
 to hold my life more deare; 
 And straight app[o]inted for my guard 
 
 a person wise and graue ; 
 And, for his paines and mainteinance, 
 
 a monthly pention gave. 
 
 (57) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ X 
 
 [12] 
 
 Then yeelded I the lord aboue 
 
 eternall laude and prase 
 That thus hath made me in my life 
 
 a wonder of these daieg : 
 A wonder, sure, in that my name 
 
 about the world is spread. 
 And will, I know, remembred be, 
 
 (saide she) when I am dead. 
 
 [13] 
 But now, to make and end of all ; 
 
 my fortunes to adduance, 
 Prince palsgraue and his lady faire 
 
 came th[r]ough the towne by chance ; 
 Where princely faire elezabeth, 
 
 with all her english traine, 
 Desired to stay and see the same, 
 
 and there a while remaine. 
 
 Where, for a meruaile^ to her grace 
 
 my selfe full soone was told, 
 And there presented to her sight 
 
 that she might me behould ; 
 Who straight demaunded how I liud 
 
 so straingely in that kinde, 
 Receuing neither meate nor drinke 
 
 which nature seeke to finde. 
 
 [is] 
 
 My answere was : — the lord aboue 
 
 my dayes did thus preserue. 
 From whose commaundement in the 
 
 I'le neuer goe nor swerue. 
 And, therewithall, I gaue the prince 
 
 a nosegay of sweete flowers. 
 For by the vertue of such like 
 
 I take my breathing power[s]. 
 
 [16] 
 The which the gentle lady tooke, 
 
 in kinde and humble wise. 
 As if they had been Jemmes of wroth 
 
 and Jewells of great prize ; 
 And, for the same, retumd me backe 
 
 a guift of good red gold, 
 An hundreth DoUers presently, 
 
 the which my keeper told, 
 
 [13] I and] read an 3 i. e. in 1613. [14] 8 seeke] read 
 
 seeks. [15] 3 in the] read in the least. 5 prince] i. c. 
 
 princess. [i6] 3 wroth] read worth. 
 
 (S8) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ X 
 
 [17] 
 
 With charge that I should maintaind, 
 
 accordinge to my will, 
 At meurs, where I was bred and borne, 
 
 and there continue still. 
 Thus, from this good and gratious prince, 
 
 I parted in kinde loue; 
 Where all my words for veryty 
 
 she did by witnesse proue. 
 
 [18] 
 
 Some English lord did there that time 
 
 my vse and manners see ; 
 '^i'Ca. English Ladyes in like sort, 
 
 which meruaile much at me. 
 And can report this thing for truth 
 
 that's heere to England sent — 
 Yea, those that with out princely bird 
 
 to palsgrauis Country went. 
 
 [19] 
 
 Then let no man, with hard beleefe, 
 
 account this newes vntrue. 
 At meurs I line (and there will die), 
 
 for such as will me viewe. 
 So, England! blest be thee and thine 
 
 by God's most holy hand : — 
 This praier the dutchland maiden sends 
 
 from that good neitherland. 
 
 No. XI 
 Jewry came to Jerusalem 
 
 FoL 1 23 : begins imperfectly, the preceding leaf having been cut out. The 
 text is completed from a Black-letter copy, in 4to Rawl. 566, fol. 156 (plim 
 253)' The obscure stanza 6 seems to mean : — ^the Jews held a mistaken 
 belief that the advent of the Messiah was to be proclaimed abroad by 
 thunder ; whereas, in fact, it was made known by angelic song. 
 
 This, with its companion-piece (No. XII), is, in one way, the most 
 singular ballad in the set. As is seen in No. XIII, the tune was closely 
 
 [17] I should] »rarf should be. [18] i lord] rearf lords. 7 out 
 
 princely bird] read that princely bride. 
 
 (59) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XI 
 
 associated with songs of indelicate or even filthy character. We are, 
 therefore, to think of the author, as setting himself, undeterred b^ the 
 tang attaching to the music, to compose ennobling words for it, determined, 
 like a later hymn-writer, that ' the devil shall not have all the best tunes '. 
 A copy of the broad-sheet, with Nos. XI and XII on it, may well have 
 been in Milton's hands when he wrote (1629, 1630) his ode On the Morn- 
 ing of Chrisfs Nativity and his fragment on The Passion. At any rate, 
 the two ballads form no unworthy prelude to these hymns. At the end of 
 each verse, some licence for writing nonsense may be conceded to the 
 librettist who had to provide words for so tricky a tune and for rhymes so 
 intricate. The religious poet (Nos. XI, XII) appears to require less 
 indulgence, in this respect, than the amatory (No. XIII). 
 
 \M excellent ISallab of t\z %\ti\ ani> 
 50a00ion of our S)atiiour Cimsc 
 
 The tune is Dulcina^ 
 
 [Jury came to Jerusalem 
 
 (all the world was taxed then); 
 Blessed Mary brought to Bethlehem 
 more then all the world again. 
 A gift so blest, so good; the best 
 
 That e'r was seen, was heard, or done. 
 A King, a Christ, prophet and priest, 
 A Jesus, God, a Man, a Son. 
 
 (60) 
 
 [i] I i.e. Jewry. 
 
 6 e'r] i. e. e'er. 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XI 
 
 Happy night ! a day was never 
 
 half so happy, sweet, and fair : 
 Singing Souldiers, blessed ever, 
 fill the sky with sweetest air. 
 Amaz'd men fear, they see, they hear ; 
 yet doubt and ask how this was done. 
 'Twas bid ' Behold it was foretold,' 
 This night hath God himself a son. 
 
 [3] 
 There appears a golden Usher, 
 
 kings attending on his train : 
 The bright sun could not outblush her — 
 such a star ne'r shon again. 
 See now it stays, seeming it says 
 
 ' Go in, and see what there is done : '] 
 A child whose birth leagues heauen and earth; 
 Jesus to vs ; to God, a sonne. 
 
 [4] 
 Subtill Herod sent to finde him, 
 
 with a purpose blacke as hell; 
 But a greater power consumd him, 
 and his purpose did repell. 
 
 Who should betray doe all obey, — 
 As fitting was it should be done. 
 The[n] all adore, and kneele before. 
 This God and man, to god a sonne. 
 
 [S] 
 'Twas vpon a Commet's blazing 
 Cuma to Augustus sayd : — 
 'This foreshewes an act amazinge; 
 'for a mother, still a maide, 
 
 'A babe shalle beare that all must feare, 
 
 'And sodainely it must be done. 
 'Nay, Caesar \ thow to him must bowe 
 'Heer's god and man, to god a sonne.' 
 
 [6] 
 Is not this a blessed wonder? 
 
 God is man, and man is god. 
 Foolish Jewes mistooke the thunder 
 should proclame the king abroad. 
 
 Angels they syng ' behould the kinge ! ' 
 
 In Beththelem where this was done. 
 Then we, as they, reioyce, and saye 
 'We haue a sauiour; god, a sonne.' 
 
 [3] I i.e. St. Matt. ii. i, a. 7 Indpit fol.iaaof MS. 
 
 [4] 3 consumd] re«rf confin'd. 5 doe] >-earfwhom. [5] 2 i.e. 
 Sibylla Cumana, as in Verg., Ed. iv. 4. 
 
 (61) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XII 
 
 No. XII 
 Turn your eyes, that are affixed 
 
 Fol. 123^ : to ' the same tune ' as the preceding ; i. e. to Dulcina. It is 
 really a ' second part ' of No. XI, as is shown both by the title of that piece, 
 and by the Black-letter exemplar in 4to Rawl. 566, fol. 156 {olim 253), 
 where it is printed alongside of No. XI on the same sheet. 
 
 2Df t^t pajsgitiit of CsMsti. 
 
 To THE SAME TUNE. 
 
 TuRNE yours eyes, that are affixM 
 
 on this world's deceavinge things; 
 And, with ioy and sorrow mixfed, 
 Looke vpon the kinge of kings, 
 Who left his throne, with ioyes vnknowne; 
 
 Tooke flesh like ours; like as drew breath. 
 For vs to dy : heere fixe your eye. 
 And thinke upon his precious death ! 
 
 \A 
 
 See him, in the Gardaine prayinge, 
 
 while his sad disciples slept; 
 See him, in the Garden sweatinge 
 
 Droppes of bloud, and how he wept. 
 As man he was, hee wept (Alasse !), 
 
 And, trembling, feard to lose his breath ; 
 Yet to heauen's will hee yeelded still: 
 Then thinke vpon his precious death I 
 
 [3] 
 
 See him, by the Souldiers taken ; 
 when, with Auk and a kisse, 
 Hee, that Heaven had quite forsaken, 
 had betrayd him, and with this! 
 
 Behould him bound, and garded round. 
 To Caiphas borne to loose his breath. 
 There see the /ewes heaven's king abuse. 
 O thinke vpon his precious death I 
 
 [i] I yours] read your. 6 like as] read like us. [3] 3 that] 
 
 i. e. whom, viz. Judas. 
 
 (63) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XII 
 
 [4] 
 See him, in the hands of Pilate, 
 
 like a base offender stript; 
 See the mone and teares they smile at, 
 while th^y see our Saviour whipt. 
 
 BehOuld him bleede: his purple weede 
 
 Record, while yow have life and breath; 
 His taunts, and scornes, his crowne of thornes. 
 Ok thinke vpon his precious death 1 
 
 [5] 
 See him, in the houre of parting, 
 
 hanging on his bloody Crosse. 
 See his wounds; conceiue his smartinge, 
 and our gaine by his lyve's losse. 
 One eyther syde a fellon dyed — 
 
 The one derided him, leaving breath; 
 The other praies, and humbly sayes 
 Oh saue me by thy precious death ! 
 
 [6] 
 See, as in these pangs he thirstbd, 
 
 and, that heate to coole, did call. 
 How these Jewes (like ludas cursbd) 
 bring him vineger and gall. 
 
 His spirit then to heaven againe 
 
 Commending with his latest breath. 
 
 The world he leaves that man deceaues. 
 
 Oh thinke vpon his precious death I 
 
 No. XIII 
 The golden god Hyperion 
 
 Fol. 124'^: second part on fol. 125''. In the first two lines daybreak is 
 described by the reflection of the sun [Hyperion] from the sea, which is 
 named from Thetis, the mother of Achilles. The same combination of 
 names occurs in other ballads. The combination is possible, since Thetis 
 was a Nereid and dwelt, with her sisters, in the sea-depths. Probably, 
 however, the more familiar name has displaced Tethys, wife of Oceanus, 
 a better opposite to Hyperion. Samuel Daniel's masque, Tethys Festival, 
 was brought out in 1610. 
 
 The refrain of the ballad belongs to our older piece (see Chappell's 
 Popular Music of the Olden Time, 711); and, as used here, is meaningless. 
 
 [5] 5 One] read On. 6 derided] read derides. [6] 7 i. e. leaves the 
 
 world that deceives man. 
 
 (63) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XIII 
 
 j^n ejccellent netue ^isttigt, tuljemn fapi'e 
 
 Dulcina complapnet]^ for t\z afiisence of 
 
 j^er ijeareist Coridon, ^ivit at lengtj 10 com<^ 
 
 forteb ijp ]^i0 presence. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Duldna. 
 
 \A 
 
 The golden god Hyperion 
 
 by Thetis is saluted, 
 Yet comes as Shepard Coridon, 
 In Brydall cloothinge suited. 
 Dulcina then did say that men 
 
 Were chaunging like the siluer moon; 
 And now I feare I buy to deare — 
 Forgoe me now, come to me soone. 
 
 Wandring by the silver mountaines 
 
 seking my sweet Sheppards swaine, 
 I hard the chirstall humming fountaines 
 morningly with me complaine 
 
 How I am slayne by love's disdaine, 
 
 And all my musicke out of tune; 
 
 Yet will I singe no other thinge — 
 
 Forgoe me now, come to me soone. 
 
 [3] 
 Love is in her blooming blasted, 
 
 deceavfed by a golden tongue; 
 Vaine dehghts haue fondly tasted — 
 
 sweets that bringe me bytter wrong. 
 Yet hee's a creature, for his feature. 
 
 More iocund then the suime or moone. 
 Sweet, tume again ! the flowre of men 
 Forgoe me now, come to me soone. 
 
 [4] 
 Let Satyres sing the Rundelayes, 
 
 and fayryes daunce their twilight's round; 
 Whilst we, in Venus' sugred playes, 
 doe solace on the flowery ground. 
 The darkest night for our delight 
 Is still as pleasant as the moone. 
 Within thy armes, when Cupid charmes, 
 Dulcina cannot be to soone. 
 
 [i] a Thetis] read Tetkys. 3 comes as] tead comes not. 
 
 [2] 2 Sheppards] read sheppard. 3 chirstall] read crystal. 
 
 4 morningly] read mourningly. [3] 3 haue] read I've. 
 
 7 the] read thou. [4] i the] read their. 
 
 (64) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XIII 
 
 [5] 
 
 A sheephooke, all of good red gould, 
 
 my Coridon, I'le the provide 
 To drive my lambes vnto their fold, 
 soe I may be thy wedded bride; 
 
 And for thy sake I'le garlands make 
 
 of Rosye buds and Hawthorne bloome. 
 Make noe delay but sweetly say — 
 I'le come to my Dulcina soone. 
 
 [6] 
 As shee in sorrow thus sat weeping, 
 goulden slumber closd her eyes ; 
 The shepard came, and found her sleeping, 
 saying — 'Fayre Dulcina, rise! 
 
 'Let love adorne our bridall mome.' 
 
 Now bels doe ring a silver tune. 
 And prety faunes daunce o're the Lawnds 
 to thinke what ioyes will follow soone. 
 
 To THE SAME TUNE. 
 
 [7] 
 
 A hundreth shephards come with him, 
 
 attyrfed all in cuntry gray. 
 With oaten reeds they pipfed trime 
 in honour of Love's holydaye. 
 
 Their bonnets fayre embrodred were, 
 
 in beauty lyke a winter's moone, 
 Which set on fire the sweet desire 
 of wished ioyes that followed soone. 
 
 [8] 
 
 Loyalty with love's requited, 
 
 yf that lovers have contentinge ; 
 And pleasure stolne will be affrighted 
 soone by jealous head tormentinge. 
 For still their lyes, in lovers' eyes, 
 a fancy changing like the moone; 
 Yet, in my brest, a constant rest 
 
 of sweet delight that comes full soone. 
 
 [S] 9 the] i. e. thee. 3 my] read thy. [8] 4 jealous head] 
 
 jealous-head, I e. jealousy. 5 their] i. e. there. 
 
 iRB. F ( 65 ) 
 
, Shirburn Ballads^ XIII 
 
 [9] 
 
 Our wood-nymphs on their sommer greenes, 
 
 God Cupid kindly to content, 
 Will foote it, like the nymble Queenes 
 that daunst in Lady Venu^ tent : 
 And Hymen's hands tye holy bands, 
 this bridall day, before hye noone. 
 A fayrer Dame did never Swain 
 
 say, 'Come, Dulcina, to me soone.' 
 
 [10] 
 
 The day is spent with sweet desires ; 
 our wishes welcome gentle night; 
 And virgins' Lampes, of Hymen's fires, 
 doe lead the way to love's delight. 
 
 Come, nymph, and rest vpon my brest 
 
 tyll cockes do crowe their morning tune ; 
 Then let 's awake, and pastime make, 
 and last the ioyes we shall haue soone. 
 
 ["] 
 
 Aurora, blushing white and redde, 
 
 now lends vs pleasure in our sleepes ; 
 And bright Appollo, from his bed, 
 
 between the silken Curtaines keepes ; 
 
 And with his face giue[s] sweter grace 
 then Phoebus doth at cheerefull noone. 
 Leaue of to say 'Away, Away;' 
 
 and I'le be still thy comfort soone. 
 
 [12] 
 
 Thus, hand in hand, desire did meete, 
 
 as men and maydens vse to doe. 
 If yow attempt a Lady sweete, 
 
 come, learne of Coridon to woe. 
 
 The cuntry Swaine is alwayes plaine, 
 and sings to love the sweetest tune. 
 Be not to coy, but say, with ioy, 
 Forgoe me nowe, come to me soone. 
 
 [9! 3 Queenes] i.e. the Graces (Hor. Carm. 1. 4. 5, 6). 7 A] 
 rtad'Xo. [11] 4 keepes] »<«/ peeps. 6 then] i. e. than. 
 
 7 of] off. 
 
 (66) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XIV 
 
 No. XIV 
 
 What heart so hard, but will relent 
 
 Fol. 126''. I have not found Ivy Bridge in old maps of London. In 
 Charles II's time there was, and there is still, an Ivy Lane, not far from 
 Newgate Street. 
 
 In his zeal to press his point of Sabbath observance the writer has dis- 
 torted facts (stanza 11). A Maldon borough by-law, no doubt coincident 
 with statute-law, January, 1558-9, warns 'all vittelers . . . that they do not 
 suffer any persons to eate or drynke in ther howses in the tyme of devine 
 service, travelyng men only excepted, vppon payne to forfeyte, for every 
 time of offending, \os.' A typical Maldon ale-house licence, of 1628, 
 contains an express proviso that the licensee shall ' sell no beere or ale in 
 his house during service- or sermon-time ' on Sunday or holy-day. Pre- 
 sentments, and fines, for breach of by-law (or statute) are frequent. Public 
 opinion sanctioned magisterial investigation in ale-houses during service- 
 time, even where it resented it in private houses. At Maldon Epiphany 
 sessions, 1622-3, chief-magistrate John Rudland complained that on 
 Sunday, January 12, he and other officers found a husbandman of St. 
 Mary's parish and other company, during service-time, in the house of 
 Robert Barber, fisherman, of St. Peter's pairish ; and that his remon- 
 strances for their being there, and not at church, were met by the retort, 
 ' Goe ! meddle with your alehowsen : for you have nothing to do with me.' 
 The suggestion of the ballad is that the persons named went from London 
 to Southwark to avoid such visitation. But the ballad itself states that 
 they waited till after service, when, even in London, they would have been 
 free from molestation on Sabbatarian grounds. 
 
 There is inconsistency also between the title, which makes the accident 
 occur on Sunday night, and stanzas 15 and 16, which put it on Monday 
 morning. 
 
 The allusion to James I's 'laws' in stanza 30 is to a proclamation 
 issued in 1607, enjoining strict observance of the Sabbath. To the 
 messenger who brought this to Maldon, \s. was paid in that year. The 
 earliest statute on the subject seems to be that of 1625 (i Car. I, cap. i), 
 directed against 'divers abuses committed on the Lord's day, bearebaiting, 
 buUbaiting, enterludes, common playes '. 
 
 In Elizabeth's reign ' The Bill for more Diligent Resort to Churches on 
 Sundayes was Read,' in 1601, enforcing attendance by a penalty of \^d., 
 but seems not to have reached its final stage : Heywood Townshend, The 
 Four last Parliaments of Queen Elisabeth, London, 1680, p. 273. 
 
 F 2 ( 67 ) 
 
^hirburn Ballads^ XIV 
 
 % bolefull ^Ati"^ of ffbe bitfortunat peiv 
 0on0 t]^at tuere biotoneb in i\zvi btunlt^ 
 ne? iit croissing ober t]^e Thames neare 
 /aji/ Bridge, bpon 0ttnbape nigljt t]^e 15 of 
 C)r/<?(j^r last, 1616 : nt foit]^ for an ejcample 
 for all $Vit\ propKianers! of t^t ILorb'si 
 g)abaot]^ bape. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Essex good-mgfit. 
 
 [r] 
 
 What hart so hard, but will relent 
 of Strangers' suddaine deathe to heare; 
 
 And, of God's dreadful punishment, 
 he cannot choose but stande in feare. 
 
 [^] 
 Some riseth with the morninge Sun, 
 
 all healthful!, lustye, stronge, and bolde ; 
 And yet, before the day be done, 
 
 are changd to. claye and earthly moulde. 
 
 [3} 
 And some, not well prepard for death, 
 
 are in a moment tane awaye. 
 And graunted not one minute's breath 
 
 to make provision for that daye. 
 
 [4] 
 Then let our lives soe ordered bee, 
 
 that death may come what howre he will ; 
 So shall we ioyfull endings see, 
 
 whilst others reape deserubd ill. 
 
 [5] 
 And call to our remembrance, then, 
 
 the heavy Judgements of the Lord 
 Inflicted on fyve haplesse men, 
 
 forgetfuU of his holy worde : 
 
 [6] 
 
 The which were neighbours in the Strande, 
 
 of good account and credit all. 
 But, foUowinge not the Lord's commaund, 
 
 did into carelesse courses fall. 
 (68) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XIV 
 
 [7] 
 For, God's most blessed Sabbath daye, 
 
 a day of order for holy vse, 
 In sinfuU sorte, they spent awaye 
 
 in gormandizingeps] foule abuse. 
 
 [8] 
 Yea ! on that daye, the which, by heaven, 
 
 appointed is for prayer and rest. 
 That blessfed day of all the seaven, 
 
 which should amongst vs be the best, 
 
 [9] 
 Was, by these sinefull wicked wights, 
 
 consumde with ryott and excesse. 
 Who, for their wilfuU vaine delights, 
 
 had tymelesse ends, remedilesse. 
 
 [10] 
 
 For as, before, they did consent 
 to meet and merye-make that daye; 
 
 And, findinge not, for their content, 
 a place where they might safely stay 
 
 ["] 
 From sight of neighbors, and of those 
 
 in Office made to search and see 
 Howe carelesse people sty 11 bestowes 
 
 the Sabbath day vnreverentlye, 
 
 [12] 
 
 So, further off from home they went, 
 and crost the Terns to Southwarke side, 
 
 Where they the time in drinkinge spent, 
 regardlesse there to be espy'de. 
 
 Cije iseconiie pact. 
 
 [i3l 
 Scarce could they stay God's service end, 
 
 so soone from church they needs must goe- 
 Good Lord, vs synners all defend 
 
 from seekinge thus vntimelye woe ! 
 
 [14] 
 How apt were they to runne the path 
 
 of temptinge ill, and vaine delight ! 
 For which the Lord's most heavy wrath 
 
 vpon them sodainlye did light. 
 
 [7] 2 of order] read ordain'd. [8] i on] read all. 
 
 (69) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XIV 
 
 [15] 
 
 For, all that day and following nyght, 
 they ply'de soe well the good ale can, 
 
 Tyll all their wites were wasted quite, 
 and not remainde one sober itian. 
 
 [16] 
 
 And so continuinge, with content, 
 till next day morninge fast drew on, 
 
 The time beinge slipt awaye and spent, 
 in desperat sort they would be gone. 
 
 [n] 
 Though all the Thames, with billowinge waues, 
 
 did raginge swell and rise full hye, 
 To hardy, they for passage craues, 
 
 havinge a Boatman ready by, 
 
 [18] 
 
 Who, as the Lord appointed had, 
 attending was, and ready founde; 
 
 But, being all with drinke growne madd, 
 they were in wofuU manner drownd. 
 
 [19] 
 
 For, blinded with intisinge ill, 
 herein they thought thetnselues secure ; 
 
 Yet every one, by God's high will, 
 his dreadful! anger did indure, 
 
 [20] 
 
 The which (no doubt) his Judgements were 
 
 for spending so his Sabaoth day. 
 Else had he gyven them grace and care 
 
 not thus to cast themselues awaye. 
 
 [21] 
 
 By whose vntimely losse of lives 
 
 their freinds, bewayling, sorrowe makes: 
 
 Their parents, kindred, and their wives, 
 now sit lamentinge for their sakes. 
 
 [22] 
 
 Their children, that be fatherlesse, 
 
 might longe have had these loving freinds. 
 
 If that this desperate wilfulnesse 
 
 had not thus brough[t] them to their ends. 
 
 [17] 3 To] i.e. Too. 
 (70) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XIV 
 
 Their neighbours' griefes were not the least, 
 when of these hard mishaps they knew; 
 
 Who came, with sorrowinge harts possest, 
 this deathfuU sight of dole to view. 
 
 With grieufed harts, both younge and olde, 
 that of their kinde acquaintance were, 
 
 Came sadly likewise, to behoulde 
 Their lifelesse bodyes lyinge there. 
 
 [25] 
 For, beinge found, they all were layde 
 
 there, one by one, vpon the shoore, 
 that people might be all afrayde 
 
 of such offences, more and more, 
 
 [26] 
 And frighted from this custome vaine 
 
 (wherein the world doth so delight), 
 God's blessfed Sabaoth to prophane, 
 
 from heavenly grace deserufed quight. 
 
 [27] 
 Thus god (we see), with powerfull will, 
 
 for man's amisse and secret sinne, 
 Still plagues by Justice every ill, 
 
 the rest from like misdeedes to winne. 
 [28] 
 Therefore, let all good people then 
 
 take heede how they the Lord offend, 
 Lest, like to these vnhappy men, 
 
 they come to have such suddaine end. 
 
 [29] 
 And to the Lord our pray-ers make 
 
 that suddaine deathes we never haue. 
 For Jesus Christ our Sauiour's sake, 
 
 give vs repentance to our grave. 
 
 [30] 
 And for our Kinge let's hourely praye, 
 
 that such good lawes for vs decreed. 
 That we may keepe God's Sabaoth day, 
 
 of which we wretches take small heed. 
 
 The Professions of these persons, so vnfortunately 
 drowned, were : — i, a Haberdasher ; 2, a Taylor ; 
 3, a Sadler ; 4, a Barber ; 5, a Waterman. 
 
 (71) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XV 
 
 No. XV 
 All Christian men, give ear a while to me 
 
 Fol. 129. Text given in Roxburghe Ballads, vi. 703, from numerous 
 Black-letter exemplars. The interest of the piece lies in its connexion 
 with Christopher Marlowe's (1598) Faustus. Here, as in No. LV, a 
 ballad and a tragedy have a common origin. In 1587 there appeared at 
 Frankfort -on-Main Historia von D. Johann Fausten; which was 
 promptly English! by ' P. F. gent.' as The Historie of the damnable Life 
 and deserved Death of Dr. fohn Faustus (re-edition 1592). 
 
 The deed (stanza 6), written in blood, is executed, like a legal contract, 
 in duplicate, one copy to remain with each of the two parties to it. 
 
 For contemporary belief in sorcery, see note to No. XXXVII. In 1563 
 (5 Elizabeth, cap. 16) was passed ' An Act agaynst Conjuracions, 
 Inchantments, and Witchecrafts '. In 1604 this was replaced by the Statute 
 I Jac. I, cap. 12, which punished by 'pains of deathe as a felon', all persons 
 who, as Faustus does in the ballad, 'covenant with . . . any evill and wicked 
 spirit ... to or for any intent or purpose.' 
 
 CJe 3I«bgttient of (Bob isj^tueb bpon Jhon 
 Faustus, SOoctor of SDiWititpe, 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Fortune my foe. 
 
 All Christian men, give eare a whyle to me, 
 how I am plungd in paine, and cannot dye. 
 I liude a lyfe the lyke did none before, 
 forsaking Christ, and I am damnd therefore. 
 
 (72) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XV 
 
 In Wittenberge, a towne in Germany, 
 there was I borne and bred, of good degree, 
 Of honest stocke, which afterward I shamed — 
 accurst therefore — for Faustus I was namd. 
 
 [3] 
 In learninge lore my vncle brought vp me, 
 and made me Doctor of Divinitye ; 
 And, when he dyed, he gave me all his wealth — 
 his cursed gold did hinder my soule's health. 
 
 [4] 
 Then did I shun the holy Bible booke, 
 nor on God's lawes would never after looke; 
 But studied accursfed coniuration, 
 which was the cause of my vtter damnation. 
 
 [5] 
 The Devill, in Frier's weed, appeard to me; 
 and soone to my request consented he. 
 That I might have all things I would desire, 
 I gave him soule and body, for his hire. 
 
 [6] 
 Twise did I make my tender flesh to bleed; 
 twise, with my blood, I wrot the Devill a deed : 
 Twise, wretchedly, both soule and body sould, 
 to live in pride and do what thing I would. 
 
 [7] 
 For fowre and twentye yeares this bond was made, 
 and at the end my soule was trewlye paide. 
 Time ran away, and yet I never thought, 
 how deare my Saviour Christ had my soule bought. 
 
 [8] 
 Would I had then been made a beast by kinde, 
 then had I not so vainely set my minde; 
 Or would, when reason first began to bloome, 
 some darksome den had beene my deadly toome 
 
 [9] 
 Wo to the day of my natiuitye ! 
 wo to the time that once did foster me ! 
 And wo vnto my hand that seald the bill ! 
 woe to my selfe, the causer of my ill ! 
 
 [7] 2 trewlye] nad to be 4 how deare] i. e. at what great 
 price, [8] 4 toome] i. e, tomb. 
 
 (73) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XV 
 
 [10] 
 
 The time I spent awaye with much delight 
 mongst princes, peers, and many a worthy knight. 
 I wrought such wonders, with my magicke skill, 
 that all the world may talke of Faustus still. 
 
 ["] 
 The Devill caried me vp into the skye, 
 where I did see how all the world did lye. 
 I went about the earth in eyght dayes' space, 
 and then returnd vnto my native place. 
 
 [12] 
 
 What pleasures I did wish to please my minde 
 he did performe, as hand and seale did bind ; 
 The secrets of the Starres, and Planets, told; 
 of earth and sea ; with wonders manifould. 
 
 [13] 
 When fowre and twenty years were almost run, 
 I thought of all things that were past and doone — 
 How that the Devill would come and clame his right, 
 and carry me to everlasting night. 
 
 [X4] 
 Then — all to late — I curst my wilful! deed, 
 the griefe whereof did make my hart to bleed : 
 All dayes, all howrs, all nights, I mornnbd sore, 
 repenting me of all things done before. 
 
 [15] 
 I then did wish both Sun and moone to staye, 
 all times and seasons never to decaye : 
 Then, had my tyme ne're come to datfed ende, 
 nor soul and body downe to hell descend. 
 
 [16] 
 
 At last, when I had but an howre to come, 
 I turnd my glasse for my best hour to run ; 
 And cald in learnfed men to comfort me — 
 But faith was gone, and comfort none could bee. 
 
 [17] 
 By twelue a dock my glasse was almost out: 
 my greeufed conscience then began to doubt. 
 I wisht the students stay in chamber by — 
 but, as they staid, they hard a dolefull cry. 
 
 [14] 3 mornnfed] i. e. mourned. [16] 2 best] read last. 
 (74) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XV 
 
 [18] 
 
 Then, presently, they came into the hall, 
 whereas my braines were cast against the wall : 
 Both armes, and leggs, in peices tome did see; 
 my bowels gone — that was the end of me. 
 
 Yow Coniurours, and damnbd wretches all, 
 example take by this accursfed fall. 
 Giue not your soules and bodyes vnto hell : 
 see that the smallest heare yow do not sell; 
 
 [20] 
 
 But hope that Christ's kingdom yow may gaine, 
 where yow shall never feel such greeuous payne. 
 Forsaking the Devill and all his craftye wayes, 
 embrace trew faith that never more decayes. 
 
 No. XVI 
 The dreadful day of doom draws near 
 
 Fol. 130^, title, in second hand; fol. 131, text, in third hand: with second 
 part, fol. 136^ first 3 verses in second hand, rest in third hand; continued 
 on fol. 144, in third hand. This ballad bears testimony partly to the 
 popular appetite for the marvellous, but hiore to the prevalence of apo- 
 calyptic speculation in James I's reign. It is unlikely that the place-name 
 and the presumable matters of fact (great thunderstorm and outbreak of 
 pestilence) are quite fictitious, though they have not yet been nailed down 
 definitely. The nearest place, in point of lettering, that I find in Gazetteers 
 is Holt, a commune of Belgium, province of Limburg. More probable, in 
 respect of locality, is Holten, a village (2,462 inhabitants) near Diisseldorf : 
 cf. Mors in No. X. In Roxburghe Collection, ii. 545, and in 4to Rawl. 
 566, fol. 166, is the woodcut for the second part of this ballad, representing 
 three skeletons, rising from graves, numbered 1, 2, 3, to fit them to stanzas 
 8, 9, II. It has nothing to do with the piece where it comes; but the 
 Black-letter printer would not, for such a trifle as inappropriateness, let 
 his wood-blocks lie idle. 
 
 [19] 4 heare] i. e. hair. [20] i Christ's] read Christ his. 
 
 (75) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XVI 
 
 «U!9il^9 
 
 #iraculou3 jjietue? from t\t txiXiz of Holdt 
 
 in Germany, X&^Ztt t\ZXZ \OZU V^UZ iieab 
 
 ftob^is 0eene to risie out of tj^eir (Brauesf 
 Jjpon t]^e ttoentiet]^ Jja? of S)eptemfier last 
 l6l6,tDtt]^ot]^et strange things t]^at Japneb. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF The ladye^s fall. 
 
 \A 
 
 The dreadful! day of doome drawes neere: 
 
 oh mortall man, repent ; 
 For all the world is full of sinne, 
 
 and vnto mischiefe bent. 
 His sword is drawne to strike vs dead, 
 
 as heere it is declard : 
 Then let vs call vnto the lord, 
 
 with cryes that may be heard. 
 
 \?\ 
 The lord hath shewd his anger late 
 
 by lightning and in Thunder, 
 With many other fearfuU threats 
 
 of terror and great wonder. 
 As late, at Holdt in Germany, 
 
 the heauens all burning bright 
 Appeared, full fiue houres and more, 
 
 there in a fiery light. 
 
 (76) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XVI 
 
 [3] 
 
 The dreadfull Thunders railed loude, 
 
 the lightning flashes strange, 
 Which seemd, within a moment's time, 
 
 this earthly globe to change. 
 The people all were sore amazd 
 
 the same to heare and see ; 
 And euery one did thinke that day 
 
 the day of doome to be. 
 
 [4] 
 And those that in the Towne[s] neare dwelt, 
 
 adioyning to the same. 
 Did thinke the cittye all on fire 
 
 and burning in a flame. 
 Where-at they came in numbers fast, 
 
 with manye a fearefull crye. 
 To helpe to quench the burning fires 
 
 that seemd to flame on hie. 
 
 [5] 
 But there they found no building burnt, 
 
 nor house with fire consumdj 
 But all the cittie in a maze, 
 
 that so in sinne presumd: 
 Where, when the thundrin[g] tempest ceased, 
 
 was heard a doleful! sound 
 And clamor, which strucke trembling feare 
 
 through all the cittye round. 
 
 [6] 
 Yet no man could perceiue from whence 
 
 those dreadfull clamours came; 
 Nor could they finde, in any place, 
 
 the speakers of the same. 
 Yet euery where it still was heard, 
 
 but no-w[h]ere could be found. 
 Though in the cittye still it gaue 
 
 a fearfuU hiddeous sound. 
 
 [7] 
 At leng[t]h the people vnto Church 
 
 did generally repaire, 
 In-tending there vnto the lord 
 
 to sacrifice in prayer. 
 But in the church-yard, as they went, 
 
 the Graues did open wide. 
 From whence rose vp three ghostly shapes 
 
 which long before had dyed. 
 
 [3] 4 change! read range. [7] 8 Explicit, fol. 13a. The 
 
 second part incipit on fo!. 136^ 
 
 (77) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XVI 
 
 To THE SAME TUNE. 
 
 [8] 
 Whereof the first was seene to be 
 
 from flesh consumed quite, 
 Yet of a humane shape to see, 
 
 most semly cleere and white: 
 Who spake these wordes : — ' Now is the time 
 
 '(the lord be blest therefore!) 
 'That we haue lookt for, day by day, 
 
 'these thousands yeares and more.' 
 
 [9] 
 The second that rose from his graue 
 
 came with more trembling feare, 
 For, all in fire, from head to foote, 
 
 he burning did appeare. 
 Vpon his head his haire likewise 
 
 did flaming stand vpright; 
 And all his body round about 
 
 did shine with fiery light. 
 
 [10] 
 
 Quoth he : — ' Repent, repent with speede, 
 
 ' you Nations on the earth ; 
 'For god intends to plague you all 
 
 'with pestilence and death. 
 ' Your pompe and pride he will destroy : 
 
 'Your lines with speede amend. 
 ' Repent, repent, while time giues leaue : 
 
 'the world is at an end.' 
 
 ["] 
 No sooner ended these his wordes, 
 
 but came a third in sight, 
 A fearfull shape that strangely brought 
 
 the people in a fright; 
 For, gnashing of his teeth together, 
 
 he made a hiddeous cry. 
 Delivering foorth these threatning woes 
 
 vnto the standers-rby. 
 
 [12] 
 
 ' Woe, woe vnto you, wicked men ! 
 
 'this is the time that we 
 'So many a day haue looked for; 
 
 'and now the same we see. 
 
 [8] 8 thousands] real/ thousand. 
 
 (78) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XVI 
 
 'Strange suddaine deaths are neere at hand; 
 
 'the earth with trembling feare 
 'Shall shortly be incompast round, 
 
 'Euen now this present yeare.' 
 
 [13] 
 
 So heauing spoake these threatning words, 
 
 their graues did open wide. 
 Where backe againe these gastly shapes, 
 
 before them all, did glide. 
 When closfed vp, the skyes grew cleare, 
 
 and so the tempest ceast: 
 The people all, from present feares, 
 
 were likewise so releast. 
 
 [14] 
 
 But yet, assembling soone themselfe, 
 
 vnto the lord gaue praise. 
 Desiring that, in mercy, he 
 
 would giue them longer dayes, 
 And not to lay his heauy hand 
 
 vpon them, for their sinne 
 And long continued wickednese 
 
 they so delighted in. 
 
 [is] 
 
 Let no man therefore thinke in heart 
 
 these warnings were in vaine, 
 Nor that they doe not any way 
 
 vnto vs appertaine. 
 For, as that cittye feeles god's Ire, 
 
 so ours may doo likewise, 
 When-as the Hues here of vs all 
 
 within his Justice lyes. 
 
 [16] 
 
 For, in that cittye, at this day, 
 
 so great a plague is seene, 
 That like not in the world (I thinke) 
 
 before hath euer beene. 
 For people dye within their streetes, 
 
 as they abroad doe goe. 
 Thus god, for their fore-passfed sinnes, 
 
 his heauy hand doth showe. 
 
 [13] I heauing] read having. [i6] 4 Explicit^ fol. 137'. 
 
 5 Iticipit, fol. 144. 7 fore-passSd] SKfis/i/Mferf/o*- fore-a-passed. 
 
 (79) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XVI 
 
 [17] 
 
 Some, feeding, at their tables dye 
 
 in midst of all their cheare, 
 The bread scarce in their mouthes being put 
 
 but fainting they appeare. 
 And some, that goe vnto their beds 
 
 in health and well ore-night, 
 Are strangely found therein starke dead 
 
 before next morning's light. 
 
 [18] 
 
 By these we may perceiue, oh lord, 
 
 thy warnings bring vs woe ] 
 And that they are not sent in vain, 
 
 as these they workes doe shoe. 
 Therefore let vs beleeue, and thinke 
 
 the wonders that he sends 
 Foretells vs following meseries 
 
 he suddainly intends. 
 
 [19] 
 
 Nor let vs make a sport of them 
 
 in meriment or game 
 (For god will all such scorners still 
 
 confound with open shame); 
 But rather hold them gentle meanes 
 
 and warninges of is Hue, 
 In time to win vs vnto grace, 
 
 And our repentance move. 
 
 [20] 
 
 To which most kinde and gracious god 
 
 Let us our pray-ers make 
 That all such threatning woes he may 
 
 from this our countrey take, 
 That we may neuer feele the wrath 
 
 which hee on other layes, 
 But still to walke, like christians true, 
 
 vprightly in his wayes. 
 
 [18] 4 they] readlhy. shoe] i.e. show. [19] 6 is liue] nad 
 his love. 7 vnto] inserted by second hand. 8 move] added 
 by second hand. 
 
 (80) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^, XVII 
 
 No. XVII 
 Come ! come ! come ! come ! What shall I say 
 
 Fol. 132 : written by the third hand. For the tune see No. VII. 
 
 -^ntj Iouei-'0 lamentaiile contplatnt, tu!jo 
 
 (being forsiafeen) tuisjetli all otj^ers U 
 
 tafee l^eebe of inomeit. 
 
 say 
 
 To THE TUNE OF The glasse doth run. 
 
 [i] 
 Come ! come ! come ! come ! What shall 
 to driue away this dolfuU day? 
 For all is vaine for to compl.iine 
 to this my deare that doth disdaine. 
 Therefore I will her quite forgoe, 
 for shee hath wrought my griefe and woe. 
 And thus I sing ' My heart is sore : 
 ' therefore, i'le neuer wooe her more.' 
 
 For though my labour is come to this, 
 
 yet to let her goe, 'tis not amis; 
 
 For she hath beene cause of my smart, 
 
 in fixing her so neere my hart. 
 
 Therefore, all you that wooers be, 
 
 take this example now by me : 
 
 And sing with me ' Our hearts be sore : 
 * therefore wee'le neuer wooe no more' 
 
 Title : And] read A or Pi. fond. 
 
 G (81) 
 
^hirhurn Ballads^ XVII 
 
 [3] 
 
 For virgins they haue wit at will 
 to try men's cunning, and eke their skill, 
 And thinke themselues most braue and gay, 
 when they are all in fine array. 
 But it is not so, you louers knowe ; 
 therefore say oft and let them goe : 
 And so I sing ' My hart is sore : 
 ''therefore i'le neuer wooe no more' 
 
 [4] 
 
 Why doe I sit so heauily, 
 because faire flora is not by ? 
 If shee be gon, then let her goe, 
 for she hath proued my deadly foe; 
 And nowe to loose her it is best, 
 that so my hart may liue at rest. 
 But it makes me sing etc. 
 
 [S] 
 
 But now I weepe, and sore lament, 
 to see the time which I haue spent 
 In mournefuU grones, and sighs so deepe, 
 which makes me nowe to waile and weepe, 
 And cursse the time she hath me slaine, 
 most secretly, in such a vaine : 
 Which makes me sing etc. 
 
 [6] 
 For now my sute is ver[i]e colde; 
 and now to speake I may be boulde. 
 Therefore, all ye that wooers be, 
 leaue off your suite and end with me : 
 For creature faire hath temp[t]ed me, 
 and brought me to this miserie : 
 But now I sing etc. 
 
 [7] 
 
 When loue in me it was first bred, 
 and on my heart must sweetly fed, 
 Such ioy it was vnto my minde, 
 though she at last hath proued vnkinde. 
 And now I must her quite forsake, 
 and coynfed gould I will home take : 
 Which makes me sing etc. 
 
 [4] 5 loose] i. e. lose. [7] 2 must] read most 
 
 (82) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads, XVII 
 
 [8] 
 
 ^yhat suddaine chance to me befell 
 
 vnto the world is knowne full well. 
 
 Therefore I haue deserufed hell, 
 
 and now let louers ring my knell. 
 
 Therefore, ye wooers, take good heede, 
 
 and heaue a care ere ye proceed, 
 
 And sing with me 'Our hearts be sore: 
 ^ and neuer let vs wooe no more.' 
 
 [9] 
 You louers all, that be so bolde, 
 take heede your courage be not colde ; 
 And doe not lust, and eke desire, 
 least that your hearts be sit on fire. 
 But leaue them all in the open field, 
 consent to none, nor doe not yeild: 
 For yet I sing ' My hart is sore : 
 ^therefore i'le neuer wooe no more.' 
 
 [10] 
 
 For pride will striue among them all 
 of which he meanes to giue the fall, 
 Which makes my soule lament the same, 
 with flouds of teares that run amane. 
 Now fie vpon this maiden kinde 
 that proued so false vnto my minde: 
 Which makes me sing etc. 
 
 For this I grieue, and sore repent, 
 of this vilde loue wherein I went 
 In sorrowes deepe, and worldlynes, 
 and wandred thus from happines : 
 And thus am tost now too and froe 
 and my poore hart in such a wooe: 
 Which makes me sing etc. 
 
 [12] 
 
 And thus I end my mournefull song, 
 which griefe did cause me to prolong; 
 And leaue my loue, which is so could ; 
 and wrape my selfe in endles moulde. 
 Therefore, all ye that louers be, 
 leaue off your suite, and end withe me, 
 And let vs sing : ' Our harts be sore : 
 'there/ore let vs leaue and wooe no more.' 
 
 [8] 6 heaue] i.e. have. [9] 4 sit] i.e. set. 5 in the] oraiVthe. 
 G 2 ( 83 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XVIII 
 
 No. XVIII 
 Jesu, my loving spouse 
 
 Fol. 134 sqq. Title (on fol. 134) and first stanza (on fol. 134'') by second 
 hand : all the rest by third hand. The combination of amatory tune with 
 devotional sentiment forcibly recalls similar strange collocations in the 
 Scottish Ane Compendious Buik of Godly and Spirituall Sangis, printed 
 in 1567, commonly known as The Gude and Godlie Ballatis, re-edited 
 by Professor Alexander F. Mitchell, 1897. 
 
 K^ jeiitmet, bijSpi^inge t\z toorl)) and all 
 eartj^p ijanitie?, repojefet]^ ]^0 tD]^ole confix 
 bencc in ^$ fielobeti ^Mwt, m.m.% «i:?§kisjc. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Dainty, come ihow to mee. 
 
 Jesu, my lovinge spouse, 
 
 eternall verytye. 
 Perfect guide to my soule, 
 
 waye to eternitye ! 
 Strengthen me with thy grace; 
 
 from thee i'le never flye. 
 Let them saye what they will, 
 
 Jesu, come thow to mee. 
 
 Poore men seeke after wealth, 
 
 bond men seeke libertie. 
 Crazed corpes crye for health, 
 
 all seeke prosperitie. 
 Nothing seeke I but christ, 
 
 he alone pleaseth me. 
 Let them all say what they will, 
 
 Jesu, come thou to mee. 
 
 [3] 
 Some weary out themselues 
 . in wayes of miserie ; 
 Some follow painted flies 
 
 th[r]ough fields of vanitie ; 
 Some, in the mouthes of men, 
 
 place their felli[ci]ty; 
 Such trifles I contemne. 
 
 Jesu, come thou to mee. 
 
 [3] 3 crazed corpes] i. e. craz'd corpses. 7 omit all. 
 
 (84) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XVIII 
 
 [4] 
 Some passe through surging seas 
 
 in dayli icoperdy, 
 Hazarding life and limme, 
 
 to be inrichd thereby; 
 Some toyle at home therefore. 
 
 I, by possessing thee, 
 Haue all they haue, and more. 
 
 Jesu^ come thou to me. 
 
 [5] 
 Feruent loue langheth sore 
 
 his louer's face to see; 
 Discarded caur-ti-ers, 
 
 in prince's grace to bee. 
 No woe, no want I feele, 
 
 while I remane with thee. 
 Let them all say what they will, 
 
 Jesu, come thou to mee, 
 
 [6] 
 What can this wretched world, 
 
 repleate with miserie, 
 Houlde to delight my soule, 
 
 made for eternitye? 
 All is vaine ; all is fraile, 
 
 all that's compard to thee. 
 All earthly things doe faile; 
 
 Jesu, come thou to me. 
 
 [7] 
 All that heart can conceaue, 
 
 eare can heare, eye can see, 
 All, and more, I possesse, 
 
 sweete Jesu christ, by thee. 
 Heauen and earth, all therein. 
 
 Life, limme, thou gauest mee. 
 Haue I not cause to sing 
 
 Jesu, come thou to m^ei 
 
 [8] 
 If pleasure moue my mind, 
 
 pow-er, nobilitye, 
 All this I find in thee; 
 
 strenght and agilitye, 
 Wisdome, wit, beautye, health, 
 
 peace, and felicity. 
 Of my soule perfect health, 
 
 Jesu, come thou to mee. 
 
 [5] I langheth] r««rflongeth. 3 caur-ti-ers] i.e. courtiers. 
 
 7 omit all. [7] 2 read eare heare, or eye can see. 
 
 [8] 3 read All this in thee I find. 5 health] read wealth. 
 
 (85) 
 
Shir burn Ballads^ XVI II 
 
 [9] 
 
 Though the world tempt me sore, 
 
 though the flesh trouble me, 
 Though the Deuell would deuour, 
 
 my refuge is in the. 
 Though heauen and earth doth faile, 
 
 though all perplexed be, 
 Thou art, and euer shall 
 
 my chiefest comfort be. 
 
 [10] 
 Thou art my Sauiour sweete, 
 
 foode and light vnto me; 
 A medicine most meete, 
 
 for each infirmitie ; 
 To my tast, honie sweete; 
 
 to my heart, melody; 
 Perfect guide to my feete ; 
 
 to my hart, Jubilie. 
 
 ["] 
 Not my will, Sauiour mine ; 
 
 but thine, performed be. 
 All things I count as dounge, 
 
 Jesu, for loue of thee. 
 Pleasure, pompe, all delight, 
 
 that I may blessed be, 
 I doe abandon quite. 
 
 Jesu, come thou to me. 
 
 [12] 
 
 Hauing thee, though I die, 
 
 I liue most ioyfuUy: 
 Wanting thee, though I liue, 
 
 such life is death to mee. 
 Thou art my blisse, my ioy, 
 
 all my felicitye. 
 Chiefe succour in annoy, 
 
 Jesu, come thou to mee. 
 
 For thee my soule was made; 
 
 nought else contenteth thee. 
 All earthly pleasures fade; 
 
 thou liuest eternally. 
 Strengthen mee with thy grace, 
 
 that I may worthy be 
 In heauen to see thy face, 
 
 and burne in loue of thee. 
 
 [9] 4 the] i. e. thee. 7 Thou] by correction from though. 
 
 [io]'6 heart] reat/ear. [13] 2 thee] readme, 
 
 (86) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XIX 
 
 No. XIX 
 And wilt thou, my dear, begone 
 
 Fol. 140^. Text given, from this MS., in Roxburghe Ballads, vii, p. xiii. 
 
 ^ilt tl^otD \z goone, m? Jjeare. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Sweete Gardiner. 
 
 \A 
 
 And wilt thow be gone, my Deare? 
 
 and wilt thow no longer remaine? 
 Farewell ! I can live alone ; 
 
 thy companye I can refraine. 
 If it be your favour thus for to waver, 
 Goel Gael 
 And never come to mee againe. 
 
 [^] 
 I scorne for thy love to sue; 
 
 my thoughts doe detest the same, 
 I am as well resolufed as yow, 
 and as little I doe complaine. 
 If it be your favour thus for to waver, 
 Goe ! Goe I 
 And never come to me againe, 
 
 [3] 
 These follyes yow will repent, 
 
 when dreames have possest your braine ; 
 And, in your false armes, yow 
 
 will wishe mee your lover againe. 
 But when your lypps misses my wonted kisses, 
 [Oh! Oh!] 
 Faine would yow come to mee againe. 
 
 [4] 
 Then kisse mee, nor clap mee, no more; 
 
 Nor coll mee, nor court mee, in vaine. 
 Yow might have knowne before 
 
 To have kist mee, and with mee have laine. 
 But now, Adue ! and when it please yow, 
 Soe goe! 
 And never come to fne againe. 
 
 [i] I read And wilt thow, my Deare, be gone— for the rhyme'^ 
 sake. [3] 6 line dropped out. [4] r clap] possibly clasp. 
 
 3 might have] possibly might this have. 6 Soe goe"] read 
 
 Goe ! Goe I 
 
 (87) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XX 
 
 No. XX 
 O smile, o smile ! o my joy, o my sweeting 
 
 Fol 141 No. XLV is another instance of a ' Second Part' of which the 
 first part is not found in the MS. Possibly the original printed sheet had 
 been torn in two, and only the second half had come to the writer s hand. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF So Ho. 
 
 VA 
 
 O smile, o smile ! o my icy, o my swfeetinge ! 
 
 let not my love despare. 
 Crowne you my thoughts with a friendly greeting, 
 else shall I dye with care. 
 For my hart, 
 with Cupid's dart, 
 is stricken very sore : 
 with a — Hononanero hone. 
 
 When first I saw thee, I stoode all amazed; 
 
 like to a starre most bright, 
 Beautye shined on mee, as inglazbd 
 in the darkest night. 
 Venus fayre 
 was not soe rare 
 as my poore love alone : 
 with — Hononanero hone. 
 (88) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XX 
 
 now, my loye ! thou wert wont for to love me; 
 
 now art thow growne vnkinde. 
 Hast thow not had longe time to prove me? 
 [why] was thy love soe blinde? 
 [would] to my griefe 
 I had some reUefe ; 
 and to thee I make my mone, 
 with — Hononanero hone. 
 
 [4] 
 
 1 that haue oft on the Sea beene in danger, 
 
 for my trew lover's sake, 
 Now I am returned againe, like a stranger : 
 tume to me. Love; and awake. 
 
 Thy sweet face, 
 
 with a comely grace, 
 when first I looked vpon : 
 with — Hotwnanero hone. 
 
 [S] 
 Neptune, why, from the wind and the weather, 
 
 didst thow my body keepe, 
 And didst not rayse the floudes altogether, 
 and drowne me in the deepe? 
 It makes my hart 
 with griefe to smart, 
 weepe, waile, lament, and mone, 
 with — Hononanero hone. 
 
 No. XXI 
 Come hither, mine host, come hither 
 
 Fol. 142 : with second part on fol. 143. 
 
 This piece is a good example of the convivial song of the period, in 
 which the actual words were of minor importance, the attraction lying in 
 the rattling chorus. The true vocation of this type of song was for im- 
 provisation, the singer, or each member of the company in turn, making 
 up the next verse, with topical allusions or rhymes on the names of those 
 present, while the others trolled out the chorus. Balliol men of 1880 
 remember the varied entertainment derived from improvisations sung to 
 a Burschenlied of this sort, with the chorus : — 
 
 Vive la, vive la, vive la va ! 
 Vive la, vive la, haupt sa sa! 
 Vive la companaiya ! 
 
 [3] 4 and 5. Words lost by fraying of edge of leaf. 
 
 (89) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXI 
 
 In stanza 7, in the 'pewter standard', demand is made for full legal 
 measure. The statute (11 Henry VII, cap. 4, § i) required that liquor 
 should be sold in measures attested by the seal, or stamp, of the Weights 
 and Measures authorities. This was evaded for various reasons. In 
 Roxburghe Ballads, vi. 486, is a ballad entitled : ' Nick and froth, or the 
 Good-fellow complaining for want of full measure, discovering the deceits 
 of victuallers ... by filling their drink in false flaggons.' One stanza of 
 this descants on short measure, and its profitable use by the ale-sellers : 
 
 For those that drink Beer 
 
 ('tis true as I'me here,) 
 your counterfeit flaggons you have. 
 
 Which hold not a quart, 
 
 scarce by a third part, 
 and that makes my hostis go brave. 
 
 Another reason was the desire not to discard old stock-in-trade', such 
 as earthenware jugs. At Maldon the alehouse-keepers, with one consent, 
 elected to sell their ale in such jugs, and not in stamped pewter jugs. 
 At every Clerk of the Market's Court there, from Elizabeth to Anne, there 
 is a long list of licensed houses fined 20^. or 40^. each for selling in 'stone 
 potts ' and not in ' sealed measures '. 
 
 Those other devices of the tavern, nick and froth, are mentioned in 
 stanzas 9 and 10, and the tavern-keeper is made to comment on the 
 advantages they bring him, e. g. sleep free from care, rent paid, house- 
 property acquired. To 'nick' was to serve liquor in jugs which had 
 bottoms rising up inside of the jug, so that their size as seen outwardly 
 deceived the customer into a belief that he was getting large measure. To 
 'froth' was to put a frothy head on the ale, instead of filling the jug to the 
 brim — in modem slang, ' to give it a long neck.' The locus classicus on 
 the practice comes in the ballad already cited : 
 
 Bee't tankard or flaggon, 
 
 which of them you brag on, 
 we'l trust you to nick and to froth: 
 
 Before we can drink 
 
 be sure it will shrink 
 far worser than North-country cloth. 
 
 Farthing tokens (stanza ll) were extensively issued by James I, and 
 their use enjoined by yearly proclamations, e.g. May 19, 1613, June 21, 
 1614, and Oct. 26, 1615, this last 'establishing the continuance of his 
 maiestie's farthing tokens ' ; and printed ' at London, by Robert Barker, 
 161 5 '. In stanza 12 the singer represents himself as tossing a number of 
 these tokens on to the counter in call for more ale. 
 
 ' In the same way, at the present day, alarming calculations have been made 
 of the cost to the community which would be entailed by enforcement of the 
 metric system. 
 
 (90) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXI 
 
 2. fenotte of goob fellotos. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Stand thy ground, old Harrye. 
 
 [i] 
 Come hither, mine host, come hither ! 
 Come hither, mine host, come hither ! 
 I pray the, mine host, 
 Giue vs a pot and a tost. 
 And let vs drinke all together. 
 
 Giue vs more ale, and booke it I 
 
 Give vs more ale, and booke it! 
 
 And yf the olde whore 
 
 Would wipe of her score. 
 
 For money she must goe looke it. 
 
 Then let vs be blith and merry ! 
 
 Let care kill a catte ; 
 
 Wee'le laugh and be fatte ; 
 Her[e]'s ale as browne as a berry. 
 
 [3] 
 The Taylour loues the Baker ! 
 
 The Shoemaker tho. 
 
 Full well I doe know. 
 Loves the nappy, strong, Ale maker. 
 
 [i] 4 Giue vs] read Giue 's. 6 Refrain to follow every 
 
 stanza. 9 of] i. e. off. [2] i First line of every stanza is 
 
 to be sung twice. 
 
 (91) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXI 
 
 [4] 
 'Twill make him singe downe diddle ! 
 
 To lay by his Naule, 
 
 His last, and his Ball, 
 And daunce without a fiddle. 
 
 [5] 
 A round, a round, old Harryel 
 
 Come, take off your Pott, 
 
 And call a new shott; 
 I preeth[ee], sitt downe and tarry, 
 
 [6] 
 Come, fill it againe, Mall Spoomrl 
 
 Let's laugh and be fatt; 
 
 Let's tipple and chat — 
 'Tis but begginge a yeere the sooner. 
 
 [7] 
 Wee'Ue drinke by the Pewter standard! 
 
 A quarter-day 
 
 If I want to paye, 
 I'le pawne — to please my Landlord. 
 
 [8] 
 I love good drinke, I tell yee ! 
 
 Tho cloathes I do lacke 
 
 To put on my backe, 
 rie have hquor for my Belly e. 
 
 C]^e seconti jpatt. 
 
 [9] 
 Heere's to the old wench mfolgatel 
 'And though I be loth 
 'To nicke and to froth. 
 That built the Fie at Algate.' 
 
 [lo] 
 
 No more of that Nicke, good Peter/ 
 No more of that froath, good Peter I 
 
 ' O hould yow content ; 
 
 ' They pay a man's rent, 
 'And make his sleeps the sweeter.' 
 
 [4] 2 Naule] i. e. awl. 3 Ball] i. e. heel-bdll. 
 
 (92) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXI 
 
 ["] 
 
 Full wittilye hast thow spoken! 
 
 Mine hostess can do't, 
 
 If she be put to't, 
 I'le lay a new farthing Token ! 
 
 [12] 
 
 Then flye, old Brasse, fly over ! 
 
 If Copper still goes, 
 
 I'le haue a redd nose 
 As any 'tweene this and Doner. 
 
 [13] 
 Who is it but loues good Liquor? 
 
 'Twill make a Catte speake; 
 
 Him strong, that is weake; 
 And all our witts the quicker. 
 
 Heer's to thee, old Tom, heer's to thee! 
 
 The t'other Pot in 
 
 Againe and againe — 
 A penny will ne'ere vndoe thee. 
 
 [is] 
 
 A whifFe of your Trinidado ! 
 
 More Liquor and Smoake ! 
 
 We are ready to choake; 
 A pipe of the best Tobacco ! 
 
 [16] 
 
 Then take off your Lappe there roundly ! 
 Then take oflF your Lappe there roundly ! 
 
 Dam Dice, and a Puncke ; 
 
 Wee'le drink and be drunke, 
 And sleepe together soundly. 
 
 Giue vs more ale, and booke it t 
 
 Giue vs more ale, and booke it ! 
 And yf the old whor". 
 Would wipe of her Score, 
 
 For money she must goe looke it. 
 
 [16] I Lappe] i.e. liquor. 
 
 (93) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXII 
 
 No. XXII 
 There was a rat-catcher 
 
 Fol. 144'^. Another piece with a 'tavern-chorus ', as No. XXI, but of a 
 baser type. The title does not correctly describe the contents. The rat- 
 catcher leaves London, to travel over England, and then departs to France, 
 with no mention of his return. 
 
 In stanza 12 the implements and badge of this trade are described. The 
 man worked by means of a ' painefuU bagge ', i. e. a bag of poisons. In 
 Essex at the present day the professional rat-catcher is Regularly called in 
 to rid rickyards of rats. He works by poison, the nature of which, and 
 the disposition of which about the ricks, he makes a mystery of. In the 
 ballad the ensign of this trade is a flag of different colours. Rev. J. W. 
 Ebsworth notes (Roxburghe Ballads, viii, p. xxxvii) that in 1832 the rat- 
 catcher's professional badge was a yellow scarf with figures of black rats. 
 
 W^t famous Kat^jfeetcj^er, \si\i^ ]^0 trauel? 
 
 into Fraunce, aitb of j^jS tztutnt tO London. 
 To THE TUNE OF The Jouiall Tinker. 
 
 There was a Rat-ketcher 
 
 did abovt the Country wander, 
 The soundest blade of all his trade, 
 or I should him deeply slaunder; 
 
 For still would he crye 'A Iiat\ rat, rat, 
 
 tara Eat!' ever. 
 To catch a Mouse, or to carouse, 
 such a Ratter I saw never. 
 
 \A 
 
 Vpon a Poale he carried 
 
 full fortye fulsume Vermine, 
 Whose cursM lives, without any Kniues, 
 
 to take he did determine. 
 And still would he crye etc. 
 
 [3] 
 His talke was all of India, 
 
 the voyage, and the Navye. 
 'What mise or Rattes? or wild polecats? 
 
 'what Stoats or weesels have yee?' 
 
 [4] 
 He knew the Nutt of India 
 
 that makes the Magpy stagger, 
 The Mercuries, and Canthari\d\es, 
 
 with Arsnicke, and Roseaker. 
 
 [2] 5 Refrain to follow every stanza. [3] 3 mise] i. e. mice. 
 [4] 4 Roseaker] i. e. resalgar, disulphide of arsenic. 
 
 (94) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXII 
 
 [s] 
 
 Full often, with a Negro, 
 
 the iuyce of Poppies drunke hee; 
 
 Eate Poyson ranke, with a mountebanke; 
 and Spiders, with a Monkye. 
 
 [6] 
 In London he was well knowne; 
 
 in many a stately Howse, 
 He layd a bayte, whose deadlye fate 
 
 did kill both Ratte and Mouse. 
 
 [7] 
 But, on a time, a Damosell 
 
 did him to farre intice, 
 That for her a Bayt hee layd strayght 
 
 would kill no Rats nor mice. 
 
 [8] 
 And on the Bayte shee nibled, 
 
 so pleasing in her tast; 
 Shee lickt so longe, that the Poyson strong 
 
 did make her swell i' th' wast. 
 
 [9] 
 He, subtilely this perceiuinge, 
 
 to the Country straight doth hye him, 
 Where, by his skill, he poysoneth still 
 
 such vermine as come nye him. 
 
 [lo] 
 He never careth whether 
 
 he be sober, tame, or tipsye ; 
 He can collogue with any Rogue, 
 
 and can, with any Gipsie. 
 
 ["] 
 He was soe braue a bowzer, 
 
 that it was doubtfull whether 
 He taught the Rats, or the Rats taught him, 
 
 to be drunke as Rats together. 
 
 [12] 
 When he had tript this Ilande 
 
 from Bristow vnto Doner, 
 With painefuU Bagge, and painted flagge, 
 to France he saylfed over. 
 
 Yet still would he cry ^ A Rat, rat, rat, 
 
 tara rat!' euer. 
 \To catch a mouse, or to carouse, 
 such a Ratter I saw never.] 
 
 (95) 
 
iShirburn Ballads^ XXIII 
 
 No. XXIII 
 Of Hector's deeds did Homer sing 
 
 Fol. 146 ; begins imperfectly, from loss of the preceding leaves. Title, 
 and thirty-seven first stanzas, supplied from the Black-letter copy in Wood 
 401, fol. 115. Texi^y&naXsoia Roxburghe BalladSfi.^'&OjiroraotiieT Black- 
 letter exemplar copies. As usual, the source of the ballad is a con- 
 temporary book — Richard Johnson's Famous Historie of the Seven 
 Champions of Christendom, printed before 1596. 
 
 
 J 
 
 5 
 
 j^r 
 
 1, 
 
 
 
 itt 
 
 
 ^ ^^& 
 
 
 
 
 m 
 
 W 
 
 I 
 
 ^* 
 
 s 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
 w 
 
 %^a 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^s^ 
 
 h 
 
 ^m 
 
 % 
 
 ^m 
 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 __. rf^lfi^^fJL » 
 
 % 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 i 
 
 ^9 
 
 
 B 
 
 S% mosit eiccllent tallaB of S[atnt] George for England anli tlje 
 
 ftins's Uaugfjte of ^gypt, fal^am \i Seltljetelj front Btatl^ ; anlr fjoSn 
 
 \fi sle&i a mtgt)ts liTagon. 
 
 The tune is Flying fame?^ 
 
 {A 
 
 [Of Hector's deeds did Homer sing, 
 and of the sack of stately Troy, 
 What grief fair Hellen did them bring, 
 which was Sir Paris only joy. 
 And, with my pen, I must recite 
 S. Georges deeds, an English knight. 
 
 (96) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXIII 
 
 Against the Saraeens, full rude, 
 
 fought he full long and many a day, 
 Where many Gyants he subdu'd 
 in honour of the Christian way. 
 And, after many adventures past, 
 to Egypt land he came at last. 
 
 [3] 
 And, as the story plain doth tell, 
 
 within the Countrey there did rest 
 A dredfuU Dragon, fierce and fell, 
 
 whereby they were full sore opprest : 
 Who by his poysoned breath each day 
 did many of that City slay, 
 
 [4] 
 The grief whereof did grow so great, 
 throughout the limits of the land, 
 That they their wise men did intreat 
 to shew their cunning, out of hand, 
 
 which way they might this dragon stroy, 
 that did their Countrey so annoy. 
 
 [5] 
 The wise men all, before the King, 
 framed this matter, incontinent ; 
 'The dragon none to death might bring 
 'by any means they would invent. 
 ' His skin more hard than brass was found, 
 'that sword or spear can pierce or wound.' 
 
 [6] 
 When this the people understood, 
 they cryfed out most pitiously. 
 The Dragon's breath infected their blood 
 that they in heaps each day did dye. 
 Amongst them such a plague it bred, 
 the living scarce could bury the dead. 
 
 [7] 
 No means there was, as they could find, 
 
 for to appease this Dragon's rage. 
 But by a virgin pure and kind, 
 
 whereby they might his fury swage. 
 Each day he should a Maiden eat 
 for to allay his hunger great. 
 
 [8] 
 This thing, by art, the wise men found, 
 
 which truely must observed be. 
 Wherefore, throughout the City round, 
 a Virgin pure, of good degree, 
 was, by the King's Commission, still 
 took up to serve the Dragon's will. 
 
 [5] 4 would] r*««r could. 5 that] read than. [6] 3 infected] 
 read infects. 
 
 SHIRB. H ( 97 } 
 
Bhirburn Ballads^ XXIII 
 
 [9] 
 
 Thus did the Dragon, every day, 
 
 a Maiden of the Town devour, 
 Till all the Maids were worn away, 
 
 and none were left, that present hour, 
 saving the King's fair Daughter bright, 
 her Father's joy and heart's delight. 
 
 [10] 
 
 Then came the Officers to the King 
 
 this heavy message to declare, 
 Which did his heart with sorrow sting. 
 
 'She is,' quoth he, 'my Kingdom's heir. 
 'O let us all be poysoned here, 
 'ere she should dye, that is my dear.' 
 
 ["] 
 Then rose the people presently, 
 
 and to the King, in rage, they went. 
 Who said his daughter dear should dye 
 the Dragon's fury to prevent. 
 
 ' Our daughters all are dead,' quoth they, 
 ' and have been made the Dragon's prey. 
 
 [12] 
 
 'And, by their blood, we have been blest, 
 'and thou hast sav'd thy life thereby. 
 'And now, in justice, it doth rest 
 
 'for us thy daughter so should dye.' 
 ' O save my daughter ! ' said the King, 
 'And let me feel the Dragon's sting.' 
 
 Then fell fair Sabrine on her knee, 
 and to her Father thus did say, 
 ' O Father, strive not thus for me ; 
 'but let me be the Dragon's prey. 
 ' It may be, for my sake alone, 
 'this plague upon this Land was shown. 
 
 [14] 
 ''Tis better I should dye,' she said, 
 
 'than all your Subjects perish quite. 
 ' Perhaps the Dragon here was laid, 
 
 ' for my offence, to work this spight ; 
 'And, after he hath suckt my gore, 
 'your Land shall feel the grief no more.' 
 
 'What hast thou done, my daughter dear, 
 
 'for to deserve this heavy scourge? 
 'It is my fault, as may appear, 
 
 'which makes the gods our state to grudge. 
 'Then ought I die, to stint the strife, 
 •and to preserve thy happy life.' 
 
 [11] 3 Who] i. e. the people. 
 (98) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ XXIII 
 
 [16] 
 
 Like madmen then the people cry'd, 
 
 ' Thy death to us can do no good, 
 ' Our safety only do abide 
 
 'to make thy daughter Dragon's food.' 
 ' Loe I here am I ; I come ; ' quoth she, 
 'therefore do what you will with me.' 
 
 [17] 
 
 'Nay! stay, dear daughter;' quoth the Queen, 
 
 'and, as thow art a Virgin bright — 
 ' Thow hast for Vertue famous been — 
 'so, let me cloath thee all in white, 
 'and crown thy head with flowers sweet, 
 ' an Ornament for virgins meet.' 
 
 [18] 
 
 And, when she was attirfed so, 
 
 according to her Mother's mind, 
 Unto the stake then did she go, 
 
 to which they did this Virgin bind. 
 Who being bound to stake and thrall, 
 she bad farewell unto them all. 
 
 'Farewell, dear Father,' then quoth she, 
 
 'and my sweet Mother, meek and mild. 
 ' Take you no thought, nor weep, for me ; 
 'for you may have another childe. 
 
 ' Here, for my Countrie's good. Pie dye, 
 'which 1 receive most willingly .f 
 
 [.o] 
 
 The King and Queen, with all their train, 
 
 with weeping eyes went then their way; 
 And let their Daughter there remain 
 to be the hungry Dragon's prey. 
 But, as she did there weeping lye, 
 behold !. St. George came riding by. 
 
 [21] 
 
 And, seeing there a Lady bright, 
 
 fast tySd to the stake that day, 
 Most like unto a valiant Knight, 
 he unto her did take his way. 
 'Tell me, sweet maiden,' then quoth hee, 
 'What person thus abused thee? 
 
 ["] 
 ' And low ! by Christ his Cross, I vow, 
 'which here is figured on my brest, 
 ' I will revenge it on his brow, 
 
 ' And break my Lance upon his chest.' 
 And speaking thus whereas he stood, 
 The Dragon issufed out of the wood. 
 
 H 2 ( 99 ) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ XXIII 
 
 The Lady, that did first espy 
 
 the dreadful! Dragon coining so, 
 Unto St. George aloud did cry, 
 and willM him away to go. 
 ' Here comes that cursed fiend,' quoth she, 
 'that soon will make an end of me.' 
 
 St. George then, looking round about, 
 
 the fiery Dragon soon espi'd, 
 And, like a Knight of courage stout, 
 against him he did fiercely ride. 
 
 And, with such blows he did him greet, 
 that he fell under his horse['s] feet. 
 
 For, with a Lance that was so strong, 
 
 as he came gaping in his face. 
 Into his mouth he thrust it long, 
 
 the which could pierce no other place. 
 And there, within this Ladle's view, 
 this dreadful Dragon then he slew. 
 
 [26] 
 
 The savor of his poysoned breath 
 
 could do this Christian knight no harm. 
 Thus did he save the Lady from death, 
 and home he led her by the arm. 
 Which when [King] Ptolomy did see, 
 there was great mirth and melody. 
 
 [27] 
 When-as the famous knight, St. George, 
 
 bad slain the Dragon in the field, 
 And brought the Lady to the Court, 
 
 whose sight with joy their hearts [all] fil'd. 
 He in the Egyptian court then staid, 
 till he most falsly was betray'd. 
 
 [28] 
 
 The Lady Sabrine lov'd him well ; 
 
 he counted her his only joy. 
 But, when their love was open known, 
 it provd to Georges great annoy. 
 The Morocco king was in the court, 
 who to the Orchard did resort. 
 
 [29] 
 
 Dayly, to take the pleasant ayre, 
 
 for pleasure's sake he us'd to walk 
 Under a wall, wheras he heard 
 
 St. George with Lady Sabrine talk. 
 Their love he revealed to the King, 
 which to St. George great wo did bring. 
 
 ( 100) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXIII 
 
 [30] 
 
 These Kings together did devise 
 
 to make the Christian knight away. 
 With Letters him Embassador 
 
 .they straightway sent to Persia, 
 and wrote to Sophy him to kill 
 and Traiterously his blood to spill. 
 
 [31] 
 Thus they, for good, did him reward 
 
 with evil, and most subtily. 
 By much vile means, they did devise 
 to work his death most cruelly. 
 While he in Persia abode, 
 he quite destroy'd each Idol god. 
 
 [3^] 
 Which being done, he straight was cast 
 
 into a Dungeon dark and deep. 
 But, when he thought upon his wrong, 
 he bitterly did waile and weep. 
 Yet, like a Knight of courage stout, 
 forth of the Dungeon he got out. 
 
 [33] 
 And, in the night, three horsekeepers 
 
 this valiant Knight, by power, slew, 
 Although he fasted many a day. 
 
 And then away from thence he flew 
 on the best steed that Sophy had : 
 which, when he knew, he was full sad. 
 
 [34] 
 Then, into Christendom he came, 
 and met a Gyant by the way. 
 With whom in combate he did fight, 
 most valiantly, a Summer's day. 
 Who yet, for all his bates of steel, 
 was foirc'd the sting of death to feel. 
 
 [35] 
 From Christendom this valiant Knight 
 
 then with [his] warlike souldiers past, 
 Vowing, upon those Heathen Lands 
 
 to work revenge; which, at the last, 
 
 E'[e]r thrice three years were gone and spent, 
 he did, unto his great content. 
 
 [36] 
 
 Save only, /Egypt land he spar'd 
 
 for Sabrine bright her only sake : 
 And ere his rage he did suppress, 
 he meant a tryal kind to make. 
 Ptolomy did know his strength in field 
 and unto him did kindly yield. 
 
 [31] 3 much] read which. 
 
 (loi) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXIII 
 
 [37] 
 
 Then he the Morocco king did kill, 
 
 and took fair Sabrine to his wife ; 
 And after that, contentedly, 
 
 with her St. George did lead her life, 
 Who, by the vertue of her chain, 
 did still a Virgin pure remain.] 
 
 [38] 
 
 Toward England then S. George did bring 
 
 this gallant Lady, Sabra bright: 
 A Eunuch also came with them, 
 in whom the Lady tooke delight. 
 
 None but these three from Eppt came : 
 now let me print S. George his fame. 
 
 [39] 
 When they were in a forrest great, 
 
 the Lady did desire to rest : 
 And then S. George to kyll a deere, 
 to feed thereon, did thinke yt best; 
 Left Sabra and the Eunuch there, 
 whilst he did goe to kill the deere. 
 
 [40J 
 
 Meanwhile, within his absence, came 
 two hungry Lyons, fyerce and fell; 
 And tore the Eunuch presen[t]lye 
 in peeces small, but, truth to tell ! 
 Downe by the Laydye then he layd. 
 Whereby yt seemd shee was a maide. 
 
 [41] 
 
 But when S. George from huntinge came, 
 and did behould this heavye chaunce. 
 Yet, for his loving virgine's sake, 
 his courage then he did aduaunce. 
 And came into the Lyons' sight, 
 who ran on him with all their might. 
 
 [42] 
 But he, being no whyt dismayde, 
 
 but lyke a stout and valiant knight, 
 Did kyll those hungry Lyons both, 
 within the Ladye's, Sabra's, sight : 
 But all this while, sad and demure, 
 she stoode, most lyke a virgin pure. 
 
 [37] 4 her life] rearf his life. [38] i ««n^V fol. 146. z Sabra] 
 B.-L. Sabrine. [40] 5 he] read they. [42] 4 Sabra' s\ 
 
 B.-L. Sabrine's, 
 
 ( 102) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ XXIII 
 
 [43] 
 
 Then, when St. George did surely know 
 
 his Ladye was a virgin true, 
 His doubting thoughts, that earst ware dampt, 
 began most freshlye to renewe: 
 He set her on her palfry steede, 
 and toward England went with speede. 
 
 [44] 
 Where he aryvfed in short tyme 
 
 vnto his father's dwelling-place, 
 Where, with his love, in ioy he lyved, 
 when fortune had their nuptials graced. 
 They many yeares of ioye did see 
 and lead their lyves at Coventrye. 
 
 iftnisi. 
 
 No. XXIV 
 When Jesus Christ was twelve years old 
 
 Fol. 146''. Text given in Roxburghe Ballads, vii. 791, from Black-letter 
 copies. In stanza 3, a slip of the copyist has jumbled the 7 loaves and 
 4,000 of St. Matt. XV. 34, 38, with the 5 loaves and 5,000 of St. Matt. xiv. 
 19-21. It may be conjectured that such a hymn, sung in church by a 
 good soloist, with the whole congregation taking up the last quatrain and 
 so giving the soloist time to recover breath, had a striking effect. 
 
 The last stanza is shorter by four lines than the others (with the refrain), 
 both in the MS. and in the B.-L. copies. Possibly the air was repeated 
 twice and not thrice ; or else the soloist gratified his hearers by making 
 them sing the refrain twice over, a trick still known in congregational 
 singing. The concluding verse of No. LXXVIII, sung to the same tune, 
 has its full 9 lines. 
 
 H mojit ejccellent anb toortiip '^'S^t'^> siietuing 
 t\z tijonderfull miracle? of our 3Lorii ani) 
 g>atjiour aiESjas nsm-is,^, toj^cij \z bii> tuj^le 
 ^t remaineb on t\t eart|j, tt\ t\z great 
 comfort of all t$e goblpe anb m^ ass 6p 
 Ipiielpe fapt|j flpe ijnto ]^m. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Ttjumpke and ioye. 
 
 When Jesus Christ was twelue yeers old, 
 As holy scriptures plaine hath toulde. 
 He then desputed braue and boulde 
 amongst the learnfed doctors ; 
 
 [43] 3 ware] readwere, dampt] B.-L. dumb. 4 freshlye] 
 B.rL. firmly. 
 
 (103) 
 
Shirburn Ballads, XXIV 
 
 Who wondred greatlye at his witte, 
 As in the Temple they did sytte. 
 For noe man could compare with yt, 
 
 his wisdome was soe heauenlye. 
 Then prayse the Lord, both hye and lowe, 
 Which all these wondrous worhes did sfiewe. 
 That we to heauen at length may goe 
 
 where he in glory ragineth. 
 
 At thirtye yeares he then began 
 To preach the gospell vnto man, 
 And all Judea wondred than 
 
 to heare his heauenlye doctrine. 
 Such wonders he wrought as made them muse 
 Amonge the proud, hard-harted Jewes ; 
 Yet euermore they did refuse 
 
 to take him for their Sauiour. 
 
 [3] 
 For, first of all, by power divine, 
 He chaungbd water into wine, 
 When at a mariage he did dine: 
 
 which made the people wonder. 
 Moreouer, with seauen loues of bread, 
 Fyve thousande men he fully fedde, 
 Whereby his glorye farre was spread 
 
 throughout the lande of lury. 
 
 [4] 
 And, by his glorious power and might, 
 Vnto the blinde he gaue their sight; 
 For which the Jewes bare him a spite, 
 
 who sought for to destroye him. 
 The man that was both d[e]afe and dumbe, 
 Which never hard, nor spake with tongue, 
 By Christ was healed when he did come, 
 
 whose prayse he then pronouncbd. 
 
 [5] 
 The woman which was greeufed sore 
 With an issue of bloud, twelue yeeres and more, 
 Vnto her health he did restore 
 
 in a minute of an hower. 
 The captaine's man, that sicke did lye. 
 Our Sauiour healbd presentlye. 
 Although he never came him nye, 
 
 his worde alone did helpe him. 
 
 [i] 9 These four lines to be sung in chorus at the end of every 
 stanza. 12 ragineth] read raigneth. [a] 5 wonders] read 
 
 works. [3] 6 Fyve] read Four. 8 lury] 1. e. Jewry. 
 
 [4] 7 healed] i. c. heal'd. 
 
 ( 104 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXIV 
 
 [6] 
 Lykewise he heald the leapers ten 
 Whose bodyes were most fylthy then : 
 Yet none but one did tume againe 
 
 his humble thankes to render. 
 And he which sicke of palsey laye, 
 With shakinge ioypts, full many a day, 
 The lord to heale him did not staye 
 
 but strayt his will fulfilled. 
 
 [7] 
 The halt and lame that could not goe, 
 But still remained in great woe, 
 Our sauiour Christe did pittye show, 
 
 and made them whole and lustye. 
 The man which was with devills possest, 
 And never lyved in peace or rest, 
 By CHRIST'S word at length was blest, 
 
 and they were cleane cast from him. 
 
 [8] 
 The widdowe's sonne that dead did lye 
 When Christ our Sauiour did come nye, 
 He raysed to lyfe immediatlye 
 
 vnto her ioye and comfort. 
 When Mary and Martha made great mone 
 Because their brother was dead and gone, 
 Our lord put lyfe in him alone, 
 
 and he from grave came runninge. 
 
 [9] 
 And, more his heauenlye might to showe, 
 Vpon the Sea himselfe did goe; 
 And never none coulde yet doe soe, 
 
 but onely christ our Sauiour. 
 And when the Souldiers, with great might, 
 Did come to take him in the night. 
 They were not able to stande in his sight 
 
 tyll he the same permitted. 
 
 [10] 
 But yet for all these wonders great 
 The /ewes were in a raginge heate. 
 Whom noe perswasions could intreat, 
 
 but cruellye they did kill him. 
 And when he left his lyfe soe good. 
 The moone was turned into bloude. 
 The earth and Temple shakinge stoode, 
 
 and graues full wide did open. 
 
 [7] I The halt] read To halt. 7 Christ's] i. e. Christ his. 
 
 [9] 7 his sight] omit his, [10] 6 Vague citation of Acts ii. 20. 
 
 (los) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXIV 
 
 ["] 
 
 Then some of them which stoode thereby 
 With voyces lovde beganne to crye, 
 ' This was the sonne of god, trulye ! ' 
 
 without all kinde of doubtinge. 
 And, as they sayde, yt pfovfed plaine : 
 For, in three dayes, he rose againe. 
 Although he suffered bitter paine, 
 
 both death and hell he conquered. 
 
 [12] 
 
 And after that ascended he 
 
 To heaven in glorious Maiestye : 
 
 With whom God graunt vs all to be 
 
 for euermore reioycinge. 
 Then prayse the lorde, both hye and lowe. 
 Which all these wonderous workes did showe. 
 That we to heauen at length maye goe 
 
 where he in glorye raigneth. 
 
 No. XXV 
 O gracious God, look down upon 
 
 Fol. 148"^. Notice the condemnation of the stage (stanza 7). 
 
 %\Z IflttientatiOtt of Henrye Adlington, a 
 
 fencer, one of tiie mttin^t cretoe of London, 
 
 toj^o, for nturtijer, tuass ejcecuteSj toitljout 
 
 Algate, anJj pet j^angetlj in c]^aine0. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Shores wife. 
 
 Oh gratious god, looke downe vpon 
 the wicked deeds that I haue done; 
 And graunt me pardon for this crime, 
 which cuts me offe before my tyme. 
 Come to me, Jesus, come to mee! 
 for thow alone can'st set me free. 
 (106) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ XXV 
 
 Thus Harrye Adlington must tell 
 his dying tale, and dolefull knell, 
 Which will, in my disgrace, be showne 
 to every one that hath me knowne. 
 Kinde freindes, and my companions all, 
 in time take warninge by my fall. 
 
 [3] 
 In London was I borne and breade; 
 a wanton lyfe therein I leade. 
 From honest parentes, of good name, 
 by trewe dissent of birth I came : 
 But this, my hard misfortune, shames 
 my kindred, and my parents' names. 
 
 [4] 
 With bloud my hands hath tainted beene, 
 which wipes good fortune from me cleene. 
 In quarrels, brawles, debate, and strife, 
 I spent the springtyme of my lyfe. 
 The haruest could not choose but bee 
 vntimely fruite, as nowe ye see. 
 
 [5] 
 In two men's deathes before this tyme 
 I lyfted vp these hands of mine; 
 And, though I pardoned was therefore, 
 yet not content, but slewe one more; 
 Which was my maister, for whose death 
 a strangling corde hath stopt my breath. 
 
 [6] 
 With leawd consorts I tooke delight 
 to brave it bouldly, day and night ; 
 And he, that had not wicked beene, 
 was never in my presence seene. 
 In great contempt of godly wayes 
 I wickedlye consumde my dayes. 
 
 [7] 
 God's holyMvorde I disobayde; 
 I carde not what his preachers sayde. 
 All sacred churches I despizd, 
 and Playhowse stages better prizd. 
 But god, in iustice, did requite 
 my shamefull synnes with mortall spight. 
 
 [3] 4 dissent] i.e. descent. [5] 6 hath stopt] read must stop. 
 7] 2 carde] i. e. cared. 
 
 (107) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXV 
 
 [8] 
 My taverne hunting I repent, 
 and drunken crew, I did frequent ; 
 All common Curtizans also — 
 for wine and women wrought my wo. 
 Which makes me now lament, to late, 
 my sinfuU lyfe, and wretched state. 
 
 [9] 
 For these offences here exprest, 
 which every trew man may detest, 
 I was enforst to hould my hande 
 before the Judges of the lande. 
 Where I was soone condemnd to dye 
 that I in chaines should hangM be. 
 
 [10] 
 
 My mournefull soule almost dispares 
 to thinke vpon my mother's teares 
 That shea, in former tyme, hath shed 
 for the leavde lyfe which I haue led. 
 This doth all other greifes exceede 
 because to her I tooke no heede. 
 
 ["] 
 My kinsmen all, as nature bindes, 
 with greevous grones come not behind. 
 Yet all in vaine : their sobbing greife, 
 in this distresse, yeelds no releife. 
 The law is past assuredlye ; 
 and for my synnes I needs must dye. 
 
 [12] 
 
 Then wash away my spotted shame, 
 and quite forget my cursfed name. 
 Thinke never more of him againe, 
 that did with bloude his kindred staine. 
 Thus, ending as I did beginne, 
 O god, looke downe vpon my synne. 
 
 Harrye Adlington, made with his owne hand in the 
 Marskalsye, after his condemnation. 
 
 JFiniss. 
 
 [8] I hunting] >Ka</ haunting. [10] 4 leavde] i. e. lewd. 
 
 (108) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXVI 
 
 No. XXVI 
 The man that sighs and sorrows for his sin 
 
 Fol. 150: see the companion piece in No. XXVII. Text given in 
 Roxburghe Ballads, i. 559, from a Black-letter exemplar. The date 1601 
 is an alteration to make a new ballad of a reprint. The source was, 
 as often, a pamphlet which described the circumstances under which 
 Eulalia Glandfield of Tavistock married a rich widower, Page of 
 Plymouth, although enamoured of George Strangwidge ; and, by the 
 help of two hired assassins, strangled her husband. All four were 
 executed (stanza 4, line 4). That the murder and quadruple execution 
 fascinated readers is shown by the frequent reprints of the ballads 
 connected with it. The tune Fortune my foe has been called ' the 
 hanging tune ' from its constant use in ballads of this stamp. 
 
 The trial and execution took place in March, 1589-90 (J. B. Cribble's 
 Memorials of Barnstaple, 1830, pp. 620, 621). Gribble, quoting from 
 an unnamed local record, says :' 1589, March. Great provision making 
 for holding the Assizes in this towne. , . . There came hither but I judge. 
 Lord Anderson [Sir Edmund Anderson, Lord Chief Justice 1582-1604]. 
 He came to the towne the Monday in the afternoon . . . Wednesday . . . gave 
 judgement upon those who were to be executed. The gibbet was set up 
 on the Castle Green and xviii. prisoners hanged, whereof iiij. of Plymouth 
 for a murder.' The Parish Register, cited by Gribble, supplies the names 
 needed for the ballad. 
 
 ' Here ffoUoweth the names of them Prysoners w^«ch were Buryed in 
 ' the Church yearde of Bamistaple the Syce [Assises] week : — 
 ' Marche, 1590 .... 
 
 ' George Strongewithe, Buryed the xxth daye. 
 
 ' Thomas Stone, Buryed the xxth daye. 
 
 ' Robart Preidyox, Buryed the xxth daye. 
 
 ' Vlalya Payge, Buryed at Byshope tawton the xxth daye.' 
 
 K,^Z lamentattOlt of George Strangwidge, 
 
 iD$o for V^t cottgentinge tt^ X^z beat]^ of 
 ^r. Page of Piimmotth suffered i>eat[|i] at 
 
 Bai\rP^table 1601. 
 
 To THE Tune of Fortune my foe. 
 
 The man that sighes and sorrowes for his synne, 
 the corps which care and woe hath wrappbd in. 
 In doleful! sort record this Swanlike songe, 
 that waits for death and loathes to liue so long. 
 
 ( 109) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXVI 
 
 Glanfielde, cause of my commited crime, 
 snarfed with wealth, as birds in bushes of lime. 
 What cause hadst thow to beare such secret spite 
 against my good, and eke my love's delight? 
 
 [3] 
 
 1 would to god thy wisdome had beene more, 
 or that I had not entred in thy dore. 
 
 Or that thow hadst a kinder father beene 
 
 vnto thy child whose years were yet but greene. 
 
 [4] 
 The match vnmeete, which thow, for mucke, didst make, 
 when agfed Page thy daughter home did take. 
 Well maist thow rue, with teares that cannot dry, 
 which was the cause that fowre of vs must dye. 
 
 [5] 
 Vlalia faire, more bright then summer Sunne, 
 whose beauty had my hart for ever wonne, 
 My soule more sobs to thinke of thy disgrace 
 then to behould my owne vntymely race. 
 
 [6] 
 Thy deed, late done, in hart I doe lament; 
 but that I loved I cannot yet repent. 
 Thy seemely sight was ever sweete to me ; 
 would god my death might thy excuser be. 
 
 [7] 
 It was for me, alasse ! thow didst the same ; 
 on me,, of right, they ought to lay the blame. 
 My worthless love hath brought thy life in scorne — 
 nowe woe is me ! that ever I was borne. 
 
 [8] 
 Farwell, my love ! whose royall hart was seene ; 
 would god thow hadst not halfe soe constant beene., 
 Farwell, my love ! the pride of plimmoth towne. 
 Farwell, the flower whose beauty is cut downe ! 
 
 [9] 
 For twenty yeares great was the cost, I know, 
 thy vnkind father did on thee bestowe : 
 Yet, afterwards, so sore did fortune lower, 
 he lost his ioy and child within an hower. 
 
 [2] I Glanfielde] i. e. Mrs. Page's father. a bushes] read 
 
 twigs. [5] I Vlalia] i. c. Eulalia (Mrs. Page). [8] i royall] 
 read loyall. 
 
 (xio) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXVI 
 
 [lo] 
 
 My wrong and woe to god I doe commit— 
 this was the fault by matching them vnfit — 
 And yet, my guilt I cannot soe excuse; 
 I gaue consent his lyfe for to abuse. 
 
 Wretch that I am, that I consent did giue ; 
 had I denied, Vlalia still should lyve. 
 Blind fancy sayd 'her suite doe not deny; 
 'lyve thow in bUsse, or else in sorrow dye.' 
 
 [12] 
 
 O lord, forgiue this cruell deed of mine ; 
 vpon my soule let beames of mercye shine. 
 In iustice, lord, doe thow some mercy take 
 forgiue vs both- for Jesus Christ his sake. 
 
 No. XXVII 
 If ever woe did touch a woman's heart 
 
 Fol. 150'': see the companion piece, No. XXVI. Text given in 
 Roxburghe Ballads, i. 561, from Black-letter exemplars. 
 
 In Roxburghe Ballads, i. 555, is another Black-letter ballad of twenty- 
 four verses which narrates Mrs. Page's objections to her marriage and her 
 entreaties not to be forced into it. It is a reprint, mentioning James I. 
 It is to the same tune as this, viz. Fortune my foe. 
 
 C]^e isorfotDfull complaint of 9^tint Page 
 for cauiEiing j^er ]^u0banJj to lie murtj^ereii 
 
 for lobe of George Strangwidg, tD|jO tOClT 
 
 ejcecuteb i»ot]^ togetj^er. 
 
 [To THE TUNE OF Fortune my foei\ 
 
 If ever woe did touch a woman's hart; 
 or griefe did gaule, for sinne, the inward part; 
 My conscience then, and heauy hart within, 
 can witnesse well my sorrow for my synne. 
 
 [10] 2 this] read his, 
 
 (III) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXVII 
 
 [*] 
 
 When yeares were young, my father forst me wed, 
 against my will, where fancy was not led. 
 I was content his pleasures to obay, 
 although my hart was wone another way. 
 
 [3l 
 Great were the guifts they proffered to my sight ; 
 with wealth they thought to winne me to delight. 
 But gould, nor guifts, my hart could not remoove, 
 for I was hnckt whereas I could not love. 
 
 [4] 
 Me thought his sight was loathsome in mine eye ; 
 my hart did grudge against him inwardly. 
 This discontent did cause my dayly strife; 
 and, with his wealth, I lyved a loathsome lyfe. 
 
 [S] 
 My constant love was on yong Strangwidge set, 
 and woe to them that did our welfare let. 
 His love to me soe deepe a roote did take, 
 I could have gone a-begging for his sake. 
 
 [6] 
 Wrongfed he was even through my parents, plaine; 
 wrongfed he was, through fond desire of gaine. 
 If faith and troth a perfect pledge might be, 
 I had beene wife vnto noe man but he. 
 
 [7] 
 
 Eternall god, forgiue my father's deede; 
 and grant all maydens to take better heed : 
 If I had constant beene vnto my friende, 
 I had not matcht, to make soe bad an ende. 
 
 [8] 
 But, wanting grace, I sought mine owne decay; 
 and was the cause to cast my friends awaye. 
 And he, in whom my earthly ioy did lye, 
 through mine amisse, a shamefull death must dye. 
 
 [9] 
 
 Farwell, sweete Georgl my loving, faithfuU freind : 
 needs must I laude and love the[e] to the ende. 
 And, albeit that Fage possest thy due, 
 in sight of god thow wast my husband true. 
 
 [5] 3 to] read in. 
 (112) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXVIl 
 
 [i,o] 
 
 My watry eyes vnto the heavens [I] bend, 
 craving of Christ his mercy to extende. 
 My bloudy deed, o Christ, doe me forgiue ; 
 and let my soule within thy kingdome lyve. 
 
 Farwell, false world ! and friends that fickle be ! 
 All wives, farwell ! example take by me : 
 Let not the Devill, to murther, yow intise ; 
 praye to avoyde each fowle and filthy vice. 
 
 [12] 
 
 And now, o christ, to thee I yeeld my breath: 
 strengthen my faith to bitter pangs of death. 
 Forgiue my faults and follyes, I thee praye; 
 and, with thy bloud, wash thow my sinnes away. 
 
 JFiniss. 
 
 No. XXVIII 
 My mind to me a kingdom is 
 
 Fol. 151'. The verses are by Sir Edward Dyer (d- 1607). Six of the 
 first seven, in different order and with many different readings, appeared, 
 with musical setting, as No. XIIII in William Byrd's Psalmes, Sonets, and 
 Songs, 1588. We have here, therefore, an instance of the ballad-press 
 annexing the musings of a courtly poet. 
 
 ja 0tDeete anb pleasant S)onnet ^ntituleb: 
 ^p tniitbe U me a ihinjUowe 10. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF In Creetc. 
 
 [^] 
 My minde to me a kingdome is, 
 
 such perfecte ioyes therin I finde. 
 It farre excells all worldlye blisse, 
 
 that world affords or growes by kinde. 
 
 Though much I want that all men haue, 
 yet doth my minde forbid me craue. 
 
 [la] 2 to] read in. 
 
 SHIKB. I \ ^ ^ 3 / 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXVIII 
 
 Content. I liue — this is my staye; 
 
 I seeke noe more then may suffice; 
 I prease to beare no hautye swaye. 
 
 Looke ! what I lacke my minde supplyes. 
 Lo ! thus I triumph Hke a kinge, 
 content with that my minde doth bringe. 
 
 [3] 
 I see how plentye suffers oft, 
 
 and hasty clymers oft doth fall. 
 I see how those that syts aloft, 
 
 mishap doth threaten most of all. 
 
 They get with toyle ; they keepe with care : 
 such cares my minde could never beare. 
 
 [4] 
 I laugh not at another's losse; 
 
 I grudge not at another's gaine. 
 Noe worldlye waues my minde could tosse ; 
 I brooke that is another's bane. 
 
 I feare noe foe ; I finde noe freinde ; 
 I dread noe dearth ; nor feare noe end. 
 
 [5] 
 Some haue to much, yet still the crave ; 
 
 I little haue, yet seeke noe more. 
 They are but poore, though much they haue ; 
 and I am rich, with little store. 
 
 They, poore; I, rich: they begge, I give: 
 they lacke, I lender they pine, I lyve. 
 
 [6] 
 My wealth is health and perfect ease ; 
 
 my conscience cleare, my cheife defence. 
 I never seeke, by bribes, to please; 
 nor, by desart, to give offence. 
 
 Loe ! thus I lyve ; thus will I dye.^ 
 Would all did soe as well as I. 
 
 [7] 
 No princely pompe; no wealthy store; 
 
 noe force, to get the victorye ; 
 No wilye wit, to salve a sore ; 
 
 noe shape, to winne a lover's eye — 
 
 To none of these I yeelde as thrall ; 
 for why? my minde despise them all. 
 
 [2] 3 prease] i. e. press. [3] i suffers] read surfeits, 
 
 a clymers] i.e. climbers. [4] 4 brooke] i.e. put up with, 
 
 bear. [5] i to] i. e. too. the] i. c. they. [7] 6 despise 
 them all] read despises all. 
 
 ("4) 
 
Shirbu>rn Ballads, XXVIII 
 
 [8] 
 
 I ioye not in any earthlye blisse; 
 
 I waigh not Cressu^ wealth a straw. 
 Nor care, I know not what it is; 
 I feare not fortune's fatall lawe. 
 
 My minde is such as may not move, 
 for beauty bright, or force of love. 
 
 [9] 
 
 I wishe but what I haue at will; 
 
 I wander not to seeke for more. 
 I like the plaine; I climbe no hill. 
 
 In greatest stormes, I sytt on shore, 
 
 And laugh at those that toyle in vaine- 
 to get that must be lost againe. 
 
 [10] 
 
 I kisse not, where I list to kill : 
 
 I faine not love, where most I hate. 
 I stretch no steps, to win my mill: 
 I waite not at the mightye's gate. 
 
 I scome noe poore ; I feare noe rich : 
 I feele noe wante, nor haue to much. 
 
 ["] 
 
 The court ne care I, like, ne loath : 
 extreames are likfed worst of all. 
 The goulden meane, betwixt them both, 
 doth suerest syt, and feares no fall. 
 
 This is my ioye. For why? I iinde 
 no wealth is like the quiet minde. 
 
 [8] 2 Cressu^"] i. e. Croesus'. 3 Nor] possibly For. 
 
 [10] 3 mill] read will. 6 to] i. e. too. 
 
 12 (115) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXIX 
 
 No. XXIX 
 The miller in his best array 
 
 Fol. 153. An instance of the extreme intricacy of the stanza and 
 rhymes required, when a verbal setting had to be provided to go with an 
 old dance-tune: of. Nos. XI and XXXII. 
 
 3L pleasant liaUab of t|ie merp miller's 
 tDooing of t^t ISafeer'si Daugj^ter of 
 
 Manchester. 
 To THE TUNE OF Nutmegs and ginger. 
 
 The miller, in his best array, 
 would needs a wooinge ride. 
 To Manchester he takes his way ; 
 Saint Clement be his guide ! 
 
 He can singe, 
 
 he can ring, 
 
 and doe many a pretty thinge. 
 
 He can pipe 
 
 daunce a downe, 
 
 no man better in the Towne. 
 
 His face is fayre, 
 
 and curled his hayre. 
 
 Miles they this miller call. 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXIX 
 
 [^] 
 
 In Manchester a Baker dwels, 
 who had a daughter fayre : 
 Her beauty passinglye excells ; 
 none may with her compare. 
 
 Her he leekes, 
 
 her he seekes, 
 
 and commends her crimson cheeks. 
 
 He would pipe her 
 
 daunce a downe, 
 
 before an ye in the towne. 
 
 But she is coye, 
 
 and loveth not to toye — 
 
 beautye makes her disdaine. 
 
 [3] 
 
 Tom Tayler trips it verye trim, 
 
 with nosegay in his hat, 
 Giles Glover, when he vieweth him, 
 thinks nothing well of that ; 
 
 In his gloues, 
 
 that he loves, 
 
 he like a true love proves, 
 
 Bordring them 
 
 with bleedinge hearts 
 
 piercfed through quite with darts. 
 
 Then the Tanner swares 
 
 hee'le haue him by the eares 
 
 that doth this Rivall prove. 
 
 [4] 
 
 It happened on a Holye-daye 
 
 these lusty wooers met ; 
 
 And every party doth assaye 
 
 the Baker's gyrle to get 
 
 First began 
 
 to fayre Anne 
 
 the Tayler, like a proper man : — 
 
 'I will make 
 
 'the garments gay, 
 
 'and daunce with thee each holy-day; 
 
 'In fashions straunge 
 
 'thy clothes I will change.' 
 
 ' No !' poynt, the may den cryde. 
 
 [a] 5 leekes] i. e. likes. la and loveth] omit and ; read loves. 
 [3] 8 Bordring] i. e. broidering, embroidering. 13 this] read 
 
 his. [4] 9 the] i.e. thee. 13 or ' No poynt ! ' 
 
 (117) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXIX 
 
 [5] 
 
 'A Taylor shall not be my love; 
 
 'and Glover I'le haue none. 
 'With Tanners I will never toy — 
 'I love to lye alone. 
 
 'The buchdr shall 
 
 'not be my halfe, 
 
 'for feare he dresse me like a calfe. 
 
 'Therefore together 
 
 'get yow gone, 
 
 ' for I will mary ne'er a one. 
 
 ' But I will be 
 
 ' a mayden certainlye ; 
 
 ' I like to lye alone.' 
 
 [6] 
 
 Away these heavy Suters wend, 
 
 with sorrow in their harts. 
 Miles miller learned by a friend 
 howe they maye plead their parts. 
 
 He is bold, 
 
 nothing could; 
 
 in his purse is store of gold. 
 
 He puts on 
 
 his Munimouth cap; 
 
 and, at the dore he lovd, doth rap, 
 
 Crying — ' god be heere's ! ' 
 
 At length corns forth his deare, 
 
 bending her pretty browes. 
 
 [7] 
 
 ' Fayre mayd,' quoth he, ' I must intreate 
 
 'your companye a while.' 
 With that, he rudly rushbd in, 
 and she began to smile. 
 
 Saying, 'Staye, 
 
 ' freind, I praye : 
 
 ' none but I keepe howse, I saye. 
 
 'My father 
 
 'and my mother be 
 
 'both in garden certainlye.' 
 
 'The better then for me. 
 
 ' I come to none other but thee,' 
 
 answered the myller playne. 
 
 [5] 12 a mayden] read maid. [6] 4 maye] read did. 
 
 1 1 heere's] read here. [7] 3 rudly] i.e. rudely. 
 
 (118) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXIX 
 
 [8] 
 'Here's 40 pound in gould, faire mayd; 
 
 'vse yow yt at your will. 
 'Besyde, before your feet, be layde 
 'the miller and his mill. 
 'Your fayre eyes 
 'doe surprize, 
 
 'and bewitch my fantasies.' 
 'Sweete !' quoth he 
 (with that he kist), 
 'vse the miller as yow list.' 
 The mayde lookt red; 
 and, blushinge, hung her hed, 
 saying 'I cannot love.' 
 
 [9] 
 'Sweet,' sayd the miller, 'be not strange 
 
 'but blythly looke on me. 
 'Vnto my mill I praye yow range, 
 'where we will merrye be. 
 'Lad nor lowne 
 'in the towne 
 
 'shall better teach yow daunce a downe. 
 'While my mill 
 'goes click a clacke 
 'I will set yow on a sacke. 
 'Sweete, goe with me 
 'where we will pleasant be.' 
 'Fye!' sayde shee, 'howe yow faigne ! 
 
 [10] 
 
 'I meane to trye your curtesye, 
 
 ' and go vnto your mille. 
 ' I'le keepe this monye for a pawne 
 'for feare yow vse me ill. 
 
 'In the towne 
 
 'daunce a downe 
 
 ' is loved of Lasse and lowne. 
 
 ' If yow doe teach 
 
 'the same to me, 
 
 'your trew love I doe vowe to be.' 
 
 'Content!' he sayde, 
 
 ' goe with me, gentle maide : 
 
 'yow shall my cunninge see.' 
 
 ["] 
 Now are they in [the] merry mill, 
 
 where Miles the daunce doth play. 
 And woon the maiden's heart's good will : 
 
 shee could not start awaye. 
 
 ("9) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXIX 
 
 So he playd 
 
 that the mayde 
 
 to her mother plainely sayde, 
 
 'I haue learnd 
 
 ' to daunce a downe, 
 
 'the prettyest sport in all this towne. 
 
 'The miller hee 
 
 ' did teach the same to me : 
 
 'he shall my husbande be.' 
 
 [12] 
 
 Thus are the miller and the mayde 
 
 a marryed couple now. 
 The matter nothing was delayd; 
 their friends the same allow. 
 
 Yow that woo 
 
 learne to doo, 
 
 as the miller teacheth yow. 
 
 Neither Gloves, 
 
 nor tokens, bringe; 
 
 but daunce a downe teach mayds to sing. 
 
 Else favour none 
 
 vnto yow will be showne, 
 
 although yow dye for love. 
 
 Edwarde HulP. 
 
 No. XXX 
 Those gentle hearts that true love crave 
 
 Fol. ISS^: see the complement in No. L. Text given in Roxburghe 
 Ballads, iv. 420, from several Black-letter exemplars. 
 
 %^z Jjpiitg teares of a tretoe 3LobcK for* 
 
 jsal^eit, mabe bpon ^$ deatj^beb at t|)e j^otore 
 
 of 1^0 beat]^. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Liue with me and be my lave. 
 
 Those gentle harts which trew loue craue 
 where trewe love can no harbor haue, 
 From sheddinge teares can yow refraine? 
 but morne with me thus lovd in vaine. 
 
 ' See p. I. [i] 4 thus] read that. 
 
 (120) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXX 
 
 \A 
 
 Sore sicke for love, sore greiud in minde, 
 come, gentle death, my lyfe vntwine; 
 For Cupid's shaft, and Golden bowe, 
 nowe seeks my ioyes to overthrowe. 
 
 [3] 
 Vpon my deathbed I haue spend 
 this storye of my dolefull end. 
 Vaine world, behold ! I dye, I dye, 
 here murthered by Love's crueltye. 
 
 [4] 
 Oh Sara Hill, thow art the wight 
 that turnes my ioyes to sharpe despite. 
 Thow art the causer of my death. 
 Farewell, false love; farewell, fraile death. 
 
 [S] 
 Be warned, young wantons, by my fall; 
 in love their is no trust at all. 
 Although in love yow Hue vntrewe, 
 their be some maides as false as yow. 
 
 [6] 
 Here beautye dazeled soe mine eyes 
 that, in her breast, my hart still lyes. 
 I lou'd her, but she loved not me, 
 Wherefore, behould ! I dye, I dye. 
 
 [7] 
 Oh cursfed eyes ! why doe yow gaze 
 vpon her faire and flattering face? 
 Oh ! wherefore did myne armes enfold 
 one framde of such vnconstant moulde? 
 
 [8] 
 Come, wrape me in my windinge sheete; 
 and beare me sadlye through the streete, 
 That, from her eyes, salt teares may shed; 
 when, for her sake, she sees me dead. 
 
 [9] 
 In outward show we ioynfed hands, 
 and vowed to liue in wedlock's bands; 
 But shee, vnkind, hath me despizd, 
 and broke her voice, so highly prizd. 
 
 [3] I spend] read penn'd. [4] 4 death] read breath. 
 
 [6] I Here] i.e. Her. [7] I doe] read Hi. [9] 4 voice] 
 
 read vow. 
 
 (121) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXX 
 
 [lo] 
 
 Oh lord, what greife doe they sustaine, 
 which lyve despizd, and love in vaine; 
 But, lord, how well are they appayde, 
 who hap to choose a constant maide. 
 
 There is noe lyving wyght that knowes 
 the pyninge paine, and endlesse woes, 
 That we forsaken lovers byde, 
 but such as hath like torments tri'de. 
 
 I needes must yeeld, for lyfe doth fade; 
 deat[h]'s comming cannot be denayde. 
 Oh reach my Bible booke to me, 
 for that my soule's true Love shalbe. 
 
 [13] 
 Goe, tole my passinge Bell, deare friends; 
 for here a Lover's Journey ends. 
 But marke what fortune she shall have, 
 when death hath closed me in my Grave. 
 
 [14] 
 
 I doe not doubt, but yow shall see 
 her body pine in miserye. 
 And made a laughinge stocke to those 
 who now her great vnkindness knowes. 
 
 [15] 
 
 Yow of the gentle Craft that be, 
 shew this kinde favour vnto me. 
 That to the world this mournefull song 
 be chaunted sweetely you amonge. 
 
 [16] 
 
 And some of yow I must request 
 to beare me to my longest rest. 
 And laye my carcasse in the grounde, 
 with ringinge Bels' melodious sound. 
 
 [17] 
 
 To my deere love goe then, and saye 
 her chaunge of minde cast me awaye; 
 Bid her hard hart more constant prove 
 to him that next shalbe her love. 
 
 [15] I gentle Crafl] i. e. of shoemakers. 
 (122) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXX 
 
 [i8] 
 With that he yeelded vp his lyfe, 
 where death giue end to further strife, 
 Desiring god, that rules in heaven, 
 his lover's sinnes might be forgiuen. 
 
 Thus have yow heard Hugh Hill's good mind, 
 who never prov'd in love vnkinde; 
 But, to his end, continued trewe, 
 nowe changinge olde love for a newe. 
 
 No. XXXI 
 England, give praise unto the Lord thy God 
 
 Fol. ise''. Text given, from this MS., in Roxburghe Ballads, viii, p. xi. 
 Mountjoy's defeat of Tyrone was known in London on 5 Jan., 1601-2 
 (State Papers, Domestic, 1602, p. 142) ; and the surrender of Kinsale was 
 known 23 Jan. (ib. p. 150). The ballad faithfully turns into metre some 
 news-letter, or pamphlet of the day, which described the operations in 
 Ireland. Too tardily for success, Philip III had sent an expedition to the 
 south of Ireland, to help the insurgent Ulster chiefs (see No. XLII). 
 23 Sept., 1601, 4,000 Spaniards, under Don Juan d'Aquila, occupied Kin- 
 sale, where, in October, they were blockaded by Mountjoy. Shortly 
 afterwards, a second Spanish force, 3,000 strong, under Alonzo del Campo, 
 landed at Baltimore, some forty miles west of Kinsale. O'Donnell, hear- 
 ing of the descent, hastened south ; and was followed more leisurely by 
 O'Neill (Tyrone). By November, the two chiefs had joined del Campo, 
 and were near Brandon, ten miles north-west of Kinsale. The Irish plan 
 was to starve out the English investing force ; but d'Aquila, straitened 
 by the blockade, insisted on an immediate effort for his relief. It was 
 then proposed that on the morning of 24 Dec, 1601, the Irish should fall 
 suddenly from the rear on Mountjoy, while d'Aquila fiercely attacked 
 the trenches. Mountjoy, having intercepted the letter conveying this 
 proposal, had his troops on the alert and well posted. To add to the 
 Irish discomfiture, their guide missed his way m the night; and when 
 they reached the proposed scene of action, they were worn out and dis- 
 heartened. They at once fell back, in disorder, harassed by Mountjoy, 
 who took del Campo prisoner. Disgusted at the failure, O'Donnell sailed 
 for Spain, 6 Jan., 1601-2 ; and O'Neill withdrew to Ulster. Weary with 
 the blockade and in bad temper with his allies, d'Aquila, 9 January, 
 agreed to evacuate his posts in Ireland and return to Spain. 
 
 With Mountjoy in this action, as described in the ballad, were Sir 
 Richard Wingfield (stanza 8), who had been made Marshal of the army 
 in Ireland, 29 March, 1600, and commanded the cavalry; and Richard 
 Bourke, aged 29, who had just (20 May, 1601) succeeded as fourth Earl 
 9^ Clanricarde (stanza 22). From receiving knighthood (stanza 22) on 
 the battlefield Clanricarde was afterwards known as ' of Kinsale '. 
 
 [18] a giue] >i?«rfgaue, [19] 4 nowe] read not orne're. 
 
 (123) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ XXXI 
 
 ja iopM itetD 15allab of t$e late bictorpe 
 ofitaineJ) i>p mp ILorb Mount Joy ani> our 
 flpaiei8tie'0 forcesi in Ireland, againsit t]^at 
 arcj^traptor Tzw;?^ anb ]^0 coitfeJjeratess, 
 tpon tj^e 24 of SDecember lasit. J^l^o of 
 t^e peelbinge of i\z Cotnne of Kingsalt, 
 tDit]^ 3 or 4 ot^er Joulbe?, 6p W>fm John 
 at Aquila, (Bcncrall of tje Spanish arm?, 
 tD]^ic]^ toaji peelJJciJ bptj^e 9 of 31anuarp lajst 
 1602. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Fortune my foe. 
 
 [I] 
 England, giue prayse vnto the Lord thy god, 
 the which in mercye doth withhold his rod 
 From vs, whose synnes deserufed haue the same : 
 yet we continewe, Sodome-\-^&, past shame. 
 From vs, whose sinnes deservid etc. 
 
 Oh let vs now retume vnto the Lord, 
 and to his prayses singe Psalmes with one accord 
 Which hath defended little England's right 
 from forraigne foes their cruelty and might. 
 
 [3] 
 Oh giue him thanks for that which he hath done: 
 in Ireland through him haue England won 
 A victory, which doubted was of all 
 till, through god's help, they saw the rebells fall. 
 
 [4] 
 For, on the xx of December last, 
 Tyrone, with many Spaniards, hyfed fast — 
 Syx looo foote, fyve hundred horse, in all — 
 with courrage bold, to worke L[ord] Mounioyis fall ; 
 
 1. a our] read her. 1. 5. 34 of December] i. e. in 1601. 
 
 1. 10 1602] here is 160 1-2. 
 
 [i] 5 In every stanza, the last couplet is to be sung twice. 
 [2] 3 prayses] read prayse. [3] 2 Ireland] i. e. I-er-land. 
 
 [4] I XX of] read twenty-fourth. 
 
 ("4) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXI 
 
 [5] 
 
 Who had layd syedge that time vnto a Towne, 
 Kinsayle by name, with hope to beate it downe, 
 Or els to force them for to yeelde at last : 
 which to effect his Ordinance plyed fast. 
 
 [6] 
 Kinsale that time the Spaniards did defende, 
 till they were forcbd for more sucker sende: 
 which came, in number as before is tolde, 
 with hope to beate our forces from their holde. 
 
 [7] 
 It was agreed the Spanish Captaines should, 
 out of the towne, yeeld all the force they could 
 Against the trenches which we did defende, 
 and many Spaniards to their fellowes sendes. 
 
 [8] 
 While we our foes with valour did annoye, 
 Sir Richard Wingfield came to L[ord] Mountioye, 
 Saying — ^ Tirone, with many rebels more' 
 (the number I reported haue before), 
 
 [9] 
 'Are marching hither, and are very neare.' 
 Quoth L[ord] Mountioy, ' And they shall buy it deare, 
 'Yf god assist me. I will them withstande, 
 'hoping he will defend me with his hand. 
 
 [10] 
 
 ' Courage, braue Marshall ! for our queene we fight. 
 ' Let vs goe forward : 'tis for England's right. 
 ' God and S[aint] George for England ! still we crye. 
 ' Let vs proceed : methinks the cowards fly.' 
 
 ["] 
 My Lord giue order to his forces straight 
 some should the trenches and the townsemen waight ; 
 And he himselfe, with fifteene hundred more, 
 march to the army which was fled before. 
 
 [12] 
 
 And, when my Lord did see them to retier 
 in such bad order, he had his desire. 
 For, presently, he followed them soe fast 
 that he enforced them to stand at last. 
 
 [7] 4 sendes] warf sende. [11] i giue] read gaue., 
 
 4 march] read march'd. 
 
 (i^S) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXI 
 
 Then, settinge all his men in order right, 
 he presentlye gave onset to the fight; 
 Which was performd with valour and with skill, 
 forceing the Irish dearest bloud to spill. 
 
 [14] 
 The fight did not continue very longe. 
 Although Tirone with Spaniards' help was stronge. 
 Yet did our men behaue themselves so well 
 that many Spaniards gaynbd heaven or hell. 
 
 [is] 
 The Rebels, fearing for to lose the daye, 
 threw downe their Armor, and ran all awaye; 
 Which we perceivinge, followed them amaine 
 almost two miles, ere we returnde againe. 
 
 [16] 
 Tirone the Rebell thought yt noe disgrace 
 to take his horse, and ride away apace. 
 No more did O'doneall, which ran awaye, 
 knowing it folly longer for to staye. 
 
 [17] 
 Chiefe of the Spaniards, Allonso by name 
 was taken prisoner, vnto England's fame ; 
 Sixe Allfaris, and forty Souldiers more; 
 they that were Irish, hanged vp for store. 
 
 [18] 
 Three Captaines taken prisoners in that fight, 
 eight hundred hurt, twelue hundred slaine outright, 
 Two thousand armes, their drums, and powder-store 
 the Rebels lost, the which they had before. 
 
 [19] 
 Nine Ensignes there was taken at that time; 
 sixe were the Spaniards, whose disgrace did clime 
 A higher pitch then willingly they would, 
 thankes be to god ! which haue their courag coolde. 
 
 [20] 
 Hurt of our side was fowre of account, 
 whose deeds that day in valour did surmount; 
 Syxe common Soldiars in that fight was slaine, 
 some horses kilde, and some still hurt remaine. 
 
 [17] I Allonso] accented A'lSnsfi ; not as in Spanish. 3 All- 
 faris] Spanish a{^«s= standard-bearer. 4 for stoTs'] possibly 
 fourscore. If so, the ballad asserts that Mountjoy hanged eighty 
 Irish prisoners as rebels. [19] 3 then] i. e. than. [20] i fowre] 
 i. e. fow-er. 
 
 (126) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXI 
 
 [21] 
 
 There was not one, that on that day did fight, 
 but gaue the Rebels that which was their right. 
 Chiefly my L[ord] Mountioy performd, that day, 
 such warlike deeds as never will decaye. 
 
 [22] 
 
 The Earle Clanrickard, at that same place, 
 did through his valour purchase so much grace 
 That my L[ord] Mountioy knighted him, even there 
 where-as the bodyes kilde and mangled were. 
 
 [23] 
 The fight endinge, he cald his forces all, 
 and willfed them vpon their knees to fall, 
 Praysiiig the Lord for this great victorye : 
 the which they did, kneeling immediatlye. 
 
 [24] 
 
 'Glory and prayses be gyven to thee, o lorde. 
 'Thy holy name we prayse with one accorde, 
 ' The which hast kept vs from our enimies all, 
 'and gyven us victorye, with their downefall. 
 
 [25] 
 'Oh god, continue this thy favour still 
 'to vs thy servaunts, yf yt be thy will, 
 'That Pope and Spaine, with all their Irish rout, 
 'may alwayes say — The lord for England fought.' 
 
 [26] 
 
 Then, rising straight, and taking vp the spoyle, 
 they left the place where Rebels had the foyle; 
 And to their trenches came, in all the hast, 
 the which they found in order, none displast. 
 
 They had not stayed there fully yet syxe dayes. 
 eare Jhon Aquila did our Generall prayse. 
 Saying he was an honorable man : 
 who sayd ' for him I'le doe the best I can : 
 
 [28] 
 
 'For I doe love him, though mine enemye; 
 'and hate Tirone, for all his flatterye, 
 'Who being come with all the force he had, 
 'to take their heels the cowards all were glad. 
 
 [24] I prayses] read prayse. 
 
 (127) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXI 
 
 [29] 
 
 'Wherefore, vpon condition that yow will 
 
 'our condition with consent fulfill, 
 
 'We straight will leave this towne, with many more 
 
 'that any Spaniard had in hould before. 
 
 [30] 
 
 'And we will leaue the traytor, Earle TYrone, 
 'in Ireland with griefe to make his mone.' 
 They did agree: and Spaniards all depart, 
 which was great ioye to good L[ord] Mountioy^s hart. 
 
 [31] 
 
 Thus hath my Lord, to Earle Tiron^s disgrace, 
 possest those houlds; and Spaniards are defast 
 To England's comfort, and L[ord] Mouniioye's prayse : 
 to god above be glory gyven alwayes. 
 
 [32] 
 
 To god [give praise who us do]th still defende. 
 Lord, on this [land always] thy blessing sendej 
 Preserve our Queene, her Counsayle grave and wise ; 
 confound her foes that doth the truth despise. 
 
 No. XXXII 
 
 There was a proud brawler, a thief by 
 his trade 
 
 Fol. 159. Maldon accounts contain frequent notes of expenses in 
 conveying prisoners, and of escapes of prisoners both from the constables 
 who had charge of them and out of prison, exactly as described in the 
 ballad : e.g., in 1599, '&s. paid for men, horses, and dyett in careinge 
 [carrying] a prysoner to Colchester the 28 of Marche ; 40^. expenses in 
 carrying Jonas Browninge prisoner to London and staying there till he 
 was delivered, and 8 J. for horse-hire for two horses for 4 dayes when Jonas 
 Browninge was removed to London by wrytt.' In 1567 Peter Jervis, 
 constable, was mulcted \2d. for suffering a mariner of Canewdon, prisoner 
 for felony, to escape. 17 August, 1616, Maldon constables laid out 4^. in 
 forwarding 'a hew-an-crye [=hue and cry] for one that broke out of 
 
 [29] 3 many] read any. The capitulation included Baltimore and Berehaven, 
 as well as Kinsale. [30] a Ireland] i. e. I-er-land. [31] a defast] 
 
 i. e. defaced. [32] i and a Lines partly destroyed by damp in MS. Gaps 
 
 filled up by guess. 
 
 (128) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXII 
 
 Colchester towne gayle.* One Assizes case gives, in actual record, 
 examples of most points which occur in the ballad. In Maldon, at the 
 ' first Lady Day fair' (25 March, 1573) William Armotteredinge, glover, 
 of London ; Elizabeth Lodge, who professed to be his wife ; and Henry 
 Stafford, sadler, of London, were arrested as ' three notorious cuttpurses ', 
 at the instance of ' Thomas Frenshe, the spie ', whose fee was 2od. On 
 26 March they were examined by the Bailiffs and Town-clerk, who 
 afterwards dined together, the borough paying the 2s. 6d. charged for 
 their ' diet '. The expenses of maintaining the cutpurses while they lay 
 in Maldon prison amounted to 12^. 3<?. ; and the charges of keeping their 
 two horses between arrest and conviction came to £1 18s. gd. From 
 Maldon, the cutpurses were sent to Newgate for securer custody. Thence, 
 at a cost of 10s. yd. they were brought to Chelmsford Midsummer Assizes, 
 where they were found guilty, Henry Stafford of taking from Edward 
 Stelewoman, yeoman, of Stow Maries, a purse worth 4d., containing 
 a gold angel, worth 10s. ; a gold ducat, worth 13J. 4d.; and loj. in other 
 coin : the other two, as accessories after the fact. Stafford and Armot- 
 teredinge were hanged. The goods of these felons were forfeited to the 
 borough, and sold by auction. Armotteredinge's white gelding, with 
 white saddle, 3 girths, and the reins, brought 22s. Zd. ; the woman's- 
 pynneon (pillion), on which he had brought the female prisoner, 2S. yd. ; 
 his black cloak, with velvet cape and lace, 14J. 6d. ; his sword, 6s. lod. ; 
 his dagger, 2s. ; and his white canvas-bag, i^d. Stafford's bay nag, with 
 saddle and reins, fetched 30J. 6d. ; his dagger (noted as of great length), 
 5 J. ; and his cloth cloak, with velvet cape, 13J. The money found on the 
 prisoners was also forfeited to the borough, viz. Armotteredinge's, 10^. ; 
 Lodge's, 4J. ; and Stafford's, 8j. The interest attaching to highwaymen 
 is shown by the fact that these belongings were purchased by quite the 
 leading men of the borough. 
 
 The punishment of 'pressing to death' attached to refusal to plead 
 • guilty ' or ' not guilty '. A criminal sometimes chose to ' stand mute of 
 malice ' to avoid the confiscation of his property, and the consequent ruin 
 of his family, which would have followed on conviction. Here it is 
 represented (stanza 14) as done to make good the offender's boast that he 
 would never be hanged. Cowell's Interpreter (1637) describes the process : 
 the criminal, refusing to plead, ' shall be sent backe to the prison . . . And 
 layed in some lowe, darke, house, where he shall lie naked upon the earth, 
 without any litter . . . and without any rayment about him . . . And he shall 
 lye vpon his backe, with his head couered and his feet ; and one arme shall 
 be drawne to one quarter of the house with a cord, and the other arme to 
 another quarter ; and in the same manner let it be done with his legges. 
 And let there be layed vpon his body irons and stones, so much as he 
 may beare (or more). And the next daye he shall have three morsels of 
 barley bread without drinke ; and the second day, he shall have drinke 
 three times and as much at each time as he can drinke of the water next 
 vnto the prison doore (except it be running water) and no bread. And 
 this shall be his dyet vntill he dye.' This method of barbarism remained, 
 as a tradition, in the Statute-book till 21 June, 1827, when the Act 7 & 8 Geo. 
 IV, cap. 28, directed the courts to treat every 'standing mute of malice' 
 as a plea of ' not guilty '. 
 
 (129) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ XXXII 
 
 % netn fiallabe, gj^etoinge t^z cruell robfterie? 
 and letutie Ipfe of Phillip Collins alias 
 Osburne, commenlpe called Phillip of tije 
 
 fF^j/, tDJ^O tDaS8 jpresit to beat]^ at newgate 
 
 in London t$e tj^tb of ?3Detemlier lagt passt 
 1597. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Paggintott's rounde. 
 
 There was a proud Banker, a theefe by his traide, 
 (in Deuenshire he dwelled, as plaine is exprest) 
 That in the west cuntry made many afraide, 
 
 and called ' flaunting Phillip, the Devill of the west.' 
 Indifferent tall; 
 high-minded withall ; 
 his strength, with stowt courage, did worke his great fall. 
 He loathfed to labour ; 
 and all his delight 
 was for to pick quarels, to brawle, and [to] fight. 
 
 [^] 
 By this swashing copesmate, ['t]is commonly known, 
 
 the people of Deuonshire were greatly distrest. 
 Vpon the high-way he tooke more then his owne^ 
 in this sort lyvd Phillip, the Devill of the west. \ 
 Some fashions to see, 
 for service sought he, 
 and [to take people in, a seruante wjould be, 
 Which looks li ke a player, 
 with long flow ing haire ; 
 [and a Ijight Bl[ade] by his syde he did weare. 
 
 [3] 
 At last he met with a Gentleman brave, 
 
 which Gentleman wanted a servaunt or two, 
 Of whom he requested a service to have : 
 
 he askfed of Phillip ' What things he could do ?' 
 Then Phillip did say 
 ' I'le do what I may; 
 'I know how to flaunt yt, and how to obeye.' 
 'But canst thow fight stowtly? 
 ' declare it to me.' 
 'Sir, try me,' quoth Phillip, 'and then yow shall see.' 
 
 [i] I Banker] >i?arf brawler, [2] 7-10 MS. injured by damp and worms: 
 
 gaps filled up by guess, 
 
 (130) 
 
Shirburn Ballads, XXXII 
 
 [4] 
 The gentleman, seing he was a stout knave, 
 
 said ' Sirra ! yf thow will be trusty and trewe, 
 ' My love and my livery soone shalt: thow have ; 
 'and, for the good service, all things that is dewe.' 
 Then Phillip at first 
 swore he would be just, 
 which caused the gentleman put him in trust. 
 But, ere a full twelmonth 
 with him he did stay, 
 he robde his good maister, and got him awaye. 
 
 [5] 
 And, spending that loosely, that lewdly he got, 
 many a good budget and purse he did take. 
 The cuntry vp and downe still he did trotte, 
 while after him hue and cry many did make. 
 All cuntryes, in breife, 
 were layd for the theife ; 
 in no corner could he finde any reliefe; 
 But apprehended 
 he was at the last 
 And vnder a horse-belly his leggs tybd fast. 
 
 [6] 
 To Exceter Gaile convaide he was then, 
 
 along many mountains, both valleys, and hills. 
 To guard him full safely was many trimme men, 
 with pickstaves and holberts, and good forrest bills. 
 When Sessions drewe neere 
 that he should appeare, 
 he broke the Gaole subtilly, and got away cleere. 
 Thus, then he scapt hanging, 
 and made no more mone ; 
 but yet for his presence the gallowes did grone. 
 
 [7] 
 Then closely to Summersets hire did he runne, 
 
 where he, on a suddaine, at Shipton was tooke. 
 After he had done many a shrewd turne when 
 when for my daunger the least he did looke ; 
 And, with full intent, 
 to Gaole he was sent; 
 but, by the way, Phillip their spite did prevent. 
 He snapt in two peeces 
 his hard-twisted bands; 
 and by a slaight, cunningly, losbd his hands. 
 
 [4] 3 love] rrarf badge. 4 the]»-«arfthy. [6] a both] f«arfand. 
 [7] a Shipton] i.e. Shepton Mallet. 3 Read probably After 
 
 he many a shrewd turne there had done. 4 my] read any. 
 
 10 los6d] i.e. loosed. 
 
 K 2 ( 131 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXII 
 
 [8] 
 Then, trippinge vp trimly on of their heeles, 
 
 he caught his stafe from him, without any staye ; 
 And layd so about him, in middest of the fieldes, 
 he forcfed his garders to run all awaye. 
 Thus getting from thence, 
 to seeke his defence, 
 he came into Barkeshire, with little expence. 
 When where by his theeving 
 he got a good share, 
 he coms into Marlborowgh in midest of the fayre. 
 
 [9] 
 But, being well knowne by some of the towne 
 
 to be a false theefe, the Baylyffes came there, 
 And many, to take him, came shuffling downe, 
 but yet he got from them as smoth as a heare 
 When Phillip did see 
 his fortune so free, 
 that still he escaped so prosperouslye, 
 He gryn'de at the gallows, 
 and moad at the moune 
 and sayd he would spitt in the hangman's spoon 
 
 [10] 
 
 Then, following his fancy and wicked lewde will, 
 
 watching for purses and robbing for gould, 
 He traveled to Kent; and vpon Gad's-hill 
 at last he was taken, and layd vp in hould. 
 Within the blacke Beare, 
 in Rochester there, 
 they layd him vp safely, without any feare ; 
 And, for to haue him 
 forth-comminge in sight, 
 they sett syxe watchmen to keepe him all night. 
 
 But Phillip so lulled his watchmen a-sleepe, 
 
 that ere they awaked at breake of the daye, 
 And while they lay snorting that had him in keepe, 
 out of a high window he gott him awaye. 
 Great strife here-vpon 
 was raysfed anone ; 
 but now in Essex false Phillip is gone ; 
 And, comming to Chirvill 
 in pittyfuU case, 
 at midnight he entred a gentleman's place. 
 
 [8] I on] i. e. one. 8 where] i.e. there. [9] 4 heare] i. e. hare. 
 9 mgad] i. e. mowed, mocked. ["] 7 '"] i. e. into. 8 Chirvilf] 
 
 < Chelmsford or Chignall. 
 
 (13O 
 
Shirburn Ballads, XXXII 
 
 [12] 
 
 But when [by] the mastiues, that barkfed full sore, 
 
 this theefe was discryM, and taken was he, 
 Then, brought vnto prison, he had irons store ; 
 and there he lay shakled, for all men to see. 
 Yet prison he broke, 
 as care did provoke, 
 and Nottinghamshire was then his best cloake. 
 Where he so behaufed 
 himselfe, at the last, 
 that he into Nottingham Castle was cast. 
 
 [13] 
 But there he broake prison, as oft he had done, 
 
 and soe into Deuonshier againe he did goe; 
 But there he was caught, eare away he could run, 
 [and] in Exeter Gayole he lodgfed full woe. 
 From thence he was sent, 
 by commaundement, 
 to Newgat in London, all shifts to prevent. 
 And, being found gilty, 
 he would not agree 
 by god and the cuntry he tryfed should be. 
 
 [X4] 
 He would not be hangfed, for so he had sworne : 
 
 wherefore he had Judgment, to death to be prest. 
 To haue his bones broken, his flesh brus'd and tome ; 
 and thus difed Phillip, the Deuill of the west. 
 Though long he had past, 
 loe! thus, at [the] last, 
 a greeuious affliction vpon him was cast. 
 Take heed, all yow roysters ! 
 take warning herebye : 
 who leads his lyfe badly, as badly shall dye. 
 
 No. XXXIII 
 England's fair dainty dames 
 
 Fol. 161^ ; with second part on fol. 163. Cf. No. LXXII. Text given 
 in Roxburghe Ballads, viii. 3o, from numerous later Black-letter exemplars, 
 all of which have the woodcut of the monster. The rod (stanza 1 1 , hne 5) 
 of this woodcut is the traditional Eton bundle of birch-twigs. Rev. 
 J. W. Ebsworth has pointed out that on 15 Aug. 1608, the Stationers' 
 Company registered a book, professing to describe ' God's Judgement 
 shewed vpon the wyfe of Andrewe Ringesfeild, a rich citizen of Jena in 
 high-Germany, which happened the 28th of February' [1607-8]. The 
 ballad turned this pamphlet into metre, but blundered over the name of 
 the town. 
 
 (133) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXIII 
 
 pn&e*0 fall ; or a toaming to all English 
 
 tooinen, l>p t^t ejcample of a Strang mongter, 
 
 ftorne of late in Germany 6p a proube maw 
 
 t^mi'9 toife in i^z citp of Geneua, 1609. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF All yow that fathers bee. 
 
 England's fayre daintye dames, 
 
 see here the fall of pride : 
 Wantonnes, leave lust in tyme, 
 
 that god may be your guide. 
 I was a Duchland froe, 
 
 shining with beauty bright, 
 And a brave marchante's wife, 
 
 in whom he toke delight. 
 
 1. 3 proude marchant's wife] B.-L. (fietler) merchant's proud 
 wife. 1.4 Geneua] >«ai/ Jena. 
 
 [i] 3 Wantonnes] i.e. wantons. 5 froe] i.e. frau. 
 
 (134) 
 
Shirburn Ballads, XXXIII 
 
 Air things I had, at will, 
 
 my hart could wish or crave; 
 My dyet, dainty fayre; 
 
 my garments, rich and brave. 
 No wife in Germany, 
 
 where I in pleasure dwelld, 
 For golden brauery 
 
 my person there exceld, 
 
 [3] 
 My coaches, richly wrought, 
 
 all bright with pearle and gould, 
 Carried me, vp and downe, 
 
 where-as my fancyes would. 
 The earth I deemd to to base 
 
 my feete to tread vpon ; 
 My bloominge, crimson cheeks 
 
 seldome fall winde or sunne. 
 
 [4] 
 My beauty made me thinke 
 
 myselfe an Angell bright, 
 Framfed of heauenly moulde, 
 
 and not an earthly wight. 
 For my soule's happynes 
 
 (God's holy bible booke), 
 I hade my lookinge glasse 
 
 where I most pleasure tooke. 
 
 [S] 
 There was no fashion fond, 
 
 that might advaunce my pride, 
 But, in my looking glasse, 
 
 my fancye soone espi'de. 
 Every vaine, foolish toye 
 
 changed my wanton minde ; 
 And they best pleased me 
 
 that could new fashions find. 
 
 [6] 
 Yet all these worldly toyes . 
 
 yeelded me small content. 
 In that kinde nature had 
 
 ne'ere child to me sent. 
 
 [2] 3 fayre] i.e. fare. [3] $ to to] read too. 8 fall] 
 
 read felt. Cf. Hamlet, Act. i, Sc. a, ' winds of heaven visit her 
 face too roughly.' [4] 5 For] i.e. instead of. 7 hade] i. e. 
 
 had. [6] 4 to] read vnto. 
 
 ( I3S ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXIII 
 
 For which offence to god 
 (that makes my soule to bleed), 
 
 He therefore greiuosly 
 scorgfed me in my seede; 
 
 [7] 
 And, in my tender wombe, 
 
 of soe pure flesh and bloud. 
 Created he, straunge to see, 
 
 a most deformfed broode, 
 That women of wanton pride 
 
 might take example by. 
 How they, in fashions fond, 
 
 offended god on hye. 
 
 m 
 
 Before this babe came to lights 
 
 and I brought to my bed. 
 No cost was spar'd, that might 
 
 stand me in any steed. 
 My nurses, young and fayre, 
 
 fyt for a royal Queene, 
 Gaue all attendance there, 
 
 as it' was dayly seene. 
 
 [9] 
 Never had marchant's wife 
 
 of Ladyes such a traine, 
 That came, in gentle sort, 
 
 at the howre of my paine. 
 But when my swelling wombe 
 
 yeelded vp nature's due, 
 Such a straung monster borne 
 
 never man hardly knew. 
 
 [10] 
 
 For it affrighted soe 
 
 all the whole companye, 
 That each one thought in hart, 
 
 vengeaunce was drawing nye. 
 It had two faces strange, 
 
 and two heads paynted fayre ; 
 On the browes, curlfed lockes 
 
 such as our wantons weare. 
 
 ["] 
 One hand held right the shape 
 
 of a fayre lokeing-glasse, 
 In which I tooke delight 
 
 how my vaine beauty was. 
 
 [7] 3 straunge] readvaoA straunge. [8] 4 steed] i.e. stead. 
 (»36) 
 
Shirburn Ballads, XXXIII 
 
 Right the shape of a rod, 
 
 scorginge me for my synne, 
 The other semde to haue, 
 
 perfectly seene therin. 
 
 [12] 
 
 Those women's wantonnes, 
 
 and their vaine foolish minds. 
 Never contented are 
 
 with that gyft God assignes. 
 Looke to it, London dames ! 
 
 God keepeth plagues in store; 
 As now the second part 
 
 of this song sheweth more. 
 
 K^t iseconb T^xtt, i3Dt, a tDarning fot fapre 
 tDomen. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF All yow that fathers be. 
 
 [13] 
 Greife and care kills their harts 
 
 where god offended is. 
 As this proude marchant's wife 
 
 did worldly comfort misse. 
 Strang were the miseryes 
 
 that she long time indurd; 
 And no ease, by man's help, 
 
 could as then be procurd. 
 
 [14] ,..,..,.,-..,.. 
 Here-vpon spake the childe, 
 
 with a voyce fearefuUye, 
 'Mother, your wanton pride 
 
 'brings me this misery. 
 ' Let your lyfe soone amend, 
 
 'or else the mighty god 
 ' Will scorge your wantonnes 
 
 'with a more shapper rod.' 
 
 [IS] 
 About the necke, flaunting ruffes 
 
 it had most gallantlye, 
 Starchfed with whyte and blewe 
 
 seemely vnto the eye, 
 With laces large, and broad 
 
 as nowe are women's bands : 
 This heavy wanton pride 
 
 still in god's anger standes. 
 
 [11] 7 semde] i.e. seem'd. [la] i Those] »-<arf Thus. 
 
 [14] 8 shapper] read sharper. 
 
 (137 ) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ XXXIII 
 
 [i6] 
 
 The brest was all plated o're, 
 
 as still the Mairmaids be, 
 Now as lewd women's are 
 
 to hide adulterye. 
 Every part, everye lymme 
 
 had not trew nature's frame ; 
 But to shewe to the worlde 
 
 this my great synne and shame, 
 
 [17] 
 
 From the head vnto the fobte, 
 
 monster-like was it borne. 
 Every part had the shape 
 
 of fashions daylye worne. 
 On the feete pinckfed shooes ; 
 
 insteps had Roses redj 
 Which in silke now are vsed — 
 
 so vainelye are we led. 
 
 [18] 
 
 Thus hath my flesh and bloude, 
 
 norisht nowe neere my hart, 
 Put me in mind of synne 
 
 and bids me soone conuert. 
 Oh let all women, then, 
 
 take heed of cursfed pride. 
 Angels have falne from heaven, 
 
 and, for that synne, haue died. 
 
 No sooner brought to light 
 
 was this fruite of my youth, 
 But to the counsaile howse 
 
 it was borne for a truth : 
 Where, to the maiestraites, 
 
 in a most fearefull sort, 
 Began alowd to speake, 
 
 and these words did report : 
 
 [20] 
 
 'I am a messenger, 
 
 ' sent here from god on high, 
 'To bid yow all repent: 
 
 'Christ's comming draweth nigh. 
 'Repent yow all with speede, 
 
 ' this is my message sure : 
 'The world is at an ende, 
 
 'and cannot long endure. 
 
 (X38) 
 
Shirburn Ballads, XXXIII 
 
 ' Pride IS the prince of synne, 
 
 ' which is your chiefe delight. 
 'Mankinde, repent with speede, 
 
 'before the Lord doth smite. 
 ' This is my last adewe : 
 
 ' repentaunce soone provide.' 
 These were his latest words, 
 
 and soe the monster died. 
 
 Great was the feare of those 
 
 that those same speeches hard. 
 God graunt all Christians maye 
 
 haue their minds well prepard, 
 'With trew repentant teares, 
 
 God's mercye to implore, 
 That never woman kinde 
 
 may bringe such fruite forth more. 
 
 — [23] 
 
 And yow, fayre English dailies, 
 
 that in pride soe excell, 
 my wofull miseryes 
 
 to your heartes print full well. 
 Let not pride be your guide; 
 
 for pride will have a fall. 
 Mayde, and wife, let my lyfe 
 
 be warninge to yow all. 
 
 No. XXXIV 
 So long have I followed the alewife's cans 
 
 Fol. 165, with sequel on fol. 166 : a most spirited admonition to sobriety 
 and thrift, with a good swing throughout, but spoilt by a farcical ending. 
 The frequenter of the ale-house is depicted as reforming, when he finds 
 poverty, personified as a beggar-man, dogging his steps and watching 
 opportunity to seize on him. 
 
 In stanza 11 mention is made of old implements for cleaving logs, 
 which in Essex are now forgotten except by the oldest labourers. A 
 socket-wedge was a stout iron wedge with a large socket for the insertion 
 of a thick wooden haft, to lengthen it. It was driven home by a heavy 
 hammer, here called a sledge. Each labourer, until recent years, pos- 
 sessed, as in the ballad, a set of tools of his own for general farm-work, 
 as hedging, ditching, &c. Now the farmer provides the tools, and the 
 labourer's stock-in-trade is, in his own phrase, ' a short pipe and a shut- 
 knife ' (clasp-knife to cut his tobacco). 
 
 Stanzas 18 and 20 describe losses in gambling at ale-houses. Games 
 of chance in such houses were expressly forbidden by statute (see No. IX), 
 
 [33] 4 to] read in. 
 
 ( 139) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXIV 
 
 but the records of the court at Maldon quite bear out the ballad in itS 
 picture of the prevalence of the practice. Convictions and fines occur 
 at every Quarter-sessions. 3 July, 1559, William Loughborough, currier, 
 admitted that on Saturday, 27 May, he was paid gj. by his master, and 
 on Sunday, 28 May, at Manning's alehouse, playing with the host at 
 tables, ^d. a game, he lost gj. t^d., but Manning gave him back 4^. In 
 1567, at Easter sessions, John HornclifTe was fined ds. 8d. for suffering 
 work-people to play at cards in his alehouse (the Bell) contrary to his 
 recognizances. At the Epiphany sessions, 1582-3, it was shown that John 
 Kellingdon, sherman, George Hover, blacksmith, and William Whyskyn, 
 ostler, had played at dice at a game called novum et eundem, and 
 Whyskyn lost l6s. 
 
 In stanza zg the hue and cry is alluded to. A person whose goods were 
 stolen was entitled to send out a description of the thief and the stolen 
 property, to be passed on by messenger from constable to constable in 
 the direction which the thief had taken. A Maldon constable's bill-of- 
 charges in 1616 shows that each parish was expected to contribute its 
 groat towards the cost of transmission. ' Receiued a hew-en-cry sent out 
 from Colchester for two randed geldings (one of them with a waled eye) 
 ID January, 4-/. 20 July, 4d. a hew-an-cry carried to Wodham Mortimer, 
 which cam from Bentley, and so on to Gravesend.' 
 
 2i meri-p netu J15allab intituleJJ :— C$e 
 ftegger comes, t|je begget tmnta, etc. 
 
 To A PLEASANT NEW TUNK 
 
 So long haue [I] followed the Alewiue's Cannes, 
 and so often gone in at the Alewiue's doorej 
 It hath caused me for to spend my lands; 
 and now, alasse ! I am growne poore. 
 The begger comes/ the begger comes! 
 
 loel where the begger doth me watch 1 
 And I doe not leave the Alehowse off, 
 
 the begger soone he will me catch. 
 [i] 5 Refrain sung in chorus at end of each stanza. 7 And] i. e. if. 
 (140) 
 
Shirburn Ballads, XXXIV 
 
 He that hath mony in his purse, 
 
 and will vnto an Alehowse goe, 
 There he may learne to sware and curse, 
 
 and spend his mony and wit also. 
 
 [3] 
 I know a man was very rich, 
 
 and he of many was often sought ; 
 Yet he had followed the pot so longe, 
 
 at length the begger had him caught. 
 
 [4] 
 My mother tould me, long agoe, * 
 
 yf I did foUowe soe much the pot, 
 At length yt would cause my overthrow, 
 
 and make me goe in a threedbare coate. 
 
 [5] 
 When I had siluer and gold good store, 
 
 good fellows then thought well of me ; 
 But now it is gone, and I haue noe more, 
 
 they are not for my companye. 
 
 [6] 
 The brauest lasses in our towne 
 
 I might haue had their company ; 
 But, now I am scarce worth a crowne, 
 
 alasse ! they looke asquint on me. 
 
 [7] 
 
 Our hostis at the Walnut-tree, 
 
 when I had mony at my will, 
 She lovbd well my company, 
 
 because the shot I payfed still. 
 
 [8] 
 Our hostis' maids did love me well, 
 
 when I had mony to my store. 
 Because I gaue them farings still; 
 
 but now they care for me no more. 
 
 [9] 
 They tell me, now, the begger comes; 
 
 and show me where he doth me watch. 
 They bid me hye me to my worke, 
 or els the begger will me catch. 
 
 (141) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXIV 
 
 [lo] 
 Indeed, their counsell I will take; 
 
 I'le come no more within their vaine. 
 What shift soe euer I doe make, 
 
 I'le get my monye vp againe. 
 
 ["] 
 I'le get me a shovell, and a spade, 
 
 a flayle, a hedge-bill, and an axe. 
 Two socket-wedges, and a sledge; 
 
 I thinke I will haue all my knacks. 
 
 [12] 
 I'le hedge, and ditch; I'le cleave out roots; 
 
 I'le thresh; I'le cut downe woode amaine; 
 I'le doe all worke — I care not what — 
 
 to get my mony vp againe. 
 
 [13] 
 And when I haue mony in my purse — 
 
 because the Alewiues were so stout, 
 I thinke I will keepe it tyll it rust, 
 
 ere they shall get a penny out. 
 
 [14] 
 All they that to the Alehowse packe, 
 
 and they that spend their mony there, 
 The begger may catch them by the backe, 
 
 ere they of him shal be aware. 
 
 C|ie ssecottij part of C]^e Begger comeis, ttz. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Watton iown^s end. 
 
 [IS] 
 All yew that now haue hard me synge 
 
 'the begger [he] doth come,' 
 Shall here me sing another part 
 agreeying to the same. 
 The begger! the begger! 
 
 the begger he was come. 
 And almost like to catch me: 
 'twas tyme for me to run. 
 
 [16] 
 I went vnto an Alehowse 
 to drinke a pot or two, 
 And the begger he stoode watchinge 
 to see where I did goe. 
 O the begger etc. 
 
 [16] 5 Refrain to be sung in chorus at the end of each stanza. 
 ( 142 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads, XXXIV 
 
 [17] 
 
 I had but cald my Ostisse, 
 
 a stope of beare to fill ; 
 The begger he was comd 
 
 and their stood watching still. 
 
 [18] 
 
 I went into another howse, 
 
 and there I playd at dice; 
 And there I lost fyve shillings — 
 
 therin I was not wise. 
 
 I openfed the windowe, 
 
 because the light was dymme; 
 
 and I might see the begger, 
 where he stoode lookinge in. 
 
 [20] 
 
 I went into another howse, 
 
 which stood besyde a pond; 
 And there I went to a 'newe cutt' 
 
 tyll all my mony was gone. 
 
 [21] 
 
 As I was goinge out, 
 
 to run home for more, 
 There I might see the begger 
 
 stand watchinge at the dore. 
 
 [22] 
 
 One day as I was sleepinge 
 
 vndemeath a shade, 
 And spent the time in idlenesse, 
 
 which is a filthy trade, 
 
 [23] 
 Then suddenlye I wakfed ; 
 
 and, casting vp mine eye, 
 I spi'de the begger comminge, 
 
 as fast as he could hye. 
 
 [24] 
 Thus I haue tould yow all 
 
 how troubled I haue beene, 
 For to withstand the begger — 
 
 the like was never seene. 
 
 [17] s i. e. a stoup of beer. 3 comd] i.e. come. [21] 2 run] 
 read run to. 
 
 (143) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXIV 
 
 If that I doe but looke 
 
 vpon an Alehowse sygne, 
 The bagger he will watch me, 
 to see yf I goe in. 
 
 Then the begger ! the begger ! 
 
 the begger he will come, 
 And will be like to catch me: 
 'tis time for me to runne. 
 
 [a6] 
 
 But now that I haue found a slight 
 
 the begger shall not catch me, 
 But I will shift away from him 
 
 wheresoever he doth watch me. 
 
 rie take me to my horse; 
 
 I'le ride awaye in hast ; 
 And then he cannot catch me, 
 
 though he runne never so fast, 
 
 [28] 
 
 Except he steale a horse, — 
 
 he hath none of his owne : — 
 And, yf he take another man's, 
 
 the same shall soone be knowne. 
 
 [29] 
 I'le reare the cuntry up 
 
 strayght-wayes, and will not faile, 
 And they shall catch the begger, 
 and laye him in the Jayle. 
 Then the begger I the begger t 
 
 the begger cannot come ; 
 For when that he is in the Jayle, 
 then what neede T to runne 1 
 
 [3°] 
 And when the Syses come, 
 then hanged shall he be; 
 And then 1 neede not feare; 
 the begger cannot catch me. 
 For then the begger I the begger ! 
 
 the begger cannot come ; 
 For when that he is hangld, 
 then what neede I to runne ? 
 
 [a6] I slight] i.e. sleight. [37] 4 never] read ne'er. 
 
 [29] I i. e. by hue and cry. 
 
 ( 144) 
 
Shirburn Ballads XXXIV 
 
 [31] 
 
 If that he haue some younge ones, 
 
 they are but verye smale, 
 And they will fall to stealinge, 
 and see be hangbd all. 
 
 Then the begger! the begger! 
 
 the begger cannot come: 
 For when they be all hanged, 
 then what neede I to runne ? 
 
 No. XXXV 
 Your answer to my sad laments 
 
 Fol. 167'. Funerals were great functions in Elizabethan and Stuart 
 times ; and memorial-verses were a necessary feature at funerals. These 
 ballads have examples of both the high and the low types of such verses. 
 Ko.LXII isagoodexampleof a public lament for a great man, comparable 
 to Tennyson's Ode on Weltin^on; No. LVII is as good an example of 
 private elegy, comparable to In Memoriam. The present ballad is of 
 coarser fibre, being such a piece as was stocked by the printers to be 
 used by any widow for any husband, as part of the mechanism of mourn- 
 ing. The ballad-monger's ingenuity has sought to provide for treble 
 custom by making it one of a series : — the Lamentation, the Answer to 
 the Lamentation, and the Reply to the Answer. Surely the disconsolate 
 would wish to possess all three. Churchyards in the West Lindsey 
 district of Lincolnshire supply an amusing modem parallel to this standardi- 
 zation of grief. The country-folk desired a ' verse of poetry ' on their tomb- 
 stones ; and Mr. Swift, memorial-mason of Gainsborough, having found 
 one to their mind, has set it up everywhere, even several times over in 
 the same churchyard : — 
 
 Afflictions sore long time I bore : 
 
 physicians were in vain ; 
 Till God did please to give me ease, 
 
 and rid me of my pain. 
 
 Swift, Gains. 
 
 (i4S) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXV 
 
 %^z 3Labpe*0 repine to t\z ansitDete tnaDe 
 to $ei; lamentation. 
 
 To THK TUNE OF Oh Hone. 
 
 Your answere to my sad laments 
 I haue receiu'd, and the contence 
 Have well perused; but therin finde 
 no salue to swage a greiubd minde. 
 The wisest man that lyves this daye 
 ■yyith words cannot my woes delaye — 
 
 Oh hone, hone an alergo, 
 
 alergo, tararalergo hone. 
 
 Vnlesse he could [bring] newes to me 
 (which I do never looke to see) 
 That my deare Lord doth lyve againe : 
 then would I leaue for to complaine ! 
 But, since he cannot backe retume, 
 I'le never cease to weepe and morne. 
 
 [3] 
 
 What though his soule in heaven doth rest, 
 
 and is of lasting ioyes possest, 
 
 Yet I am greed at the heart 
 
 that he so soone from earth did part, 
 
 Whereby I am of ioyes bereft, 
 
 and haue (alas!) no comfort left. 
 
 [1] a contence] read contents. 7 Refrain to be whined at the 
 end of every stanza. [3] 3 greed] read greeudd. 
 
 (146) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXV 
 
 [4] 
 
 Those which in peace their loves inioye, 
 and never tasted griefe's annoy, 
 To other can good counsell gyve : 
 but where doth any creature lyve 
 Should fall from ioy to misery, 
 that would not weepe as well as I? 
 
 [S] 
 
 Thinke yow I am not vrgd to moane, 
 that am depriued of such a one 
 As all the world can scarce afford — 
 so good, so sweete, so braue a Lord — 
 The thought of whose vnhappye death 
 doth make me loath my vitall breath. 
 
 [6] 
 
 In vaine (kinde friend) yow counsell me 
 to end these plaints, which cannot be 
 Dissolu'd with all the wit yow haue, 
 till death bring me vnto my grave. 
 The which (I hope) shall be ere longe, 
 and then I'le end this dolefuU songe. 
 
 [7] 
 
 Yow wishe me to lay griefe asyde, 
 and to reioyce because he dyed. 
 Nay, more : you bringe examples in 
 to prove that weepinge is a eynne. 
 My friende, 'tis lawfull for to weepe, 
 so we in teares a measure keepe. 
 
 [8] 
 
 But, for my griefe doth farre surpasse 
 the greatest wo that ever was, 
 Therefore, my mones must needs exceed 
 those which from smaller cause proceed. 
 Then henceforth cease, and say no more; 
 for I will still his death deplore, 
 
 [9] 
 
 A thing of little worth (god wot) 
 
 full easylye maye be forgott; 
 
 But, sure, a Lord so deare as he 
 
 cannot soe soone forgotten be; 
 
 And, being he my soule did love, 
 
 his death must needs great sorrow move. 
 
 L 2 ( 147 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXV 
 
 [lol 
 
 Then, yf with me yow will not mone, 
 nor waile my losse, let me alone. 
 For, since the gods haue reft his lyfei, 
 and made a widow of a wife, 
 I neyther can, nor will, refraine ; 
 But, till I dye, for him complaine. 
 
 [II] 
 
 The fates haue done the worst the[y] can, 
 in robbing me of that same man 
 Who was the Jewell and the pride 
 of all dame nature's sonnes besyde. 
 Then haue not I iust cause of wo, 
 whom cruel fates hath crossfed so? 
 
 [12] 
 
 Yet powers devine, yow know my griefe; 
 yet yow will lend me no reliefe. 
 Then why should I to men complaine, 
 which have no power to ease my paine ? 
 Since gods on me no pittye have, 
 I'le leave the world, and seeke a grave. 
 
 Oh hone hone hone alergo, 
 
 alaler\g\o tarardlergo hone. 
 
 No. XXXVI 
 O mortal man, bedrencht in sin 
 
 Fol. 169. Stanzas 16-18 are noticeable as testifying to the sumptuous 
 life and the favourite sports of Jacobean county magnates. The chief 
 country sports were hare- coursing, deer-huntingand hawking. Fox-hunting 
 was not yet sport. The fox in old forest law had been ' vermin ', and remained 
 so at the date of this ballad. Laxton manor, Northamptonshire, in 1322, 
 was held of the king in capite by service of keeping dogs to destroy wolves, 
 foxes, wild-cats, and other vermin, in the king's forest in the counties of 
 Northants, Rutland, Oxon., Essex, Hunts., and Bucks. Pytchley manor, 
 in the same county, was held in 1339 of the king in capite, by service of 
 destroying wild-cat, fox, and badger, in the above counties. At the date 
 of the ballad churchwardens regularly paid a fee for each fox, pole-cat, or 
 badger killed, much as the Government of India now subsidizes the de- 
 struction of venomous snakes. 
 
 By 1663 fox-hunting had become established as sport. We find the king 
 and his nobles then showing partiality for it (Wood's Life and Times, i. 
 49S). In Roxburghe Ballads, i. 360, is a spirited ballad m praise of ' The 
 Fox-chase', of Charles II's date. 
 
 Payments for destruction still continued. At Waddesdon, Bucks., the 
 rate was id. for each polecat, ^d. for each hedgehog, and \s. for each 
 fox or badger. In 1690 (the earliest extant account) payments were made 
 for 13 polecats, 25 hedgehogs, and 14 foxes. 
 
 [la] I Yet] read Ye. 
 (148) 
 
Bhirburn Ballads, XXXVI 
 
 a neto llSallaii intituled a myrrour or 
 loofeinge glag^e for all mmn. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Queene Dido. 
 
 O MORTALL man, bedrencht in synne, 
 
 rouze vp thy selfe; 'tys tyme to rise. 
 Delight noe more in sluggish sleepe; 
 the crowinge Cocke the day discries. 
 Remember then thine owne estates- 
 repent in tytne; come not to late. 
 
 {A 
 
 Nought els thow art, but meate for worms : 
 
 of basest earth god framed thee ; 
 And, into that filthy slyme againe, 
 thow shall at length converted bee. 
 
 As thow, by kinde, of claye wert cast, 
 so shalt thow turne to dust at last. 
 
 [3] 
 
 Thy youth is [as] the growinge grasse; 
 
 thine age resembleth withered hay. 
 Thy head ere night may lye full low, 
 although yow brave yt all the daye. 
 Remember then thine owne estate ; 
 repent in tyme ; com£ not to late. 
 
 [4] 
 No written lease of lyfe thow hast. 
 
 No deed enrold can the[e] assure 
 That for a moneth, day, nor howre, 
 thy fading fortune shall indvre. 
 
 No rest thow hast to rest vpon ; 
 but, shortly, hence thow must be gon. 
 
 [S] 
 As, in the twinkling of an eye, 
 
 Jehovah gaue his vitall breath, 
 So, in a moment, yow shall feele 
 the daunting death of grysely death. 
 Remember then thine owne estate ; . 
 repent in tyme ; come not \to6\ late. 
 
 [i] 6 to] i. e. too. [a] 3 into] read to, [3] 6 to] i. e. too. 
 [5] 4 death of] read dart of. 
 
 ( 149) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXVI 
 
 [6] 
 The softned bed whereon thow lyest 
 
 doth represent the place to thee, 
 Wherein the carrion corps at last, 
 by course of kinde, interd shall be. 
 
 Then shalt thow lodge within thy grave 
 the greatest grace that best men have. 
 
 [7] 
 The crawling worms will welcome thee, 
 
 reioycing at their newcome ghest. 
 The dead man's bones will welcome thee, 
 and make the rome with them to rest. 
 Remember then thine own estate ; 
 repent in tyme; come not too late. 
 
 [8] 
 When once thy Carkase is intombd, 
 
 the fearefuU trump will sound apace: — 
 ' Arise, yow dead ! to iudgement come ! 
 'appeare before the lord of grace, 
 
 'Who yeelds to every man his dew, 
 'for he alone is iust and trew. 
 
 [9] 
 ' Arise, yow mighty potentates ! 
 
 'Arise, yow poore blind, deafe, and lame! 
 ' Arise, thow gallant ! rise, yow rich ! 
 ' Arise, thow coy and daintye dame ! 
 ' Arise, yow wights of eche estate ! 
 ' Make hast, for feare yow come to late ! ' 
 
 [lo] 
 Ther's then no restinge place for thee: 
 
 vntrusse yow must, and passe from thence. 
 Then will thy soule and body meete, 
 expecting their dew recompence. 
 
 As they did ioy in good or bad, 
 theyr [future] soe shall then be had. 
 
 ["] 
 Then Sathan comes to crave his right. 
 
 'Thow god!' sayes he, 'behould the man 
 'That led his lyfe in secure synne. 
 ' His soul in mine : doe iustice than. 
 'He never wayld his owne estate, 
 'and now repentaunce corns to late. 
 
 [6] 3 the] read thy. [7] 2 ghest] i.e. guest. 3 man's] read 
 men's. 4 the rome] i. e. thee room. [9] 3 rise] read arise. 
 6 to] i.e. too. [10] 2 yow] read thou. [11] 4 in] read is. 
 S wayld] in a correction: may also be read waydd [= weighed]. 
 •6 corns to] i. e. comes too. 
 
 ( 150 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads, XXXFI 
 
 [12] 
 
 'While late he lyved vpon the earth, 
 
 ' he tooke noe care of thy behest 
 'But bent himselfe, with might and mayne, 
 'each thing [to get] that likt him best. 
 
 ' He wore my "badge, contemning thee : 
 'his soule, therefore, belongs to me. 
 
 [13] 
 'I know thow art a Judge vpright; 
 
 'thy doome in Justice cannot swarve. 
 'To iustice therefore I appeale: 
 
 'give each man what he doth deserve. 
 'This wretch forgat his owne estate, 
 ['and now repentaunce comes too late.'] 
 
 [m] 
 O wofuU wight! what wilt thow do. 
 
 When thow doest behold this wofull case? 
 To frame excuse will not avayle. 
 Forethinke thee, then, while thow hast space.' 
 Have good regard to thine estate; 
 \repent in tyme; come not too late.J 
 
 [IS] 
 No Prince's power can stand in steade, 
 
 when wrath hath clapt thee in his clawes. 
 No Sargiant dares [to] vouch a fee 
 before the barre to plead thy cause, 
 
 No friend, no charme, ho skyll, no art, 
 can comfort then thy heavy hart. 
 
 [16] 
 
 Thy princely howse, thy stately port, 
 
 thy trim attyre, thy troopinge trayne, 
 Thy delicate and thy dainty faire, 
 thy badge of gould, will then seeme vaine. 
 Remember then thy owne estate; 
 \repent in tyme ; come not too /ate.'] 
 
 [17] 
 Thy curious coach, thy trampling steede, 
 
 thy thrice-rackt rent to presse the poore, 
 Thy hungery minde, shall boote the[e] naught, 
 that huntes poore Lazare from thy dore. 
 
 Thy plumes, thy fans, thy pleasinge ioyes, 
 vnto thy sovle shall breed annoyes. 
 
 [14] 2 doest behold] »-«jrfbehold'st. [15] 3 Sargiant] i. e. Ser- 
 
 jeant-at-Law. [16] 3 faire] i.e. fare. [17] 5 ioyes] possibly 
 
 toyes. 
 
 ( 151 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXVI 
 
 The beagles f[l']eete that hantes the hare, 
 
 thy deepe-mouthd hounds to chase the harts, 
 Thy Spaniels, Hauksj thy chiefe delights, 
 will then procure thy bitter smartes. 
 Remember then thine owne estate ; 
 {repent in tymt; come not too /ate]. 
 
 [19} 
 
 Arise, thefeforfe, thow sinfiill man; 
 behold thy loathsome LeprOsye. 
 Thy whoredome, pride, and drunkennes, 
 thy couetousnes and vsurye. 
 
 Thine eniiy, malice, and disdaine, 
 will breede thee eaerlasting paine. 
 
 t^o] 
 
 Prepare thee, with the virgins wise, 
 
 if thow doest meane thy soule to saue. 
 At midnight will the Bridegroome rise 
 to let in them whom he will haue. 
 Yf thow remembrest thine estate, 
 repentaunce cannot come to late. 
 
 ["] 
 The lord preserve our tdytll Kinge, 
 
 and graiint him JVestot's yeeres to taigne. 
 Endew him, lord, with heavenly grace 
 thy truth and ghospell to maintaine. 
 
 That he, regarding whence he came, 
 eternize may his holy name. 
 
 [22] 
 
 Lord, blesse Q[ueen] Anne, our Soueraine's wife; 
 
 but the ympes that doe from them descend 
 Plant Princelye vertues in their hart, 
 in them to lyve, in them to end, 
 
 That they, considerihge their estate, 
 their auncestofs maye imitate. 
 
 [18] I The beagles] read Thy beagles. 4 thy] read thee, 
 
 [ig] 6 thee] substituted for thy : or vice versa. [so] 6 to] 
 
 i.e. too. [ai] I Kinge] i. e. James I. 6 his] fieadOty. 
 [22] I Anne of Denmark, d. 1619. 
 
 ( 152 ) 
 
Shirhurn Balladsy XXXVII 
 
 No. XXXVII 
 In reading merry memories 
 
 Fol. 171T. In 1520 John Dome sold at Oxford 'The fryre end boy', 
 probably a broadside exemplar of this ballad (Oxford Historical Society's 
 Collectanea, ii. 459); The full text of The Fryar and the Boy is given by 
 Dr. F. J. Furnivall in the appendix to Bp. Percy's folio MS. : see also Dr. 
 Fumivall's Captain Cox, p. Ixxiii. 
 
 The ballad presents us with a feature of English rural life which has 
 long disappeared. All over the country were stretches of wood, relics of 
 the primaeval forest, the underwood and timber of which belonged to the 
 lord of the manor, but the rough pasture was common to all who held 
 land from him. Daily, therefore, the cattle of each homestead were 
 driven to pasture in the wood, under the charge of a lad. Thus, in the 
 survey of Fotheringhay Castle, made 10 April, 1340, when Edward III 
 granted the reversion of it to William de Bohun, earl of Northampton, 
 it is stated that the Castle possessed in King's Cliffe forest two woods, 
 Erles-wode, 240 acres, and New-haghe, 60 acres ; but the pasture of 
 these was common to the neighbouring townships, and of no value to the 
 Castle, because too distant for the lord's cattle to be driven there. 
 
 The boy is tried for sorcery in the ecclesiastical court, before the official 
 (stanza 21), i.e. the archdeacon's law-officer. In Elizabeth's time even 
 the civil courts took cognizance of such suits. At Maldon, 6 July 1573, 
 the jury at the General Sessions presented Alice Chaundeler, spinster, of 
 Maldon, as a sorceress and witch, who, on 3 July, by felonious use of 
 incantation, charms, and sorcery, had done to death Mary, the eight- 
 year-old daughter of Francis Cowper, fletcher. There also, at the 
 Epiphany sessions, 1 577-8, the jury presented Richard Asplyn, alehouse- 
 holder, of Maldon, for taking into his house Thomas Barker, shoemaker, 
 of Great Maplestead, a conjurer, with his books of conjuring and invoca- 
 tion of evil spirits. In the Burials Register of Boreham, Essex, under 
 date 29 July, 1593, is the entry : — ' H. Mother haven suffered at borhame 
 for witchcraft the sam day,' 'H.'=hanged. Agnes,wifeof William, Haven 
 had occurred in 1570. 
 
 an excellent merpe jsonge of t^t freier anJ> 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Peggy Ramsey. 
 
 \A 
 
 In reading merry memoryes, 
 
 it was ray chaunce to finde 
 An honest man who had three wives, 
 
 whose last was most vnkindej 
 For he had, by his first deere wife, 
 
 a goodly, iollye sonne. 
 With whom his step-dame could not gree, 
 
 but thought herselfe vndonne, 
 
 (153) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXVII 
 
 But all shee thought consumde and lost, 
 
 that did the poore child good. 
 His father, that consideringe, 
 
 did sende him to the woode, 
 Which pleasbd well the stepdame's minde. 
 
 The child, devoyde of care, 
 His father's neate did driue to feild, 
 
 and sing High hoe the mare ! 
 
 [3] 
 
 Then, as he came into the plaine, 
 
 he drewe his dinner forth; 
 And quickely put it vp againe, 
 
 it was soe little worth. 
 But, mery pipinge on a hill 
 
 to make his cattell sporte, 
 A grave old man appeard to him, 
 
 righ[t] fayre, in freindly sorte, 
 
 [4] 
 And said: — 'My sonne, god speed the well! 
 
 'or hast thow any meate?' 
 'Such as I haue,' the boy saide still, 
 
 'a' god's name, come and eate.' 
 The old man, thanking him therefore, 
 
 did gladly theron feede; 
 And sayd, 'My boye, a thousande thanks; 
 
 'thow hast releeued my neede. 
 
 [S] 
 'Now will I giue yt things three, 
 
 'that thow shalt not forgett.' 
 The boy sayde: — 'I'le be ruled by thee, 
 
 'yf such things I may get. 
 'For, yf I had a bowe,' quoth he, 
 
 'to shoote at birds on bryer, — ' 
 The old man saide, ' Take here of me 
 
 'the thinge thow dost desire.' 
 
 [6] 
 'Then,' saide the boye, 'a pype also, 
 
 'me thinkSj were very good, 
 'As I doe travaile to and fro 
 
 'from home vnto the woode.' 
 
 [a] I But] read For. [4] i the] i. e. thee. a of] read oh. 
 [5] I I giue yt things] possibly I giue choice of things. 2 i. e . that 
 you may have something by which to keep me in remembrance. 
 
 (154) 
 
Shirburn Ballads, XXXVII 
 
 The old man sayd, 'Take heere a pipe, 
 
 'that all that heere the glee 
 'Shall never cease, but daunce and leap, 
 
 'while piping thow shalt bee.' 
 
 [7] 
 
 Then 'aske the third,' he sayd, 'my sonnet' 
 
 The boy sayd, 'Nowe inough — ' 
 The old man saide, 'thow shalt not have,' 
 
 At that the boy loud lought. 
 Then sayd the boy, 'I haue a dame,. 
 
 'that is to me vnkinde, 
 'Which many wayes dooth worke my shame,. 
 
 'as well I call to minde. 
 
 [8] 
 
 ' And yf my father giue me meate 
 
 'she stares me in the face.' 
 The old man swore to make her rage 
 
 in strange and wondrous case; 
 'ffor when she frownes on thee, my boy, 
 
 'she shall a rappe let goe, 
 'which shall soe ringe that she shall raye 
 
 'the place, for verye woe.' 
 
 [9] 
 
 The old man sayde : — ' Farwell, my childe ! 
 
 'of thee my leaue I take.' 
 The boy, that sawe, and well beheeld, 
 
 the sunne began to slake. 
 He tooke his pipe, and gan to blowe: 
 
 his neat fast by him springe. 
 Thus forwards, homeward, he doth goe, 
 
 as ioyfull as a kinge. 
 
 [10] 
 
 He found his father in the hall, 
 
 at supper syttinge then. 
 Then Jacke sayde :— ' Jesu saue yow all ! 
 
 'howe cheere yow, freindly men?' 
 Saying, 'Father, I haue kept your neate, 
 
 'and brought them safely home: 
 'For god's sake, therefore, giue me meate.' 
 
 His father threw a bone. 
 
 [7] 3 i. e. I will not let you cry ' enough ', without taking the 
 third gift. 
 
 (iSS) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXFII 
 
 ["1 
 
 That greiued the stepdame's heart full [sore], 
 
 but she blewe such a blast 
 That all the howse began to rore: 
 
 the people were agast. 
 Then sayd the boye: 'Right well I wott, 
 
 'yf thow shoote such another, 
 'I needes must saye it is well shot — 
 
 'I sware, by Marye mother.' 
 
 [12] 
 
 But then more cursedly shee lookt, 
 
 she was soe ill content; 
 One rapp annother overtooke, 
 
 her taile was neere-hand rent. 
 Then little Jacke sayd ' Fye, for shame ! 
 
 ' Dame, temper well your bum. 
 'Your stuffe,' saide he, 'is good to borowe, 
 
 'for each one shall have some.' 
 
 [13] 
 The next daye after came a freyer 
 
 that laye there all the night, 
 that fed the goodwiife's oft desire 
 
 and coniured many a sprite. 
 This dame, to him, of little /acke, 
 
 a great complaint did make. 
 The freire saide, ' Dame, be [yow] content : 
 
 'for I dare vndertake 
 
 [14] 
 'To beat him well, in sundrye sort; 
 
 'and giue him evill fare.' 
 With that, vnto the feild he went, 
 
 to worke the poore child's care. 
 'Boy,' he saide, 'god giue the[e] shame: 
 
 ' come ! quickly shew to me 
 'What thow hast done vnto thy dame, 
 
 'else beaten shalt thow be.' 
 
 The boy saide: 'Holy father frier, 
 
 'my dame right well doth fare. 
 'See yonder birde, that sits on bryer, 
 
 'had neede for to beware, 
 'For, though I haue but little skill, 
 
 'yet I can shoot her head.' 
 The fryer saide, 'AH vnpossible! 
 
 'with words thow hast me fed.' 
 
 [15] 6 head] read dead. 
 (156) 
 
Shirburn Ballads, XXXVU 
 
 [i6] 
 
 Jack shot, and downe the bird did fall; 
 
 the fryer, amonge the thornes. 
 Began to grope to finde her out — 
 
 which provM to his harmes. 
 Then Jacke his pipe began to blow ; 
 
 the fryer began to daunce; 
 Amidst the brambles on a rowe, 
 
 right braulye he did praunce. 
 
 [17] 
 
 The thornes prickt: the breyres schratch[t] 
 
 his leggs, also his face. 
 His body was with bloud so redd, 
 
 and scratched in every place. 
 Then cryed he, ^ Jacke, for Christ's sake, 
 
 'cease the pipe that I were gone.' 
 With .raggM breech and clothes all tore, 
 
 thus the folish freier went home. 
 
 [Vnto] JacKs father and his mother 
 
 the story all he toulde; 
 Then home came Jacke, his neat to fother, 
 
 with courage braue and boulde. 
 Then saide his father : ' Cursfed sonne, 
 
 'how hast thow vsde this frier? 
 ' This musicke strange now let me heare, 
 
 'for it is my desire.' 
 
 [19] 
 
 The frier saide : ' Tye me to a post : ' 
 
 some sayde he should not fall. 
 Jaeke piped ; his mother looked grim, 
 
 but evermore [them all] amonge 
 Her taile let many a pellet flye, 
 
 she well perfumed the thronge. 
 They daunced so sore, they neere were lost, 
 
 they caught soe many a fall. 
 
 [20] 
 
 The sylly frier was neere hand lost, 
 though he full fast was bounde. 
 
 He knockt his head so to the post, 
 with many a bloudy wounde. 
 
 [17] 5 Christ's] i. e. Christ his. 6o>«(Vthe. 8 owiV thus. 
 [19] The lines are misplaced : i, 2 should stand as 7, 8. a i. c. 
 they had tied him so effectually. 
 
 (157) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ XXXVII 
 
 Some broocke their shins; some hurt their arms ; 
 
 some were so madd and frantickej 
 But never a won escapbd free, 
 
 in dauncinge of this anticke. 
 
 [21] 
 
 Then Jacke, before the officiall, 
 
 was warned by the frier, 
 To answere as a coniurer; 
 
 but, when that he came there, 
 He tooke in hand againe his pipe, 
 
 and gan to playe so trymme. 
 The officiall lept over the deske, 
 
 with many a broken shin. 
 
 ["] 
 
 Then Jacke they hartely doe praye, 
 
 for love of Marye free, 
 To cease, and for to leaue his playe : 
 
 and forgiuen he should be. 
 'Content,' quoth /acke: so peace was made, 
 
 and friends they were in place, — 
 Desiringe God, who reads this iest, 
 
 to graunt him of his grace. 
 
 No. XXXVIII 
 The wondrous works of God above 
 
 Fol. 174^; with second part on fol. 175''. The locality of this marvel 
 of retributive justice is well chosen to give verisimilitude to the piece. 
 The fairs of Frankfort-on-Main, held in March and September, were 
 well known as great marts of cloth and books ; and Bonn is a natural 
 halting-place for travellers between Antwerp and Frankfort. The date 
 of Shakespeare's A Winter's Tale (161 1) gives special interest to its 
 Act iv, Scene 3, where Mopsa's ' I love a ballad in print ; for then we are 
 sure they are true ', and Autolycus's ' Five justices' hands at it, and 
 witnesses', agree with the attestations at the end of this 16 12 ballad. 
 
 (158) 
 
Shirburn Ballads, XXXVIII 
 
 SC mt^t mimzulom, strange, ani> tretoe 
 315allaJj, of a pounge wait of tje age of 19 
 nearest, i»|io toas torongfullp j^angb at a 
 
 totone Calleb Bon in t^t lowe Countreyes 
 
 isince V^ttmu last pasit 1612; and j^oto 
 
 gob pie0er«eJJ j^m aliue, anJ> iirougj^t j^ss 
 
 false accuser to JjeserueJj bestruction. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF O man in desperation. 
 
 [x] 
 The wondrous works of god above 
 
 man's thoughts cannot conceiue, 
 For all that him doe fear and love 
 
 in daunger hee'le not leaue^ 
 The proofe of which in holy writ 
 
 most sacredlye is showne ; 
 And in this story, wondrous fit, 
 
 his mighty power is knowne. 
 
 (159 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXVIII 
 
 A younge man, from good parents sprunge, 
 
 in Anewarpe liude of late, 
 Who[m] none could ere accuse of wronge, 
 
 and liude in happy state ; 
 Did with his loving vncle dwell, 
 
 and was so well beloved ; 
 He did behaue himselfe soe well, 
 
 as all men['s] likinge moved. 
 
 [3] 
 His vncle was a marchant man; 
 
 and put him still in trust 
 In every thinge he tooke in hand, 
 
 he was soe trewe and iust. 
 He, with his kinsman, lately went 
 
 to Frankfort mart with wares, 
 Not doubting arty thinge to come 
 
 to breed them griefe and care. 
 
 w 
 
 From Aniwarp as they travelled, 
 
 by settinge of the sunne 
 Game to an Inne, to lye all night, 
 
 cald the Wkite Swan at Bon ; 
 And in the morninge rose betimes 
 
 by breakinge of the daye. 
 And went to Frankfort, and dispatchd ' 
 
 their marts, and came their waye. 
 
 [S] 
 But nowe begins the younge man's woe ! 
 
 His vncle sent him backe, 
 Whilst he at Frankfort staide behinde. 
 
 The youth, not beinge slacke, 
 Made all the speede time would afford 
 
 that he might soone goe home; 
 And, home-ward, laye each night where they 
 
 lodgd, when from home they come. 
 
 [6] 
 One night, amongst the rest, he came 
 
 to Bon, vnto the Swanne, 
 Where-as his Host did shewe himselfe 
 
 a Deuill in shape of man. 
 
 [2] 2 Anewarpe] i. e. Antwerp. [3] 8 them] substUuttd for 
 
 his. care] read cares. [4] 7 and dispatchd] read Xo dispatch. 
 8 came] read come. 
 
 (160) 
 
Shirburn Ballads, XXXVIII 
 
 For, in his howse, a marchant lay 
 
 who had good store of Coyne, 
 The which this theeuish hoast did seeke 
 
 by all meanes to purloyne. 
 
 %\z isecoitb part of a mosit tniuaculousi, 
 0traunge, anb ti*eto l^allab, of a pouitg mait 
 of t$e age of 19 pearess, tDj^o toasi torong^ 
 fiiUp Jangeb fpbe bap0 at a totone calleJj 
 
 Bon in t]^e /(9zy^ countries. 
 
 [7] 
 
 Att last, in dead of drowsye night, 
 
 when every one was sleepinge, 
 This filthy hoast vnto the male 
 
 of mony vp corns creeping, 
 And from the marchant steales the gould ; 
 
 and then invents a drift 
 The yong man might be in suspect, 
 
 for his abhorrbd theft. 
 
 [8] 
 
 He takes a Beaker of his owne ; 
 
 and, in the young man's male. 
 He cuningly convayes the same, 
 
 his falsehood to avayle. 
 An obligation, and a ringe, 
 
 he from the marchant had. 
 Which he, into the young man's male, 
 
 he there likewise convayde. 
 
 [9] 
 
 The young man in the morning rose; 
 
 and vp his horse he gets, 
 Suspectinge nothing that could breede 
 
 his hinderance or his letts. 
 Who beinge gone, the marchant wakes 
 
 and finds his money gone; 
 In rage a furious noyce he makes, 
 
 and making piteous moane. 
 
 [7] 3 male] i. e. trunk, bag. 6 drift] i. e. plan. [8] 4 a- 
 
 vaylej i. e. help out. 5 obligation] i. e. a covenant to pay money. 
 7 Which he] read The which. 
 
 sHiRB. M ( 161 ) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ XXXVIII 
 
 [lo] 
 
 His hoast perswades him the yong man 
 
 had done this wicked deede; 
 And soe in hast they both tooke horse, 
 
 to fetch him backe with speede. 
 They haue not farre rod on their way, 
 
 but they the youth had spi'de : 
 For he, suspectinge of no harme, 
 
 did verye softlye ride. 
 
 ["] 
 When straite his false accusing hoast 
 
 attachd him for a theefe; 
 And searched his male — where-as he found 
 
 those things that causde his griefe. 
 Although the youth, with vehement words, 
 ^ deny'de ,this guilty act, 
 Yet he was rackt, condemnd, and iudgd, 
 and hanged for the fact. 
 
 [12] 
 
 But now, his vncle's busines don, 
 
 in hast he homeward hyes; 
 And, at the wicked catife's howse, 
 
 at night he eates and lyes. 
 And risinge in the morne, his hoast 
 
 did tell this wofuU thinge. 
 Which almost kild his vncle quite, 
 
 his hart it soe did stinge. 
 
 [X3] 
 Yet, nevertheles, with griefe he went 
 
 his Kinsman's corps to see ; 
 Which was soe great a woe to him, 
 
 as greater none coulde be. 
 To whom the executed youth 
 
 sayd : ' Vncle, praye drawe neere. 
 'I am not dead, although that hangd 
 
 'I, in your sight, appeare. 
 
 ' For why ? I stand vpon a stoole, 
 
 ' although yow see it not ; 
 'And for this 5 dayes all my meate 
 
 ' I haue from heaven got. 
 
 [11} a attachd] i. e. arrested. 8 fact] i. e. crime. 
 
 [13] I nevertheles] >■««(/ ne'ertheless. 
 ( 162 ). 
 
Shirburn Ballads, XXXVIII 
 
 'The glorious Angell of the lorde 
 ' hath brought me foode from heaven, 
 
 'And saved my lyfe, by myracles, 
 'which all men thought bereaven.' 
 
 [15] 
 His vncle, straight-way, cald for helpe 
 
 to come and take him downe; 
 And afterwards they both relate 
 
 this newes about the towne. 
 When-as the wicked hoast did see 
 
 the power of God on hye, 
 His guilt he hartylye confestj 
 
 when, lowe ! immediatlye 
 
 [i6] 
 
 The maiestrats, in iudgement iust, 
 
 awarded him his hire, 
 That at a stake, alyve, he shoulde 
 
 consumed be with fyre. 
 Though god longe tyme doth hould his hand, 
 
 and synners spares to strike, 
 Yet, in the ende, he them confounde[s], 
 
 and saves whom he doth like. 
 
 [L'envoy] 
 
 The truth of this straung accident 
 
 men neede not farre to looke. 
 For 'tis confirmed by good men's hands, 
 
 and printed in a booke. 
 
 No. XXXIX 
 A heavy doleful story 
 
 Fol. 177'' : second part, fol. 180. The first part of the ballad is arranged 
 in stanzas of 16 lines each, apparently with intention that they should 
 be sung to the tune Crimson Velvet. The characteristic metre of this tune 
 is a 20-line stanza (No. XLVI) ; and although a 16-line stanza is also found 
 (No. LX), that is obtained by arbitrarily writing as 4 lines the first 8 of the 
 other form. Clearly, therefore, if Crimson Velvet was used for this ballad, 
 there must have been some device of subdivision or repetition of lines in 
 the stanza. I fancy, however, that the Crimson Velvet is an error. The 
 Merchant of Emden tune uses an 8-line stanza (as seen in the second part) ; 
 and this first part could be sung to it by halving each stanza. 
 
 [15] 8 lowe] j. e. lo. 
 
 M 2 ( 163 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXIX 
 
 %^t fearefull 3l«tiSfment of almfgjfp gob, 
 js^etoeii bpoit ttuo sioitnes toi^o mosst bit* 
 naturallpe murtj^ereb tj^eii: naturall fatj^er. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF The Marchant of Emden 
 or Crimson Velvet. 
 
 \A 
 
 A HEAVY doleful! storye 
 
 I am abovt to wright : 
 The like was never hard before, 
 
 nor scene, by any wight. 
 A blody murther, I intende, 
 
 the truth for to declare 
 Of every and each accident, 
 
 that others may beware. 
 A rich marchant-man here was 
 
 their dwelt at Amsterdam ; 
 Who had issewfed of his loynes 
 
 two sonnes, that did the same. 
 They both did act this murther vile 
 
 vpon their father deare, 
 Even on the high-waye as he rid, 
 
 as after yow shall heare. 
 
 [i] 9 here was] read there was once. 
 (164) 
 
 10 their] read that. 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXIX 
 
 One of his sonnes was of the age 
 
 of fowre and twentye yeares, 
 Who had his portion him allowed 
 
 to spend in good affayres. 
 Eighteene yeares was expired 
 
 of the other sonne, 
 Who had not moneye at his will 
 
 a ryotous race to runne. 
 The younger sonna did cleaue vnto 
 
 his brother for protection, 
 And did disdaine his father's words, 
 
 and to lyve in subiection. 
 The elder brother did maintaine 
 
 the younger in such pride, 
 That he consumed had his stocke 
 
 before he it espide. 
 
 [3] 
 And when they had consumed all 
 
 in ryotousnes and playe, 
 They looked that their father should 
 
 the younger's portion paye. 
 Their father did perceiue right well 
 
 their great vnthriftines, 
 And did keepe backe the younger's part 
 
 [bejcause of his excesse. 
 Vpon a tyme the younger sonne 
 
 vnto his father came, 
 And did request his porti-onj 
 
 but he denied the same, 
 Shewing reasons very good, 
 
 saying 'My youthfull sonne, 
 'Yow must not haue your owne desire, 
 
 'till I be dead and gone. 
 
 [4] 
 'But here, for to maintaine thy selfe, 
 
 ' in all cyvilitye, 
 'Take here my gyft; accept the same, 
 
 'till more necessitye.' 
 Away then went this sonne againe 
 
 vnto his eldest brother, 
 And did revaile howe he did speede 
 
 in going to his father. 
 So when the elder brother knew 
 
 how smale was his reward, 
 And how his father answerd him 
 
 without all fond regard, 
 
 [3] 13 Shewing] read Shewing him. [4] 7 revaile] i. e. reveal. 
 
 (165) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ XXXIX 
 
 Then did he thinke assewredlye 
 (these things troubled his head) 
 
 All pleasure should ecdipsed be 
 vntill that he was dead, 
 
 [5] 
 So both these wicked children 
 
 agreed to conspire 
 To take awaye their father's life 
 
 to fulfill their desire. 
 So they might all delights obtaine 
 
 their appetytes to fill, 
 They would not spare, in blody sort, 
 
 their father's bloud to spill. 
 It soe fell out and chauncfed 
 
 their father should ride forth, 
 To pay great somes of monye 
 
 for marchandize of cloth ; 
 For such like things he dealt in, 
 
 to gaine and get for them: 
 But they repayed his carefulnes, 
 
 like savage beast£s], againe. 
 
 [6] 
 Intelligence these brethren hard 
 
 of their father's journey, 
 That he should ride full seven miles* space 
 
 with great store of money. 
 Then did these two, with one accord, 
 
 bloud-thirstily enflame, 
 To goe and meete him by the waye, 
 
 and ease him of the same. 
 These brethren, beinge resolute, 
 
 rode one the way before, 
 And watcht their father comming by 
 
 with baggs of money store. 
 At last he did approach neere hand, 
 
 and came within their sight; 
 Then they to meete him made great hast 
 
 which did him sore affright. 
 
 [7] 
 They came close to their father, 
 
 and thus to him did saye, 
 'Stand, [and] deliuer vs your coyne, 
 
 ' in hast, without delaye : ' 
 Who was much amazed to heare 
 
 and see their crueltye. 
 That they, in such hke manner, 
 should use extremitye. 
 [5] I children] i. e. childer-en. [6] 10 one] i. e. on. 
 
 (166) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXIX 
 
 The elder of these brethren, 
 
 more vilder then a beast, 
 Did set his pistoll, charged well, 
 
 against his father's breast. 
 The younger had a milder minde, 
 
 and thus to him did saye, 
 ' Let vs not kill ; but take his coyne, 
 
 'and let him passe awaye.' 
 
 [8] 
 
 With that, the elders brother's wrath 
 
 did more and more augment, 
 ,' and swore, because he spooke the same, 
 
 should haue like punishment. 
 But thus their good father was 
 
 at length put to great smart : 
 The elder, with a pistole chargd, 
 
 did pearce his tender hart. 
 Then did their feble father [down] 
 
 fall straight-wayes from his horse: 
 ■ They both, with daggers drawne, 
 
 did stabb without remorse. 
 Their agfed father's carkaise, 
 
 with deadly blowes, they strooke; 
 And, beinge mangled in this sort, 
 
 they cast him in a brooke. 
 
 %\z sieconb part of gob's tubgement sj^etaeJj 
 
 Jjjpott ttDo sotttte? tj^at muut JereJj Vg^rn otoite 
 
 father. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF The Marchant of Emden. 
 
 [9] 
 
 The father mangled, in such sort 
 
 that no man should him know. 
 Even by his owne vnnatural sonnes, 
 
 , a heavy sight to show ! 
 Thus when they had conveyed him, 
 
 as I haue sayd before. 
 They tooke their way dyrectlye 
 
 each one vnto a whore. 
 
 [7] 9 brethren] i. e. brether-en. [8] i elders] read elder. 
 
 13 father's] MS. has father's father's. 
 
 { 167 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXIX 
 
 [lo] 
 
 And, beinge come vnto a towne, 
 
 they for a tyme did staye, 
 Into which place came great resort 
 
 at length, that fell in play. 
 And being playinge game soe great, 
 
 the dice against them went, 
 That, in smale space of time, 
 
 they all their money spent. 
 
 ["] 
 The elder, being destitute 
 
 of money, great or smale, 
 Which, by mischaunce[s] of the dyce, 
 
 full suddenly did fall. 
 He went out of the doores in hast, 
 
 and vp he casts his eyes ; 
 Being iiJcbd on the firmament, 
 
 in this manner he cryes — 
 
 [12] 
 ' O God ! yf thow wert heare below, 
 
 ' I would revenge my losse. 
 ' Yea ! I would stabbe thee to the hart, 
 
 ' and breake thy head a-crosse.' 
 And, with blasphemous words and oathes, 
 
 his dagger vp he threw 
 Vnto the clouds, most vehemently — 
 
 but marke what did ensewe. 
 
 [13] 
 Yea ! marke the iudgment of the Lord, 
 
 shewed on this creature vile. 
 This cruel beast, more worse by kinde, 
 
 from mankind was exild 
 And in a traunce full sodenlye. 
 
 Yet, madd in inwarde minde, 
 Vnto the feare of lehouah 
 
 he was noe whit inclinde. 
 
 He went againe in[to] the howse, 
 
 above the ground he stunke : 
 The earth did open immediatelye, 
 
 and downe therin he sunke. 
 The people marveld much to see 
 
 the earth devoure him soe. 
 The younger were examined well, 
 
 and here began his woe. 
 
 [la] 6 Cp. No. LV, stanza 24. [13] 5 full] read fell. [14] 7 
 were] read was. 
 
 (168) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XXXIX 
 
 His conscience was soe bitten, 
 
 with the mercilesse worme. 
 To thinke of all his villanye 
 
 which he before had done ; 
 And also then, beholdinge well, 
 
 his brother's fearefull end 
 Did stricke with horror to his hart, 
 
 which could no way be pen'd. 
 
 [i6] 
 
 But marke the wonders of the Lord ! 
 
 The murther was revaild, 
 Even by the mouth of this young man ; 
 
 there was no thinge conceald. 
 He tould a tale substantiallye 
 
 (naye, pitifully rather) 
 How he and his brother vilde . 
 
 did vse their naturall father; 
 
 [17] 
 
 That in so much he was condemnd, 
 
 as guilty of that deede; 
 And after, suffered for the same, 
 
 as lawe and iudge agreed. 
 He was first bound vnto a stake, 
 
 being starke naked stript; 
 And then, with red-hot pinsons strong, 
 
 all flesh from bones was nipt. 
 
 [18] 
 
 Thus haue yow hard these gracelesse sons' 
 
 wicked conspiracye 
 To get them pleasures of the earth, 
 
 and lyve most riotouslye. 
 How god hath dealt with these 
 
 let all example take, 
 Both high and low, both rich and poore : 
 
 and thus an ende I make. 
 
 [16] 5 a] read the. [17] 7 pinsons] i. e. pincers. 
 
 (169) 
 
Shirburn Ballads,^ XL. 
 
 No. XL 
 Jerusalem, my happy home 
 
 Fol. iSi''. The Black-letter copy in 4to Rawl. 566, fol. 167 {olim 269), 
 contains additional stanzas (11 to 20), which are here appended. 
 
 In Stanza 16 this chorister very quaintly transfers his own art to the 
 skies, and counts among the joys of heaven the musical rendering of the 
 Fsalms and Canticles of the Book of Common Prayer. 
 
 %\z ^ealouis Slueriistet'is jionge of Yorke, 
 
 in t^z jprapjie of j^eatien, is^ all faitj^full 
 
 siingerss anb goblpe reaberg in V^t tDorlJj. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF man in desperation. 
 
 Jerusalem, my happy home, 
 
 /when shall I come to thee? 
 When shall my sorrowes haue an end : 
 
 thy ioyes when shall I see? 
 Where happy harbour is of Saints, 
 
 with sweete and pleasant soyle. 
 In thee noe sorrowes ever were found, 
 
 no griefe, no care, nor toyle. 
 
 In thee no dampish mists are seene, 
 
 no could, nor darksome night. 
 In thee all soules for everlastinge : 
 
 there god alwayes gyves light. 
 Heaven is the springe where waters flow 
 
 to quench our heat of synne. 
 There is the tree where truth doth grow 
 
 to lead our lyves therein. 
 
 [3] 
 There christ is iudge that stints all strife 
 
 when men's devises faile : 
 There is the bread that feeds the lyfe 
 
 tha,t dpath cannot assayle., 
 
 [i] 7 sorrowes ever were] read sorrow's ever. [a] 3 
 
 everlastinge] B.-L. ever sing. Possibly it should be ' ever shine '. 
 Cp. David Dickson's (circ. 1630) version : — 
 
 ' But every soul shines as the sun, 
 for God himself gives light.' 
 
 ( 170) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XL, 
 
 The tydings of salvation deere 
 comes to our eares from thence : 
 
 The fortresse of our fayth is there, 
 and sheild of our defence. 
 
 [4j 
 Jerusalem, Jerusalem, 
 
 God graunt I once may see; 
 Those endlesse ioyes, with thee, O Christ ! 
 
 partaker for to be. 
 Thy wales are made of precious stones ; 
 
 thy bulwarkes, diamonds square; 
 Thy gates are of right Orient pearles, 
 
 exceedinge rich and rare. 
 
 [5] 
 
 There lust, nor lucre, cannot dwell; 
 
 there enuye beares no swaye. 
 In these no hunger, heate, nor could; 
 
 but pleasure, night and daye. 
 For daye and night to thee are one ; 
 
 noe darknesse maye appeare. 
 O God, in Christ to vs make knowne 
 
 Those lights that are more cleere 
 
 [6J 
 
 Then any man could ever see 
 
 or mortall eye behould 
 That ever yet, since Adam first 
 
 in blisse he was inrolde 
 Within the gates of Paradise 
 
 to haue free witt and will 
 To doe eyther good or euill, which 
 
 his minde was bent vntill. 
 
 [7] 
 
 When God (in Christ) Adam beheld, 
 
 he sayd, in love see free : 
 'O man, thow shalt not lyve alone; 
 
 'A helper I'le give thee.' 
 Then, Adam, thow didst, through on sinne, 
 
 at counsaile of thy wife. 
 Throw downe thy selfe, and also vs 
 
 From that fayre cytye of lyfe, 
 
 [4] 5 wales] «arf walls. [5] 3 these] rearfthee 's. 5 to] 
 
 read in. [6] 3 yet] read was. 4 inrolde] B.-L. infold. 
 
 7 eyther] read or. [7] 5 on] i. e. one. 8 cytye] B.-L. 
 
 state. 
 
 (171) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XL 
 
 [8] 
 Till Christ himselfe from Heaven came 
 
 to save vs one and all, 
 Redeeming vs from death and sinne, 
 
 as well the great as small. 
 Then be not like the hogge that hath 
 
 a pearle at his desire, 
 And takes more pleasure in the trough 
 
 and walloinge in the mire. 
 
 [9] 
 
 For Christ sayth : — ' Come, all yow that will 
 
 'in heaven me behould,' 
 Where Carbuncles and Turrits fayre, 
 
 and streets are paved with gould; 
 Where howses all of Ivorye, 
 
 and windowes christall cleere, 
 And tyles of burnisht bright red gould. 
 
 O Christ, that I were there ! 
 
 [10] 
 
 Within in gats nothing can come 
 
 that is not verye cleere ; 
 No spider's webb, nor filthy thinge, 
 
 in thee may once appeare. 
 Thy saincts are crownd with glory great; 
 
 they see god face to face. 
 They triumph all, and still reioyce ; 
 
 most happy is their case. 
 
 ["] 
 
 [We, that are here in banishment, 
 
 we sob, we sigh, we groan. 
 We weep and wail, both night and day; 
 
 continually we moan. 
 
 [12] 
 
 Our sweet is mixt with bitter gall ; 
 
 our pleasures are but pain ; 
 Our joys do scarcely last an hour ; 
 
 our sorrows do remain. 
 But there they live in [such] delight, 
 
 such pleasure, and such joy. 
 As that to them a thousand years 
 
 do seem but as one day. 
 
 [9] 3 and] read are. [10] i in gats] fearfthy gates. ["] i 
 In the printed copy the ' Second Part ' begins here, but without 
 heading. To fit the letterpress into tbc forme, stanza 1 1 has been 
 given four lines only, so dislocating the stanzas which follow. 
 
 ( 172) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XL, 
 
 [13] 
 
 There Vineyards and their Orchards are 
 
 most beautiful and fair, 
 Well fumish'd Trees of pleasant Fnjits, 
 
 most wonderful and rare. 
 Thy Gardens, and thy gallant wal[k]s, 
 
 continually are green. 
 There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers 
 
 as nowhere else are seen. 
 
 ['4] 
 
 There is that Nectar and Ambrose, 
 
 with Musks and Civet sweet : 
 The greatest joys on earth below 
 
 are trod under their feet. 
 There Cinnamon and Sugar grows ; 
 
 the Nard and Balm abound. 
 No tongue can tell, nor heart can think, 
 
 what joys in them are found. 
 
 [IS] 
 
 Quite thorow thy streets is Silver found 
 
 where Flood of life doth flow : 
 Upon whose Banks the wood of life 
 
 for ever there doth grow ; 
 As also trees, both more and less, 
 
 which evermore do spring. 
 There evermore the Angels sit, 
 
 and evermore do sing. 
 
 [16] 
 
 There David stands, with Harp in hand, 
 
 as Master of the Quier. 
 A thousand times all those are blest 
 
 that might his Musick he[a]re. 
 God's prayses there are always sung, 
 
 with harmony most sweet. 
 Old Simeon and Zachary 
 
 have not their songs to seek. 
 
 [17] 
 
 There Magdalen hath left their moan, 
 
 and cheerfully doth sing. 
 With blessed Saints, whose harmony 
 
 in heaven sweet doth ring. 
 
 Old men and wives, young men and maids, 
 
 and all that hear this song. 
 Print well, and bear this in your hearts — 
 
 think not your time too long. 
 
 [13] I There] waafThy. their] read thy. [14] 8 them] 
 
 >-«fi(/thee. [17] I their] read her. 
 
 (173) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XL 
 
 [i8] 
 
 And do not read these godly lines, 
 
 but with a single eye : 
 Read not, but first desire God's grace 
 
 to understand thereby. 
 Pray still in faith, with this respect, 
 
 this Heaven for to win. 
 That knowledge may bring good effect 
 
 to mortifie your Sin. 
 
 [t9] 
 
 Then happy you in all your life, 
 
 what-so to you befalls. 
 Yea, double happy shall you be, 
 
 when God by death you calls. 
 
 God still preserve our Royal king, 
 
 our Queen likewise defend; 
 And many happy joyful days, 
 
 good Lord unto them send. 
 
 Thus to conclude, I end my Song, 
 wishing health, wealth, and peace ; 
 
 And all that wish the Commons good, 
 good Lord, their joys increase. 
 
 iFtnts. 
 [Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and J. Wright.'] 
 
 No. XLI 
 I read that many years ago 
 
 Fol. 183^ Text given in Roxburghe Ballads, vi. 685, from later Black- 
 letter exemplars. The Black-letter exemplar (with woodcut of Abraham's 
 sacrifice) in 410 Rawl, 566, fol. 123 {olim 204), has for colophon 'London, 
 printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, and J. Clarke. 1675.' This 
 ballad is quoted in Hamlet (1602), Act ii, scene 2. As in No. XI, allow- 
 ance must be made for the librettist fitting words to this intricate tune. 
 
 ' Printed] i. e. circ. 1675. 
 
 [18] 3 i. c. Read not, without first desiring. [19] 3 double] read doubly. 
 5 king] i.e. Charies II, in this B.-L. copy. 6 Queen] Le. Catherine of 
 
 Braganza. 
 
 (174) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLI 
 ^ proper neto 5l5allaJj, intituleti 
 
 majen Jepka 3|ui)ge of Israeli. 
 
 I READ that, many yeares ago, 
 when Jepha, Judge of Israel, 
 Had one faire Daughter, and no moe, 
 whom he beloued passinge well, 
 And as by lot, God wot 
 it came to passe, most like is was. 
 Great warres there should be, 
 and who should be chiefe but he, but he. 
 
 When /epha was appointed now 
 
 chiefe Captaine of the Company, 
 To god the Lord he made a vow : 
 yf he might haue the victory, 
 At his returne, to burne, 
 for his offringe, the first quicke thinge 
 Should meete with him then 
 from his house, when he came againe, againe. 
 
 [3] 
 
 It chaunc^d so, these warres were doone, 
 
 and home he came with victory; 
 His daughter out of dores did runne 
 to meete her father speedyly, 
 And, all the way, did playe 
 one taber and pipe, with many a stripe. 
 And notes full high, 
 for ioy that he was so nye, so nye. 
 
 [4] 
 
 When Jepha did perceive and see 
 his daughter first and formostly. 
 He rent his Cloathes, and tore his haire, 
 and shrikfed out most pitiously : — 
 'For thow art shee,' quot[hJ he, 
 ' hath brought me low, alas for woe 1 
 ' And troubled mee to, 
 'that I cannot tell what to doe, to doe. 
 
 [i] 2 when] not strictly grammatical, because the line is 
 borrowed from first line of an older piece. 4 beloued] read 
 
 lov'd. 6 is] read it. [3] 6 one] i. e. on. [4] i and 
 
 see] read with care. 7 to] i. e. too. 
 
 (17s) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLI 
 
 is] 
 
 'For I haue made a vow,' quoth he, 
 
 ' which must not be deminishbd, 
 ' A Sacrifice to God one high : 
 'my promise must be finished.' — 
 'As yow haue spoke, provoke 
 'no further care, but to prepare 
 'Your will to fulfill 
 'accordinge to God's good will, good will. 
 
 [6] 
 
 ' For, sithence God hath given yow might 
 
 ' to overcome your enemies, . 
 'Let me be offered vp, as right, 
 'for to performe all Promises. 
 'All this let bee,' quoth shee, 
 'as yow have sayd. Be not afraid. 
 'Although it be I, 
 ' keepe promise with God on high, on high. 
 
 [7] 
 
 ' But, father, doe soe much for me 
 
 ' as let me goe to Wildernesse, 
 ' There to bewaile my Virginitye, 
 
 ' three months to moone my heavinesse. 
 ' And let there goe some moe 
 ' like maides with me.' ' Content,' quoth hee ; 
 And sent her away, 
 to morne till her latter day, her day. 
 
 [8] 
 
 And when that time was come and gone 
 
 that she should sacrifizbd bee, 
 This Virgine sacrifizfed was 
 for to fulfill all promises. 
 And, as some saye, for ay 
 the virgins there, three times a year, 
 Like sorrow fulfill 
 for the daughter oi /epha still, still, still. 
 
 iFini0. 
 
 [s] 3 o"^] '• 6- on. 7 will] read word. [7] 4 moone] 
 
 , e. moan. [8] i come and gone] read come to pass. 
 
 (176) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLII 
 
 No. XLII 
 Ring out your bells 
 
 Fol, 184^. Elizabeth's sixty-seventh birthday was 27 Sept., 1600. On 
 16 Nov. following, she ended her forty-second year of reign. This effusion 
 is in honour of her forty-third Accession-day, 17 Nov., 1600, celebrated, 
 as line I says, by bell-ringing. A singular story, vouched for by an in- 
 formant of Brian Twyne (d. 1644), the great Oxford antiquary, makes this 
 custom of bell-ringing on Accession-day begin in 1 57 1 through a jest in 
 All Saints' belfry, Oxford (Clark's Lincoln College, p. 46). 
 
 In stanza 5 allusion is made to the queen's navy, and its munitions 
 of war. It may be of interest to note that in 1596, for the Cadiz 
 expedition, Elizabeth enforced the old feudal claim ' on seaports to provide 
 ships for naval service. Henry II's charter to Maldon, given at 
 Pembroke, 7 October, 1171, while remitting many feudal claims, retained 
 the obligation to furnish one ship when the king personally goes or sends 
 on warlike expedition, and to maintain it for 40 days at the charges of 
 the borough, as in Henry I's time. Elizabeth demanded a large man-of- 
 war, apparently from the county of Essex, to the charges of which Maldon 
 should contribute. The claim was opposed, both by way of petition and 
 bribe, but unsuccessfully : — ' £\ los. laid forth in charges in suynge the 
 Privy Counsell to be released of the charge of the shipp : 22s., expenses 
 in travelling to Colchester several tymes touching business about the said 
 shipp : 47 J. Zd. to Mr. Bumell [Vice-admiral] in benevolence" and dyett ", 
 to have his frendlie favor vnto mylordadmirallinthebehalf of thetowne.' 
 The actual payment is ';£20 paid to Mr. Bumell the vice-admyrall 
 towards the settinge forth of a shipp out of Harwich into her maiestie's 
 service according to order of the Lord Admirall and privy Council '. The 
 receipts mention ' £26 l6s. collected, by the constables, of the inhabi- 
 taunts towards the setting foorth of one shippe out of Harwiche into her 
 maiestie's service'. The supply of powder was also imposed on the 
 country by the queen. Maldon accounts specify, e.g. 1590, ' £7 \os. for 
 a barrell of gunne-powder bought for the burrowe to be preserved in 
 rydynes for her maiestie's service'; and 1597, ' £<j to provide two 
 barrells of powder to be preserved in the [town]-hall.' Maldon church-bells, 
 and no doubt others, went into the furnace to provide great guns. 1565, 
 £% 2s. was received, 2 April, ' in full satisfaction of two bells which the 
 queue's maiestie had, th'one of the parishe of Seinte Peter's and th'other 
 of the parishe of All Seints.' 
 
 Stanza 6 describes the queen's armory in the Tower of London. Great 
 pressure was also put on the country to have ready (at its own cost) 
 weapons, offensive and defensive, sufficient to equip the militia. On 
 25 April, 1569, the Queen's Commissioners ordered Maldon to find 'two 
 corsletts furnished [i. e. with all things requisite for their use in actual 
 service], with too pikes ; and fower haquebutts furnished [i.e. with powder- 
 flask, match-case, &c.], with fower murrions * ', to be kept ' in good safety 
 
 ' The bearing of this on Charles I's first ship-money demand is plain. That 
 claim was not so obsolete as is often represented. 
 ■ i. e. money given to him. ' i. e. dinners, &c., at the inn. * i. e. morions. 
 
 sHina. N ( 177 ) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ XLII 
 
 in the storehouse of the burroughe '. For this purpose £() 8j. 2d. was 
 raised from 78 inhabitants, in sums varying from 6s. M. to l2d. About 
 the same time land-owners in Maldon were called on to supply 1 1 calivers 
 furnished ; 7 hacquebuts furnished ; long-bow and sheaf of arrows, 
 with steel cap (or scull), for 9 bowmen ; and 6 pikes, black-bills, or 
 halberts, with accustomed armour for 6 pikemen. Thirty-six inhabitants 
 also supplied 'armor of benevolence, for the defence of their own 
 personnes', viz. 12 longbows, each with its sheaf of arrows ; 4 halberts ; 
 10 black-bills ; 12 bills; with defensive armour (a museum-like miscellany 
 of coats of plate, almain ryvetts, payres of splents, jacks, &c.) ; and with 
 sword oir dagger for every man. 
 
 Early in Elizabeth's reign increase of trade led to building of new 
 custom-houses (stanza 8). In 1565, Maldon paid ;^3, expenses of one of 
 its aldermen ' when he went to London to sue for the custom-house ', and 
 20s. ' for two seales of the custom-house '. Maldon custom-house was 
 actually built in that year, as appears by the charges for materials and 
 work on it. The panegyrist naturally assigns all the credit to Elizabeth 
 personally. 
 
 The reference in stanza 9 is to the Irish chiefs, the O'Neill and the 
 O'Donnell. Hugh O'Neill, 2nd earl of Tyrone, recognized as the 
 O'Neill, 1593, had routed and slain Sir Henry Bagnall, 14 August, 1598 ; 
 baffled the earl of Essex, 1599 ; and invaded Munster, March, 1600; but 
 later on in that year had fallen back before Sir George Carew and Mount- 
 joy. Hugh Roe O'Donnell, lord of Tyrconnell, made his escape from 
 -Dublin Castle, 24 Dec, 1591 : was recognized as the O'Donnell, May, 1592 ; 
 wasted Connaught, Jan., 1597 ; defeated Sir Conyers Clifford, July, 1597 ; 
 helped Tyrone to rout Bagnall, 14 August, 1598; but, early in the winter 
 of 1600, had lost Lifford to the English. 
 
 In stanza 10 allusion is made to embassies from foreign powers, with 
 petitions to Elizabeth. Czar Ivan (the Terrible) in 1567 had wished 
 English help against the Poles : Czar Boris Godunoff, at a later period, 
 had opened negotiations. The kings of Sweden and Denmark, while 
 Elizabeth was still young, had been suitors for her hand. The ' many 
 a knight ' phrase probably describes the German princes who, at one time 
 or other, sent envoys to the queen, e, g. Adolphus of Holstein. 
 
 (178) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLtl 
 
 Si pleaisant netoe iSallab, of tje mmt 
 Uzutti ani> prosperous Kaigne of ^zx. 
 ^aiestpe for t^z space of tttjo anb fortpe 
 peeres, and notu entriitg into t^z tijree ant> 
 fortit^ to tKje great iop anb comfort of all 
 ]^er £pa[iestpe's] fapt^full su&iects. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF 77ie Queett^s hunt's vp. 
 
 \A 
 
 Ring out your bels ! 
 
 what should yow doe els? 
 Stricke vp your Drums for ioy ! 
 
 The Noblest Queene 
 
 that ever was seene 
 In England doth Raigne this day. 
 
 The noblest Queene 
 
 that evar was seene 
 In England doth Raigne this day. 
 
 [i] 7 In each stanza the second triplet is to be sung over again, 
 in chorus. 
 
 N 2 (179) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLII 
 
 Now let vs pray, 
 
 and keepe holy-daye, 
 The seaventeenth day of November ; 
 
 For ioy of her grace, 
 
 in every place, 
 Let vs great prayses Render. 
 
 [3] 
 
 Three and forty yeares 
 
 her grace writeth heare 
 In glory and great renowne ; 
 
 £iieabeth, 
 
 whose lyke on earth 
 Wore never the English Crowne. 
 
 [4] 
 
 To the glory of god 
 
 she hath made a Rod 
 Hir enemies to subdue; 
 
 And banisht'away 
 
 all Fapisticall play, 
 And maintaynes the Ghospell true. 
 
 [5] 
 
 Such ships for the Seas, 
 
 her foes to feaze, 
 She hath made as never was scene; 
 
 With powder and shot, 
 
 and Cannon so hot, 
 As never did any Queene. 
 
 [6] 
 
 Such Armor of proofe, 
 
 with picks all a-loofe 
 (Her enemyes to with-stande). 
 
 She hath filled the tower 
 
 so full, at this howre. 
 As never was in this land, 
 
 [7] 
 
 Her stately Bowers, 
 
 her Castles and Towres, 
 She hath kept them vp everye one; 
 
 That none doe decay, 
 
 but stand goodly e and gay, 
 Repayrbd with lyme and stone. 
 
 [8] 
 The custome-howse keyes, 
 the fortes by the seas, 
 
 [3] ' yeares] read yeare. [5] a feaze] i.e. beat. Cp. pheea, 
 Tammg of the Shrew, Ind. i ; Tro. and Cress., Act i, Sc. 3. 
 [6] I Such] read With, a picks] i. e. pikes. 5 i. e. Sh'ath filled. 
 [8] I keyes] i. e. quays. 
 
 (180) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLII 
 
 The blocke-howses everye one, 
 
 Were never so stronge, 
 
 continuing soe long; 
 For cost she hath spared none. 
 
 [9] 
 
 Those Rebels Route, 
 
 that were so stoute, 
 She hath quickly made them quaile. 
 
 By Sea and by lande, 
 
 she hath strength at hand, 
 To make them stricke their sayle. 
 [lo] 
 
 The Muscovite 
 
 with many a knight. 
 The Swesians and Denmarke kinge, 
 
 To her good grace 
 
 send hither, a-pace, 
 For many a needfuU thing. 
 
 The Salts can tell, 
 
 the Spaniards knowe well. 
 The Frenchmen cannot denye, 
 
 But her good grace 
 
 toward every place 
 Doth carry a gratious eye. 
 
 [.2] 
 
 Now let vs take heede, 
 
 seinge well we speede. 
 That our synnes do not annoy 
 
 Our blessfed ioy, 
 
 and chyefest staye, 
 Because we haue deserud it so. 
 
 [13] 
 
 Yet god, that doth see 
 
 her maiestye 
 His servaunt in all assayes. 
 
 His grace will giue 
 
 that she maye lyve 
 Miany prosperous yeares and dayes. 
 
 [14] 
 
 All yow that giue eare 
 
 this song to heare, 
 With dilligent dutye all praye 
 
 That long vpon earth 
 
 Elizabeth 
 Our Queene continue maye. 
 
 That longe, &'c. 
 
 [11] 3 cannot] i.e. can't. ( 181 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLIII 
 
 No. XLIII 
 From sluggish sleep and slumber 
 
 Fol. 185'^. Stanzas 2-10 are expository of the parable of the marriage 
 of the king's son, St. Matt, xxii ; stanza II changes to the parable of the 
 virgins, St. Matt. xxv. 
 
 which in our eares doth ring 
 How we must be prepared 
 for Christ our beauenly king. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF A^wake, a-wake, O England. 
 
 From sluggish sleep and slumber, 
 
 good christians, all arise. 
 For Christ's sake, I praye yow, 
 
 lyft vp your drowsye eyes. 
 The night of shame and sorrowe 
 
 is parted cleatie awaye — 
 God giue yow all gopd morrowe, 
 
 and send yow happye daye. 
 
 [i] 3 Christ's] i. c. Christ his. 7 This refrain is to be sung in 
 chorus at the end of every staixza. The Ust word is to be 'daye ', 
 or ' ioye ', as required by the rhyme. In stanzas 3 and 5 the 
 transcriber has ' daye ' in error. 
 
 (182) 
 
Shir burn Ballads, XLIII 
 
 The kinge of glorye greeteth yow, 
 
 desiring yow to come 
 Vnto the mariage banquet 
 
 of his belovfed Sonne. 
 Then shake of shame and sorrow ; 
 
 put on your best arraye — 
 
 [3] 
 From all rags of wickednes 
 
 looke that yow strip yow quite ; 
 In garments of true godlinesse 
 
 see that yourselues delight. 
 Shake of all shame and sorrow 
 
 which doth your soule destroye — 
 
 [4] 
 And rise not to revenge thee 
 
 for any trespasse past; 
 Thow knowest not of certaintye 
 
 how long thy lyfe shall last. 
 Seeke not thy neyghbour's sorow 
 
 by any kynd of waye — 
 
 [S] 
 Forgiue thy brother friendly, 
 
 for Christ doth will the so ; 
 And let not spite and envy 
 
 within thy stomake grow, 
 Least god shoote forth his arrow 
 
 thy mallice to destroye — 
 
 [6] 
 Seeke not, by fraude and falshood, 
 
 for to procure thy gaine; 
 But beare in thy remembrance 
 
 all earthly things are vaine, 
 For he that searcheth narrow 
 
 thy secrets will bewray — 
 
 [7] 
 Vnto the poore and needye 
 
 stretch forth thy helping hand, 
 And thow shalt be most happye, 
 
 and blessfed, in thy lande. 
 From him that fayne would borow 
 
 turne not thy face awaye — 
 
 [a] 5 of] i. e. off. [3] 4 delight] be dight. 5 of] i. e. off. 
 [5] 2 the] i. e. thee. 
 
 (183) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLIII 
 
 [8] 
 In whordome, pride, and drunkennes, 
 
 do not thy pleasure frame ; 
 Wish not thy neighbour's hindrance, 
 
 nor blemish his good name; 
 And never take thow sorrow 
 
 for losses gon awaye— 
 
 [9] 
 Be thankefuU to thy maker 
 
 each day, vpon thy knee. 
 For all the gratious benefyts 
 
 he hath bestowed on thee ; 
 And let the greatest sorrow 
 
 be for thy synnes, I say — 
 
 [10] 
 
 And, being thus attyrbd, 
 yow maye in peace proceed 
 
 Vnto the heavenly table 
 of Christ our lord indeede, 
 
 Where neyther shame nor sorrow 
 Shall yow in ought annoy — 
 
 [II] 
 
 Then looke your lamps be ready, 
 and that with oyle good store, 
 
 To wayte vpon the Bridegroome 
 in at the Chamber doore, 
 
 Where neyther shame nor sorrow 
 yow shall in ought annoye — 
 
 [12] 
 
 Then shall yow rest in blessednes 
 which never shall haue end, 
 
 Inioying Christ his presence, 
 our sweet and surest friend. 
 
 Where neyther shame nor sorrowe 
 shall yow in ought annoye — 
 
 ['3] 
 Thus, with my bell and Lanthorn, 
 
 I bid yow all farwellj 
 And keepe in your remembrance 
 
 the sounding of the bell, 
 Least that, with synne and sorrow, 
 
 yow doe your selues destroy — 
 God giue yow all good morrows. 
 
 And send yow happy ioye. 
 (184) 
 
Bhirburn Ballads^ XLIII 
 
 [14] 
 
 Lord, saue our gracious soveraigne, 
 
 Elizabeth by name, 
 That long, vnto our comfort, 
 
 she maye both rule and raigne. 
 Hir foes with shame and sorrow, 
 
 O lord, doe thow destroye. 
 And thus, with my good morrowe, 
 
 God send yaw happy ioye. 
 
 No. XLIV 
 Arise up, my darling 
 
 Fol. 187^. The piece is of the nature of Milton's L Allegro (1645), 
 only the speaker is a husband addressing his wife, not a bachelor musing 
 to himself. The music, as tricked in the MS., provides for the initial 
 triplets, and, by expansion, for the longer triplets which come at the end 
 of the stanza. In the MS. the lines are arranged 18 to the stanza. 
 Roxbttrghe Ballads, i. 62, contains the ballad The Bride's Good- 
 Morrow which gave name to the tune. There the lines are disposed 
 14 to the stanza, but an improvement is effected by presenting them as 
 six triplets. The theme is a musical reveillde to a bride on the morning 
 of the wedding-day. 
 
 The night is passed, 
 and joyfull day appeareth, 
 
 most cleare on every side. 
 With pleasant musick 
 we therefore salute you: 
 
 Good morrow, mistris Bride ! 
 From sleep and slumber now 
 awake you, out of hand. 
 
 Your bridegroom stayeth at home, 
 whose fancy, favour, and 
 Affection, still doth stand 
 
 fixfed on thee alone. 
 Dresse you in your best array : 
 this must be your wedding-day. 
 
 God Almighty send you happy joy, 
 in health and wealth to keep you still. 
 And, if it be his blessed will, 
 
 God keep you safe from sorrow and annoy. 
 
 A modem parallel is found in the lines Wake, Maid of Lorn! as they 
 are set in Sir Walter Scott's Lord of the Isles, canto i. 
 
 The ' crooks ' of stanza 4, productive of echoes, I take to be sharp bends 
 of the stream caused by the opposition of a high bank on one side. The 
 ' echoes ' may be the brawling of the stream against the barrier, increased 
 by reverberation from the bank. Compare, in a melancholy key, 
 a similar thing in chapter i of Sir Walter Scott's Old Mortality ' the 
 gentle chiding of the brook ' against ' the steep heathy bank '- 
 
 (185) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLIV 
 
 ^ pleasant Ditf^, 
 
 which doth pleasantly displaye 
 
 the ioyfuU walkes 
 in the month of Maye. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF The Bride's go\o']d-morrowe. 
 
 E^ ferf-^-g Eg^^^ 
 
 * 
 
 £ 
 
 ^^^^=^^=^=^^^E^^^ 
 
 TP~ 
 
 Rise vp, my darling; 
 Abroad let vs be walking: 
 
 the radiant sunne doth show. 
 The sweet dwes are mounting; 
 The prety birds are singing; 
 
 the cheerfuU Cocke doth crow. 
 The gordeous blossoms 
 Vpon the tres aboundeth: 
 
 the earth it giues a gallant scent. 
 The goodly flowres this May 
 Do spread themselues in fayre aray, 
 
 your gentle hart for to content. 
 
 [i] 1 Rise] read Krisc. 4 dwes] i.e. dews. 7 gordeous] 
 i. e. gor-ge-ous. 8 tres] i, e. trees. 
 
 (186) 
 
J6 ^^ 
 
 ^ . V 
 
 
 ^1 
 
 
 K 
 
 ■^^irimmk^^ 
 
 t 
 
 r^ 
 
 ^, 
 
 t 
 
 m.h 
 
 :<*4^S ^ 
 
 [) S V <9 V A 
 
 
 ^is- 
 
 t r ¥^ 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ XLIF 
 
 Dresse yow in your best attyre; 
 Walke abroad for hart's desyre; 
 
 leaue the sluggish and the slumbring bed. 
 Trase thorow many a medowe greene 
 Where Lady flora, famous Queene, 
 
 so worthyly hir mantels fayre hath spred. 
 
 [^] 
 This is the meriest 
 Meet tyme in all the yeare, 
 
 and fyt for lovers true. 
 The pretty Turtles, 
 This pleasing merry moone, 
 
 their wonted ioyes renewe. 
 The Nightingale 
 ?,mgs Jugge, a-Jugge, a-Jugge; 
 
 the larke, in top of all the skye. 
 The prety Robin then 
 Forsaks the company of men, 
 
 and to the forrest doth flye 
 
 and so doth other birds vpon each bryer. 
 Dame Nature's Imps leaue of lament. 
 And so, my Deare, be yow content 
 
 to yeeld vnto the thing I do require. 
 
 [3] 
 The mighty Oakes, 
 The hye and stately Beeches, 
 
 do spread about the Wood. 
 Each plant yeeldes a pleasure; 
 In earth is no such treasure; 
 
 the Byrch growes sweet and good. 
 
 the famale foules syts hatching of ther yong. 
 The blacke-bird, with his yellow bill; 
 The Thrush, that hath in musicke prety skyll, — 
 
 these two do flye from dale to hill. 
 Singing tunes melodious 
 Vnto our God most glorious; 
 
 and so do other birds, with one regard. 
 The skyes are full of harmonye; 
 The earth belowe doth grorifye 
 
 the lord, that every good things hath prepared. 
 
 [2] 5 moone] i. e. month. Lines 13 and 14 are missing. 
 
 16 of] i. e. off. [3] Lines 7 and 8 are missing. 9 and 12 'yong ', 
 'hill,' are a defective rhyme: possibly 'brood', 'wood.' 
 
 17 grorifye] rearf glorify e. 
 
 (187) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XL,IV 
 
 [4] 
 Then may we walke 
 Vnto the siluered brookes, 
 
 and rivers that abound, 
 Where pleasant Ecchoes 
 Returne from sundry crooks, 
 
 which giues a pleasing sound. 
 There shall yow see 
 The fishers, with their nets, 
 
 how, with their hookes and their line. 
 For to deceiue 
 The pretye frisking fish, 
 
 wylely wayting their tyme. 
 Lye down sweetly on the bancke. 
 After many a pleasing prancke : 
 
 but yf yow lyke not of that pleasing sport, 
 Through good pastures we may trace. 
 And, homewards then, hye home apace, 
 
 and so of every vertue make report. 
 
 [5] 
 And so, in our returning. 
 Regard the syly lam 
 
 how he cryes styll May May, 
 The wanton calfe 
 Runs whipping by his dam, 
 
 as though that he would stray. 
 The Ram he wayts 
 Vpon his Lady Ewe; 
 
 the Bull attendeth on his feere. 
 Yf every pleasure 
 Were to be had or got, 
 
 I do thinke, Madame, yt is heere. 
 Then may we to our garden bowers. 
 Arid rest vs there some certaine howers, 
 
 and ther to tast some dainty viands sweet; 
 That, when the Sunne's hot heat is gone. 
 About the alleyes we may runne, 
 
 that health and pleasure may together meet. 
 
 [6] 
 And, in the coole evening. 
 Where yow please be plucking 
 
 sweet flowers of delight. 
 And so at our departing 
 To god giue gloryfying, 
 
 as well by day as night. 
 
 [4] 9 how] read^Taa. 12 wyJely] i. e. wilily. [5] 10 every] 
 read ever. 
 
 (188) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ XLIF 
 
 But yet, at our returne 
 Vnto our quiet rest, 
 
 thinke. Lady, there is a May 
 The which for ever 
 And evermore doth last: 
 
 those pleasures cannot decay. 
 Take to yow your Bible booke. 
 And there for consolation looke, 
 
 but see then that your fayth be firme and pure. 
 For all the rest is vanitye, 
 So Salomon hath sayd to me ; 
 
 but heaven's ioyes perpetually indure. 
 
 iFini0. 
 
 No. XLV 
 My heart is in pain my body within 
 
 Fol. 189; followed by 'TheMayden's answer' on fol. 190''. 
 
 K^t 0eCOnb part of Jeamye. 
 To THE TUNE OF Gigg-a-gogge, or Woddycocke. 
 
 \A 
 
 Mv hart is impure my body within : 
 because I must tell yow, when I do begin ; 
 For once I loved a mayden fayre, 
 but now I am forced from her to repayre. 
 For once I loved a mayden fayre, 
 but nowe I am forced from her to repayre. 
 
 [-] 
 She is gone away: she is taken from me, 
 which I loved in my hart full tenderly. 
 Her beauty appeared and semfed to me 
 more purer then ever did blossom on tree. 
 
 [3] 
 Her Lillye-whyt hands, and her fingers so smale, 
 (which causeth me nowe for to tell yow my tale) 
 When I goe to bed, to take my res^ 
 my hart doth burne within my brest. 
 
 [i] I impure] rearfin paine. a because] >-^arf the cause. 5 The 
 last couplet of each stanza is to be sung a second time. 
 
 (189) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLV 
 
 [4] 
 
 There is no water this heat doth quench, 
 but only the love of this prety wench, 
 Considering her behauiour so rare, 
 which vnto me hath seemed so deare. 
 
 [S] 
 Hir person so comely to me did appeare; 
 hir eyes did shine like the christall cleere; 
 Surmising fayre Venus she seemfed in eye : 
 would I were Adonis, her loue to trye. 
 
 [6] 
 I kist ; I askt yf that she could love : 
 she wished me often rny mind to remove. 
 I vrgbd her often with speaches so fayre, 
 and all was to wine her person so rare. 
 
 [7] 
 Againe I replyed, and thus I did saye, 
 'for your sweet sake have I walkfed this way, 
 'To win your sweet person in bed for to lye.' 
 With speeches vnkindly she did me deny. 
 
 [8] 
 All [in] my armes I did her infould; 
 I askbd the cause why her loue was so could. 
 With words demure she answered and sayd, 
 'I haue vowd a virgin, and will dye a mayd.' 
 
 [9] 
 With that in great wroth from me she did turne, 
 as though in great anger her hart it did burne. 
 And sayd no man for my sake she could loue, 
 and therefore she wishbd my minde to remove. 
 
 [10] 
 
 Now must I leaue of to woe this fine dame, 
 whom nature hath brough[t] all others to shame; 
 And follow my former lyfe, as I beganne, 
 and never let loue inore breed my payne. 
 
 ["] 
 All yow that be lovers, be warned by me ; 
 graft not the top on a saples tree : 
 The toppe it will wither, the roote it will dye — 
 then lost is your love in the turne of an eye. 
 
 [4] I doth] read can. [5] 3 Surmising] read Surpassing. 
 
 4 to] read for to. [8] 3 demure] read so demure. 4 vowd] i. e. 
 vowed. [10] I of] i. e. off, woe]i. c. woo. [11] a saples] 
 1. e. sapless. 
 
 ( 190) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLV 
 
 [12] 
 
 Wherefore I wish all men to take heed, 
 that they set not love where non will breede. 
 For wenches be wantons; some be coy 
 vntyll they haue gotten a curle-hedded boy. 
 
 [13] 
 Come, wenches; come, wantons; come, listen to me. 
 I'le teach yow a play more pleasant shall be. 
 Come, learne yt: come, try it; and then yow shall finde 
 'tis pleasant and sweeter concerning your minde. 
 
 [14] 
 And for my love no care will I take, 
 for she hath mockbd her faythfull friende. 
 I'le never love any so well for her sake; 
 and nowe for my love no care will I take. 
 
 Fie never [love any so Weil for her sake ; 
 
 aud nowe for my love no care will I take.] 
 
 Cj^e S^&ytizn'$ aitjitaere. 
 
 [is] 
 
 If I might intreat yow to alter your minde, 
 
 then should I thinke my selfe behpulding to yow ; 
 
 For yow haue intreated me, earnestly, 
 
 To playe with my heynnonye, nonny, nonny ! 
 
 [16] 
 
 For yong men were wauering, which made me mistrust 
 that they would offer wrong unto me, 
 And when the had but appeasfed their lust 
 they would leaue me at vncertentye. 
 
 [17] 
 Which made me to wring, and to turne from thee, 
 least wrong should come by my hey nony nony, 
 for I haue hard it is a prety game, 
 but youth doth seldome try the same. 
 
 [18] 
 
 Good lord, how often mother hath sayd. 
 I'le haue a bout to pursue the game. 
 I'le haue a bout, do what she can, 
 at hye nony nony. Your selfe is the man. 
 
 [la] a non] read no love. 3 ForT read Some. some be 
 
 coy] read and some be too coy. [14] i Possibly And now my love 
 is quite at an end. [15] 2 my selfe] read me. [16] 2 wrong] 
 read great wrong. 3 the] i. e. they. 4 they] read then they. 
 
 (191) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ XLVI 
 
 No. XLVI 
 
 In the days of old when fair France did 
 
 flourish 
 
 Fol. 190'. Text given in Roxburghe Ballads, i. 309, from Black-letter 
 exemplars. The turie is named from line 6 of stanza 10. 
 
 2, netD 2l5flllaii, of a prince of England 
 
 tl^at lobeb ti^e feing'si daugliter of Fraunce ,- 
 
 anb l^otD t^t prince tt)a0 isla^ne, anb jEij^e 
 
 after marieb to ajforregter. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF CrtMsott veluet. 
 
 [x] 
 
 In the dayes of ould, 
 
 when fayre Fraunce did florish, 
 
 storyes plaine hath tould 
 
 lovers felt annoy. 
 The king a daughter had, 
 beautious, bright, and lovely, 
 ■which made her father glad, — 
 
 she was her father's only joye. 
 
 (192) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ XLVI 
 
 A Prince of England came, 
 whose deeds did merit fame : 
 
 he wooed her long, and, loe ! at last, 
 Looke ! what he did require, 
 she graunted his desire — 
 
 their harts in one were linckfed fast. 
 Which when her father prooufed, 
 lord! how he was movfed 
 
 and tormented in his minde ! 
 He sought for to prevent them; 
 and, to discontent them, 
 
 fortune crossed Lovers kinde. 
 
 When these Princes twaine 
 were thus bar'd of pleasure, 
 through the King's disdaine 
 
 which her ioyes with-stoode, 
 The Lady got vp close 
 her iewels and her treasure. 
 Having no remorse 
 
 of state and royall blood. 
 In homely poore aray, 
 she got from Court awaye 
 
 to meete her Loue and hart's delight, 
 who, in a forrest great, 
 had taken vp his seat 
 
 to waight her comming in the night. 
 But, see! what sodaine danger 
 to this Princly stranger 
 
 chaunc^d, as he sat alone ! 
 By Outlawes was he robbfed, 
 and with Poniards stabbfed, 
 
 vttering many a dying groane. 
 
 [3] 
 
 The Princesse armd by him 
 and by trew desyre, 
 wandring all the night, 
 
 without dread at all. 
 Styll vnknowne she passed, 
 in her strange attyre. 
 Comming, at the last, 
 
 in the Ecchoes' call : — 
 'Yow fayre woods,' quoth she, 
 'honored maye yow be 
 
 'harboring my hart's delight, 
 
 [a] 4 her] read their. [3] i him] read love, 3 wan- 
 
 dring] read wandred. 
 sHiEB, O { 193 ) 
 
iShirhurn Ballads, XLVI 
 
 'which doth compasse heere, 
 '[my ioy and only deare], 
 
 'my trusty friend and comely knight. 
 'Sweete, I come to thee. 
 'Sweete, I come to woe thee, 
 
 'that thow mayst not angry be. 
 'For my long delayinge, 
 'and thy courteous staying, 
 
 'amendes for all I'le make to thee.' 
 
 w 
 
 Passing thus alone 
 through the sylent forrest, 
 many a greeuous groane 
 
 sounded in her eare; 
 where she hard a man 
 to lament the sorest 
 that was ever seene, 
 
 forst by deadly feare : 
 ' Farewell, my deare ! ' quoth he, 
 ' whom I shall never see : 
 
 'for why? my lyfe is at an end. 
 'For thy sweet sake I dye, 
 'through villaines' crueltye, 
 
 'to shew I am a faythfuU friende. 
 ' Heere lye I bleeding, 
 'whyle my thoughts are feeding 
 
 'in thy rarest beauty found. 
 'O hard hap that maye be! 
 'Lyttle knowes my Lady, 
 
 'my hart-blood lyes on the ground.' 
 
 [5] 
 With that he gaue a groane 
 which did burst in sunder 
 all the tender strings 
 
 of his gentle hart. 
 She, which knewe his voyce, 
 at this tale did wonder. 
 All her former ioy 
 
 did to grief conuert. 
 Strayght she ran to see 
 who this man should be 
 
 that so lyke her love did speake. 
 And found, when-as he came, 
 her lovly Lord lay slayne, 
 
 all smeard in bloud which lyfe did bleake. 
 
 [3] 13 missing in the MS. 15 to] read vnto. 16 woe] 
 
 i. e. woo. [4] 15 bleeding] read a-bleeding. 17 in] read on. 
 
 [5] la he] read she. 
 
 ( 194) 
 
Shir burn Ballads^ XLVI 
 
 When this deed she spiM, 
 lord! how sore she crybd: 
 
 her sorrow cannot counted be. 
 Her eyes, lyke fountaines, running, 
 while she cryed out ' My darling, 
 
 'would Christ that I had died for thee.' 
 
 [6] 
 His pale lyppes, alas ! 
 twentye tymes she kissed; 
 and his face did wa^ 
 
 with her trickling teares. 
 Everye bleeding wound 
 her fayre eyes bedewed, 
 wyping of the blood 
 
 with her golden hayres. 
 * Speake, my Loue ! ' quoth she, 
 'Speake, fayre Prince, to me! 
 
 'One sweete word of comfort giue. 
 'Lift vp thy fayre eyes; 
 'listen to my cryes: 
 
 'thinke in what griefe I liue.' 
 All in vaine she sued; 
 all in vaine she viewed — 
 
 the Prince's lyfe was fled and gone. 
 There stood she styll mooning 
 tyll the Surme approchinge 
 
 and bright day was comming on. 
 
 [7] 
 'In this great distresse,' 
 quoth this royall Ladye, 
 'who can [ere] expresse 
 
 'what will become of mee? 
 'To my father's Court 
 'will I never wander; 
 'but some service seeke, 
 
 'where I maye placfed be.' 
 And thus she made her moane, 
 weeping, all alone, 
 
 all in a dread and dreadfull feare. 
 A forrester clad in greene, 
 most comely to be seene, 
 
 ranging his woods did find her there. 
 ' Round beset with sorrow ! 
 'Mayd!' quoth he, 'good morrow! 
 
 'What hard hap hath brought yow here?' 
 
 [6] 7 of] i. e. off. 14 what] read what great. 18 moon- 
 
 ing] read mourning. 19 approchinge] read returning. [7] 9 
 
 And] read As. 
 
 02 ( 19s ) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ XLVI 
 
 'Harder hap did never 
 'chaunce to Mayden ever: 
 
 'he lyes slayne, my brother deare. 
 
 [8] 
 
 •Where might I be placed? 
 'Gentle foster, tell me. 
 'Where should I procure 
 
 'a service in my needei* 
 ' Paynes I will not spare : 
 'but will doe my duetye. 
 'Ease me of my care; 
 
 'helpe my extreame neede.' 
 The forrester, all amazd, 
 on her beauty gazd 
 
 tyll his hart was set on fire. 
 'If, fayre mayde,' quoth he, 
 'yow will goe with me, 
 
 'yow shall haue your hart's desire.' 
 He brought her to his mother, 
 and aboue all other, 
 
 he set forth this mayden's prayse. 
 Long was his hart inflamd; 
 at last her love he gayned : 
 
 thus fortune did his fortune rayse. 
 
 t9] 
 
 Thus, vnknowne, he matched 
 with a King's fayre daughter. 
 Children seven he had, 
 
 ere she told the same. 
 But, when he vnderstood 
 she was a royall Princesse, 
 by this meanes at last, 
 
 she shewed forth her fame; 
 He cloathed his children then, 
 not lyke other men, 
 
 in partye colours strange to see : 
 The left syde cloath of Gold, 
 the right syde (nowe behould !) 
 
 of woollen cloth styll framfed he. 
 Men hereof did wonder; 
 goulden fame did thunder 
 
 this strange deede in every place. 
 The King of Fraunce came thyther, 
 being pleasant weather, 
 
 in these woods the Hart to chase. 
 
 [8] a foster] i. e. forrester. [9] 8 she] read he, 
 
 (196) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLVI 
 
 [lo] 
 The children then did stand,, 
 as their father willfed, 
 where the royall King 
 
 must, of force, come by; 
 Their mother, richly clad 
 in fayre crimson velvet; 
 their father, all in gray, 
 
 comely to the eye. 
 Then the famous Kinge, 
 nothinge every thinge, 
 
 did aske how he durst be so bould 
 To let his wife to weare. 
 
 and decke his children there 
 
 in costly Robes with cloth of gold. 
 The forrester bold replyed, 
 and the cause discryed. 
 
 To the Kinge this did say: — 
 'Well may tTiey, by their Mother, 
 'weare rich gold, with other, 
 
 'being by birth a Princesse gaye.' 
 
 ["] 
 The King, vpon these words, 
 more heedfuUy behelde them, 
 till a crimson blush 
 
 his conceite did crosse. 
 [lo] lo nothinge] nadrio\xa%, 
 
 (197) 
 
Shirbuhn Ballads^ XL.VI 
 
 'The more I looke/ he sayd, 
 'on thy wife and children, 
 'more I call in minde 
 
 'my Daughter whom I lost!' 
 ' I am that child,' quoth shee, 
 falling on her knee, 
 
 ' pardon me, my soueraigne Leege ! ' 
 The King, perceiuing this, 
 his daughter deare did kisse, 
 
 and ioyfuU teares did stop his speech. 
 With his traine he turnfed 
 and with her sojoumfed. 
 
 Straight he dubt her husband knight. 
 Then made him Earle of Flaunders, 
 one of his chief Commaunders. 
 
 Thus was sorrowes put to flight. 
 
 No. XLVII 
 With heart opprest with grief and care 
 
 Fol. 194'^. Two questions arise in connexion with this ballad. First, 
 whether the forces of the Crown, under Elizabeth and James I, were made up 
 of such worthless material as the ballad describes ; and, secondly, whether 
 the methods of collecting them are faithfully depicted in the recruiting scene 
 in Shakespeare's Henry IV, Part II. The borough accounts of Maldon 
 give a decided affirmative to both questions. Whenever the sovereign 
 sent out forces, order was given, in the first instance, to the Lords 
 Lieutenant, specifying the number of men required of each county ; each 
 Lord Lieutenant subdivided his number among the different places in 
 his county ; and then the local authorities collected their quota. They 
 did so, by ordering their constables to draw together, out of the vagrant, 
 or semi-vagrant, population, the necessary number of men. These were 
 then given shoes and clothes ; kept in ward or in prison till the muster-day, 
 when they were furnished witharms,and sent under guard to the rendezvous. 
 Pressed men often got off by influence or payment. The cost of equipping 
 these ' soldiers ' was met in boroughs, {a) by the old device of ' shot and lot ', 
 i. e. a poll-tax of 2J. on every freeman of the borough; {b) by 'benevolence ', 
 i. e. a rate assessed by the borough officials on the basis of property and 
 goods as shown in the latest subsidy roll ; and {c), if necessary, the deficit 
 was made good out of the borough-stock. In 1589, we have at Maldon 
 ' 30J. lod., charges of setting forthe of vii. soldyers into Portingale, who 
 were delivered at Romforde, over and besides that was collected for that 
 service '. In 1591, we have both sides of the account : — ' Collected by the 
 constables for the setting forth of iiii. soldyers into the lowe countreys 
 in April, 28^. z\d. ; similarly collected, yjs. jd. for the setting forthe of 
 iii. souldyers into Fraunce in August ; and collected for the provision of 
 (198) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLVII 
 
 new armor [to replace the town-armour given to equip these soldiers], 
 £\7, ds. id' The expenditure was:— 58J. \\d. for equipping the four 
 soldiers and delivering them at Colchester ; and £^ 3^. \od. for the three 
 soldiers ' for their prest-moneye, their fynding in the towne, money in 
 their purses, and new apparrell, and for charges upon their delivery at 
 Colchester '. The new ' armor ' bought {' one black corselett, 3 pykes, 
 2 callyvers furnished, 3 black gorgetts, a murrean [morion], one musket 
 furnished ') cost, with carriage from London, ;^5 19J. ; and £i^ i>s. gd. was 
 spent in repairs of the old armour belonging to the borough, and 
 in providing seven swords and seven daggers. The entries of ,1625 are 
 especially clear as to the force employed to conduct the pressed 
 men to their destination. We find gs. 6d. as the town-officials' charges 
 ' when they lodged at Chelmsford about the delivery of 6 souldiours in 
 January last, pressed in this burrowe for the service of our then kinge ; 
 24J. lod. for the fower constables in their attendance upon the conduccion 
 and delivery of the saide souldiors; 12s. 8d. paid to those soldiers, for 
 their pay, which laye three dayes in the prison-howse before they went ; 
 12s. paide unto 12 souldiours in Maye following to presse them for 
 the service of the kinge ; gs. 2d. for shooes and stockinges for some of 
 the souldiors who were destitute of those thinges ; £i 13s. 4d. for the 
 charges of the magistrate and the four constables and three others for the 
 conveyinge and deliveringe up of the said souldiours at Burntwoode 
 [Brentwood], and watchinge of them here before they wente ; 3IJ. for the 
 diett, fier and candle for the saide souldiours after their impressinge and 
 before their departure ; 4d. for ostrey faggots for the soldiors that lay ia 
 the prison-howse before they went'- Particulars are given of the people 
 impressed to supply these 18 places. They included, labourers, 8 ; 
 tailors, 7 ; shoemakers, butchers, 4 each ; ostlers, blacksmiths, petty 
 chapmen, 2 each ; collar-maker, fiddler, hatmaker, sawyer, tanner, 
 I each. They had wandered from Bristol, Devon, Durham, York ; and 
 were chiefly lodging in alehouses. One, the collar-maker, had been 
 constantly in the borough-court as a hopeless drunkard (as in stanza 11). 
 A labourer ' gives 20s. and is discharged because of his lameness '- A shoe- 
 maker, on the petition of the minister and inhabitants of Chelmsford, gets 
 off because he supports his widowed mother in that town. One lad escapes 
 because of his youth; and another, because he was bound apprentice. 
 Another man is excused by favour of a letter from the Lord Lieutenant. 
 It has to be added that these waifs and wastrels were not only, in all 
 probability, destitute of manly spirit, but certainly ignorant of arms. It 
 was expressly forbidden to present in the trained-band, the only school of 
 arms, ' servants, nor anie unsettled dwellers, but sufficient householders.' 
 On every ground, therefore, we may take the ballad as truthfully depicting 
 the poor quality of the queen's soldiers, and the frequency of desertion. 
 The wretched personnel of the expeditionary forces counts for much in 
 explanation of the shameful military failures of Elizabeth's and James I's 
 reigns. 
 
 Branding in the hand is mentioned (stanza 4). In 1573 Maldon paid 
 ' id. for the yron, of the compasse of one inche, for the burninge of roges 
 in the gristle of the right eare according to this year's statute'- The 
 branding is represented as ' clearing ' him on this occasion, inasmuch 
 as he was not hanged for this felony, but merely branded and dismissed. 
 
 (^99 ) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ XLVII 
 
 Si tDfltning: for all §)oulbier!S tjat toill not 
 Hntmt t^tit Ipijeis in j^er ^aie0tpe'js tau$t 
 anij f^tit Countrie'0 rigi^t : toj^ereirt 10 tie^* 
 tlareb tije lamentation of William Wrench, 
 tDj^o, for running atoap from j^ig captaine, 
 tuit]^ otj^er ttoo more, tDere ejcecuteb for t|je 
 game fact, in setjerall places afiout London, 
 ilpon t\Z Sjiii. 5Jap of September lagt, 1600. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Shor^s wtu^s Lamentation, 
 
 With hart opprest with griefe and care, 
 I wish all youngmen to beware, 
 least they in such lyke steps do tread 
 and lead the lyfe that I haue led. 
 
 My name is Wrench, in Londone borne, 
 of all my kindred held in scorne, 
 despisde, and made an open shame 
 vnto my honest parents' name. 
 
 [3] 
 My friends could never me perswade 
 to follow any honest trade; 
 leawd women were my chiefest ioyes, 
 and best consorts were Cut-purse boyes. 
 ( 200 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLVII 
 
 [4] 
 What I could steale I thought well got; 
 wherefore disgrace fell to my lot, 
 and, for my synnes, one tyme I were 
 burnt in the hand, myselfe to cleare. 
 
 [5] 
 Yet could not I be warned by this, 
 but dayly led my lyfe amisse, 
 contemning all good councell styll 
 till I had run to worser ill. 
 
 [6] 
 When I was sent to serue my Queene 
 (which seruice had my credite beene), 
 a souldier's lyfe I counted bace 
 and held yt alwayes in disgrace. 
 
 [7] 
 An idle lyfe was my delight; 
 for which I sooke myselfe to flight, 
 and from my Captaine secret came, 
 regarding neyther feare nor shame. 
 
 [8] 
 
 For which, my selfe, with divers more 
 vnto the number of thre score, 
 were searcht and sought for, farre and neare ; 
 and many of vs taken were. 
 
 [9] 
 My selfe, the more vnhappy I, 
 with others two, were iudgd to dye, 
 to be a warning to all those 
 that will not fight 'gainst England's fooes. 
 
 [10] 
 
 In deede, I must confesse, for thuth, 
 I haue bene still a desperate youth; 
 and haue, for many a wilful! crime, 
 deserufed death before this tyme. 
 
 ["] 
 Licentiously I spent my lyfe, 
 and gaue my minde to brawles and stryfe; 
 and he that could best drinke and swill 
 I tooke for my companyon styll. 
 
 [7] a sooke] read tooke. [10] i thuth] read truth. 
 
 ( 201 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLVII 
 
 [12] 
 
 God's holy word I tooke in vaine: 
 to go to church I thought much paine. 
 The Ale-howse, quaffing canns of beere, 
 was all the service I would heare. 
 
 [13] 
 For which god's vengance lights on me, 
 as, by my fall, all men may see. 
 Therefore let all men haue respect 
 how they God's Gospell do reiect. 
 
 [14] 
 Let youngmen all that Hue at ease 
 take heed by me how they displease 
 their vertuous Prince, as I haue done ; 
 but, for her sake, no dangers shunne. 
 
 [IS] 
 If I had di'de in mother's wombe, 
 blest had I beene in such a toumbe; 
 but I was borne, with shame to dye 
 (breake hart !), the more vnhappye I. 
 
 [16] 
 
 If in the wars I had beene slayne, 
 I should not then this shame sustaine. 
 Then, gallant boyes, make this your hope, 
 a bullet's better then a rope. 
 
 [17] 
 Now, London, tenne tymes fare thow well, 
 and likewise those that there doe dwell; 
 my last farwell to yow I giue, 
 for longer time I may not lyue. 
 
 [18] 
 
 All yow that came to see my fall, 
 forget my name and shame with-all ; 
 forget that I was ever I, 
 which by the law was iudgd to dye. 
 
 [19] 
 Father, farewell : though left behind, 
 with greufed hart and troubled mind, 
 forgiue me faultes of me your sonne; 
 forgiue the race that I haue runne. 
 
 [14] 3 Prince] i. e. Princess. [ig] 3 me] read the. 
 
 ( 202 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLVII 
 
 [20] 
 
 Vaine world, farewell, with all my showes; 
 thy pleasures bring foorth endles wooes. 
 I goe vnto a world of blisse, 
 where neyther care nor trouble is. 
 
 [21] 
 
 Pardone I aske of man and child ; 
 pardone, of those I haue beguild. 
 Pardone, sweete christ, of the I craue. 
 Vouchsafe, good lord, my soule to saue. 
 
 Made with his owne hand, after his condemnation, in 
 Newgate. 
 
 W. Wrench. 
 
 No. XLVIII 
 If ever words did move a wight 
 
 Fol. ig6. In Blomefield's History of Norfolk, iii. 357-8, is a minute 
 account of this storm and the damage done by it to the Cathedral spire. 
 The Cathedral, though dedicated to the Holy Trinity, was constantly 
 called Christ Church by the common people. In a map of Norwich, 1541, 
 it is called ' Christerchurch ', and in another map, 1571, ' Christes-church ' : 
 Norfolk Archaeology, viii. 2, 3. The ballad-measurements (stanza 5) are 
 exaggerated: ' pinnacle ' = spire (measured from the tower), in the ballad, 
 180 feet, but in fact, 174 feet 7 inches ; ' steeple '= tower (measured from 
 ground to base of the spire), in the ballad, 300 feet, but in fact, 140 feet 
 5 inches. The writer perhaps attributed the 315 feet of tower and spire 
 together (Blyth's Norwich Cathedral, 1842, p. 10) to the tower by itself. 
 
 In stanza 14 the night-watch is mentioned. A few details of this insti- 
 tution, as it existed in Elizabeth's time, from contemporary accounts at 
 Maldon, may be of interest. Maldon constables every evening gave 
 warning to six men, two for each of the three parishes, to watch from 
 sunset to sunrise. When they met, the constable on duty gave them their 
 charge (apparently according to some traditional form of words), and then 
 went home to bed. Each pair of watchmen walked the streets of the 
 town in turn, while the others remained under cover in the market-house, 
 or in the guard-house at the bridge. Their duties were to ensure the peace 
 of the town and the security of property. They were armed with bills, and 
 with bows and arrows. In 1570, \-id. was paid for 4 bolts and strings 
 used in the watch ; 7,s. 8d. for shafts and arrow-heads, and 4d. for homing 
 a bow and for 4 strings for the town-watch. In 1571, lod. for five 
 watching shafts, and 3d. for 3 bowstrings for the watch. The service was 
 compulsory, and enforced by fine. At Michaelmas sessions, 1575, 
 
 [20] I my] read thy. [ai] 3 the] i. e. thee. 
 
 (203 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLVIII 
 
 Augustine Femham, yeoman, was fined \id. for refusing to watch when 
 called on by the constable. In 1570, at Easter sessions, a mariner and a 
 porter were fined ()d. each because, instead of duly keeping their watch, 
 they sat in an alehouse and played cards. In 1571, at Easter sessions, 
 Edmund Tyler, surgeon, was fined ^. for leaving off watch before 
 sunrise. 
 
 ^ netue 2l5allab of t\z mosit toonberfull anb 
 0trange fall of Christ's Church jpimtacle in 
 Norwitch, t^t \s^t\ toaji jij^afeett botone lip 
 a t$unber#clajp on t\z 29 of Aprili X60l, 
 about 4 or 5 a'clocfee in t^t after^noone ; 
 \&\t\ a biiEicription of a miraculous fire, 
 tDliicKi t|ie iierpe myX morninge comsumeb 
 anb iiurnt bototte a great jpart of X^z 
 clop0ter. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Fly inge fame. 
 
 \A 
 
 If ever words did moue a wight 
 
 to shed a wofuU teare, 
 Then can no creature choose but weepe, 
 
 this dolefull tale to heare. 
 Norfolke, thow hast great cause to weepe, 
 
 to sigh, and to lament : 
 The heauenly god to the (of late) 
 
 hath manye warnings sent. 
 
 But loe ! a wonder farre more great 
 
 then any of the rest ; 
 Yea, such a one as never man 
 
 did heare the lyke exprest. 
 In Norwich cytty, farre renounde, 
 
 a famous Chrurch doth stande : 
 For beautye, and for building, is 
 
 no better in this land. 
 
 [3] 
 What man is he that hath not seene, 
 
 or els hard of the same ? 
 Chrisfs Church 'tis cald; and god graunt, long 
 
 it may retaine that name. 
 About the middle of this Church 
 
 was a fayre steple placd. 
 By which the Church and Cyty both 
 
 are beautyfyed and gracd. 
 
 [i] 7 the] i. e. thee. [a] 6 Chrurch] i. e. Church. 
 
 (204) 
 
iShirhurn Ballads^ XLVIII 
 
 [4] 
 Vpon which steeple there was built 
 
 a pinnacle of stonne: 
 I think in England never was, 
 
 [nor] will be, such a one. 
 No wood nor Tymber longd therto, 
 
 nor lead to hid the samej 
 But stone was all and every part 
 
 of that most stately frame. 
 
 [5] 
 Some three score yards it was in height 
 
 (I speake within my bound) 
 Above the steple, which (at least) 
 
 is fyvescore yards from ground. 
 The stone, which on the top thereof 
 
 (to crowne the other) lay, 
 Is thought to be a good Cart-loade, 
 
 as many people say. 
 
 [6] 
 Vpon that stone there stoode &, crosse, 
 
 about some three yards hye, 
 Which bare a stately wether-cocke 
 
 that shewd most gallan[t]lye. 
 The cocke was full an ell in length; 
 
 and in the breadth (full out) 
 Three quarters of a yarde it was ; 
 
 syxe quarters round abovt. 
 
 [7] 
 Now you haue hard the height thereof, 
 
 beholde the fall likewise : 
 A sadder sight was never scene 
 
 with any mortall eyes. 
 In Aprill last (oh weepe therefore !), 
 
 the nine and twentith daye, 
 Vpon a suddaine yt grew darke — 
 
 all light was fled away, 
 
 [8] 
 Then fell a shower of hayle and raine 
 
 (whereof the earth had neede). 
 A flash of dreadfuU lightning 
 
 did followe that with speede. 
 Straight-wayes there came a mighty cracke 
 
 of man-amazinge thunder : 
 The terror of yt was so great, 
 
 that made the people wonder. 
 [4] 6 hid] i. e. hide. [8] 3 lightning] i. e. light-en-ing. 
 
 ( 20s ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLVIII 
 
 [9] 
 
 Nay, more then that, yt did inforce 
 
 the very earth to quake, 
 And made Christ's Church, and many more, 
 
 to tremble and to shake. 
 It shakt the Church in such a sort 
 
 that many stones did fall, 
 In divers places of the same, 
 
 out of the strong-built wall. 
 
 [10] 
 
 And that same statly Pinnacle 
 
 (wher-of I spake before) 
 Had her high top quite shaken downe 
 
 a doozen yards and more. 
 The rest, which stands, is battered sore, 
 
 and to the bottom clyft — 
 A man maye stand a mile from thence, 
 
 and yet see through the slyft. 
 
 ["] 
 O wat a wofull thinge is this ! 
 
 Who is it that can heare 
 This doleful! tale (to full of truth), 
 
 and yet not shed a teare ? 
 What Atheist lyues, or other wretch 
 
 that thinks there is no god, 
 And doth not tremble in his hart 
 
 to see his scorging rod ? 
 
 [12] 
 
 Their service-time was but new done 
 
 ere this mischaunce did fall; 
 Yet all were gone, so that no man 
 
 was thereby hurt at all. 
 The stones that fell from of this spire 
 
 vpon the church did light. 
 And, with the force thereof, yt did 
 
 the roofe in sunder smite. 
 
 [13] 
 Much harme by this : and o ! much more 
 
 vnto the church befell 
 the next day after that againe, 
 
 which I with greife doe tell. 
 The thunder and the lightninge past, 
 
 there did remaine a smoake, 
 Which smelt of fyre, and was so thicke, 
 it semd a man to choElke. 
 [11] I wat] i.e. what 3 to] i.e. too. [la] 5 of] i.e. ofi. 
 (206) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLVIII 
 
 Great search was made : but yet no fire 
 
 could any where be found, 
 Although the savour of the same 
 
 did every where abound. 
 No sooner did the watch breake vp, 
 
 which was at breake of day, 
 But loe ! the Cloyster was on fyre, 
 
 and much was burnt awaye. 
 
 [IS] 
 
 The winde blewe sore : but yet ere long 
 
 there came such helpe and ayde 
 That in two houres that cruell fire 
 
 was quenched and allayde. 
 Beholde in this what god can doe 1 
 
 By his Almightye powre. 
 He can destroy this wicked world 
 
 in minute of an howre. 
 
 [i6] 
 
 Deere brethren, let vs all agree 
 
 for to abandon synne; 
 For synne is certainely the cause 
 
 these iudgements doe beginne. 
 Oh let vs nowe, even now, repent ; 
 
 for, even this present day. 
 The lord may come (for ought we knowe), 
 
 and take our lyves awaye. 
 
 [17] 
 
 Throw dust and ashes on your heads; 
 
 put sackcloath on, and mourne ; 
 And, from all former wickednesse, 
 
 vnto the lord returne. 
 And vnto him (for Christ his sake) 
 
 let vs most humbly pray 
 In mercy for to looke on vs, 
 
 and turne his wrath awaye. 
 
 i?ittisi. 
 
 (207) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLIX 
 
 No. XLIX 
 Mark well my heavy doleful tale 
 
 Fol. 198'. Text given in Roxburghe Ballads, vi. 764, from numerous 
 Black-letter exemplars. The popularity of this piece changed the name 
 of its tune, which, as The Lady's fall, became the universal accompaniment 
 of the lugubrious and insincere ballad-preachments which formed so large 
 a part of the Brownist stock-in-trade. 
 
 3i UmmtMz ftallab Calleb The Ladyis 
 
 fall: SDeclaring |iotij a poung gentleiDoman, 
 
 tjroug]^ Ijer too m\xt\ ttmt, came t^ \zt 
 
 enb ; anti j^oto lier lobet jsleta iiimiselfe. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Pescoode time. 
 
 \A 
 
 Marke well my heavy doleful! tale, 
 
 yew loyall lovers all; 
 And, heedfully, beare in your brest 
 
 a gallant Ladye's fall. 
 Long was she woo'd, ere she was won, 
 
 to lead a wedded lyfe ; 
 But folly wrought her overthrow, 
 
 before she was a wife. 
 
 \A 
 
 Too soon, alas ! she gave consent 
 
 to yield unto his will, 
 Though he protested to be true 
 
 and faithful to her still. 
 She felt her body altered quite, 
 
 her bright hue waxfed pale ; 
 Her fair red cheekes changd colour quite, 
 
 her strength began to fail. 
 
 [3] 
 
 So that, with many a sorrowful sigh, 
 
 this beauteous Lady mild, 
 With grieufed heart, perceivd her selfe 
 
 to be conceivd with child. 
 She kept it from her parents' sight 
 
 so close as it might be ; 
 And so put on her silken gowne 
 none could her swelling see. 
 (208) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XL.IX 
 
 [4] 
 
 Unto her lover secretly 
 
 her greife she did bewray, 
 And, walking with him hand in hand, 
 
 these words to him did say: — 
 'Behold,' she sayd, 'a Ladye's distress, 
 
 'my love, brought to thy boe. 
 'See how I goe with child by thee, 
 
 'though none therof doth knowe. 
 
 [5] 
 
 'The little babe springs in my womb, 
 
 'the heare the father's voice. 
 'Let it not be a bastard cald, 
 
 'sith I made thee my choice. 
 ' Come nowe, my love ; performe thy vowes ; 
 
 'and wed me out of hand. 
 'It is not time, in these extreames, 
 
 'upon delayes to stand. 
 
 [6] 
 
 'Thinke on thy former promises, 
 
 'thy oathes and vowes each one. 
 'Remember, with what bitter tears 
 
 'thow mad' St to me thy mone. 
 ' Convey me to some secret place, 
 
 'and marry me with speede. 
 ' Or, with thy rapier, rid my life 
 
 'ere further shame proceede.' 
 
 [7] 
 
 ' Alas ! my dearest love,' quoth he, 
 
 ' my greatest icy on earth ! 
 'Which way can I conuay thee hence 
 
 'to scape a suddaine death? 
 'Thy friends they be of high degree; 
 
 'and I, of meane estate. 
 'Full hard it is to get the foorth 
 
 'out of thy father's gate.' 
 
 [8] 
 
 'Dread not thy life, to saue thy fame. 
 
 'And, yf thow taken be, 
 ' My selfe will step betweene the swords, 
 
 'and take the harme on me. 
 'So, should I scape dishonor quite, 
 
 'yf so I should be slayne. 
 'What could they say, but that trewe loue. 
 
 'did worke a Ladye's baine? 
 
 [4] s Ladye's] read maid's. 6 boe] i. e. bow. [5] 2 the 
 
 heare] riad to hear. [7] 7 the] i. e. thee. [8] i thy] read my. 
 
 SHIKB. P ( 209 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ XLIX 
 
 [9] 
 
 'But feare not any further harme. 
 
 'My selfe will so devise, 
 'That I will safely ride with thee, 
 
 'vnknowne of mortall eyes. 
 'Disguised like some prettye page 
 
 'I'le meet the in the darke; 
 'And, all alone, i'le come to thee, 
 
 'hard by my father's Parke.' 
 
 [10] 
 
 'And ther,' q[uo]d he, 'i'le meet my deere, 
 
 ' yf god do lend me lyfe : 
 'And this day month, without all faile, 
 
 ' I will make thee my wife.' 
 Then, with a sweet and loving kisse, 
 
 they parted presentlye : 
 And, at their parting, brinishe teares 
 
 stoode in each other's eye. 
 
 ["] 
 At length the wished day was come 
 
 wherein this lovely maide. 
 With longing eyes, and Strang attire, 
 
 for her trew lover staid. 
 When any person she espied 
 
 come riding ore the plaine, 
 She thought it was her own trew loue : 
 
 but all her hope was vaine. 
 
 Then did she weepe, and sore bewaile 
 
 her most vnhappy fact. 
 Then did she speak these wofuU words, 
 
 where succourlesse she sate. 
 ' O false, forsworne, and faythles man, 
 
 ' disloyall in thy love ! 
 ' Hast thow forgot thy promise past ? 
 
 'and wilt thow periured prove? 
 
 [13] 
 'O hast thow now forsaken me, 
 
 ' in this my great distresse, 
 'To end my days in open shame, 
 
 ' Which well thow might'st redresse ? 
 'Wo worth the time I did beleeue 
 
 'that flatteringe tongue of thine, 
 'Would god that I had never seene 
 
 'the teares of thy false eyne.' 
 
 [9] 6 the] i. e. thee [la] 2 fact] read fate. 
 
 (210) 
 
Shirburn Balladsy XLIX 
 
 [14] 
 
 And thus, with many greeuous grone, 
 
 homeward she went amaine. 
 No rest came in her watry eyes — 
 
 she felt such priuye paine. 
 In travell strong she fell that night, 
 
 with many a bitter throw. 
 What wofull paine the time she felt 
 
 doth each good woman know. 
 
 She called up her waiting-maide 
 
 that lay at her bed's feet, 
 Who, musing at her mistress' woe, 
 
 began full fast to weepe. 
 ■ Weepe not/ she said, 'but shut the door€s 
 
 'and windowes all about. 
 'Let none bewaile my wretched state, 
 
 ' but keepe all persons out' 
 
 [16] 
 
 ' O Mistress, call your mother heere ; 
 
 'of women you have need, 
 ' And of some skilfull midwive's help : 
 
 'the better you shall speed.' 
 *Call not my mother, for thy life: 
 
 'nor fetch no woman here, 
 'The midwive's help comes now too late. 
 
 ' My death I doe not feare.' 
 
 [17] 
 With that the babe sprung from her womb 
 
 no creature being by : 
 And, with a sigh that broke her heart, 
 
 this gallant dame did dye. 
 The lovely little infant young, 
 
 the prettye, smiling babe, 
 Resignd his new received breath 
 
 to him that had him made. 
 
 [18] 
 
 Next morninge came her lover trew, 
 
 affrighted with this newes; 
 And he, for sorrow, slewe himselfe, 
 
 whom each one did accuse. 
 The mother, with her new-borne babe, 
 
 were both layd in one graue. 
 The parents, overworne with woe, 
 
 no ioy of them could haue, 
 
 p 2 ( 211 ) 
 
Shirbum Ballads^ XLIX 
 
 [19] 
 
 Take heed, you daintye damsels all; 
 
 of flattering words beware : 
 And, of the honour of your name, 
 
 haue yow a speciall care. 
 To true, alas ! this is, 
 
 as manye one can tell. 
 By others' harmes learne to be wise ; 
 
 then shall yow doe full well. 
 
 ifiniis. 
 
 No. L 
 Come, lovely lasses, listen well 
 
 Fol. 201 ; see the complement in No. XXX. Text given in Roxburghe 
 Ballads, iv. 422, from several Black-letter exemplars. Shakespeare, in like 
 manner, puts a marvellous 'ballad against the hard hearts of maids' into 
 Autolycus's pack : A Winter's Tale (i6ri), iv. 3. 
 
 Cj^c rejpentant S)onge of Sara Hill bnto t^z 
 
 maptieS of Wloy-cesler. 
 To THE TUNE OF Liue with me and be my loue. 
 
 Come, louely lasses, listen well 
 vnto the tale that I shall tell ; 
 For vnto yow I will vhfould 
 a matter worthy to be toulde. 
 ['9] 5 To] i. e. Too. this is] read this story is. 
 
 (212) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ L 
 
 There was a yong man loved me well, 
 a shoe-maker; his name Hugh Hill. 
 His hart with loue did burne amaine ; 
 I promisde to loue him againe. 
 
 [3] 
 
 Then were we sure made together; 
 
 but I, vnconstant as the weather, 
 
 Did him forsake (I was soe nice), 
 
 when, in the church, we were asked thrice. 
 
 [4] 
 When that he sawe I was vnkinde, 
 and that I had a cruell minde, 
 For love of me, he left his lyfe, 
 because I would not be his wife. 
 
 [S] 
 I never cared what he did say, 
 but suffered him to pine awaye ; 
 And, when he yeelded vp his breath, 
 I quickly had forgott his death. 
 
 [6] 
 But, in my bed, vpon a tyme, 
 as many things were in my minde, 
 There, smyling, to my selfe I sayde, 
 'I think that I shall dye a mayde.' 
 
 [7] 
 Then many youthes I thought vpon, 
 and loved and fancied many a one. 
 I hated some; yet some reserud, 
 to like or leaue, as they deserud. 
 
 [8] 
 But, in the middest of my choyse, 
 I hard a lamentable voyce. 
 With musicke pleasant to the eare, 
 but not to me, as did appeare. 
 
 [9] 
 For, when I harkned what yt might be, 
 and what was cause of this melodye. 
 In at a window a voyce did crye 
 ^ Hugh Hill is dead: fie! Sara, fye!' 
 
 [3] I sure] i. e. su-er. 
 
 ( 213) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ L 
 
 [lo] 
 
 My conscience then accused me 
 of my false hart and fiaterye; 
 And, evermore, the voyce did crye — 
 'Goe, pine thyselfe; repent, and dye.' 
 
 ["] 
 
 Me thought, he was the ghost [of] Hugh, 
 of kind Hugh Hill, that was so trewe, 
 That was soe faythfuU vnto me — 
 yet I vsde him most wickedlye. 
 
 [12] 
 
 O there he did my faults expresse; — 
 and I the same must needs confesse ; — 
 How I kilde him with crueltye ; 
 for which I would, but cannot, dye. 
 
 [13] 
 
 And, since that time, my head is light, 
 and all my body altred quite ; 
 My eyes are sunke within my head, 
 which makes me looke like on that's dead. 
 
 [14] 
 
 My face, that was so fresh and fine, 
 as cleare as [is] the claret wine. 
 Is now transformed to another hew, 
 both grymme and loathsome to the view. 
 
 My skin is withered; my flesh is gone, 
 and nothing left, but skin and bone; 
 And then I pine most dolefuUye; 
 wishing for death, yet cannot dye. 
 
 [16] 
 
 Therefore, sweete mayds that suters haue, 
 yeeld vnto them that trew loue craue. 
 O doe not cast a man awaye, 
 least that your selues go to decaye. 
 
 [13] 4 on] i.e. one. 
 ("4) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ L 
 
 [17] 
 
 If vnto yow a yongman come, 
 
 yow are soe fine yow will ne're haue done ; 
 
 Vntill your beautye fade awaye, 
 
 yow scorne most men, yow are so coy; 
 
 [18] 
 
 Fye! fye! remember what yow are; 
 doe not refuse whilst yow are fayre; 
 Vnto trew lovers be not coy : 
 'tis good to take them while yow maye. 
 
 As yow be coy, soe I haue beene; 
 but see what miserye I liue in. 
 That, were it not for my soule's health, 
 I could be willing to kill my selfe. 
 
 [20] 
 
 Therefore, fayre mayds, amend in tyme, 
 least that your woes be like to mine; 
 And pray to god to ease my greife, 
 or els . to rid me of my lyfe. 
 
 No. LI 
 
 Henry, our royal king, would go on 
 hunting 
 
 Fol. 202^. See the sequel in No. LXXVI. Text given in Roxburghe 
 Ballads, i. 539, from later Black-letter exemplars. 
 
 The references (in stanzas 8 and 9) to the passport probably refer to the 
 statute of S Elizabeth cap. 4 § 7 (1563) : — that no servant shall depart out 
 of any parish to another unless he have a testimonial of the constable and 
 two other honest householders declaring his lawful departure. A master 
 employing a servant without such 'passport' was liable to a fine of £'i. 
 At Maldon sessions in 1567, William Lyving, butcher, was indicted for 
 retaining ' to his service a servant traviling the country without passport '- 
 Similarly, in 1568, William Comyshe, linen-draper, was fined 5J. for 
 taking into his service a maidservant without a certificate, contrary to 
 statute 5 Eliz. 
 
 [17] 2 yow will] read^ovlM. 
 
 (21S) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LI 
 
 3i pleasant ncto Ballai) of t]^e fillet of 
 
 MansfdldXM Sherwood', aitb Of Jfeiltg Henry 
 
 V^z ^econbe ; anb ]^otD ]^e toais lobgeb in t\z 
 
 ^ller'? I^oto^e, anU of V^nt pleajsant com* 
 
 tnunicatioit. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF The French Lauata, 
 
 \A 
 
 Henry, our royall Kinge, would go on hunting 
 to the greene forrest, most pleasant and fayre, 
 To haue the hart chasfed, the daintye Does trippinge, 
 vnto mery Sherewood his nobles repayre. 
 
 Hawke and hound was vnbound ; all things prepaid 
 for the same to the game, with good regard. 
 
 b^ 
 
 AH a long Summer's day rode the Kinge pleasantly, 
 
 with all his nobles and princes each one, 
 Chasing the hart and hinde and the Bucke gallantly, 
 tyll the darke Evening inforct them tume home. 
 Then at last, riding fast, he had lost quite 
 all his lords in the wood, late in a darke night. 
 
 Lauata] Levalto (in B.-L. copies). 
 (3l6) 
 
 [a] 6 in a] omit a. 
 
Bhirburn Ballads^ LI 
 
 [3] 
 
 Wandring thus warylye, all alone, vp and downe, 
 
 with a rude Myller he met at last. 
 Asking the readye way to fayre Nottingham, 
 
 ' Syr,' quoth the Myller, ' your way yow haue lost : 
 'Yet I thinke, what I thinke; truth for to saye, 
 ' yow doe not lightly goe out of your waye.' 
 
 [4] 
 ' Why ? what dost thou thinke on me ? ' q[uo]d our K[ing] meryly, 
 
 'passing thy iudgement vpon me see breefe.' 
 ' Good fayth ! ' q[uo]d the miller, ' I meane not to flatter j 
 ' I gesse thee to be but a gentleman-theefe. 
 
 ' Stand thee backe, in the darke : light not a-downe, 
 'lest that presently I cracke thy knaue's-crowne.' 
 
 [S] 
 ' Thow dost abuse me ' q[uo]d the Kinge, ' saying thus. 
 
 'I am a gentleman, and lodging I lacke.' 
 ' Thow hast not,' q[uo]d the miller, ' a groat in thy purse ; 
 'all thine inheritance hangs on thy Backe.' 
 ' I haue gold to discharge all that I call ; 
 ' if yt be forty pence, I will paye all. 
 
 [6] 
 ' If thow beest a true man,' then answrede the Miller, 
 ' I sware, by my tole-dishe, I'le lodg thee all night.' 
 ' Heere's my hand,' q[uo]d the King, ' that I was ever.' 
 'Nay, soft ! 'q[uojd the miller, 'thow mayest be a theefe. 
 ' Better I'le knowe thee ere hands I will shake : 
 ' with none but with honest men hands I will shake.' 
 
 [7] 
 Thus the went all along vnto the miller's howse, 
 
 where they were seething of puddings and sowse. 
 The Miller first entred in; after him went the Kinge: 
 never came he in soe smoakye a howse. 
 
 ' Now,' q[uo]d he, ' let me see heere what yow are.' 
 Quoth our king, 'Looke yow styll, and do not spare.' 
 
 [8] 
 'I well lyke thy countenance j thow hast an honest face; 
 
 with my sonne Richard this night thow shalt lye.' 
 Q[uo]d his wife, 'By my troth, 'tis a good hansome youth; 
 'yet it is best, husband, to deale waryelye. 
 
 'Art not thow run away? I pray thee, youth, tell. 
 'Shew vs thy pasport, and all shall be well.' 
 
 [3] I warylye] i. e. wearily. a at last] read at the last. 
 
 3 tp] read unto. [4] 3 flatter] read flatter thee. 5 light not] 
 
 read light thee not. 6 presently I] read I presently. [s] i 
 
 me] read me much. [6] 3 that I] read that true I. 4 theefe] 
 
 read sprite. 5 hands] read hand. shake] read take. [7] 
 
 I the] i. e. they. 
 
 (217) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LI 
 
 [9] 
 
 Then our King presently, making low curtsye, 
 with his hat in his hand, thus he did saye : 
 'I haue noe pasport nor never was serviture, 
 ' but a poore Courtier rode out of my waye, 
 'And for your kindnesse, now profered to me^ 
 ' I will requite [it] in every degree.' 
 
 [10] 
 Then to the Miller his wife whispered secretlye, 
 saying : ' It seemeth this youth's of good kin, 
 ' both by his apparell, and eke by his manners : 
 'to turne him out, certainlye, were a great sin.' 
 
 ' Yea,' q[uo]d he, ' yow may see he hath some grace, 
 'when he speakes vnto his betters in place.' 
 
 ["] 
 ' Well,' q[uo]d this miller's wife, ' yongman, welcome here ; 
 
 'and, though I say it, well lodged shalt thow be. 
 'Fresh straw I will haue layd in your bed so braue; 
 'good browne hempen sheets, likewise,' quoth she. 
 ' I ! ' quoth the good man, ' and when that is doone, 
 ' Yow shall lye with no worse than our own sonne.' 
 
 [12] 
 
 'Nay, first,' quod Richard, 'good fellow, tell me true — 
 
 ' Hast thow any creepers in thy gay hose ? 
 'Or art thow not troubled with the Scabado?' 
 
 'I pray yow,' q[uo]d our King, 'what things are those?' 
 'Art thow not lowsye, nor Scabbed?' q[uo]d he, 
 ' If thow beest, surelye thow lyest not with me.' 
 
 [13] 
 This causfed our K[ing] sodainlye laugh out most hartelye, 
 
 tyll the teares tricklfed downe from his eyes. 
 Then vnto supper were they set orderlye, 
 with hote Bag-puddinge[s] and good Apple-pyes, 
 Nappy Ale, good and stale, in a blacke bowle, 
 which did about all the borde meryly trowle. 
 
 [^4] 
 ' Here ! ' q[uo]d the Miller, ' good fellow', I drinke to thee, 
 
 'and to all the courtnoules that curteous be.' 
 'I pledg the,' q[uo]d our Kinge, 'and thanke the hartelye 
 ' for my good welcome in everye degree ; 
 
 'And here, in lyke manner, I drinke to thy sonne.' 
 ' Do so,' q[uo]d Richard, ' and quicke let yt come.' 
 
 [11] S I !] = Ay ! [13] I laugh] read to laugh. 5 nappy] 
 
 read and nappy. [14] 3 the] i. e. thee. the] i. e. thee, 
 
 (218) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LI 
 
 'Wife!' q[uo]d the Miller, 'now fetch me forth Ughtfoot, 
 
 ' that we of his sweetenes a little maye tast.' 
 A fayre venison pastye she brought foorth presen[t]lye. 
 ' Eate,' q[uo]d the Miller, ' but, sir ! make no wast.' 
 ' Here is good Ughtfoot, in fayth ! ' q[uo]d our Kinge ; 
 •I never before eate so daintye a thinge.' 
 
 [i6] 
 * I wis,' said Richard, ' no daintye at all it is : 
 
 ' for we doe eate of it everye daye.' 
 'I' what place,' said our King, 'may be bought like to this?' 
 'We never paye penny for it, by my fay! 
 
 ' From merye Sheerewood we fetch it home heere. 
 'Now and then we make bould with the King's deere.' 
 
 'Then I thinke,' q[uo]d our Kinge, 'that it is venison.' 
 'Each foole' quoth Richard, 'full well may see that. 
 'Never are we without two or three in the ruffe, 
 'very well fleshfed and excellent fat. 
 
 'But I pray thee say nothing where ever thow go; 
 
 'We would not, for two pence, the K[ing] should it know.' 
 
 [i8] 
 ' Doubt not,' q[uo]d our King, ' my promised secrecye : 
 
 'the King shall never know more on't for me.' 
 A cup then of lambs-wol they drunk then vnto him, 
 and so to their beds they past presen[t]lye. 
 
 The nobles, next morning, went all vp and downe, 
 For to seeke out the King in everye towne. 
 
 [19] 
 At last, at this miller's howse, some did espy him plaine, 
 
 as he was mountinge vpon his fayre Steede : 
 To whom they ran presentlye, falling downe on their knee, 
 which made the myller's hart wofullye bleede. 
 Shaking and quaking, before him he stoode, 
 thinking he should haue bin hangd, by the roode ! 
 
 [20] 
 The king, perceiuing him fearful! and trembling, 
 
 drew out his sword, but nothing he sayd. 
 The Miller downe did fall, crying before them all, 
 doubting the king would haue cut of his head. 
 But he, his kind curtesye to requite, 
 gaue him great lyving and dubd him a knight. 
 
 ifiniis. 
 
 [17] 3 ruffe] i.e. roof. [ao] 3 perhaps Down did the miller fall. 
 
 4 of] i. e. off. 5 to] read for to. 
 
 { 219) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LII 
 
 No. LII 
 All in a garden green 
 
 Fol. 204''. An imitation of the 27th Idyll of Theocritus, in 4 stanzas of 
 28 lines each (the first stanza being two lines short). A ballad of this 
 name was registered in 1563, and gave title to a tune (Roxburghe Balladry 
 viii. p. xxxv). 
 
 ^ merrpc netu Ballad, of a tountrpe tuenc]^ 
 anb a tlottme. 
 
 To A FINE TUNE. 
 
 All in a garden greene, 
 
 where late I layde me downe 
 Vppon a banke of camemeyle, 
 where I sawe vpon a style, 
 
 sitting, a countrey Clowne, 
 howldinge within his armes 
 
 a comelye countrye mayde : 
 courting her with all his skyll, 
 working her vnto his will. 
 
 Thus to her he sayd: — 
 ' Kysse me in kindnes, 
 
 'sweet hart,' quoth he. 
 'Syr, not for twenty 
 
 'good pounds,' quoth she. 
 He sayd 'Saye not soe.' 
 She sayd 'Let me goe.' 
 'Staye, sweet hart,' quoth he. 
 'Fye! how yow ruffle me.' 
 
 ' What a lyfe is this : — 
 'Lord, how I love thee, 
 'sweet hart,' quoth she. 
 
 ' Fye for shame, I saye : 
 'take your hand awaye.' 
 ' Sweet,' quoth he, ' be styll ; 
 'Though against thy will, 
 'I must haue a Kysse. 
 
 [i] ai she] read he. as and 23] two lines seem to 
 
 have dropt out. 
 
 220 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LII 
 
 ' Sweete, I'le forsake my holde 
 
 ' yf thow will tarrye styll ; 
 ' And here I make a vowe to thee 
 'thow shalt not be toucht, for me, 
 
 'more then thy good will.' 
 ' Hands off, for shame ! ' she sayd, 
 
 'In fayth, yow are to blame. 
 'Yf any body should vs see, 
 'what a blemish would it be 
 
 'to my honest name.' 
 'Syt but a lyttle, 
 
 'by me, on this style; 
 ' and I will bringe thee 
 
 'on thy way a mile.' 
 There she sate her downe 
 by this lovely Clowne. 
 ' Sweete ! ' then quoth he, 
 ' Wilt thow wed with me ? ' 
 
 ' No ! good fayth, not I ! ' 
 'Let me but laye 
 'my hand upon thy knee.' 
 ' Fye ! ' quoth this bony lasse, 
 'That may not be.' 
 'Sweete come kisse me then.' 
 ' Maydes must kisse no men : 
 ' Fye for shame ! I say.' 
 'yf yow say me nay, 
 
 'Then for love I dye.' 
 
 [3] 
 
 ' Lord, how yow hurt my hand ; 
 
 'for god's sake let me goe: 
 ' By my fayth and my troth, 
 ' I did little thinke, forsooth ! 
 
 ' yow would haue servd me so.' 
 ' Graunt me my suite ; ' quoth he, 
 
 'and then I'le let the goe: 
 'I praye thee, doe me not denye, 
 'gentle sweeting, but say I!' 
 
 Styll she answered ' No ! ' 
 ' Let me but lay 
 
 my hand vpon thy knee.' 
 ' No ! let me goe. 
 
 'I must be gone,' quoth she. 
 ' If my mother knew 
 ' that I were with yow, 
 
 [3] 7 the] i. e. thee 9 I] i. e. Ay. 
 
 (221) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LII 
 
 'Woe should be my part.' 
 
 ' Stay ! ' quoth he, ' sweet hart! 
 
 ' she shall never know.' 
 Then did he carrye her 
 
 behynd a tree. 
 What they did there 
 
 is unknowne to me ; 
 But I hard her say, 
 ■when she came awaye, 
 making low curtsye, 
 'Once againe,' quoth she, 
 'kysse me ere yow goe.' 
 
 [4] 
 
 Then the went hand in hand, 
 
 a furlong and more ; 
 Where, as they parted lovinglye 
 She put her finger in the eye, 
 
 and did weepe full sore. 
 Sighing, 'Sweete hart,' she sayd, 
 
 ' Since now yow haue me won 
 'To yeeld and let you haue your will, 
 'if yow would not love me styll, 
 
 ' I were quite vndone.' 
 ' Sweete ! ' then quoth he, 
 
 'I praye thee be content.' 
 'If this be knowne,' quoth she, 
 
 ' I am sure I shal be shent.' 
 ' Hie thee home,' quoth he, 
 ' for I doe sware to thee 
 'long it shall not be 
 'ere I come to thee 
 
 'to heare what thow wilt saye.' 
 Lord, how her colour 
 
 went and came for shame. 
 As other mayds 
 
 having done the same. 
 Though they make a showe, 
 and say often ' No ! ' 
 yet, before yow goe, 
 they will take it, tho 
 
 they crye ' fye awaye ! ' 
 
 ifiniss. 
 
 [4] I the] they. 
 
 ( 222 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LIII 
 
 No. LIII 
 Away, I will forsake her company 
 
 Fol. 2o5'. It is perhaps the remembrance of the tune name, or of the 
 seventh hne of stanza 2, of this ballad which comes to Falstaff (Kin^ 
 Henry IV, Part 11 (1597), Act I, Sc. ii), when he mocks the majesty of 
 the law. ^ ' 
 
 Ch.Just. There is not a white hair on your face but should have his 
 efltect of gravity. 
 Fal. His effect oi gravy, gravy, gravy [me]. 
 
 ^ mo0f pleasant anti netn )15allab of a poung 
 gentleman and a pounj CBentletDoman. 
 
 To A PLEASANT NEW TUNE CALLED Pitty, pittye me. 
 
 Away, I will forsake her companyj 
 
 yf that I be delayde; 
 And yet her modest kinde Civilitye 
 
 maketh me not dismaide : 
 For when I dally, kysse, and play with her, 
 
 hart, lyfe, and all, is spent; 
 Then she, with a pleasant, pretty, pretty, pretty, grace, 
 
 prayeth me to be content, 
 
 (223) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LIII 
 
 [3] 
 
 She sayth she loues: I know that I do love: 
 
 yf yt were well exprest, 
 My hart, my will, my soule, can testifye 
 
 that I doe love her best. 
 But, when I thinke of mine owne vnwor[thi]nes, 
 
 o then I faint and dy. 
 And with a short gasp of— pitty, pitty, pittye me, 
 
 'pytty, sweet loue!' I crye. 
 
 [3] 
 I could endure ten thowsand miseryes, 
 
 were I but halfe assured 
 Thy constant loue, by my long penury, 
 
 therby might be procurd; 
 But when I thinke on woman's ficklenes, 
 
 love then I count as a toy; 
 Let not the sweet sence of a pretty, pretty, pretty soule, 
 
 hinder a wise man's ioy. 
 
 [4] 
 Yet when, my selfe, I walked alone, 
 
 all in my minde soUace, 
 Then should I thinke vpon thy beauty bright 
 
 that I might thee imbrace. 
 Finding the absence, how I pine away ; 
 
 remedye non I can spye. 
 Therefore this alwayes shalbe my song 
 
 'graunt loue, or els I dye.' 
 
 [5] 
 If thou denay, all women I'le deny, 
 
 because I am refusd ; 
 The fervent loue I alwayes bore to thee 
 
 thow greatly hast abused. 
 Therefore this alwayes shalbe my song 
 
 ' heigh ho ! my heart will breake.' 
 Therefore my pretty, pretty, pretty, loving hart, 
 
 one word vnto me speake. 
 
 [6] 
 If I had ten thousand pound of golde, 
 
 all of yt shalbe thine. 
 So that thow wilt my true love be 
 
 and yeeld vnto my minde. 
 Then say vnto me, the comfort of my ioy, 
 
 what answer dost thow make? 
 Wilt thow be styll my pretty, pretty, pretty one, 
 
 all other to forsake? 
 
 [4] 5 the absence] read thee absent. [5] i denay] perhaps 
 
 say nay. 4 abused] i. c. abus'd. [6] 5 the] read thou. 
 
 (224) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LIII 
 
 [7] 
 So shalt thow make amends therein 
 
 the losse of all my tyme ; 
 For proufe whereof, some token shew 
 
 from those sweete lips of thine. 
 If not— Adew ! Though loth for to depart, 
 
 [he] bids thee full oft farewell. 
 Who wished thy weale thow willedst 
 
 tongue, hart, and all, can tell. 
 
 [8] 
 My labour is lost! Heigho, my heavy hartl 
 
 my faythles friend is gone ! 
 She hath my iewels, and my hart hath stoUen, 
 
 with other things many a one. — 
 To morne for her (who smiles to think on me) 
 
 would but augment my paine: 
 Therefore farwell, my pretty, little, subtile one, 
 
 tyll we two meete againe. 
 
 [9] 
 All yow that heare, and listen to my song, 
 
 marke my words very well; 
 The proverbe oulde on me is verifyed, 
 
 the same yow know full well, 
 For she that maye, and often will say nay, 
 
 (thus reason hath concluded) 
 Shall be denayde (as proof the same shall shew) 
 
 because she once refused. 
 
 ifinisi. 
 
 No. LIV 
 In this town fair Susan dwelleth 
 
 Fol. 207^ Text given, from this MS., in Roxburghe Ballads, viii. p. clxiii. 
 
 -Stt cjccellen[t] neto 315allad of a poung man 
 in prap0e of j^s belobeU. 
 
 In this towne fayre Susan dwelleth : 
 
 I love her and she loves me. 
 Hellen's beauty she excelleth : 
 
 white her forehead, browne her eye. 
 
 [7] 2 the losse] »«arf for loss. 5 for to] o»««V for. 7 thow 
 willedst] substitute possibly how fervently. [8] 5 morne] i. e. 
 
 mourn. [9] 3 on] read in. 
 
 SHIRS. Q ( 225 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LIV 
 
 Her Ivory hands more soft then silke, 
 and her fingers, longe and slender. 
 
 Ther's neuer a Lady in thys lande 
 is by nature halfe so slender. 
 
 My love can sport, my love can playe; 
 
 my love can tricke, [and] daunce, and syng. 
 My love can sytt with me all daye, 
 
 and tell me many a prety thinge. 
 Like pretty birds, and turtles true, 
 
 each other still we delight : 
 We spend the tyme in pleasant sports, 
 
 from the morning to the night. 
 
 [3] 
 
 When she meetes me, she will kysse me, 
 
 and will take me by the hand. 
 Protesting that she will not misse me 
 
 for the wealth of Ta^s land. 
 Then, lyke Venus, she will bring me 
 
 to some pleasant place of pleasure. 
 And give my hart the whole commaund 
 
 of all her beautye's pleasing treasure. 
 
 ■ [4] 
 
 When she hath made this courteous offer, 
 
 I must needes fulfill her minde. 
 Who can refuse a mayden's proffer? 
 
 maydens loue not men vnkinde. 
 Like Mars I thus my Venus greete, 
 
 and her champion doe I prouue. 
 There is no pleasure halfe soe sweete, 
 
 as my Susan's in her loue. 
 
 [S] 
 
 Thus love and beautye are agreed 
 
 to giue both me her hart and hand, 
 She's true to me in word and deede, 
 
 and I am her's for to commaund. 
 At last she sayd, ' good syr, alas ! 
 
 'oh, my hart is wondrous ill. 
 'Your love hath made your Susan sicke. 
 
 'Death will shortlye haue his will.' 
 
 [i] 5 Restore the rhyme by reading : More soft then silke, her 
 Ivory hand. 8 slender] read tender. [a] 6 we delight] 
 
 read we do delight. [5] 2 both me] read me both. 
 
 (226) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LIF 
 
 [6] 
 But now she is becomd a woman, 
 
 and of death is not afrayd. 
 She is my wife; and I, her husbande; 
 
 and noe longer Hues a mayde. 
 But, as a mother, she hath prou'd 
 
 a lusty soldier, good and tall. 
 The stoutest champion in the world 
 
 she nothing feareth now at all. 
 
 [7] 
 
 Thus of my Sew I make an end, 
 
 my darling, and my turtle trve. 
 No young man eare found dearer friend 
 
 then I haue found of my sweet Sew. 
 Yow maydes that fayne would married be, 
 
 of her and me this lesson take : 
 When kindnes once is offered yow, 
 
 vnkindly do it not forsake. 
 
 No. LV 
 You noble minds, and famous martial 
 
 wights 
 
 Fol. 208'^. Text given in Roxburghe Ballads, ii. 544, from Black-letter 
 exemplars. The interest of this ballad lies in its relation to the play Titus 
 Andronicus, 1594, written, as is supposed, by Shakespeare in conjunction 
 with Robert Greene or Thomas Kyd. The ballad has the ferocity character- 
 istic of many Italian novelle : cf. No. LXXI. The common source of 
 the ballad and the play must therefore be sought in some early Italian 
 collection of tales, 
 
 Titus Andronicus' Complaint. 
 To THE TUNE OF Fortune \my foe\. 
 
 Yow noble minds, and famous martiall wights, 
 that, in defence of native Countrye, fights, 
 Giue eare to me, that ten yeres fought for Rome, 
 yet reapt disgrace when I returned home. 
 
 [7] I Sew] i. c. Sue. 
 
 Q 2 ( 227 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LV 
 
 \A 
 
 In Rome I livd, in fame, full threescore yeres, 
 Titus by name, beloud of all his Peeres. 
 Full fyve and twentye valiant sonnes I had, 
 whose forward vertues made their father glad ; 
 
 [3] 
 For, when Home's foes their warlyke forces felt, 
 against them still my sonnes and I were sent. 
 Against the Gothes full ten yeres weary warre 
 we spent, receiuing many a bloudy scarre. 
 
 [4] 
 Just two and twentye of my sonnes were slayne, 
 before we did returne to Rome againe. 
 0[f] fyve and twentye sonnes I brought but three 
 alyve, the stately Towers of Rome to see. 
 
 [5] 
 When wars were done, I conquest home did bringe; 
 and did present the Prisoners to the Kinge, 
 The Queene of Gothe, her sonnes, and eke a Moore, 
 which did such murders, like was ne're before. 
 
 [6] 
 The Emperor did make this Queene his wife, 
 which bred in Roome debate and deadly stryfe : 
 The Moore, with her two sonnes, did grow so proud, 
 that non lyke them in Roome was then allowd. 
 
 [7] 
 The Moore so pleasd the new-made Empres' eye 
 that she consented with him, secretly. 
 For to abuse her husband's marriage bed ; 
 and so, in tyme, a blacke-moore she bred. 
 
 [8] 
 Then she, whose thoughts to murder were inclinde, 
 consented with the Moore, with blodye minde. 
 Against myselfe, my kin, and all his freinds, 
 in cruell sort, to bring them to their ends. 
 
 [9] 
 So, when in age I thought to liue in peace, 
 both woe and griefe began then to increase. 
 Amongst my sonnes I had one daughter bright, 
 which ioyd and pleased best my agfed sight. 
 
 [3] I felt] read sent. a sent] read bent. [7] 4 blacke- 
 
 moore] read blackamoor. [8] 3 his] read my. 
 
 ( 228) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ L.V 
 
 [lo] 
 
 My deare Liuinia was betrothed, as than, 
 to Cesar's sonne, a young and Noble man, 
 Who, in hunting, by the Emperor's wife 
 and her two sonnes, bereavfed was of lyfe. 
 
 He, being slaine, was cast in cruell wise, 
 into a dismall den from light of skyes. 
 The cruell Moore did come that way, as then, 
 with my two sonnes, who fell into that den. 
 
 [12] 
 
 The Moore then fetcht the Emperor with speed, 
 for to accuse then of that murdrus deede: 
 And, when my sonnes within that den were found, 
 in wrongfuU prison they were cast and bound. 
 
 [13] 
 But now, behold what wounded most my minde ! 
 The Emperor's two sonnes, of tiger's kinde, 
 My daughter ravished, without remorce; 
 and tooke away her honour quite perforce. 
 
 [U] 
 When they had tasted of so sweet a flower, 
 fearing their sweet would shortly turne to sour. 
 They cut her tong, whereby she should not tell 
 how that dishonour vnto her befell. 
 
 [^5] 
 Then both her hands they falsly cut ot quite, 
 whereby their wickednes she could not write ; 
 Nor, with her needle, [in] her sampler sew 
 the bloudy work[er]s of her direfull woe. 
 
 [16] 
 
 My brother Marcus found her in a wood, 
 staining the grassie ground with purple bloud 
 That trick[l]ed from her stumps and handles armes : 
 no tongue at all she had, to tell her harmes. 
 
 [17] 
 But when I saw her in that wofull case, 
 with teares of blood I wet my agfed face. 
 For [my] Lauinia I lamented more 
 than for my two and twenty sonnes before. 
 
 [12] a then] read them. £13] a Emperor's] >-«arf Empress's. 
 [15] I of] i. c. off. [ 16] 3 handles i. e. handless. 
 
 (229) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LV 
 
 [i8] 
 Wher-as I saw she could not write nor speake, 
 with griefe my aged hart began to breake. 
 We sp[r]ed a heape of sand vpon the ground, 
 whereby those bloody tirants out we founde. 
 
 [19] 
 For, with a staffe, without the helpe of hande 
 she write these words vpon the plot of sande : — 
 ' The lustfull sons of the proud Emperes 
 'are doers of this hateful! wickednes.' 
 
 [20] 
 I tare the milke-white hayres from of my head, 
 I curst the howre wherein I first was bred ; 
 I wisht my hand, had fought for country['s] fame, 
 in cradle's rocke had first beene stroken lame. 
 
 [ai] 
 The Moore, delighting still in villanye, 
 did say, to set my sonnes from prisone free, 
 I should vnto the King my right hande giue, 
 and then my two imprisoned sonnes should liue. 
 
 The Moore I causd to stricke it of with speed, 
 whereat I greevfed not to see it bleed ; 
 But, for my sonnes, would willinglye impart ; 
 and, for their ransome, send my bleeding hart. 
 
 [23] . 
 But, as my lyfe did linger thus in paine, 
 they sent to me my bloodies hands againe, 
 And therewithall, the heads of my two sonnes, 
 which fil'd my dying hart with fresher mone[s] 
 
 [24] 
 Then, past reliefe, I vp and downe did goe 
 and, with my teares, writ in the dust my woe; 
 Then towards heauen I shot vp arrowes two, 
 and for revenge to hell did sometimes crye. 
 
 [25] 
 The Emperes then, thinking [that] I was mad, 
 lyke furyes she and both her sons were clad 
 (She namd Revenge; and rape and murder, they) 
 to vndermine and knowe what I would saye. 
 
 [ao] I of] i. e. off. 3 had] read that. [23] a hands] 
 
 read hand. [24] 3 Restore the rhyme by reading : Then 
 
 shot two arrowes vp towards Heaven high. Cf. No. XXXIX, 
 stanza 12. How he could use the bow, without his right hand, is, 
 of course, a triviality in a ballad. 
 
 ( 230) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ JLV 
 
 [26] 
 
 I fed their foolish vaines a certaine space 
 vntill my freinds and I did finde a place 
 Where both her sonnes vnto a post was bound, 
 where lust revenge in cruell sort was found. 
 
 I cut their throats: my Daughter held the pan 
 betwixt her stumps, wherein the bloud then ran. 
 And then I ground their bones to powder small, 
 and made a past for Pyes straight their-withall. 
 
 [.8] 
 Then with their flesh I made two mighty pyes; 
 and at a banquet, serude in stately wise, 
 Before the Empresse set this loathsome meate — 
 so of her sonnes' owne flesh she well did eate. 
 
 My selfe bereaude my Daughter then of lyfe ; 
 the Empresse I slew with bloudy knife; 
 I stabd the Emperour immediatly ; 
 and then my selfe — even so did Titus die. 
 
 [30] 
 Then this reveng against the Moore was found:— 
 alive they set him halfe into the ground, 
 Where-as he stood vntill such time he sterude 
 and so god send all murtherers may be serude. 
 
 No. LVI 
 A greater fall, envy, you cannot require 
 
 Fol. 2IO'': one stanza brought in between the end of No. LV and the 
 beginning of No. LVII. Both the subject matter, and its anapaestic move- 
 ment, dissociate it from the iambics of No. LV. It seems to be L'Envoy of 
 a missing ballad, which possibly was given elsewhere on leaves now cut 
 out. I have looked through Bagford, Roxburghe, Wood, 4to Rawlinson, 
 and Douce Collections, but failed to identify it. 
 
 A GREATER fall, Envie, yow cannot require 
 then from a King's pallace to be a brickmaker's fire. 
 All yow that have pleasure and riches at will, 
 seeke not by fowle enuye your brother to kill. 
 If he haue successe, enuye not his state, 
 least that yow repent (with the steward) to late. 
 
 [a6] 3 was] read were. [ag] a Empresse] i. e. Emperess. 
 
 [LVI] 2 to be] omit be. 5 state] read estate, 6 to] i. e. too. 
 
 ( 231 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LVII 
 
 No. LVII 
 Come, sisters three, with fatal knife 
 
 Fol. 2IO''. This piece may be compared with Edmund Spenser's 
 Elegie (1591) on the wife of Arthur Gorges. Stanza 2 suggests also 
 Spenser's Teares of the Muses (1591). See introductory note to No. 
 XXXV. 
 
 %\z ILober, beiitfl; sorrotDfull for t|je beat]^ 
 
 of ^t ILaiip E. C. \smXitt\ tjis (Epitaph 
 
 follotoinge. 
 
 \A 
 
 Come, sisters three, with fatall knife, 
 
 and cut the threyd in twaine, 
 That spunne and twisted was by lyfe, 
 
 but pineth nowe in paine. 
 
 \A 
 
 Yow muses nine, do now complaine; 
 
 let sorrowe be your songe. 
 Sound forth your dolefull tunes amaine, 
 
 my haplesse haps amonge, 
 
 [3] 
 That I may morne a space; 
 
 that I maye sighe my fyll; 
 That I maye waile my heavy case, 
 
 as reason doth me will. 
 
 [4] 
 For duetye binds me soe, 
 
 I can it not denye. 
 My bitter woe no wight doth knowe, 
 
 but Jove that sits on hye. 
 
 [S] 
 Woe worth to me the howre, 
 
 when heavy newes was tolde ! 
 Woe worth the wight, that, with his power, 
 
 the carefuU bell hath knold 
 
 [6] 
 For her that was my freinde, 
 
 the comfort of my hart. 
 My ioye whilst _/<?»« her lyfe did lend, 
 
 the easer of my smart ! 
 
 [5] 3 the wight] i. c. Death. 
 (232 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LVII 
 
 [7] 
 
 Woe worth the man, with strife, — 
 
 her father I doe name — 
 Of two who hath bereft the lyfe, 
 
 by his soe open shame. 
 
 [8] 
 
 Shall this, his fylthy fact, 
 
 forgyven be of god? 
 He shal be scorgfed for his act, 
 
 even with an Iron rod. 
 
 [9] 
 
 This cannot helpe my case, 
 
 or cure me of my smart, 
 Sith she is gone, that onely was 
 
 the comfort of my hart. 
 
 [10] 
 
 Nowe, small is my comfort; 
 
 nowe, may I make my moane; 
 Now, may I sigh, in sorrowe's sorte, 
 
 sith my sweet C. is gone. 
 
 ["] 
 
 No mortall eyes can see 
 
 the dolor and annoye. 
 Of him, that was as trew to C. 
 
 as Troylus was in Troye. 
 
 [12] 
 
 Whilst C. aliue was left, 
 
 I ioyed to see her face : 
 But being dead, I am bereft 
 
 of this soe sweet solace. 
 
 [13] 
 Now she is closd in claye, 
 
 now she is tane me fro. 
 My pleasure nowe doth quite decaye; 
 
 my hart now bleeds for woe. 
 
 [14] 
 
 With blubbered eyes, I wayle 
 
 this, her vntimely, end. 
 Whose lyfe to saue, yf I might vaile, 
 
 my breth I, wretch! would spend. 
 
 ( 333 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LVII 
 
 [15] 
 
 The absence of her face 
 
 full oft hath greeud me sore ; 
 
 But nowe, the losse of her, alas ! 
 
 doth greeue me ten tymes more. 
 
 [16] 
 
 Yow virgins all, who did 
 
 frequent her companye, 
 Let not your wofull plaints be hid, 
 
 but powre them forth with me. 
 
 [17] 
 And yow, that brought her vp 
 
 see well in vertue's lore, 
 Of sorrowes mine, I praye yow, sup, 
 
 her death for to deplore. 
 
 [18] 
 
 Farewell ! my C, farwell ! 
 
 adewe, againe, my C\ 
 To shew my loue, the carefull bell 
 
 of Bow shall ring for thee. 
 
 [19] 
 And I will morne amayne, 
 
 in sorrowe, care, and greefe. 
 I will not rest, but plunge in paine, 
 
 tyll death lend me releefe. 
 
 [20] 
 
 I will not sleepe in bed; 
 
 dispare shall dwell with me, 
 Tyll death awaye my carkasse lead 
 
 to bring my soule to thee. 
 
 [21] 
 
 And I will ioye no more, 
 
 my sorrowes will not swage; 
 
 Each wight shall know I morned for 
 a lover of thy age. 
 
 [22] 
 
 No pleasure shall appease 
 
 the greefe I take for thee : 
 
 From sorowes soure I will not cease, 
 tyll death shall set me free. 
 
 [21] 3 I morned for] perhaps I mourn full sore. 
 
 (234) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LFII 
 
 What pleasure can prevaile, 
 
 to abrogate my mone? 
 What ioy can be, my care to quaile? 
 
 sith my sweet C. is gone. 
 
 [24] 
 
 Adue, my C! farwell ! 
 
 whereso thy body lyes, 
 Thy vertues rare haue raisd from hell 
 
 my soule vnto the skyes. 
 
 Though death hath done his worst 
 
 to shrine thee in the claye, 
 Yet he, by vertue, is accurst, 
 
 syth thow shalt liue for aye. 
 
 [26] 
 
 Thy soule shall still remaine 
 
 with god, from miserye. 
 Though my poore hart doe plung in paine 
 
 for my iniquitye. 
 
 Thy soule shall dwell in ioye, 
 
 where yt no blisse shall want. 
 
 Though I, poore I ! liue in annoy, 
 where comfort is full scant. 
 
 [28] 
 
 A world of woes is past 
 
 from thee, my C\ aliue; 
 But, by thy death, sowre sops I last, 
 
 wherebye I cannot thriue. 
 
 [29] 
 Therefore, I /oue request, 
 
 to mitigate my paynes. 
 That I, at length, may liue in rest 
 
 where my good C. remaines.* 
 
 i?iniis. 
 
 [24] 4 my] read thy. 
 
 ' The metre and the movement are those much affected by 
 George Tiirberville in his elegies, but the piece does not come in 
 his works as collected by Chalmers. 
 
 (235) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LVIII 
 
 No. LVIII 
 
 My dear, adieu ! my sweet love, farewell 
 
 Fol. 213 ; has no title, and is incomplete, the next leaf after it having 
 been cut out, prior to foliation. The music is noted in the MS. The 
 soprano part is put first at foot of fol. 212''. Then, at top of fol. 213, the 
 'bassus: Orlando'es musique', i.e. by Orlando Gibbons (1583-1625), 
 organist of the Chapel Royal in 1604. This soldier's farewell to his dear 
 belongs to one of the many over-sea enterprises of Elizabeth's reign, as 
 e.g. 1597, when Maldon contributed 'towards the setting foorth of xv. 
 souldiers vnto the shipps' for the futile Azores expedition, and also 
 ' towards the setting forth of certeyne souldiers for her maiestie's service 
 into Pycardie '. 
 
 Orlando (Gibbons). 
 
 ^^ 
 
 EB 
 
 S 
 
 ^^ 
 
 fi—ri- 
 
 -13~ 
 
 IZ2Z 
 
 ^ 
 
 E^ 
 
 3=3" 
 
 J-© — © — &- 
 
 i 
 
 ^^ 
 
 :* _ ? o - \zi± 
 
 P 
 
 ^=3=^ 
 
 net 
 
 ^f-^— ©^flctt 
 
 '■mz 
 
 3 
 
 i 
 
 sp 
 
 ip 
 
 ^is 
 
 i 
 
 e^3iiHii^fEp§ga^S^s 
 
 =1:: 
 
 •m^ 
 
 (236) 
 
 ^ 
 
 ICt 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LVIII 
 
 1%^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 m 
 
 s 
 
 E^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 [i] [Man.] 
 
 My deare, adewe ! my sweet loue, farwell ! 
 
 adew ! for I must awaye. 
 Though to my paine and woe, sweetest Damsell ! 
 
 trew it is, I cannot staye. 
 My countrye's causes wils me to hye me, 
 
 and I must needs be gone. 
 Though I goe from thee, as duety binds me, 
 
 I leaue thee not alone. 
 Thy friends, and thy parents, remaine with thee still, 
 which (I doe perswade me) will shew their good will 
 to comfort thee dayly when I am away. 
 Take courage, my sweeting; thy friends are thy ioy. 
 
 [2] Woman. 
 
 Wilt thow forsake mee? and wilt thow leaue mee, 
 
 my sweet loue, and be gone? 
 Wilt thow, vnkindly, leaue me so quicklye 
 
 my sweetest loue to bemone? 
 If thow goe from me, what may content me? 
 
 leaue me not soe, my deare! 
 Let pittye moue thee ; staye with her that loues thee : 
 
 what ioye can I haue here? 
 My soule is vnquiet; my ioyes are but smale; 
 my parents can yeeld me no comfort at all, 
 thy selfe being absent which should be my ioy. 
 Then let my intreaty procure thee to stay. 
 
 [3] Man. 
 
 Sweet loue, content thee; leave to perswade me: 
 
 I shall come home to thee againe. 
 My Soueraigne's seruice may not be hindred. 
 
 Sweet loue, plead not in vaine. 
 What gould could cause me thus to go from thee, 
 
 but my sweet prince's cause? 
 Her graces binds me, with loyall duety, 
 
 to fight for her christian lawes. 
 
 [3] 6 prince's] i.e. Elizabeth's. 
 
 (237) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LVIII 
 
 In these her proceedings yf I should be slacke, 
 the lord would through vengance and wrath on my back. 
 Her foes, most iniuriously, grudg at her grace ; 
 come hell, and consume me, yf I turne my face. 
 
 [4] Woman. 
 
 My loue's delight, yf thow wilt goe wander 
 
 from her that loues thee soe well, 
 My hart shall mount her, on her loue's wings, 
 
 and ioyntly with thee shall dwell 
 On raging billowes, mounts, plaines, and medowes, 
 
 in sorrow and and annoye. 
 Packe hence, my pleasure; my soule's treasure, 
 
 yeeld me my former ioy. 
 Meane- while will I peirce the bright heavens with my prayer 
 that god will permit, in short time, thy repayre. 
 Sweet freind, in thine absence, wright home to me still, 
 and weare this my favour, in pledg of good will. 
 
 [S] Man. 
 
 My sou[l]diers call me, and I must leaue thee ; 
 
 once more, my sweet loue, adewe! 
 Great charg was gyven me that I should hye mee; 
 
 I know not what maye ensewe, 
 
 No. LIX 
 What if a day, or a month, or a year 
 
 Fol. 214. The MS. copy begins with the second stanza, the first stanza 
 and title having been on the leaf that was cut out at this point previous to 
 foliation. Full text given in Roxburghe Ballads, i. 348, from Black-letter 
 copies. From the Black-letter copy in 4to Rawl. 566, fol. 199 (olim 309), 
 I have added the title and the missing first stanza. I have not added ' The 
 second Part [in five stanzas] : to the same tune ', because the blank space 
 at foot of fol. 214'' shows that the copyist left it out. It is given in 
 Roxburghe Ballads, i. 351. The verses are found also in a Bodleian MS., 
 MS. Rawlinson poet. 1 12, fol. 9, and are there attributed to 'E.of E.' ? Robert 
 Devereux, second earl of Essex. 
 
 [3] 10 through] i. e. throw. [4] 6 and and] read SiX\i in. 11 wright] 
 
 i. e. write. [5J 4 The piece is unfinished, a leaf being cut out. 
 
 (238) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LIX 
 
 [a i^tienli'0 aijtjice, iit an ejcccllent SDittp, 
 concerning t^z tiai'iaMe Cijangess in tliig life. 
 
 To A PLEASANT NEW TUNE.J 
 
 [What if a day, or a moneth, or a year, 
 
 crown thy delights, with a thousand wisht contentings? 
 Cannot the chance of a night, or an hour, 
 
 cross thy delights, with as many sad tormentings ? 
 Fortune, in her fairest birth, 
 
 are but blossoms dying. 
 Wanton pleasures, doting mirth, 
 
 are but shadows flying. 
 All our ioyes are but toys, 
 
 idle thoughts deceiving. 
 None hath power of an hour, 
 in our lives bereaving.] 
 
 What yf a smile, or a becke, or a looke, 
 
 feede thy fond thoughts with many a sweet contentinge? 
 May not that smile, or that becke, or that looke, 
 tell thee as well they are but vaine deceauinge? 
 Why should beauty be so proude, 
 in things of no surmountinge ? 
 All her wealth is but a shrowd 
 
 of a rich accounting. 
 The[n] in this repose no blisse, 
 which is vaine and idle. 
 , Beautye's flowres have their howres; 
 time doth hould the bridle. 
 
 [3] 
 
 What yf the world, with allures of his wealth, 
 
 raise thy degree to a place of high aduancing? 
 May not the world, by the checke of this wealth, 
 put the againe as lowe despisfed chancinge? 
 While the Son of wealth doth shine, 
 thow shalt have friends plentye; 
 But come want, then they repine ; 
 
 not one abides of twentye. 
 Wealth and friends houlds and ends, 
 
 as your fortunes rise and fall; 
 Vp and downe rise and frowne — 
 certaine is no stay at all. 
 
 [i] 5 Fortune, in her] read Fortunes, in their. [2] 2 contentinge] read 
 
 conceiving. 10 is vaine] read is so vaine. [3] 4 the] i. e. thee, 
 
 againe as] rearf againe to as. 5 Son] i.e. sun. 11 rise] rearf smile. 
 
 ( 239 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LIX 
 
 [4] 
 
 What yf a gripe, or a straine, or a fitt, 
 
 pinch the with paine, or the feeling pangs of sicknesse ? 
 Doth not that gripe, or that straine, or that fitt, 
 
 shew thee the forme of thine owne perfect likenesse? 
 Health is but a glimse of ioy, 
 
 subiect to all changes; 
 Mirth is but a sillye toy, 
 
 which mishape estranges. 
 Tell me then, syllye man, 
 
 why art thow see weake of wit 
 As to be in ieopardye, 
 
 when thow maist in quiet sit? 
 
 [5] 
 
 Then all this haue declard thine amisse 
 
 take it from me as a gentle friendly warninge. 
 If thow refuse, and good counsell abuse, 
 
 thow maist hereafter dearly buy thy learninge. 
 All is hazard that we have ; 
 
 there is nothinge bidinge. 
 Dayes of pleasure are like streames 
 through the meddowes glidinge. 
 Weale or woe, time doth goe; 
 
 there is no returninge. 
 Secret fates guide our states, 
 both in mirth and morninge. 
 
 LX 
 
 If ever woefial tale moved man to pity 
 
 Fol. 215. ' Calais was taken by the Spaniards, 7 April, 1596. The 
 capture was effected while Elizabeth was engaged in tedious and discredit- 
 able haggling for its delivery to England by Henri IV, who consoled 
 himself for the mishap by the epigram that it was better to be beaten out 
 of the town by his enemy than to be cheated out of it by his ally. The 
 news that a port so favourable for a descent on England had become the 
 possession of Spain produced consternation at Elizabeth's council board. 
 The ballad seems written, under suggestions from Court, to enflame the 
 national courage at this crisis by old animosity against, and ever present 
 fear of, Spain. The stanzas are not presented in the form they have in 
 the MS., but in a form in which the structure of the stanza is better seen, as 
 in No. XLVI. 
 
 [4] 2 the] i. e. thee. [5] i Then all] >-«flrf Then if all. 12 morninge] 
 
 i. e. mourning. 
 
 ( 240 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LX 
 
 Callis, ]^ss tDofull ILameittation for |jer 
 l^aplegise ispople. 
 
 To [the tune of] Crimson veluet. 
 
 w 
 
 If ever wofuU tale 
 movbd man to pittye, 
 or oppressed greefe 
 
 vrgd a mornfuU songe, 
 Then lett those lament 
 which doe heare this dittye, 
 made in mornefull plaintes 
 
 and distressed wronge. 
 Callis doth complaine, 
 made a slaue to Spaine : 
 
 all her streets with bloud doth runne. 
 Her babs heer murthered lye; 
 in vaine her virgins crye, 
 
 helpleslye they are vndone. 
 
 Title : his] read her. 
 R 
 
 (mO 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LX 
 
 Death and horror fearefuU, 
 cryes and clamors doleful!, 
 
 doe in everye corner sounde. 
 Buildinge[s] downe are fallinge; 
 mangled men lye sprawlinge, 
 
 horses tread them on the grounde. 
 
 [^] 
 
 Fathers see their sonnes, 
 sonnes their mother[s] dyenge; 
 husbands to their wiues, 
 
 wiues to husbands call; 
 At dead nurses' teats 
 lyttle babes lye cryinge ; 
 steeples kisse the earth, 
 
 strongest towres fall. 
 My wallas are battered downe ; 
 warre hath wonne my towne, 
 
 warre, that sheweth no remorce — 
 The warre of tyrants fell, 
 whose horror doth excell — 
 
 I meane, the bloudy Spaniards' force. 
 ' Kill, kil, kill, and spare not ! 
 ' murther still and care not ! ' 
 
 thus the cruell Spaniards crye — 
 'Braine the feeble old man; 
 ' slay the kneeling woman ; 
 
 'all shall feel our crueltye.' 
 
 [3] 
 
 When the worthy pow-er 
 of the English nation 
 wonne my mayden walles, 
 
 and did enter me, 
 In my conquered streets 
 no such lamentation ; 
 no such fearefull sights 
 
 did my people see. 
 They, like gentle fowes, 
 pittyeng our woes, 
 
 did our heavy harts relieue. 
 When we did faint for breade 
 they our hungers fed, 
 
 suffering none our harts to greeue. 
 
 [2] 8 towres] i.e. tow-ers. [3] i Edward III took Calais 
 
 39 August, 1347. Tlie writer is discreetly silent as to Eustace de 
 Su-Pierre and the deputies of the town, with bare heads, and 
 ropes in their hands for their own hanging. 6 no] read was no. 
 9 fowes] i. c. foes. 
 
 (242 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LX 
 
 Our lyttle babes they nurrisht; 
 our beauteous virgins cherisht; 
 
 mercy did fayre England vse. 
 They comforted our ould men; 
 they spared our feeble women; 
 
 noe state they did abuse. 
 
 [4] 
 But the cruell foe, 
 never traind to pyttye, 
 lyke a Tyger fell, 
 
 spoyld his conquered praye. 
 It helpt not to be fayre, 
 to be wise or wittye; 
 beautye stainde with bloude, 
 
 learning murthered, laye. 
 The face that late was fayre, 
 deckt with golden heare, 
 
 nowe looke bloudlesse, pale, and wan. 
 The bodyes, whyt as milke, 
 clad in gould and sylke, 
 
 nowe hath nothing to put on. 
 Naked they deflower them ; 
 death doth then devoure them, 
 
 when the Spaniard^ lust is serude. 
 In the streets they trayle them; 
 then to death they hale them, 
 
 or to further vse reserude. 
 
 [S] 
 Lyke these wretched men, 
 in the Indyes conquered, 
 dogd ech daye to death, 
 
 and with dogs devourd, 
 So is Callis nowe, 
 and her people, hamperde. 
 God his heavye plague 
 
 doth vpon vs power. 
 If faythlesse Turkes had wonne 
 what prowd Spaine hath done 
 
 mercye more they would extende. 
 The Lowe Countryes long 
 haue indurde their wronge; 
 
 Spayn^s oppression hath no end. 
 Where the Spaniarde winneth, 
 theire all griefe begynneth — 
 
 God confound his haughty e pryd ! 
 
 [4] I the] fKflrfthis. 10 heare] i.e. hair. 11 looke] 
 
 readXao^s. 12 bodyes] «arfbody. [5] 8 power] i. e. 
 
 pour. la long] read for long. 16 theire] i. e. there. 
 
 R 2 ( 243 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LX 
 
 Late I did not minde it; 
 now too soone I finde it : 
 
 never greater woe was tri'de. 
 
 [6] 
 England, kinde and fayre, 
 God preserue and blesse thee ! 
 For thy royall Queene, 
 
 Lorde prolonge her dayes ! 
 Flanders she hath holpe, 
 and poore France distressed, 
 to her endlesse fame 
 
 and eternall prayse. 
 She stands, like Sioris hill, 
 vnremo[v]fed still, 
 
 in despite ol pope and Spaine. 
 Their most accursfed hate 
 styrreth not her state, 
 
 for the Lord doth hir mairitaine. 
 Happye be shee ever; 
 ende hir glories never : — 
 
 wofull Callis humblye prayes — 
 Jesu styll defende her, 
 and in Englande sende her 
 
 manye yeeres and happye dayes. 
 
 No. LXI 
 As I went to Walsingham 
 
 Fol. 216''. This singular dramatic sketch consists of four acts, each with 
 its own tune, and its own distinctive stanza. The last three acts have also 
 initial stage-directions. In all four acts the stanzas are oddly broken up 
 by distribution between the four dramatis personae. The personal substi- 
 tution, on which the plot turns, may be compared with that in Measure 
 for Measure (1604). The text seems defective, calling for frequent inser- 
 tion of syllables to fill up the metre, and of interlocutors to carry on the 
 dialogue. The latter insertions I have ventured on, in square brackets : 
 the former I have relegated to the footnotes. As regards the title, a ' jig ', it 
 may be noted that in the Roxburghe Collection there are several Black-letter 
 ballads, which are called by this name, and are carried on by dialogue 
 between two speakers: — e.g. 'Clod's Carroll, a proper new jigg to be sung 
 dialogue-wise between a man and a woman that would needs be married ' 
 (Roxburghe Ballads, i. 201) ; and 'a mery new Jigge', between a man and 
 a maid {Roxburghe Ballads, ii. loi). A 'jig', therefore, must be, specifi- 
 cally, a dramatic ballad, or ballad-drama, written to dance-music, and 
 capable of presentment by dance-action on the stage. The title applies 
 
 [5] 19 soone] perhaps sore. 
 ( 244) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXI 
 
 to the whole piece. But the tune, which precedes the title, and is at foot 
 of fol. 216'', belongs only to Act I. 
 
 ' Mr. Attowel,' who is named as author (or at least actor) of the piece, is 
 in all probability Hugh Atwell (Attawell, or Attewell), who died in 1621. 
 He had been one of the 'children of her Majesty's revels', and in 
 Elizabeth's reign a member of Edward AUeyn's Company of actors. He 
 acted in Ben Jonson's Epicoene in 1609. It is singular that a piece by 
 him, after being buried for three centuries, should now come to light. 
 
 At Little (or New) Walsingham, Norfolk, in the priory of Black or 
 Austin Canons, was a chapel of the Annunciation with an image of Our 
 Lady which, from Henry HI to Henry VIII, was as noted a shrine for 
 East Anglian pilgrimage, as was Loretto for Italian ; see Chappell's 
 Popular Music of the Olden Time, pp. 122-3 ; Blomefield's History of 
 Norfolk, ix. 274-82. The music of the tune Walsingham is, of course, 
 connected with the pilgrimage days, and is far older than the present piece. 
 
 No stage directions for the first act are given in the MS. I take 
 the first four lines to be by way of prologue, and to belong to the old copy 
 of words which went with the tune. The action begins, between the fourth 
 and fifth lines, by Master Francis entering Richard's house, and finding 
 Bess alone. The fifth line, apparently spoken by Bess, is not in character, 
 but carries on the prologue into the piece : so also the sixth line, spoken 
 by Francis. At the seventh line the actual drama is begun. 
 
 In stanzas I to 4, attend to the archaic use of the 2nd personal pronouns, 
 as in modem French and German. The gentleman, speaking to a person 
 of inferior social position, uses thou, thee, thy; the farmer's wife, addressing 
 a superior, era^Xoys you, your. In stanza 5, line 7, on the establishment of 
 intimate relations, Bess slips into the familiar 'thee'- Similarly, in 
 stanza 7, the wife uses_j'o« ; husband, as head of the house, uses thee. 
 
 The tune Go from my windo, go, to which Act IV is set, was familiar in 
 Scotland early in Elizabeth's reign. In The Gude and Godlie Ballatis, 
 printed in 1567, there is a pious effusion sung to this tune and with this 
 burden, supplying an exact parallel to No. XVIII ; see A. F. Mitchell's 
 edition for the Scottish Text Society, 1897, p. 133. 
 
 6ettoee«e 
 Francis, a dentlemait ; 
 Richard, a farmer ; 
 and tj^eir toibe^. 
 
 i 
 
 i^ 
 
 [ACT I] 
 To THE TUNE OF Walsingham. 
 
 WB=^- 
 
 -ri 
 
 i &- -I 1 1 — 
 
 (245) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXI 
 
 ^t^=^= 
 
 fj 
 
 -*s^ 
 
 F? 
 
 ^ 
 
 — 1- 
 
 
 -1^ 
 
 "TTS 
 
 1-] 
 
 
 ffi'^ ^ * i — 1 — 
 ^^ ^ — ^ 
 
 
 
 -sL 
 
 
 
 
 
 -e-i- 
 
 ^^-e — 
 
 rj 
 
 -^.^ 
 
 =^ 
 
 
 1^= 
 
 =& 
 
 5—1— 
 
 -T-* 
 
 ^ 
 
 1 Q •- Jl 
 
 As 1 went to Walsingham, 
 
 to the shrine, with speede, 
 Matt I with a Jollye palmer, 
 
 in a pilgrim's weede. 
 
 [Enter Francis] 
 
 [Besse, Richard^ s wife] 
 
 Nowe, God saue yow, iolly Palmer ! 
 FraTi\cis\ 
 
 Welcome, Ladye gaye ! 
 Oft haue I su'de to thee for love. 
 Besse 
 
 Oft haue I sayd yow naye. 
 
 \A 
 
 Franias} 
 
 My love is fixed. 
 jB[ess] 
 
 And soe is mine; 
 but not on yow. 
 For, to my husband, whilst I Hue, 
 I will ever be trewe. 
 Fr[ancis] 
 
 I'le giue the gould, and rich araye — 
 Bless] 
 
 which I shall bye to deere. 
 Fr[ands] 
 
 Naught shalt thow want; then say not naye. 
 B[ess] ~^- 
 
 Naught would you make me, I feare. 
 
 [3] 
 What though yow be a gentleman, 
 
 and haue land and good store : 
 I will be chast, doe what yow can, 
 
 though I Hue never soe poore. 
 
 [2] 2 not on] read not, be sure, on. 4 will ever] read ever 
 
 will. 5 the] i.e. thee. 6 to] i.e. too. 8 Naught] Note the 
 characteristic Elizabethan repartee, by means of a play on a word. 
 [3] 4 never] i. c. ne'er. 
 
 (246) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXI 
 
 Fr\ancis\ 
 
 Thy beauty rare hath wounded me, 
 and pyerst my hart. 
 B{ess\ 
 
 Your foolish love doth treble mej 
 pray yow, syr, depart. 
 
 [4] 
 Fi\ancis\ 
 
 Then tell me, sweet! wilt thou consent 
 vnto my desyre? 
 B\ess'\ 
 
 And yf I should ; then tell me, syr ! 
 what is it yow require? 
 F\rancis\ 
 
 For to enioye thee as my love. 
 B\ess'\ 
 
 Syr ! yow haue a wife. 
 Therefore, let your sute haue an end. 
 Fi\ands\ 
 
 First will I lose my lyfe. 
 
 [5] 
 
 All that I haue thow shalt commaund. 
 B{ess\ 
 
 Then my love yow haue. 
 Fr\ancis\ 
 
 Your meaninge well I vnderstand. 
 B{ess\ 
 
 I yeeld to what yow craue. 
 Ft\ancis\ 
 
 But tell me, sweet! when shall I enioye 
 my hart's delight. 
 B\ess\ 
 
 I praye the, sweet-hart, be not coy, 
 even soone at night. 
 
 [6] 
 
 My husband is rid ten miles from home, 
 
 money to receiue. 
 In the eveninge see yow come. 
 Fr\ancis\ 
 
 Tyll then I take my leaue. 
 
 \Exit 
 
 fa] 6 pyerst] i. e. pi-erceA 8 pray] read I pray. [4] 2 my 
 desyre] read my fond desyre. 6 Syr 1] read Fye syr ! [5] a yow 
 haue] read yow shall haue. 6 hart's delight] read hart's so 
 
 wish't delight. 7 the] i. e. thee. 8 even soone at] read even 
 
 this very. [6j i husband is] i. e. husband's. 2 money] 
 
 read some money. 3 i° ^^^ ""'^ ^'• 
 
 (247) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXI 
 
 £[ess soliloquizeth] 
 
 Thus haue I rid my husband full well 
 
 of my amorous love ; 
 And my sweet husband will I tell 
 
 how he doth me moue. 
 
 [ACT II] 
 
 (Fitter Richard, Bess'es ]^UlS{ianb. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF The Jewishe dance. 
 
 Ri \chard\ 
 Hey downe, a downe I 
 
 Hey downe, a downe, a downe! 
 There is never a lustye farmer, 
 
 in all our towne, 
 That hath more cause 
 
 to lead a merye lyfe, 
 Than I, that am maryed 
 
 to an honest wife. 
 B\ess\ 
 
 I thante yow, gentle husband ! 
 
 yow prayse me to my face. 
 R\ichard^ 
 
 I crye thee mercy, Besse ! 
 
 I knewe the not in place. 
 
 [8] 
 B\ess\ 
 
 Beleeue me, gentle husband! 
 
 yf yow knew as much as I, 
 The words that yow have spoken 
 
 yow quicklye would denye : 
 For, since yow went from home, 
 
 a suter I haue had. 
 Who is soe farre in love with me 
 
 that he is almost madde. 
 He'le give me gould and Jewels store, 
 
 and money for to spend ; 
 And I haue promist him therefore, 
 
 to be his lovinge friend. 
 
 R\ichard\ 
 
 Beleeue me, gentle wife ! 
 
 but this makes me to frowne. 
 There is no gentleman or knight, 
 
 nor Lord of high renowne, 
 
 [6] 5 my husband] read my self. 8 how he] nad how 
 
 ill he. [7] I perhaps Hey downe, a downe, a downe, downe ! 
 
 3 There is] i. e. There's la the] i. c. thee. 
 
 (248) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ L.XI 
 
 That shall enioye thy loue, girle, 
 
 though he were ne'ere so good. 
 Before he wrong my Besse so, 
 
 I'le spend on him my bloud. 
 And therefore, tell me who it is 
 
 that doth desire thy loue? 
 B\ess\ 
 
 Our neighbour, maister Francis, 'tis, 
 
 that often did me moue ; 
 
 [lo] 
 
 To whom I gaue consent, 
 
 his mind for to fuUfill; 
 And promist him, this night 
 
 that he should haue his will. 
 Nay, do not frowne, good Dickye ! 
 
 but heare me speake my minde ; 
 And thow shalt see, i'le warrant thee, 
 
 i'le use him in his kinde. 
 For vnto thee I will be trewe, 
 
 so long as I doe Hue : 
 I'le never change thee for a new, 
 
 nor once my minde soe giue. 
 
 ["] 
 Goe yow to mistris Francis, 
 
 and this to her declare ; 
 And will her, with all speed, 
 
 to my howse to repayre : 
 Where shee and I'le devise 
 
 some prettye knauish wile, 
 For I haue layd the plot 
 
 her husband to beguile. 
 Make hast, I pray yow ! tarry not : 
 
 for long he will not staye. 
 .^chard\ 
 
 Feare not ! i'le tell her such a tale 
 
 shall make her come awaye. 
 
 \Exi{\ 
 
 [12] 
 
 [BBSs'] 
 
 Make hast sweet Francis, 
 
 what thow hast to doe. 
 Thy lover will come presentlye; 
 
 and hardlye will he wooe. 
 
 [11] 12 awaye] «arf straightway. [12] i r^at/ Make haste, 
 
 then, my sweet Richard, 2 what] read in what. 3 Thy] read My. 
 
 (249) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXI 
 
 I will teach my gentleman 
 
 a tricke, that he may know 
 I am to craftye and to wise, 
 
 to be ore-reachfed soe. 
 But here he comes ! now, not a word : 
 but fall to worke againe. 
 
 [She sowes 
 I^t\ands] 
 
 How now, sweet hart? at work so hard? 
 £[ess] 
 
 I sir ! I must take paine. 
 
 [13] 
 I^r[ancis] 
 
 But say, my louely sweetinge, 
 
 thy promise wilt thow keepe ? 
 Shall I enioye thy love, 
 
 this night with me to sleepe? 
 Bless] 
 
 My husband is rid from home : 
 here safely yow may staye. 
 jFr[aficis] 
 And I haue made my wife beleeue 
 I rid a-nother waye. 
 £[ess] 
 
 Goe in, good syr ! What-ere betide, 
 this night, and lodge with me. 
 
 The happyest night that ever I had ! 
 thy freind styll will I be. 
 
 [ACT III] 
 
 (Inter ^[i0t]ri0 Francis toit]^ Richard. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Buggk-boe. 
 
 W\ife\ 
 I thanke yow, neighbour Richard, 
 for bringing me this newes. 
 R\icharc[\ 
 
 Nay, thanke my wife that loues me, 
 and will not me abuse. 
 
 [la] 5 I will] read But I will. 7 to] i. e. too. 10 sowes. 
 
 i. e. sews. 12 I sir !] i. e. Aye, sir ! ['3] 5 husband is] 
 
 read husband, he is. 
 
 (250) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXI 
 
 W\tfe'] 
 But see whereas she stands 
 and wayteth our returne. 
 Ji\ichard^ 
 
 Yow must goe cole your husband's heat, 
 that soe in love doth burne. 
 
 [i6] 
 
 £[ess] 
 
 Now, Dicky e, welcome home; 
 
 and, mistris, welcome hither. 
 Greeue not, although yow find 
 
 your husband and I together. 
 
 [17] 
 
 For yow shall haue your right, 
 
 nor will I wronge yow soe. 
 Then chang apparrell with me, 
 
 and vnto him doe goe. 
 
 [18] 
 
 Ji\tchard] 
 
 No fayth, my louelye Bessee ! 
 
 ^ first I will lose my lyfe 
 Before I breake my wedlocke bonds 
 to seeke to wrong my wife. 
 
 [19] 
 
 Now thinks good master Francis 
 
 he hath thee in his bed : 
 And makes account he is grafting 
 
 of homes vpon my head. 
 
 [30] 
 
 But, softlye ! stand asyde. 
 
 Now shalt we know his minde; 
 And how he would haue used thee, 
 
 yf thow hadst beene so kinde. 
 
 [15] I stands] read stands alone. 3 cole] i. e. cool. 
 
 (^sO 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXI 
 
 [ACT IV] 
 
 (Enter faster Francis, tDit]^ 1^0 otDtte tuife 
 
 (Iratjittg a magfee before ]^er face) gujpposiittg 
 
 |jer in 6e ^^5-5^^. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Goe from my windo, 
 
 Farwell, my ioy and hart's delight, 
 
 tyll next we meete againe. 
 Thy kindnesse to requite 
 for lodging me all night, 
 
 here's ten pound for thy payne. 
 And, more to shew my loue to thee, 
 
 weare this ringe for my sake. 
 
 Without your gould or fee, 
 yow shall haue more of me, 
 jFr[afids] 
 
 No doubt of that I make. 
 
 [22] 
 
 Then let your loue continue still. 
 jFr[ands] 
 
 It shall be till lyfe doth ende. 
 
 Your wife I greatlye feare. 
 Jir\anci's] 
 
 for her thow needst not care, 
 
 lV[i/e] 
 But you'le suspect me, without cause, 
 
 that I am false to yow; 
 And then you'l cast me of 
 and make me but a scoffe, 
 
 since that I prove vntrue. 
 
 Then never trust man, for my sake, 
 if I prove soe vnkinde. 
 
 So, often, haue yow sworne, syr ! 
 since that thow were borne, 
 
 and haue soone changd your minde 
 
 [32] 5 A line is missing. 8 of] i. e. oflf. [23] 3 ontit syr ! 
 
 4 thow] read yow. 
 
 ( 252 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXI 
 
 I^rancis] 
 
 Nor wife, nor lyfe, nor goods, nor lands, 
 
 shall make me leaue my loue. 
 Nor any worldlye treasure 
 make me forget my pleasure, 
 
 nor once my mind remoove. 
 
 [24] 
 W[ife-] 
 But soft a while ! who is yonder? do yow see? 
 my husband ! out, alas ! 
 F[rancis\ 
 
 And yonder is my wife! 
 now shall we haue a lyfe ! 
 
 how commeth this to passe? 
 R[tchard] 
 Come hether, gentle Besse ! I charge thee, do confesse 
 what maks maister Francis heere ? 
 B[ess] 
 
 Good husband, pardon me; 
 i'le tell the troth to thee. 
 R\tchard\ 
 
 Then speake, and doe not feare. 
 
 [Francis] 
 
 Nay, neighbour Richard, harke to me : 
 i'le tell the troth to yow. 
 [Richard] 
 
 Nay, tell yt vnto me, 
 that I may quickly see 
 
 what yow haue here to doe. 
 £[ess] 
 But yow can make no scuse, to colour this abuse : 
 this wrong is too too great. 
 R\ichard] 
 
 Good syr ! I take great scorne, 
 you should proferre me thee home. 
 W\ife] 
 
 Nowe must I coule his heate! 
 
 [34] I possibly who's yonder ? see ! Cf. stanza 25. 6 possibly 
 Come hether, Besse, and do confesse. Cf. stanza 25. [25] 5 
 
 Francis must here be supposed to whisper his confession to 
 Richard ; and is overheard by Bess, still disguised as Mrs. Francis 
 and speaking her sentiments. 6 The line is too long, being 
 
 modelled as if it came as third and fourth lines : cf. stanza 24. 
 9 thee] i. c. the. 10 Wife is disguised still as Bess : this line 
 
 is aside. 
 
 (253) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ LXI 
 
 [26] 
 
 Nay, neighbour Richard, be content ! 
 
 thow hast no wrong at all. 
 Thy wife hath done the right, 
 and pleasurd me this night. 
 \Francis\ 
 
 This frets me to the gall. 
 Good wife, forgive me this offence ; 
 
 I doe repent my ill. 
 I thanke yow, with my hart, 
 for playinge this kynd part 
 
 though sore against my will. 
 
 lWifi\ 
 
 Nay, gentle husband, frowne not so, 
 
 for yow haue made amends. 
 I thinke it is good gayne 
 to haue ten pound for my paynes; 
 then let vs both be freindes. 
 \Francis\ 
 Ashamed I am, and know not what to say. 
 
 Good wife, forgiue me, this tyme. 
 Alas : I doe repent. 
 W\ife'\ 
 Tut ! I could be content 
 
 to be served so many a tyme. 
 
 [28] 
 \Francis\ 
 
 Good neighbour Richard, be content ! 
 
 i'le woe thy wife no more. 
 I haue enough of this. 
 W\ife'\ 
 Then all forgiuen is : 
 
 I thank thee, Dicke, therefore. 
 And to thy wife i'le giue this gould, 
 
 I hope you'le not saye no. 
 Since I have had the pleasure, 
 let her enioye the treasure. 
 \Francis\ 
 
 Good wise, let yt be soe. 
 
 [26] I Wife unmasks. 3 the] i. e. thee. 5 Spoken aside. 
 6 Addressing his wife. 8 MS. begins Wife's reply here ; 
 
 no doubt wrongly. These three lines come better, as spoken by 
 Francis to his wife. [27] 4 to haue] i. e. t'haue. paynes] 
 
 i. c. payne. 7 forgiue me] omit me. [28] 10 wise] read wife. 
 
 (254) 
 
Shirburn Ballads.^ LXII 
 
 No. LXII 
 
 We go to brave buildings of fair brick 
 and stone 
 
 Fol. 221. Francis Russell was born 1527; succeeded as 2nd earl of 
 Bedford, 14 March, 1554-5; was placed on the Privy Council by Elizabeth 
 on her accession, and much trusted by her., He died at Bedford House 
 in the Strand, 28 July, 1585. Arthur Collins, Peerage, i. 251, describes 
 him as ' a person of such great hospitality that Queen Elizabeth was wont 
 to say of him that he made all ike beggars '- 
 
 The opening lines of the ballad had,' for contemporaries, an intensity of 
 meaning which is lost for us mocjems. . Remembrance was still fresh of 
 the monasteries, in which the^bbot (or prior) lived with his monks in a 
 community, and the almoner gav& bread to poor pilgrims. In the place of 
 such a community was now found a -courtier living 'lordly alone', either 
 (as Sir Thomas Audley's heir, at Walden abbey") in the transformed 
 monastery itself, or (as Lord- Rich, at Leez Prioify) in a new mansion " 
 erected on its site and partly out of its materials ; and in place of the 
 almoner, the ' proud porter' was ready (No. XXXVI, stanza 17) to ' hunte 
 poore Lazare ' from the door. 
 
 The loss of common by poor people, several times mentioned in these 
 ballads, here receives great prominence. It was an incidental result of 
 the confiscation of monastic estates. In the old land-system, each arable 
 acre, or group of acres, had attached to it proportionate grazing rights 
 over the unenclosed lands and the fallow, and' often over the woodland 
 and the meadow and pasture, of the manor. In Northamptonshire, e. g., 
 Yardley Hastings manor (1348) had 400 acres arable, one third of which 
 yearly lay fallow and was common of pasture; Wakerley manor (1347), 
 had 10 acres pasture, common from i August to 3 May ; Gretton manor 
 (1347)1 4° acres meadow, common for pasture from hay-lifting till 25 
 March ; Weekley manor (134S), a wood of 2b acres, common for pasture ; 
 Fotheringay manor (1340), 90 acres of rOugh pasture, common in every 
 third year. It was a vexatious and wasteful system, and austere lords 
 must often have grudged such privileges "to their poor copyholders. In 
 monastic times these were protected by the fact that there was hardly a 
 manor in the country in which some religious house did not hold land and 
 rights of common. The lord of the manor, who then wished to take 
 away common, was confronted by the formidable power of the church. 
 After the dissolution, there was no such curb on the covetousness of the 
 great landowners, and rights of common were everywhere taken away, 
 without compensation ; hence the bitter cry of the dispossessed in this 
 and other ballads. 
 
 • Audley End, the great mansion which replaced the abbey, was not begun 
 till 1603. 
 
 ' Of brick ; now partly in ruins, partly still occupied. 
 
 (255) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXII 
 
 K^t poore people'0 complaint : llSetuapling 
 t]^e i>eat|j of t^tit famous ienefactoi*, t^z 
 
 tDOrtj^p (Earle of Bedford. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Z«^/^^ a Love. 
 
 \A 
 
 We goe to braue buildings of fayre bricke and stone, 
 Where men of great calling liue Lordly alone. 
 We aske yt for God's sake, but non will come neare vs. 
 We crave yt for Christ's sake, yet no man will heare vs. 
 
 Lord helpe vs, Lord helpe vs. Lord helpe vs with speede. 
 
 Come now, lord, and helpe thy poore people that neede. 
 
 For good hospitalitye was kilde longe agoe; 
 And our good howse-keepers haue felt the like woe. 
 For vsurye hath gnawed, and eaten them, as rust ; 
 And never would leave them, till leaue them he must. 
 
 [3] 
 Now charity is choaked with picking bare bones ; 
 And povertye compelled to lye on could stones ; 
 And good men that give are soone dead and rotten ; 
 But god, that doth giue all, is soonest forgotten. 
 
 [4] 
 Thow gau'st vs a helper, while here he did liue, 
 Whose hands was not empty his almes for to giue; 
 But now, lord, we lacke him; he is clothed in clay; 
 And woe be to the, death, that tooke him awaye. 
 
 [5] 
 Our good Earle of Bedford — that man it is he. 
 Which caused this weeping and wayling to be. 
 And blame vs not, brethren, we beare him in mynd : 
 Such good men as he was, fewe we can find. 
 
 [6] 
 He was no such Courtier, all dayes of his lyfe. 
 That ever begd living from poore man or wife: 
 Though some would haue done yt, and sought for to get them. 
 Yet no man soe ready as he was to let them. 
 
 [i] 5 Refrain to be sung at end of each stanza. [2] i hospitalitye] i. e. 
 
 hospital'ty. [4] 4 the] i. c. thee. [5] 4 fewe we] read few, few, we. 
 
 [6] 2 from] 1. e. to deprive them of it. 
 
 (256) 
 
^hirhurn Ballads^ LXII 
 
 [7] 
 Methinks yet he lyveth, and standeth in place, 
 Preferring the poore man to come to her Grace, 
 To talke and to tell her, she may vnderstand 
 Some Courtyer hath beggfed his howse and his land. 
 
 [8] 
 Then corns the poore widdow, and she wrings her hands : — 
 ' My good Lord of Bedford, now thus our case stands : 
 ' Our commons are caught vp, where we fed our beasts. 
 'Lord Bedford, now helpe vs the same to release.' 
 
 [9] 
 Then, like a kind father, 'Good people,' sayth he, 
 ' I am very willing youre helper to be. 
 ' Our Queene is so gracious and loving in deed, 
 ' That what I aske for yow, I know I shall speed.' 
 
 [10] 
 
 Her Highnesse then hearing his honour was there, 
 Sayth to him, 'My Lord, I pray yow come neere. 
 'What writing haue yow there? may I understand?' 
 He kisses it most humly, and giues it in her hand. 
 
 ["] 
 Her maiestye reads it, and sayth 'Who doth owe it?' 
 He tels her ; she thanks him that would let her know yt. 
 Then sayth she 'My good Lord, I pray yow proceed; 
 ' For herein your honour shall doe a good deed. 
 
 [12] 
 
 ' My Lord, now I thank yow : what will yow haue more ? 
 ' Yet, good my Lord, spare non that hurteth the poore.' 
 ' I thank your grace,' sayth he, ' both now and alwayes ; 
 ' And god of his goodnesse long lengthen your dayes.' 
 
 [13] 
 What man is he lyving, that now this songe heares 
 And hath his eyes open, can keepe them from teares 
 To think how few good men there dwels on this land. 
 And how soone they happen to come to deathe's hand ? 
 
 [h] 
 Yet let vs not marvaile yf death will not staye : 
 For when the Lord sendeth, then lyfe must away; 
 And lyfe is vncertaine in this world to men, 
 But death is most certaine — What shall I say then? 
 
 [10] 4 humly] i.e. humbly. [13] 4 The earl died aet. 58. 
 
 sHiEB. S ( 257 ) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ LJCII 
 
 [15] 
 
 But now who is ready to ride for the poore? 
 Nay, who is not ready to shut vp his doore, 
 And gleane from him, cunningly, his howse and his land ? 
 But non of god's chosen takes such things in hand. 
 
 [16] 
 
 But time overtakes me ; and I carmot show 
 So much as I would^ nor halfe that I knowe. 
 For many men wealthy do giue vp howse-keeping ; 
 And many poore widdows sit wayling and weeping; 
 
 [17]' 
 And many that misse him do earnestlye pray 
 That god of his goodnesse would fetch them away ; 
 And many poore children cryes out they haue wrong; 
 And many poore ploughmen sits singing this song : — 
 
 [18] 
 
 ' He is our provider of money and come ; 
 ' He was the best man that ever was borne.' 
 For sicke and sore folke, for halt and for lame, 
 His purse was a plaster, or salue, for the same. 
 
 [X9] 
 For who hath not seene in everye streete 
 What flocks of poore people his honour should meete? 
 He, mindful of mercy, then wayling their griefe. 
 With hands of compassion, did giue them releife, 
 
 [20] 
 
 Anji bad them returne, and give god the prayse. 
 This good Earle of Bedford thus ended his dayes : 
 The earth was now ready to yeeld him a grave; 
 The heavens were as ready his soule to receiue. 
 
 [21] 
 
 Now let our rich stewards take heed how they Hue : 
 For, though not in this world, account they must giue. 
 When god hath in iustice their conscienc appealing, 
 Their iudgement is ' Sathan, take them for their dealing.' 
 
 ["] 
 And then this good steward the Lord calleth neare. 
 And sayth ' Thow art blessfed ; thy conscience is cleere ; 
 'For thow has[t] had alwayes a care and regard, 
 'And now thow art come to receiue thy reward. 
 
 [15] I to ride] i. e. to Court, to present a petition. [18] t is] 
 read. was. [19] 3 wayling] perhaps waying, i. e. weighing. 
 
 ( 258 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads, LXII 
 
 [23] 
 
 ' The crowne of all glory I giue vnto thee, 
 ' With lyfe everlasting ; receiue them of mee.' 
 A blessed receiuing, good people, is this ; 
 And thus the Lord dealeth with all that be his. 
 
 [24] 
 
 As for our rich worldlings that Hue without shame, 
 There is a place also prepared for them. 
 No heaven, but hell ; no friendship, but fire ; 
 No mercye, but iustice, their deeds do require. 
 
 Their gould, and their goods they so greedely got, 
 They leaue here behind them to rust and to rot. 
 They take nothing with them — and that they know well — 
 But onely their Conscience, to heaven or [to] hell. 
 
 [26] 
 
 Now god, of his goodnesse, giue vs of his grace 
 That, whiles we liue here, we may run the same race 
 Our good Earle of Bedford hath done heretofore, 
 To liue with Christ Jesus in heaven evermore. 
 
 [^7] 
 
 And, Lord, with thy mercy hould vp with thy hand 
 Thy faythfuU handmayd, the Queene of England. 
 Lord blesse her. Lord keepe her, Lord lengthen her dayes. 
 And, Lord, vnto thee be all honour and prayse. 
 
 ifini^. 
 
 s 2 (259 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXIII 
 
 No. LXIII 
 As I walked forth in a morning tide 
 
 Fol. 222''. The ballad is prior to the Authorized Version of 1611, the 
 quotations from The Wisdom of Solomon being taken from one of the 
 numerous issues of either the Geneva or the Bishops' Bible, the text of 
 these two being identical in the passages here cited. 
 
 The only remarkable point in this exceptionally dull effusion is the 
 recognition (stanza 10) of the vileness of much contemporary verse. 
 
 Cj^e pittifull lamentation of a bamneb 
 0oule. 
 
 Inquisition shalbe made for the thoughts of the Vngodly ; and 
 the sound of his words shall come vnto god for the correction 
 of his iniquityes. Sap[ientia] i, vers[us] 9. 
 
 But the soules of the righteous are in the hands of god, and no' 
 torment shall touch them. In the sight of the vnwise they 
 appeared to dye ; and their end was thought greeuous, and their 
 departing from vs destruction ; but they are in peace. Sap[ientia] 
 3, vers[us] i [-3]. 
 
 As I walked forth in a morninge tyde 
 I hard a voyce which bad me abyde, 
 And ever (me thought) to me it cryde — 
 
 Alas for woe that I did not repent ! 
 
 for I am dampnfed by god's iust iudgment. 
 
 \A 
 
 I was afrayd such wofuU words to heare — 
 
 They sounded so greuouslye in mine eare : 
 
 Yet I tooke bouldnesse, and drew neare. 
 
 I demaunded what he was that did so lament, 
 and that was dampn^d by god's iust iudgement. 
 
 [3] 
 I am (quoth he) a soule in great paine, 
 That, before, in great pleasure did here remaine. 
 I sought for nothing but for fylthy gaine. 
 
 My tyme I past in synne, and did not repent; 
 
 but now I am dampnfed by god's iust iudgement. 
 
 [4] 
 I tooke whoredome for pastime and pleasure; 
 To robbe other men, I did styll procure, 
 In theft and couetousnes, I did styll indure, 
 
 Till death, all sodenly, awaye me hent; 
 
 and now I am dampnfed by god's iust iudgement. 
 
 [a] 3 drew] read drew at last. 
 (260) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXIII 
 
 [5] 
 
 I thought blasphemye to be a good sport; 
 I hated them that to goodnesse would exhort; 
 And to wicked company I did evermore resort. 
 
 Alas for woe ! how evill my tyme I haue spent ; 
 
 for now I am dampnbd by god's iust iudgement. 
 
 [6] 
 Without all care (alas !), I did evermore Hue ; 
 I did disdaine to poor men ought to giue, 
 Letting all passe through a bottomlesse syve; 
 
 To all kind of wickednesse I was vtterlye bent : 
 therefore I am dampnfed by god's iust iudgement. 
 
 [7] 
 
 To poule the poore I never thought it synne; 
 
 To scrape by extortion I could never lin; 
 
 I was a gentleman of great birth and kyn. 
 
 To hue in worldly pleasure was all my intent : 
 but now I am -damnfed by god's iudgment. 
 
 [8] 
 
 Take heed, ye lords and gentlemen all; 
 
 Take heed, ye Ladyes soe proper and small; 
 
 Take heed, ye rich men, or death do ye call; 
 For, yf ye be taken before ye repent, 
 yow shall be dampnfed by god's iust iudgment. 
 
 [9J 
 Ye filthy whoremongers, by me take heede; 
 Swarers and blasphemers, repent [you] with speed; 
 Murtherers and theeves, Gog's vengeance dread; 
 
 Whores, fylthes, and drunkards, your synnes lament ; 
 
 els shall yow be dampnfed by god's iust iudgment. 
 
 [10] 
 
 Ye traytors and slaunderers, repent in tyme; 
 
 Ye muttering Papists, repent your crime; 
 
 Ye wanton writers, leaue your fylthy rime. 
 
 Ye carnall Gospellers, yf ye doe not repent, 
 ye shalbe dampnbd by God's iust iudgment. 
 
 ["] 
 I thought to haue mended in mine old age: 
 Therefore, in youth, with pleasure I did rage : 
 But sodenly I was taken amyd my voyage; 
 
 And thus, being vnreadye, away I was hent; 
 
 but now I am dampnfed by God's iust iudgment. 
 
 [7] I poule] i. e. pillage. 5 god's] read gocTs iust. [8] 3 
 
 or] i. e. before. [9] 3 Gog's] read God's. 
 
 (261) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ LXIII 
 
 [12] 
 
 Alas ! what paynes I suffer in this place. 
 
 Alas ! I am vtterly cast from God's grace. 
 
 Alas for woe ! I shall never see his face, 
 
 But remaine here ever in extreame torment, 
 condemned to paynes by God's iust iudgment. 
 
 [13] 
 Fye on whoredome, couetousnes, and pride, 
 Fye on sloth, and lying, wherein I did abide; 
 Fye on gluttonye eke, at every tyme and tyde ; 
 
 Fye on envye also, whereto I was sore bent. 
 
 Fye on myselfe, for God^s iust iudgement. 
 
 [14] 
 
 Wo worth the tyme of my first creation. 
 
 Wo worth the tyme of my generation. 
 
 Wo worth my wickednesse and abhomination. 
 Wo worth my synnes which maks me sbent : 
 Wo worth my selfe, for God's iust iudgment. 
 
 [^5] 
 Why did not I avoyd my synfull infection? 
 Why did I not labour to come to perfection? 
 Why did I refuse my Parents' correction? 
 
 Why did I so wickedly to all synne consent? 
 
 Why did I not rather avoyd God's iudgment 1 
 
 [16] 
 No man is able to expresse the paine 
 That, with the Divils in hell, I do sustaine. 
 Wo vnto him that there shall remaine! 
 
 Take heed, ye worldlings! in tyme repent, 
 least ye be dampnfed by God's iust iudgment. 
 
 [17] 
 With that, the voyce did vanishe awaye. 
 With an horrible crye that did me afray. 
 My heare stood vpright; I stood in a staye. 
 
 Oh pittyfuU case, to heare him thus lament, 
 and to be dampn^d by God's iust iudgment! 
 
 [18] 
 All you that be here, I giue yow warning; 
 Be not slacke in your lyves amendinge, 
 For even hard at hand is the world's ending, 
 
 Wherby God gyveth vs this warning to repent, 
 who graunt vs mercy at the day of iudgment. 
 
 [15] 5 God's'l read God's iust. [16] 2 with the] omit the. 
 
 [17] 3 heare] i. e. hair. 
 
 (262) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXIV 
 
 No. LXIV 
 All such as lead a jealous life 
 
 Fol. 224''. A realistic novel, powerfully depicting the madness of 
 jealousy in its inception and progress, with an intensity anticipatory of 
 Zola's La ConquUe de Plassans. 
 
 K^t torment of a 3|ealtou0 minije, ejcpie^seJj 
 bp t^t IDragitall anb true ijigtorpe of one 
 cottimonlpe calleJj *t]^e 31falou0 man of 
 
 Margei ' in Kent 
 To THE TUNE OF Rogero. 
 
 All such as lead a Jealous lyfe, 
 
 as bad as paines of hell, 
 Bend downe attentiue eares to this 
 
 which I shall brieflye tell; 
 And, thereby, learne to liue content, 
 
 in quiet peace and rest. 
 And harbor not suspicious thoughts 
 
 within a troubled brest. 
 
 Vnto all maried men I write, 
 
 the which doth lead their Hues 
 With proper women, fayre and fine, 
 
 their loyall wedded wiues : 
 Beare not a bad conceite in them; 
 
 suspect not without cause; 
 And, through a furious jealosye, 
 
 breake not true lovers' lawes — 
 
 [3] 
 As this olde man of Margat did, 
 
 whose wife was yong and fayre. 
 And not soe fayre as vertuous found, 
 
 yet still opprest with care. 
 Abroad, god wot ! she could not goe, 
 
 but he would watch her styll. 
 And follow her in everye place, 
 
 for feare she did some yll. 
 
 [a] 5 in them] read of them. 
 
 (263) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ L.XIV 
 
 [4] 
 
 If any man cast eye on her, 
 
 the iealous foole would sware 
 That she made him, in shamefull sort, 
 
 a payre of homes to weare. 
 And, by this meanes, the woman liu'd 
 
 in dayly woe and strife; 
 And, in the flowre of her youth, 
 
 waxt weary of her lyfe. 
 
 [5] 
 Thus, having long suspected h.er, 
 
 in torment did he dwell — 
 For why? the minds of iealous men 
 
 are lyke the paynes of hell. 
 At last, behould ! what hap he had 
 
 to set his thought on fyre ; 
 What smale occasion he did take 
 
 her downfall to conspire. 
 
 M 
 
 It was his chaunce, vpon a daye, 
 
 some of his poynts to spye 
 Set to a servaunt's hose of his, 
 
 which he markt presently. 
 And, knowing them to be his owne, 
 
 he chargd his wife full ill 
 That she had gyven them to his man, 
 
 in token of good will. 
 
 [7] 
 ' Thow falce and wicked wretch,' quoth he, 
 
 ' that beares so smoth a face ; 
 ' Now is thy lewdnesse brough[t] to light, 
 
 'vnto thy fowle disgrace. 
 ' Durst any servaunt in my howse 
 
 ' be halfe soe bould with me, 
 'As, for their lyves, to take one poynt, 
 
 ' but that 'twas gyven by thee ? 
 
 [8] 
 ' No ! No ! 'twas thow, decembling Drab, 
 
 ' by lust most lewdlye led, 
 ' That makes no conscience for to creepe 
 
 ' to every rascal's bed. 
 ' My aged yeares fyts not thy youth — 
 
 ' so every Jacke can saye — 
 ' And therefore yow must range abroad 
 
 ' to find more pleasant play.' 
 
 [4] 7 flowre] i. e. flow-er. 
 ( 264 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ L.XIV 
 
 [9] 
 
 ' O husband, what meane yow ? ' quoth she, 
 
 ' thus to accuse me heere. 
 ' God knowes that I haue evermore 
 
 ' esteemd my credit deere. 
 ' Because your man hath got your poynts, 
 
 'yow iudge that I am naught, 
 ' And that I wronge yow wickedlye — 
 
 ' which thing I never thought.' 
 
 [10] 
 
 With that, her husband star'de on her, 
 
 with eyes as red as fire. 
 Quoth he : — ' Confesse the deede to me, 
 
 ' as I doe thee require ; 
 'And I will freely pardon all 
 
 ' which thow hast done amisse, 
 ' And plague that villaine, for that fowle 
 
 'and wicked fact of his. 
 
 [ir] 
 
 ' But, yf thow seem'st to cleare thy selfe 
 
 ' by any quaint excuse, 
 'And seeke by oathes for to denye 
 
 ' this long-begun abuse, 
 ' I will no whit beleeue thy words, 
 
 ' nor oathes, in any case : 
 ' But, presently, I doe protest, 
 
 ' i'le kill thee in this place.' 
 
 Now iudge, all vertuous maydes and wiues, 
 
 in what a case was shee, 
 That falcely must accuse her selfe, 
 
 else murdred shall shee be. 
 Her conscience, and her credit both, 
 
 bids her denye the deede. 
 And willes her rather dye the death 
 
 then thus her shame to breed. 
 
 [13] 
 
 But feare of death doth turne her straight; 
 
 and, for to saue her lyfe, 
 Doth wish her to accuse her selfe, 
 
 and soe to stint the stryfe. 
 Wherefore, vpon her knees she fell, 
 
 her cheeks with teares besprent, 
 Saying: — 'Husband, I confesse my fait; 
 
 'and my bad lyfe repent.' 
 
 (26s) 
 
Shtrburn Ballads^ LXIV 
 
 [14] 
 
 ' Ha ! nowe I doe beleeve thee well/ 
 
 the iealous foole did saye. 
 'But tell me, with how many knaues 
 
 ' didst thow the harlot playe.' 
 ' With non but our man,' quoth shee 
 
 ' whom I intist thereto : 
 'And long yt was, ere he agreed 
 
 'with me this deed to doe. 
 
 [15] 
 ' Therefore the blame doth wholy rest, 
 
 'vpon my selfe,' quoth shee. 
 'Wherefore^ according to your word, 
 
 ' I trust you'l pardon me.' 
 ' Well, wife ! ' quoth he j ' my word is past ; 
 
 ' thy feltes I doe forgiue ; 
 'But on that roge I'le be revengd, 
 
 ' yf god doth let me lyue.' 
 
 The woman, hearing him say soe, 
 
 made meanes for to bewray, 
 Vnto her servant, what was don ; 
 
 and wil'd him get away, 
 For feare he should receiue some harme : 
 
 but yet the foolish youth 
 This warning wayfed not at all, 
 
 but stood vpon his truth. 
 
 [17] 
 Away this old man turnd his wife, 
 
 and to her friends she went; 
 And, of this matter past before, 
 
 she shewd the whole event. 
 To reconsile these grudges great 
 
 his freinds took wondrous paine. 
 And made such meanes that he receiud 
 
 to him his wife againe. 
 
 [18] 
 And, vnderneath a countenance fayre, 
 
 great mischeife did he hide; 
 Yet seemd to her, and each one else, 
 
 contented to abide. 
 Most sugred words to her he gaue, 
 
 and to his man likewise. 
 Receauing hir into his bed, 
 this mischeife did devise : 
 [14] 5 non] read no one. [17] 6 his] read her. 
 
 (266) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXIV 
 
 The next day, being Sunday morne, 
 
 his folkes he sent out all, 
 To goe to church, all but his man, 
 
 whom he his mate did call. 
 A gallant peece to him he gaiue, 
 
 and bad him charg the same; 
 And, when that he the same had done, 
 
 to bring yt him againe. 
 [20] 
 The youth, which nothing did mistrust, 
 
 his maister's will obayed; 
 And did with hayle-shot stuffe the same, 
 
 as hee before had sayd. 
 'Goe nowe vnto my wife,' quoth he, 
 
 'to picke those raysons small. 
 'Abroad I will some Pigions kill, 
 
 ' to make a pye with-all.' 
 [21] 
 The youth, to helpe his mistris, went, 
 
 the sooner to haue done. 
 ■ Her husband, through the window, shoots, 
 
 and kyls them with his gun. 
 Then in he runs, incontinent, 
 
 as they lay fetching breath; 
 And, with his dagger, stabs them both, 
 
 to hasten so their death. 
 [22] 
 A pen, and Inke, strayght-waye he tooke, 
 
 and left in writinge playne. 
 How he him selfe, for meere revenge, 
 
 had both these persons slayne. 
 Then came he vp a chamber hye ; 
 
 him selfe he threw out then : 
 And soe fell downe, and broke his necke, 
 
 in sight of sundrye men. 
 
 [23] 
 Loe heere, the end of iealousye, 
 
 sprung vp 'twixt youth and age, 
 which coupled were through vaine desire, 
 
 and both vndone through rage. — 
 To true, alas ! this storye is, 
 
 as many a man can tell. 
 Of iealosye, therefore, take heed, 
 
 where lyfe is like to hell. 
 
 [22] 5 vp a] read vp to. [23] 5 To] i. e. Too. 7 take 
 
 heed] read take good heed. 
 
 ( 267 ) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ LXV 
 
 No. LXV 
 Wit, whither wilt thou ? 
 
 Fol. 227"'. In this piece an odd effect is occasionally obtained by re- 
 peating, at beginning of fifth line, part of contents of fourth line. This piece 
 so caught on as to give a new name to the tune to which it was set : cf. 
 no. LXIX. 
 
 In each stanza the fifth and sixth lines are sung a second time, so 
 making an eight-line stanza, with an echo-like effect. 
 
 ^ pleasant neto 215allaD, s^etuing j^otD ILoue 
 
 aot]^ ftereaue a man of \zM% toitt, anb 
 
 jiiemorpe. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Hart's ease. 
 
 Wit, whither wilt thow ? woe is mee ! 
 
 alwayes musinge, fye for shame ! 
 Sorrye I am the same to see, 
 
 that love hath brough[t] the out of frame — 
 Out of frame and temper too ; 
 This can Love and fancye doo ! 
 Out of frame and temper too ; 
 This can love and fancye doo! 
 
 \A 
 
 Once I knew thee well aduizd ; 
 
 but now, I am sure, 'tis nothing so. 
 Loue thy sences hath disguizd, 
 and her beautye bred thy woe — 
 
 Thy woe, thy time, [and] thy downefall ; 
 This can love and fancye doo ! 
 
 [3] 
 
 Pale, and wan, and worne with care, 
 
 and all to melanchoUy bent — 
 Thus doth mad-men vse to fare 
 
 when their witts with love are spent — 
 Content with discontentments too; 
 This can love and fancye doe ! 
 
 [i] 4 the] i. e. thee. [2] 2 I am] i. c. I'm. 
 
 ( 268) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXV 
 
 [4] 
 Those humors purgd that stops thy breath; 
 
 purge those fancyes from thy head. 
 Such conceypts will breede thy death — 
 she will laugh when thow art dead — 
 Laugh she will and lye downe too ; 
 These conceypts will wemen doo ! 
 
 [5] 
 
 A Bird in hand's worth two in bryer; 
 
 why then should I say ' Woe 's mee ! ' 
 Because the things that I desire 
 are true and constant vnto mee? 
 
 Therefore, I say, cast care from thee, 
 And never more saye ' Woe is mee ! ' 
 Therefore, I saye, [cast care from thee, 
 And never more say ' Woe is mee ! '] 
 
 No. LXVI 
 Shall I wed an aged man 
 
 Fol. 228. The evils incident to marriage between January and May 
 form one of the commonest themes of the ballad- writers : of. no. XXVI, 
 stanza 4 ; no. LXIV, stanza 23. 
 
 K^z complaint of a tDibbotD against an 
 old man. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Tretitam's Toy^ 
 
 Shall I wed an agfed man, 
 
 that groaneth of the Gout, 
 And lead my lyfe in miserye, 
 
 within doores and without? 
 No ! I will haue a Batcheler, 
 
 of lyvely bloud and bone, 
 To cheare me in my latter dayes, 
 
 or els I will haue non. 
 
 [4] I purgd] read purge. [5] 4 are true and constant] 
 
 read are not constant. 
 
 (269) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXVI 
 
 For yf I take a Batcheler 
 
 that can both skyp and springe, 
 Then he will be my comforter, 
 
 to giue me every thinge. 
 If I be sad, or sorowfuU, 
 
 at boord or els at bed, 
 A youngman will be pittyfull, 
 
 and help to hould my head. 
 
 [3] 
 An aged man is testye, 
 
 and set to hoorde and hyde; 
 With lame legges and restye, 
 
 bewayling back and syde. 
 A young man he is beautyfuU, 
 
 couragious, trick, and trim ; 
 And looketh with a merry cheere, 
 
 when aged men looke grim. 
 
 • [4] 
 Better is a Batcheler, 
 
 of bone and body sound, 
 Then is an olde leacherer 
 
 with twentye thousand pound. 
 Who is so bad a market-man, 
 
 that buyeth flesh or fishe, 
 But lightly choseth for to haue 
 
 the yongest in his dishe? 
 
 [5] 
 Young bloud renueth olde, 
 
 as Phisicke doth expresse ; 
 And age is ill to be contrould, 
 
 but cursse where they should blesse : 
 But yf I haue a young man, 
 
 and chaunce to catch the quacke. 
 He will provide me delicats, 
 
 and cheare me vp with sacke. 
 
 [6] 
 An aged man is quafEnge 
 
 in every cup or can, 
 with ioynts and synnewes shakinge, 
 
 much like a deadly man. 
 But looke vpon a young man, 
 
 in him yow shall espye 
 A good face, and a ioUye cheere, 
 
 a pleasant rowlinge eye. 
 
 [3] 6 trick] i. e. trig. [5] 6 quacke] i. e. ague, quaking 
 
 sickness. 
 
 ( 270 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXVI 
 
 [7] 
 His countenaunce is chearfull, 
 
 at bed and eke at boorde; 
 His talke is never sorrowfull, 
 
 but Heigh ! at every word. 
 An old man's coate it is beraide, 
 
 all overthwart the brest. 
 A young man is well-favored, 
 
 well-browed, and finelye drest. 
 
 [8] 
 An aged man comes drooping home, 
 
 as on that wanteth lyfe. 
 A young man sayes, when he comes in, 
 
 ' Come, kysse me, gentle wife ! ' 
 And yf I take a young man, 
 
 although his wealth be small. 
 If that he vse me honestlye 
 
 he shall be lord of all. 
 
 [9] 
 Behould the little Spanniell, 
 
 and every beast in briefe. 
 Will likke, and leape vpon, their feete 
 
 by whom they find releife. 
 Much more then will a witty man, 
 
 whom natur's worke hath wrought. 
 Must loue the woman faythfuUye, 
 
 that maried him of nought. 
 
 [L'Envoy] 
 
 Therefore I am determined 
 
 I cannot Hue alone, 
 But I will haue a Batcheler, 
 
 or els I will haue none. 
 
 No. LXVII 
 That gallant prince, Graaf Maurice 
 
 Fol. 229. The music is noted in the MS. The strongly fortified town 
 of Rheinberg, then commonly called Berg, 24 miles NNW. of Diisseldorf, 
 was of considerable military importance, as allowing, or checking, the flow 
 of reinforcements and supplies from central Germany to the Catholic 
 forces operating against the Dutch. It was taken and retaken several 
 times by Dutch and Spanish. In 1601 Prince Maurice approached it, 
 with an army of 12,000, on 10 June; greatly damaged the works by 
 
 [8] a on] i. e. one. 
 
 (271 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXVII 
 
 explosion of a mine, II July; and obtained the town, 30 July, allowing 
 the garrison to withdraw. The Cardinal-Archduke Albert (stanzas 12, 14) 
 had been too busy knocking his head against Sir Francis Vere in Ostend, 
 to send succour. The ballad simply turns into metre a pamphlet of the 
 day. The interest of the Ostend siege has banished Berg fron^ most 
 histories of the period. 
 
 3i true Jji'8cou[r]0e of t^t toittning: of t^z 
 
 totDtte of Berke b? CBratje Maurice, tOl^O 
 
 be^iegeJ) t|je ssame on t\t 12 bap of %vint 
 
 1601, anJj tontittuetj a^siaulting ani> 0feir* 
 
 jniJJsing t\tu bntill t^z last ba? of ^ulp, 
 
 at tDi)ic]^ time t|je totone tuais peelbeJ). 
 
 To THE TUNE OF All thosc that are good fellowes. 
 
 $ 
 
 -m I P ^ 
 
 Vr^—3 ^^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 -» — t f d J — ! 
 
 -^3»^ 
 
 ^ ^_ J-J-r^ z::^ 
 
 5^ 
 
 B 
 
 ^"^ 
 
 m 
 
 4=^ 
 
 i^^ 
 
 ^=f^ 
 
 =t==t 
 
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 It 
 
 That gallant prince, Graue Maurice, 
 
 whose fame for Chiualrye 
 Throughout all parts of Christendome 
 
 is blazfed far and nye. 
 Having conferred with the States 
 
 and let them understand 
 The enimye by keeping Berke 
 
 did hurt the netherland 
 
 \A 
 
 (For, by possessing of that towne, 
 
 they vnder tribute brought 
 Both Over-yssell and Frezeland, 
 
 which their great damage wrought). 
 Wherefore yt was by them decreed 
 
 he should beseige the towne. 
 And eyther wine yt from the foe 
 
 or els to beate yt dpwne. 
 (272 ) 
 
^1 
 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXVII 
 
 [3] 
 
 Then straytwaye he selected 
 
 an host of fightinge men, 
 Both horse and foot, and all things els 
 
 fyt for his purpose then. 
 And, with all speed that might be made, 
 
 vnto the towne he came, 
 Where, both by water and by land, 
 
 he did beseige the same. 
 
 [4] 
 When Lewis Ferdinandis, 
 
 the governour thereof, 
 Did see the Grave's inten-ti-on 
 
 he made thereof a scoffe; 
 Because (indeed) he knew the towne 
 
 was garded verye stronge, 
 And could not want, although the syedge 
 
 should lye their verye longe. 
 
 [5] 
 But all his flouts and scoffings 
 
 could not the Grave dismaye. 
 For there he plac't his ordinaunce. 
 
 in spight of them, to staye. 
 And made his men digg trenches 
 
 and ditches very deepe. 
 Then made they Pallizados, 
 
 with iron pikes, to keepe 
 
 [4] 8 their] i.e. there. 
 
 T ( 273 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXVII 
 
 [6] 
 The eniihye from comminge 
 
 whereas the catnpe did lye. 
 Without the loss of manye, 
 
 both men and harse, thereby. 
 Two ships likewise were taken, 
 
 which did to them belonge, 
 Both fraught with things most needfuU 
 
 to make their towne more stronge. 
 
 [7] 
 Then came there men to skirmidge 
 
 in such a furious sort, 
 Bringing soe many fresh supplyes, 
 
 'tis strange for to report! 
 A troupe of Frenchmen, which did then 
 
 within the towne remaine, 
 Came forth, and fought tyll, on their syde, 
 
 there were a number slayne. 
 
 [8] 
 Don Lewis Ferdinandis, 
 
 who (I before did saye) 
 Was governour of that same towne, 
 
 whilst we did iight this fray 
 Did vp into a turret get 
 
 which they the round-howse call, 
 On which he might most plainely 
 
 stand and behould vs all. 
 
 [9] 
 Now, whilst he thus stood gazing 
 
 vpon our eager fight, 
 A bullet flew cleane through his cheek, 
 
 and forcibly did smight 
 Some of his teeth out of his iawes, 
 
 and also hurt his tongue. 
 But, whether it were friend or foe 
 
 by whom he was thus stung, 
 
 [lo] 
 It is unknowen ; but let that passe : 
 
 nowe must he wright his mind — 
 For speake he could not — to expresse 
 
 what was by him assignde. 
 Some of our horsmen after that, 
 
 being forth ranging on a day 
 Did take 2 men, which from their towne, 
 
 with letters, swame awaye. 
 
 [6] 4 harse] i.e. horse. [10] a wright] i.e. write. 6 being 
 forth] omit being, 
 
 (274) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ LXFII 
 
 Lambert de Wtt was on of them, 
 
 a man of mighty strength, 
 Who pul'd a horseman from his horse; 
 
 yet was he tooke at length. 
 And by his fellow hangfed, 
 
 because he had tooke paye 
 And serud the states before that tyme 
 
 (as many soldiers saye). 
 
 [12] 
 By those same letters they did beare, 
 
 the Grave perceiufed plaine 
 In what estate the towne of Berke 
 
 did at that tyme remaine. 
 Their Captaine wrot they could not 
 
 indure past thirteene dayes, 
 Vnlesse the Duke did send some ayde 
 
 this mighty siedge to rayse. 
 
 [x3] 
 Grave Maurice then gaue order 
 
 our Cannons should be layd 
 Vpon a mount, and there shote of 
 
 to make them more afrayd. 
 Then once more did they sally foorth, 
 
 and fought with us amaine, 
 In which most bloudye conflict 
 
 their Admirall was slaine. 
 
 [14] 
 And now report did tell abroad, 
 
 the Cardinall was at hand, 
 With syxteene thowsand soldiers, 
 
 well-arm fed, in his band. 
 But when our foes perceiufed 
 
 this newes did not prove true, 
 They did dispare of succour, 
 
 and bad their hopes adyew. 
 
 [15] 
 A parle then the Graue did sound 
 
 in which they did agree 
 That, vpon some condi-ti-ons, 
 
 the towne should yeelded be. 
 On which conditions graunted, 
 
 our foes, without delaye. 
 Each man, with bag and baggage, 
 
 departed straight awaye. 
 
 [11] I on] i. e. one. 5 by] i. e. beside. 6 be] perhaps they. 
 [13] 3 of] i. e. oif. 
 
 T 2 ( 27s ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXVII 
 
 [i6] 
 Thus hath Grave Maurice gotten Berke 
 
 to his eternall fame, 
 Slaying a thousand enimyes 
 
 ere he obtaind the same. 
 O Lord, still prosper his attemps, 
 
 so shall thy church increase. 
 Destroy all those that hate thy truth, 
 
 and send fayre England peace. 
 
 No. LXVIII 
 When Troy town for ten years' wars 
 
 Fol. 231''. Text given in Roxburghe Ballads, vi. 548, from numerous 
 Black-letter exemplars. 
 
 The story told in the ballad is singular by reason of its divergences from 
 classical tradition. In Ovid's Heroides the invective epistle to Aeneas is 
 written by Dido, before her death ; here, by her sister Anna, after Dido's 
 suicide. In Vergil <^Aen. v. 3-5) the mighty fire which consumes Dido's 
 corpse lights up sea and land ; here (stanza 13), she is given an English 
 ' earth to earth ' burial. Again {Aen. vi. 469-72), Dido's shade meets 
 Aeneas in the under-world and refuses him look or word ; here, her 
 ' ghastly ghost ' appears to him in a Grecian isle, and roundly scolds him. 
 In Horace Aeneas \%,f>ar excellence, ' castus Aeneas,' lauded in the Carmen 
 Saeculare ; here, he is dragged down to hell, as the libertine in Mozart's 
 Don Juan (1787). It would be interesting to discover the threads of 
 folk-lore which connect the ballad with the seventeenth-century Spanish 
 story to which Otto Jahn, in his Life of Mozart, traces the opera ; and 
 with Thomas Shadwell's Libertine Destroyed (1676), whose similar 
 ending caused men (D. E. Baker's Biogra;phia Dramaiica (1812), ii. 370) 
 to esteem it ' little less than impiety to represent it on the stage '. The 
 childlike simplicity of the ballad-writer is well seen in his finding no 
 incongruity between the forgiving death-bed prayer of stanza 16 and the 
 ghost's unrelenting hate in stanzas 19 and 22, nor between the 'ghastly' 
 of stanza 18 and the ' lovely ' of stanza 20. 
 
 ^ proper netD Ballab intitulelJ C|ie tuantiring 
 
 Prince of Troye. 
 To THE TUNE OF Queene Dido. 
 
 When Troye towne for ten yeers' wars 
 withstood the Greeks in manfull wise, 
 Yet did their foes increase soe fast 
 that, to resist, non could sufiSce. 
 
 Wast lye those wallas that were so good, 
 
 and come now grows where Troy towne stood. 
 
 [16] 5 attemps] i.e. attempts. 
 (276) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXFIII 
 
 [2] 
 
 ^neas, wandring Prince of Troye, 
 
 when he for land long time had sought, 
 At length, arriufed with great ioye, 
 
 to mighty Carthage walles was brought, 
 Where Dido Queene, with sumptuous feast, 
 did intertaine this wandering guest. 
 
 [3] 
 
 And as, in Hall, at meate they sate, 
 
 the Queene, desirous newes to heare — 
 ' Of thy vnhappye ten yeeres' wars 
 'declare to me, thow Troyan deere, 
 'Thy heavy hap, and chaunce so bad, 
 'that thow (poore wandring Prince) hast had.' 
 
 ^^^^^^^ 
 
 
 E^fe 
 
 ^^ 
 
 '^^^^^ 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 B 
 
 
 ^"k^i^^af^^^g^^^ 
 
 ^^M 
 
 ^ 
 
 [4] 
 
 And then, anone, this comely Knight, 
 
 with words demure (as he could well). 
 Of this vnhappy ten yeeres' war 
 so true a tale began to tell. 
 
 With words so sweet, and sighes so deepe, 
 that oft he made them all to weepe. 
 
 [5] 
 
 And then a thowsand sighes he fet, 
 
 and every sigh brought teares amayne. 
 That, where he sat, the place was wet, 
 as he had seene those wars againe. 
 
 So that the Queene, with ruth therefore, 
 sayd : — ' Worthy Prince, enough ! No more ! ' 
 
 [4] 3 this] i.e. these. 
 
 (277) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXVIII 
 
 [6] 
 The darksome night apace grew on, 
 
 and twinkling stars in skyes were spied, 
 And he his doleful! tale had tolde, 
 and every one was layd in bed. 
 
 Where they full sweetly tooke their rest, 
 saue onely Dtdo'es broyling brest. 
 
 [7] 
 This sylly woman never slept; 
 
 but, in her chamber, all alone, 
 As one vnhappy, alwayes wept ; 
 
 and to the walles she made her mone 
 That she should styll desire in vayne 
 the thing that she could not obtaine. 
 
 [8] 
 And thus, in griefe, she spent the night, 
 
 tyll twinckling stars from skyes were fled. 
 And Phoebus, with his glystering beames, 
 through mysty cloudes, appeared red. 
 Then tydings came to her anone 
 that all the Troyan ships were gone. 
 
 [9] 
 And when the Queene, with bloudy knife, 
 
 did arme her heart, as hard as stone ; 
 Yet, somewhat loath to lose her lyfe, 
 in ruthfull wise she made her mone ; 
 And, rowling on her carefuU bed, 
 with sighes and sobs, these words she sayd : — 
 
 [lo] 
 ' O wretched Dido, Queene ! ' quoth she, 
 
 ' I see thy end approcheth neere : 
 'For he is gone away from thee, 
 
 ' whom thow didst loue and hould so deere. 
 ' Is he then gone and passed by ? 
 ' O hart ! prepare thy selfe to dye. 
 
 ["] 
 'Though reason would thow should'st forbeare 
 
 'to stay thy hand from bloudy stroke, 
 'Yet fancy sayes thow shouldst not feare 
 ' whom fettereth thee in Cupid'?, yoake. 
 
 'Come death!' quoth she; 'resolue my smart;' 
 and, with those words, she pearst her hart. 
 
 ifinisi. 
 
 read Ere. [< 
 :. fancy). 
 
 (278) 
 
 6 [3] And] read Ere. [9] i when] read then. [11] 4 whom] 
 read who (i. e. fancy). 
 
Shirhurn Balladsy LXVIII 
 ir$e sseconti part of W^z toanijering iarince 
 
 of Troy. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Quecne Dido. 
 [12] 
 When death had pierst the tender hart 
 
 of Dido, Carthagenian Queene, 
 And bloudy knyfe did ende the smart, 
 which she sustained in wofuU teene, 
 yEneas being shipt, and gone, 
 whose flattery caused all her mone ; 
 
 [13] 
 Her funerall most costlye made, 
 
 and all things fashioned mour[n]efully. 
 Her body fine in mould was layd, 
 where yt consumed speedylye. 
 
 Her sister's teares her tombe bestrewde; 
 her subiects' griefe their kindnes shewd. 
 
 [h] 
 
 Then was ^neas in an He, 
 
 in Grecia, where he lay long space; 
 When as her sister, in short while, 
 writ to him of his vile disgrace. 
 In phrases, letter to his minde, 
 she tould him playne he was vnkind. 
 [14] 5 letter] read little. 
 
 (279) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXVIII 
 
 [15] 
 
 ' False-harted wretch,' quoth shee, ' thow art ; 
 
 ' and traiterously thow hast betraide 
 'Vnto thy lure a gentle hart, 
 
 'which vnto thee such welcome made — 
 ' My sister deare, and Carthage's ioy, 
 ' whose folly bred her dire annoy. 
 
 [16] 
 
 'Yet, on her death-bed when she lay, 
 
 'she prayed for thy prosperytye, 
 'Beseeching god that everye day 
 'might breed thy great felicitye. 
 
 'Thus, by thy meanes, I lost a friend; 
 ' heavens send thee such vntimely end.' 
 
 [17] 
 When he these lynes, full fraught with gall, 
 
 pervsfed had, and wayde them right. 
 His lofty courage then did fall ; 
 and straight appeared in his sight 
 
 Queene Dido'es Ghost, both grym and pale, 
 which made this valiant Souldier quaile. 
 
 [18] 
 
 '■ ^neas^ quoth this ghastly Ghost, 
 
 ' my whole delight when I did Hue ; 
 ' Thee of all men I lovfed most ; 
 ' my fancye, my good will, did giue : 
 ' For intertainment I thee gaue, 
 ' vnthankfullye thow digdst my grave. 
 
 [19] 
 ' Wherefore prepare thy flyghting soule 
 
 'to wander with me in the ayre, 
 'Where deadly griefe shall make it howle, 
 'because of me thow tookest no care. 
 ' Delay no tyme ; thy glasse is run ; 
 ' thy date is past ; and death is come.' 
 
 [20] 
 
 ' O stay a while, thow lovely spright ! 
 
 ' Be not so hasty to convaye 
 'My soule into eternal night, 
 
 'where it shall ne're behould bright daye. 
 ' Oh do not frowne ! Thy angry looke 
 'hath made my breath my lyfe forsooke. 
 
 [15] 5 Carthage'sj/T-earf Carthage'. [19] i flyghting] i. e. 
 fleeting. 4 tookest] i. c. took'st. 
 
 ( 280) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXVIII 
 
 [21] 
 
 ' But wo is me ! It is in vaine ; 
 
 'and booteles is my dismall cry. 
 ' Tyme will not be recald againe ; 
 'nor thow surcease, before I dye. 
 ' Oh let me lyve, to make amendes 
 'to some of thy most dearest friendes. 
 
 ["] 
 ' But seeing thow indurate art, 
 
 'and will no pitty to me show, 
 'Because from thee I did depart, 
 ' and left vnpayde what I did owe, 
 'I must content my selfe to take 
 'what lot to me thow wilt partake.' 
 
 in] 
 
 And thus, like one being in a traunce, 
 
 a multitude of vgly fiendes 
 About this woefull prince did daunce — 
 no heipe he had of any friendes. 
 His body then they tooke away, 
 and no man knowes his dying daye. 
 
 iFini0. 
 
 No. LXIX 
 What greater grief than loss of love 
 
 Fol. 234. Notice the repetition effect in fifth line, as in No. LXV. 
 
 Cj^e bescriptiott anb qualitpe of an 
 i>ncort0tant ILotier. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Wit wMther will thow. 
 
 What greater griefe then losse of loue 
 
 can happen to a constant minde? 
 What greater paines can any proue 
 then for to meete with one vnkinde? 
 Vnkinde she is whom I did love. 
 Her falsehood I too soone did prove. 
 
 [22] 6 to me] read with me. 
 
 (281) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXIX 
 
 \A 
 
 I livd in loue a certaine space, 
 
 and hopde of guerdon for my paine ; 
 At length my love did me disgrace; 
 for my good will, did me disdaine. 
 Disdaine she did, as now I finde. 
 Who would think maydes would prove vnkinde ? 
 
 [3] 
 She whom I lovd is well compact ; 
 
 her stature, of a middle size. 
 Nature in framing did not lacke ; 
 the Muses nine did make her wise. 
 
 Yea, wise she is ; shee 'le licke and leaue ; 
 shee'le twenty honest minds deceiue. 
 
 [4] 
 Her hayre is of an Abronne hve, 
 
 both cleare and comelye on her head, 
 Which argues her a lover true — 
 
 but constant minds in mayds be dead. 
 Yea, dead indeed (I am sure) in shee ; 
 for from her word shee'le dayly flee. 
 
 [S] 
 Her eyes, like sparklinge coales of fyre ; 
 
 her forehead fayre, yet not to hye. 
 Which kindled much my firme desire. 
 A skarre she hath above her eye — 
 A scar indeed. Whoso will prove 
 shall finde her great deceit in love. 
 
 [6] 
 Her cherrye lips, that are so red; 
 
 her Ivory teeth, like Pearle within; 
 This causeth oft my hart to bleed 
 
 when I thinke on her dimpled chyn — 
 Her dimpled chyn and lyps so fine, 
 disgrast by her vnconstant minde. 
 
 [7] 
 Now for her cheekes, what shall I say? 
 
 the Lillye white, and Rose soe red, 
 Strives which of them shall beare the sway, 
 or haue in her the supreame-head. 
 For supreame-head these flowrs strive : 
 yet she as false as one alive. 
 
 [2] 2 hopde] i.e. hoped. [3] 5 licke] i.e. like. 
 
 [4] I Abronne] i. c. auburn. 5 I am] I'm. [5] 2 to] i. e. too. 
 [7] 4 supreame-head] i. e. supremacy. 5 flowrs] i.e. flow-ers. 
 ( 282) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ LXIX 
 
 [8] 
 Her necke a stately towre of love, 
 
 where Venus doth delight to dwell; 
 Her brests, like Alablaster cleare, 
 with Azure vaines, they do excell. 
 Excell they doe, in all men's view: 
 yet of her words she ne'are was trew. 
 
 [9] 
 Her tender body, and her skin 
 
 as soft in handlyng as is silke. 
 Well cleerfed is she to be scene, 
 like Roses that be stept in milke. 
 The milke so white, and Roses red, 
 shewes her to haue a changing head. 
 
 [10] 
 
 The parts vnseene I will let passe, 
 
 beseeming secrets not to shew ; 
 Yet muse I must why Nature plas't 
 in such a corps. Yet this I knowe. 
 That Nature us'd her chyefest frame, 
 for vnconstant minds to worke their shame. 
 
 ["] 
 In greenest grasse the Serpent lyes, 
 
 and painted pots doth poyson hould ; 
 The fayrest faces whosoe tryes 
 
 haue falsest harts. Of this be bould — 
 Be bolde indeed ; for who will trye 
 shall find her full of flatterye. 
 
 [12] 
 
 My love, Camelion-Vike, will change; 
 as he his shape, so she her minde. 
 This day, shee'le seeme as though she lovd ; 
 to-morrow, will she prove vnkinde — 
 Vnkinde indeed, and eke vntrewe : 
 Camelion-\\)s.e, shee'le change her hewe. 
 
 [13] 
 A toung she hath, to traine one in; 
 and eyes, for to allure the sence ; 
 Teares hath she also, to excuse ; 
 and fayned oathes, to hid offence. 
 Her teares are like the Crocadile, 
 that weeps when-as she will beguile. 
 
 [g] 4 slept] i.e. steept. [10] 3 why] reurfwhat. 6 minds] read 
 mind. their] read her. [13] i traine one in] i. c. inveigle. 
 
 4 hid] i. e. hide. 
 
 (283) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXIX 
 
 [r4] 
 Imbracements hath she, to provoke ; 
 
 and flattering smyles she doth not want; 
 And, yf yow seeme to be but strange, 
 with kisses sweet she will enchant — 
 Enchant she will, with word and oath ; 
 and, in the end, prove false of both. 
 
 And, when yow thinke yow haue her sure, 
 
 she farthest is from your intent. 
 Well may she becke; shee'le from your lure; 
 her onelye minde to change is bent. 
 
 Yea, change she will, and from yee flye; 
 and what she spake, shee'le flat denye. 
 
 [i6] 
 
 Yet this I'le say, for her sweet sake — 
 
 although my love so much she scorne — 
 She onely doth a conscience make 
 
 of that which she hath cleane forsworne. 
 Forsworne some thing she hath, I say; 
 but words are winde that fleets away. 
 
 If maydens by these words are greeud, 
 
 and know not how to mend the same. 
 Let them henceforth take better heed 
 least false deceit do breed their shame — 
 Their shame, yea, and discredit to : 
 'tware pittye that it should be so. 
 
 [i8] 
 
 Thus will I end, still wishing well 
 vnto the sexe of female kinde; 
 For some their be that will prove trewe, 
 and some will waver like the winde — 
 
 Yea, like the winde, their minds will change : 
 'tis maydens' vse; therefore, not strange. 
 
 [19] 
 Yow youngmen all, that meanes to prove 
 
 the quirkes and tricks of Venus' schoole, 
 Beware how first yow set your love, 
 least at the last yow prove a foole — 
 A foole, indeed, you may chance prove, 
 yf that yow trust to mayden's love. 
 
 ifittis. 
 
 [17] 5 to] i- <:. too. [18] 3 their] i. e. there. 
 (284) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXX 
 
 No. LXX 
 In Christmas time, as it befell 
 
 Fol. ass''. A. specimen of a semi-nonsense, improvised song, with 
 swinging four-line chorus, thoroughly representative of the coarse humours 
 of an Elizabethan tavern : cp. the similar, but far better, piece in No. XXI. 
 Dildo, as a song-burden occurs in A Winter's Tale, Act iv, Sc. 3. 
 Stanza 5, line 4, gives high antiquity to the line, which elicited Burns's 
 song 'O whistle and I'll come to thee, my lad'. It seems to be quoted 
 from some well-known ditty, as also are stanza 5, line 2, and stanza 
 8, line 4. 
 
 ja neto §)ong itttituleij : Co toappe toit]^ a toiJjbotD. 
 
 To A NEW NORTHERN TUNE. 
 
 In Christmasse tyme, as yt befell, 
 
 the couldnes of the weather, 
 A bonny lasse, and her maister both, 
 the would go ligge together. 
 With — hey dildedo, hoe dildedo, 
 
 hey dildedo, dildelye ! 
 The bravest sport that a man can devise 
 is to wap with a widdow, berladye ! 
 
 \A 
 
 The first good deed that Rowland did, 
 
 Rowland lope into the street; 
 He brooke a spare on a Scotchman['s] head : 
 
 si's — 'Take thow this for my maister's sake!' 
 
 [3] 
 The mother got in at one side of the bed; 
 
 the daughter, in at the other. 
 And Lusty Rowland lope between; 
 
 si's 'wee'le ligg all together.' 
 
 [4] 
 Peggye is blinde, and cannot see; 
 
 and what she heares she dare not tell. 
 Blow out the candle that burnes so cleare, 
 
 for i'le haue Rowland to my selfe. 
 
 [5] 
 Rowland gaue her a taffata hat, 
 
 and — 'Bony lasse, canst thow love me?' 
 She did him as good a turne for that, 
 
 and— 'Whistle, and I'le come to thee.' 
 
 [i] 4 the] i. e. they. 8 berladye!] i.e. By Our Lady. 
 
 [2] 3 spare] perhaps spear or spar. 4 si's] i. e. says. 
 
 [4] 4 selfe] read sell (the piece is in north-country dialect). 
 
 (285) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXX 
 
 [6] 
 My father he is gone from home; 
 
 my mother is blinde and cannot see ; 
 And I am a bonny lasse left alone, 
 
 and here is a bed for thee and me. 
 
 [7] 
 If yow will buy a filly Nagg, 
 
 or a mare to win the bell, 
 Let them listen vnto me, 
 
 and i'le tell yow where one is to sell. 
 
 [8] 
 Rowland bought him a filly mare; 
 
 she would not be watered in a well, 
 But in the Chamber priuily; 
 
 and — 'What they did I cannot tell.' 
 
 [9] 
 
 My husband is to London gone, 
 the great god be with him 
 
 rie make him a Cuckold before he comes home- 
 he had better had taken me with him. 
 
 [lo] 
 
 Rose is white and rose is red, 
 
 and rose is wondrous bonny, 
 And rose hath lost her mayden head 
 
 by playing with so manye. 
 
 ["] 
 Wist my mother that I were here 
 
 in playing with the widdowe's sonne, 
 She would set all the towne on fire, 
 
 but wee'le be dooing till she come. 
 
 [12] 
 
 If she had playd with one or two, 
 
 or yf she had playd with two or three, 
 
 The countrye would have borne her on ; 
 but she hath playd with twentye. 
 
 [13] 
 Home beasts are come to towne, 
 
 and pastures must be eaten : 
 And, maydens, be content a while — 
 
 your buskins must be beaten. 
 
 [10] 4 manye] i. e. mony (north-country dialect). 
 (286 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXX 
 
 [14] 
 
 Rowland he is a high tall man, 
 
 the height of a wenches racket. 
 As I suppose, an elle of cloth 
 
 will make him hose and Jacket. 
 
 [is] 
 Wide inough, and syde inough, 
 
 they will come downe vnto his knee. 
 I pray thee, Lasse, make no more beds but one, 
 
 for we doe meane to lye all with thee. 
 
 [16] 
 
 I haue no more of my song to sing, 
 but Rowland did these wenches woo. 
 
 He gaue them many a pretty knack, 
 and thus must yong men vse to doo. 
 With — hey dildedo dile, 
 
 ifiniis. 
 
 No. LXXI 
 Mark well this story strange and true 
 
 Fol. 237 : a long narrative, of the nature of a modem novel ; drawn 
 from, and too faithfully imitating the horrors of, some Italian novella. 
 
 ^ mts^t lamentaMe or bolefull iiittpe, of ait 
 Italian CBentlemait anb j^ig tl^ree 0Otttte0, 
 gi^etoiitj ijoto ttDo of t^zvn. tDere popgoneb 
 ftp t\^t jitejp^motlier, anb j^otu, m t\z zv^, 
 V^itm^ \zt t)illattou0 practiise^ igeb totuarb^ 
 t\z tj^rb 0onne, ^\z came ts^ ^z\. otone 
 Sjittpmelpe beatj^e. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF The Lady^s Fall. 
 
 \A 
 
 Marke well thys storye strange and trew, 
 
 yow wicked lovers all. 
 Retyre yow from the loathed liues 
 
 for vice will haue a fall. 
 
 [16] S sie, [i] 3 the] read your. 
 
 (287) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ L.XXI 
 
 Shun all incestuous, lustfuU pathes, 
 
 which do direct to hell ; 
 And giue attentiue eare a while 
 
 to this which I shall tell. 
 
 There was a worthy Gentleman, 
 
 of good account and fame, 
 Which had to wife a Lady bright, 
 
 a gallant worthy dame. 
 In great tranquilitye and peace 
 
 the lyvfed from annoyes, 
 And, in three yeares, God blessfed them 
 
 with three sweet pretye boyes. 
 
 [3] 
 It was the special care they had 
 
 to teach them holy truth. 
 That they might honour gaine in age 
 
 by that they learnd in youth. 
 God dayly blessfed their increase, 
 
 and they did growe in grace. 
 Dame Fortune never durst attempt 
 
 to shewe her frowninge face. 
 
 [4] 
 Full XX yeares this ioy remainde, 
 
 and they did well agree. 
 No crosse nor grieuous sicknesses 
 
 could work their povertye. 
 At length she waxfed great with child : 
 
 it was her hart's desire. 
 The lord had sent the wished ioy 
 
 which she did oft require. 
 
 [5] 
 The child that norisht in her wombe 
 
 was of the famale kinde, 
 Which made her, in her deepe distresse, 
 
 great comfort for to finde. 
 But weaknes in her laboringe tyme 
 
 had overcomd her so 
 That all the ioy which she conceiued. 
 
 was turnfed into wo. 
 
 [6] 
 Her husband came to comfort her, 
 
 but helpe was all in vaine ; 
 Her vitall breath, being gon and spent, 
 would not be called againe. 
 [a] 6 the] i. c. they. - 
 
 ( 288 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXI 
 
 His lovinge armes full faste he twinde 
 
 about her middle small, 
 And, for to ease her wofuU smart, 
 
 to god he lovde did calL 
 
 [7] 
 'Deale not extreamly, lord,' he sayd, 
 
 ' with me, which am but dust : 
 ' Take not awaye my loving wife, 
 
 ' the hope of all my trust. 
 'First let me dissolve in Earth 
 
 ' from whence I did proceed. 
 'For why? the groning paines she feeles 
 
 ' doth make my hart to bleed.' 
 
 [8] 
 ' Farwell, my husband deere ! ' q[uo]d she, 
 
 'and eke my children three; 
 ' With mortall eyes your mother here 
 
 ' yow never more shall see. 
 ' Oh praye for me, my loving freinds : 
 
 ' for why ? my lyfe is done, 
 'And weaknes will not suffer me 
 
 'to end what I begunne.' 
 
 [9] 
 And, there-with-all, she fetcht a sighe 
 
 that pained her inwardlye : 
 Then, turning her to the wall, 
 
 she, like a Lambe, did dye. 
 The new-borne infant by her syde, 
 
 that had receiufed breath, 
 Referde it to her maker's handes, 
 
 even at her mother's death. 
 
 [10] 
 
 And then this wofuU gentleman, 
 
 with hart full sore dismayde, 
 At this unlookte for heavy chaunce 
 
 was wondrous ill apayde. 
 He wrong his hands in greuous sort; 
 
 he strocke his painfed breast: — 
 ' My ioy, my loue, my dearest wife ! 
 
 'whose soule is now at rest, 
 
 ["] 
 'Thow, and the ofspring of thy wombe, 
 
 'are flyed away in hast; 
 'And I remayne, lamenting still 
 'my pleasures that are past. 
 
 [9] 3 her to] readhsT face to. 
 
 U ( 289 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXI 
 
 ' But, seeing it is Jehouayis will 
 
 ' to keepe yow in his power, 
 ' Faxewell, my wife and Infant sweet ! 
 
 ' farwell, my fancye's flowre ! ' 
 
 [iz] 
 The mother, and her Daughter, then, 
 
 they buryed speadelye, 
 For to conuaye them from the sight 
 
 of sorrowe's carefuU eye. 
 Both in one graue they were inclosed, 
 
 to take their quiet rest : 
 The pleasures that their soules inioy 
 
 by non can be exprest. 
 
 [13] 
 But, as the world's acustomed course — 
 
 she being layd in moulde, 
 Her husband had forgotten quite 
 
 his love that was of olde. 
 For scarse 3 months were past and gone, 
 
 after his wiue's discease. 
 But his affections entertainde 
 
 a quyet lovinge peace. 
 
 [14] 
 His fancy on a woman fixt, 
 
 which he tooke to his wife. 
 In short time after he was wed 
 
 did end his wretched lyfe. 
 His yongest sonne was all her ioy : 
 
 with him she fell in love ; 
 And from his father, whom she wed, 
 
 her hart she did remove. 
 
 She vsfed many craftye wiles, 
 
 to trap him in her trayne. 
 She sent him many loving lines, 
 
 which he would not retaine. 
 And, for he never could enioye 
 
 his father's lands by birth, 
 Shee poysonfed his brethern twaine, 
 
 at supper, in their myrth. 
 
 [16] 
 
 Then, speaking to him, on a daye 
 these wordes she did expresse : 
 
 ' Oh, drive me not of with delaye : 
 ' but let me find redresse.' 
 
 [16] 3 of] i.e. off. 
 
 ( 290) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXI 
 
 ' My loving mother,' then quoth he, 
 
 ' solicite me no more. 
 ' I will not yeeld to your request, 
 
 'though I were ne're so poore.' 
 
 With heavye hart awaye she went 
 
 vnto her loving spouse : 
 Hee'le 'graunt whatsoever she requests,' 
 
 with faythfuU hart, he vowes. 
 ' I would not faine, my deare,' q[uo]d she, 
 
 'ere yow did end your life, 
 'Our Sonne, with ioy, we both might see 
 
 'be maried to a wife. 
 
 [i8] 
 
 ' Here is a kinswoman of mine, 
 
 'a fayre and propper mayde. 
 'Let them in wedlocke's holy weede 
 
 'be speadylye arayde.' 
 'This damsell to my soone,' q[uo]d he, 
 
 ' do presentlye convaye. 
 'And all the speed that may be made 
 
 'shall hast their wedding daye.' 
 
 [19] 
 This wicked woman had made knowne 
 
 the secrets of her minde 
 Vnto this gossip, whom she craved 
 
 to be to her thus kinde 
 As for to let her lye one night 
 
 betweene her husband's armes. 
 And she would keepe her safe and free 
 
 from all ill threatned harmes. 
 
 [20] 
 
 She graunted what she did require ; 
 
 and then the manage daye 
 Drew on, and was solempnized 
 
 in gallant sort ech waye. 
 The bridgrome, being somewhat ill, 
 
 to bed then straight went he. 
 His mother in the Chamber hid, 
 
 that no man could her see. 
 
 [21] 
 
 The Bride did faine a slight excuse 
 
 out of the bed to go. 
 Vnto his mother then she went, 
 to ease her paynfed wo. • 
 [17] s not] read now. 
 
 U 2 ( 291 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXI 
 
 Who, being naked to her smocke 
 
 into the bed did slyde. 
 And then the Bridegrome laye with her, 
 
 thinking it was his bride. 
 
 [22] 
 
 They past the time, till midnight cam, 
 
 in pleasing sport and playe. 
 They fell asleepe, as lovers vse, 
 
 vntill the breake of daye. 
 Her cousen, that should waken her, 
 
 slept fast, and closde her Eyes. 
 At length the Bridegrome did awake, 
 
 when yt was time to rise. 
 
 But when he had, with steadfast eye, 
 
 beheeld his mother there, 
 His cherye cheekes were pale and wan, 
 
 his hart was full of feare. 
 Alovde he scrikt most piteouslye, 
 
 and wakte his wretched Bride, 
 Who, with a fearefuU countenaunce, 
 
 came neere to his bed syde. 
 
 [^4] 
 ' O wicked woman ! ' then he sayde, 
 
 'why hast thow me deceaued? 
 'And layde my mother in my place, 
 
 'whom I, vnknowne, receiued? 
 'Therefore both for your wickednes 
 
 ' your hire I sure will paye ; 
 'And all your soules shall take the flight, 
 
 'ere we depart awaye.' 
 
 [25] 
 Then with a knife, which he did vse 
 
 to carry in his sheath, 
 Himselfe, his mother, and his wife, 
 
 he wounded vnto death. 
 His father, hearing of the crye, 
 
 forth of his Bed did runne; 
 And, when his wife beheelde his face, 
 
 theise wordes she straight begun: — 
 
 [26] 
 ' O pardon me, my husband deare ! 
 
 'forgiue thy wicked wife, 
 ' For murder[ing] thy children three ' — 
 
 there-with she left her life. 
 
 [23] 5 scrikt] i. e. shriek'd. [24] 3 in my] read in thy. [26] 3 
 murdering] word written imperfectly in a smurched correction. 
 
 ( 292 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXI 
 
 When he had hard her speake these words, 
 and knew how all things stoode, 
 
 Even with a knife, that they were slaine, 
 he shed his dearest bloud. 
 
 [27] 
 This is no forgbd, fainbd tale; 
 
 but trew it is indeede. 
 In Chronicles of Italy 
 
 the story I do reade. 
 Be warned, yow lascivious folke, 
 
 and all such ill despise ; 
 For it seemes hatefuU to the worlde, 
 
 and to Jehoua's Eyes. 
 
 ifintsi. 
 
 No. LXXII 
 Good Christians all, attend a while 
 
 Fol. 241. The mention of Elizabeth in stanza 14 fixes the date as 
 March 16, 1601-2. 
 
 From lines 5 and 6 of stanza 9 it is plain that this ballad was copied 
 from a printed example, which had a woodcut of the monster, exactly as 
 No. XXXIII. These monstrous-birth ballads were in great demand. 
 Accordingly, Shakespeare puts one of them into Autolycus's pack, in 
 A Winter's Tale (1611), Act iv, Sc. 3. In connexion with stanza 8, it 
 may be noted that William Prynne, who was to denounce 'the unloveliness 
 of love-locks ', was just over a year old at the date of this ballad. 
 
 ^ mo0t jstrange anb treto fiallab of a tnon* 
 
 >Eit[i;]OU0 C||ilJj \tsXXiZ in Southampton ijpott 
 
 tue0i»ape being tpe 16. bap of March \mt, 
 
 1602, ag it isi ijerifieb 6p Vo^t maie0tr[a]t!5 
 
 ani) officer0 of t\z same totone, toitneisgesi 
 
 of tj^si mosit fearfull ^^^t. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF The Lady^s fall. 
 
 Good Christians all, attende a while 
 
 to that which I shall tell, 
 Which was a matter very strange, 
 / yet knowne to manye well. 
 
 It is not fainfed, nor devisde, 
 
 but certaine 'tis and trewe, 
 As many men can witnesse beare : 
 
 then marke what doth ensewe. 
 
 [26] 7 with a] read with the. 
 
 ( 293 ) 
 
 y 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXII 
 
 In Southampton there dwelling is 
 
 a man of good report, 
 Anthonye Savadge cald by name, 
 
 who lyved in honest sort ; 
 A Sayler, that doth vse the same, 
 
 and thereby doth maintaine 
 Himselfe, his wife, and all the rest, 
 
 that vnto him retaine. 
 
 [3] 
 Vpon the syxeteene day of March, 
 
 his wife with child was great. 
 She, knowing that her time was come, 
 
 her husband did intreat 
 The midwife should be sent for straite, 
 
 to helpe at such a neede. 
 Who came vnto her willinglye, 
 
 to stand her in some stead. 
 
 [4] 
 
 The woman then, immediatlye, 
 
 vnto her labour fell. 
 Whose gryping paynes increast so fast, 
 
 yt greeves my hart to tell. 
 At last, the wishfed tyme was come — 
 
 she was deliuered quite, 
 Not of a male or female kinde, 
 
 which did them much afryght, 
 
 [S] 
 But of a monster, and no childe ; 
 
 which did increase her woe. 
 And greeved the mother, and the rest, 
 
 before that they did goe. 
 For, still as they beheeld the face, 
 
 the fashion for to see. 
 His countenance like a munky was : 
 
 no nose at all had he. 
 
 [6] 
 A mouth he had, without a tongue, 
 
 which stood right where it should. 
 Also, a mouth on ether cheeke, 
 
 which helpe noe waye they could. 
 A tongue in eyther of these mouths, 
 
 the which is strange and trewe. 
 With turfes of heare on eyther syde, 
 
 a wofuU sight to vewe. 
 
 [6] 7 turfes of heare] i. c. tufts of hair. 
 ( 294 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXII 
 
 [7] 
 Fowre eares he had vpon his head, 
 
 two of them grew vpright ; 
 Much like a cat's eares they did seeme, 
 
 which was a greevous sight. 
 A hole vpon his crowne he had, 
 
 descending to his backe. 
 Quite through his bodye it did goe, 
 
 but yet a vent did lacke. 
 
 [8] 
 Alonge his necke and shoulders hung 
 
 blacke lockes of curlfed hayre. 
 Much lyke the locks that many men 
 
 vpon their heads do weare — 
 Which sight is growne soe odious, 
 
 as good men yt detest, 
 Because it makes a man to seeme 
 
 as yf he were a beast. 
 
 [9] 
 Dead was it borne ; with eyes wide ope 
 
 (most gastlye to behould), 
 Which fyer seemd to sparkle forth — 
 
 none but the truth is tould. 
 Thus haue your hard, and here may see 
 
 his trewe proportion plaine. 
 Take warninge by this wofull sight, 
 
 and from your synnes refraine. 
 
 [10] 
 
 For god is angrye with vs all, 
 
 as dayly doth appeare 
 By manye signes and tokens sent 
 
 vnto vs which are heere. 
 His favour lately to vs shone 
 
 may move vs to amende 
 If we consider how the lord 
 
 his blessinges to vs send. 
 
 ["] 
 Where is the man that lives this day 
 
 that ever yet hath seene 
 A yeere more forward then this same — 
 
 I knowe haue never beene. 
 Of late all things were very deare, 
 
 and sould at prises hye, 
 But god above regarded haue 
 
 the poore's complaint and crye. 
 
 [9] 5 your] read yon. 6 his trewe proportion] i. e. in the wood- 
 cut at the top of the printed ballad. [10] 5 shone] i. e. shown. 
 
 (295) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXII 
 
 [12] 
 
 And yf the lord had styll withhelde 
 
 his favour from the poore, 
 Ere this had many a needful! soule 
 
 starvd at the Richman's doore ; 
 As Lazarus did at Dives' gate, 
 
 yet none but crummes did crave, 
 And could not haue them at his hands, 
 
 though they his life might saue. 
 
 [13] 
 
 Wherefore, with speed, repent yow of 
 
 that synne yow loved so long; 
 And nowe abandon all those wayes, 
 
 and do the poore no wronge. 
 All men, repent; and nowe giue prayse 
 
 vnto the lord above : 
 And, for his favour to yow shone, 
 
 his prayses see yow love. 
 
 [14] 
 
 And pray vnto the Lord our god 
 
 to blot out of his minde 
 Those synnes which yow committed haue, 
 
 that yow maye favour finde. 
 Thy servaunt Queene Elizabeth, 
 
 Oh lord, guide with thy hand. 
 That peace and plentye, all her reigne, 
 
 maye flourish in her lande. 
 
 No. LXXIII 
 O what a plague is love 
 
 Fol. 242''. Text given in Roxburghe Ballads, vi. 461, from a Black-letter 
 exemplar. This piece is a particularly good instance of the uncertainty of 
 ballad texts. Not only does the order of stanzas in the MS. differ from 
 that in the printed copy, but the printed copy leaves out six of the MS. 
 stanzas, and brings in three which the MS. does not have. There are 
 also continual differences of readings, 
 
 (296) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXIII 
 
 3i prettpe jstinitet of i^t iJi^JjaineMl 
 Si]^eppeari>eisi5e. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Dainty come thow to me. 
 
 \A 
 
 O WHAT a plague is love ! 
 
 how shall I beaie it? 
 She will vnconstant prove, 
 
 I greatly feare it. 
 She so molests my minde 
 
 that my wit fayleth. 
 She wavers with the wind, 
 
 as the ship sealeth. 
 Please her the best I may, 
 she looks a-nother way. 
 Alacke and weladaye ! 
 
 Phillida flouts me. 
 
 At the fayre, yesterdaye, 
 
 she would not see me. 
 But turnd a-nother way 
 
 when she came nye me. 
 
 [i] 8 sealeth] i.e. saileth. 
 
 ( 297 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXIII 
 
 Dick had her in to dine ; 
 
 he might intreat her. 
 Will had her to the wine ; 
 
 I could not get her. 
 With Daniel did she dance ; 
 on me she lookt askance. 
 
 thrice vnhappy chance ! 
 
 Phillida flouts me. 
 
 [3] 
 
 1 cannot worke and sleepe, 
 
 both at al season : 
 Love wounds my hart so deepe, 
 
 without all reason. 
 I do consume, alas ! 
 
 with care and sorrow, 
 Even like a sort of beasts, 
 
 pinde in a medow. 
 I shall be dead, I feare, 
 within this thousand yeare ; 
 and all for very care — 
 
 Phillida flouts me. 
 
 [4] 
 She hath a clout of mine 
 
 wrought with good coventree. 
 Which she keepes for a signe 
 
 of my fidelitye ; 
 But, in fayth, yf she flinch, 
 
 she shall not weare it; 
 To Tyb, my t'other wench, 
 
 I meane to beare it. 
 Yet it will kill my hart, 
 so quickly to depart. 
 Death, kill me with the dart ! 
 
 Phillida flouts me. 
 
 [5] 
 Yesternight, very late, 
 
 as I was walking, 
 I saw on in the gate, 
 
 with my love talkinge. 
 Every word that she spooke, 
 
 he gave her kissinge. 
 Which she as kindly tooke, 
 
 as mother's blessing. 
 But, when I come to kysse, 
 she very daintye is. 
 Oh what a hell is this ! 
 
 Phillida flovts me. 
 [4] II the] read thy. [5] 3011] i.e. one. 
 
 (298) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXIII 
 
 [6] 
 
 Faire maide, be not coy ! 
 
 never disdaine me. 
 I am my mother's boy ; 
 
 sweet ! intertaine me. 
 She'l giue me, when she dyes, 
 
 all things befyttinge, 
 Her poultrye and her bees, 
 
 with her gose sytting, 
 A payre of mattrice beds, 
 a barrel! full of shreds. — 
 And yet, for all my goods, 
 
 Phillida flovts me. 
 
 [7] 
 
 I saw my face, of late, 
 
 in a fayre fountaine. 
 I know ther's non so feat, 
 
 in all the mountaine. 
 Lasses do leave their sleepe 
 
 and flocke a-bove me ; 
 And for my love do weepe, 
 
 and flocke above me. 
 Maydens in every place 
 striues to behold my face ; 
 and yet, o heavy case ! 
 
 Phillida flouts me. 
 
 [8] 
 
 Virgins haue stony harts : 
 
 who would haue thought it ? 
 
 I know their subtill arts ; 
 deare haue I bought it. 
 
 Farwell, fayre Phillida ! 
 
 I dye with sorrow. 
 For I begin to faint, 
 and tremble every ioint ; 
 help me to lose a point — 
 
 Phillida flouts me. 
 
 [6] I not coy] readnotso coy. 8 gose] i.e. goose. 9 mattrice] 
 i.e. mattress. B.-L. copy has 'mallards', which might mean 
 stufifed with ducks' feathers. 10 shreds] i. e. for patchwork. 
 
 [7] 5 sleepe] rif«rf sheep. 6 a-bove] read abont. [8] 5 and 6, 
 two lines are missing. 11 lose] i. c. loose. 
 
 ( 299) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXIII 
 
 [9] 
 
 Maide, looke what yow doe, 
 
 and in tyme take me ; 
 I can have other two, 
 
 yf yow forsake me : 
 For Doll, the dyrye maide, 
 
 laught on me lately, 
 And wanton Winifride 
 
 favours me greatly. 
 The on threw milke on my clothes ; 
 the other playes with my nosej 
 what loving signs be those ! 
 
 Phillida flouts me. 
 
 [10] 
 
 Come to me, prety peate ! 
 
 let me imbrace thee. 
 Though thow be fayre and feate, 
 
 do not disgrace me ; 
 For I will constant prove, 
 
 (make no deniall) 
 And be thy dearest love — 
 
 proofe maketh tryall. 
 If ought do breed thy paine, 
 I can procure thy gaine ; 
 yet, bootelesse, I complaine — 
 
 Phillida flouts me. 
 
 ["] 
 Thow shalt eat curds and creame, 
 
 all the yeere lasting ; 
 And drinke the christall streame, 
 
 pleasant in tastinge : 
 Whig and whey whilst thow burst ; 
 
 and bramble berryes ; 
 Pye-lids and pasti-crust, 
 
 Payres, plumbs, and cheeryes. 
 Thy garments shalbe thin, 
 made of a weather's skyn — 
 yet all not worth a pin : 
 
 Phillida flouts me. 
 
 [12] 
 
 I found a stock-dove's nest, 
 
 and thow shalt haue yt. 
 The cheese-cak, in my chest, 
 
 for thee I save yt. 
 
 [9] I Maide] read Maiden. 5 dyrye] read dnyrye. 9 on] i. e. 
 one. [11] 8 Payres] i. e. pears. 
 
 ( 300) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXIII 
 
 I will giue the rush-rings, 
 key-knobs, and cushings. 
 
 Pence, purse, and other things, 
 bels, beads, and bracelets. 
 
 My shepe-hooke, and my dog,, 
 
 my bottell, and my bag — 
 
 yet all not worth a rag : 
 Phillida flouts me. 
 
 [13] 
 Thy glorious beutye's gleam 
 
 dazels my eye-sight. 
 Like the sunne's brightest beam 
 
 shining at midnight. 
 O my hart ! o my heeles ! 
 
 fye on all wenches ! 
 Pluck vp thy corag, Giles; 
 
 bang him that flinches. 
 Back to thy sheep againe, 
 thow sylly shepherd's swain; 
 thy labour is in vaine : 
 
 Phillida flouts me. 
 
 iFinist. 
 
 No. LXXIV 
 Now draws on the fruitful time 
 
 Fol. 244. Possibly by reaction against the exaltation of celibacy over 
 matrimony in conventual times, there was in the Elizabethan age a violent 
 prejudice against spinsterhood. The Black-letter ballads inveighing against 
 girls who have not mated are surpassed in number only by the contradictory 
 ballads, which dilate on the unhappiness of ill-matched couples. The most 
 that can be said of the present specimen is that it is not quite so bad as 
 many of its set. A modern parallel, on a higher plane of feeling, is found 
 in Alexander Rodger's (d. 1846) song of the smith's daughter's acceptance 
 of her ragged wooer's offer of a runaway match : 
 
 Deed, lad, (quo' she,) your offer's fair: 
 
 I really think I'll tak it. 
 Sae, gang awa ; get out the mare. 
 
 We'll baith slip on the back o't ; 
 For, gin I wait my father's time, 
 
 I'll wait till I be fifty; 
 But na ! I' marry in my prime, 
 
 An' mak a wife most thrifty. 
 
 M. C. Aitken's Scottish Song (1874), p. 220. 
 
 The refrain belongs to an older song and has a lilt which is absent from 
 the rest of the piece. One is tempted to change ' lovlye ', of the title, into 
 ' lonely '- 
 
 [12] 5 the] i.e. thee. 6 cushings] i. e. cushions. 
 
 (301 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXIV 
 
 K^t loblpe ^Lameittatiott of a JLatopet'? 
 Jjaugi^tei: fot lacfee of a ]^u0l)anb. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF An Oyster Fye, or Robinsoris Galliard. 
 
 \A 
 
 Now drawes on the fruitful! tyme, 
 
 when flowres sweetly springe ; 
 And when, on everye blo^som'd bough, 
 
 the Cuckoe merrye sings, 
 And also when the blushinge buds 
 
 of virgin's chastyty 
 Do flourish forth, but beares no fruite 
 
 vntill they married be. 
 
 This summer tyme maydes take delight 
 
 to steale the sports of love, 
 To their sweet harts making vowes 
 
 as true as Turtle dove ; 
 And everye on assistance makes 
 
 to her fidelytye. 
 What shall T doe ? shall I dye for love, 
 
 and never marled be ? 
 
 fi] 4 Cuckoe] ^earfCuckoes. sings] >«arf sing. [a] 3 
 
 making] read each making. 5 on assistance] read one 
 
 assurance. 6 to] read of. 7 Refrain to be sung at end of 
 
 all stanzas, except the first and last. 
 
 (302 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXIF 
 
 [3] 
 
 But I, poore mayde, haue lyvfed longe, 
 
 and many summers scene, 
 Yet fortune never yeelded me 
 
 a lovely gowne of greene, 
 Nor yet (alas !) any lusty youth 
 
 would never smyle on me. 
 
 [4] 
 All my thoughts and industrye 
 
 is youngmen for to please. 
 When they do talke on Cupid's toyes, 
 
 I am at setled ease ; 
 But, yf they chaunce to looke a-syde, 
 
 I pyne in iealosye. 
 
 [5] 
 I am now thirteene yeares old. 
 
 God wot ! I thinke it long. 
 And marvaile much that chastytye 
 
 in me should be soe stronge. 
 But now 'tys time to make asay 
 
 of my virginitye. 
 
 [6] 
 My father is a Counsellor, 
 
 and hoordeth mony store ; 
 In pleadings of his cryents' cause, 
 
 doth labour very sore. 
 And I, poore peate, will him reward 
 
 that would pleade soe to me. 
 
 [7] 
 Love still resteth in my minde ; 
 
 love perceth sore my hart. 
 Love many times increaseth ioyes ; 
 
 love sometyme breedeth smart. 
 And thus doth love, in lovinge weyghts, 
 
 shew great extremitye. 
 
 [8] 
 My neyghbours maydens rounde abovt 
 
 suters enowe doe finde. 
 Walking with them in summer nights ; 
 
 but I am left behinde. 
 There never a youth in our streete 
 
 that once regardeth me. 
 
 [6] 3 cryents] »■««(/ clients. [7] 5 weyghts] i. e. wights. [8] i 
 neyghbours] i. e. neighbour, 5 never] read is never. 
 
 ( Z°Z ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXIV 
 
 [9] 
 
 My Cossen Besse, with great delight, 
 
 is nowe a marryed wife ; 
 And, with her husband, ioyfullye 
 
 doth lead a maryed lyfe. 
 But I, poore I ! vnmaryed am ; 
 
 yet full as fayre as she. 
 
 [10] 
 
 My gowne is made of the finest stufTe 
 
 that is in cheape-syde Shops : 
 To keepe my breath as sweete as muske, 
 
 I feede on sugred sops. 
 The Taylor, on the fashion rare, 
 
 hath made yt cunninglye. 
 
 ["] 
 My shoes are made of the finest syze 
 
 with purple-coloured hose; 
 My handker-chefe is readye styll, 
 
 to puryfye my nose; 
 My pettycoate is made so short, 
 
 that yout[h]s my legges may see. 
 
 [12] 
 
 Every Sundaye I goe to church, 
 
 for no devotion sake, 
 But onelye to spye out one 
 
 I might my true-love make. 
 Alas ! I wish, but dare not speake ; 
 
 my blushinge letteth me. 
 
 [13] 
 With care I thinke on marriage state, 
 
 as I lye in ray bed. 
 So feede my selfe with fond delayes 
 
 till I am almost dead. 
 I wishe and wishe, a thousand tymes, 
 
 I once that daye might see. 
 
 My aged parents, dotinglye, 
 from wedlocke keepe me styll ; 
 
 But I would haue a lustye youth, 
 yf I might haue my will. 
 
 Would god they were but once in grave, 
 then — farwell, chastytye ! 
 
 [10] Lines 3 and 4 should precede lines i and 2. 
 (3°4) 
 
Shir burn Ballads^ LXXIV 
 
 Some do vowe virginitye ! 
 
 but I thinke nothinge soe : 
 For the thoughts of such fond fooles 
 
 doth breed my extreame woe. 
 Alas ! to Cupid I must yeelde, 
 
 and Venus, curtesye. 
 
 [i6] 
 
 I am sprunge of a gentle stocke, 
 
 indewde with nature's grace. 
 The fruitfull tree, virginitye, 
 
 stands buddinge in my face. 
 I smyle, with lovlye countenaunce, 
 
 on them that looks on me. 
 
 [17] 
 
 My love-sicke heart doth dye with greife; 
 
 evill fortune, doth deplore. 
 My breath is spent with lyngring speach, 
 
 that I can speake no more. 
 Send ye, oh gods, some harts' delight 
 
 to me in miserye. 
 What shall I doe 1 shall I dye for love, 
 
 and never maryed be 1 
 
 [18] 
 
 Reviue my sports, o Venus bright, 
 
 thow matron of my woe. 
 Renewe my hart with some delight; 
 
 kinde favour to me show. 
 Send then some faythfuU on to me 
 
 that love will offer free, 
 That yt at length, in soUace bower, 
 
 I maye once maryed be. 
 
 [18] 2 matron] perhaps patron. 5 on] i. c. one. 7 yt] read so. 
 
 (305) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXV 
 
 No. LXXV 
 It fell upon a Sabbath day 
 
 Fol. 246. As far back as Chaucer, the officer who acted as jackal to 
 the archdeacon's lawyer was marked out as a scoundrel of the deepest dye 
 and a pestilent blackmailer: see in Prologue to the Canterbury Tales 
 the description of 'the Somnour' (i.e., in later term, the apparitor). Some 
 of Chaucer's brandings can still be traced on the unabashed forehead of 
 the Elizabethan representative of the class. Of Latin he had (corum 
 nomine !) ' a fewe termes . . . learned of some decree ' ; he could wink at 
 the offences of every one who could be ' y-punished in his purs ' ; of all 
 young people, he 'knew hir counseil', by spying. Corporations are found 
 protecting themselves against this vile creature, by straitly limiting his 
 interference to the jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical court over clerics and 
 over wills. At Maldon, April 18, 1496, a by-law was made, allowing a 
 ' peremptorius ' to serve a citation on any executor, or on any rector, vicar, 
 curate, or licentiate ; but providing that if he serve a citation on any other 
 person, it shall be at his own risk of being beaten or wounded, without 
 remedy of law from the magistrates of the borough. Elizabeth's legislation 
 gave fresh powers to this odious system ; and in Charles I's time accumu- 
 lated indignation against the ecclesiastical courts was one of the most 
 powerful influences tending to the overthrow of both monarchy and church. 
 
 The Civil War suspended the abuses of the Ecclesiastical Courts, but 
 they returned with the monarchy, and continued till the Revolution. In 
 1680 there appeared a quarto pamphlet of 24 pages, vigorously denounc- 
 ing such oppressions as excommunication lor refusal to pay fees 
 (stanza 13): 
 
 ' A discourse concerning excommunication as executed by Officials . . . 
 discussed in a letter ... by one who is a friend to the English liberty. 
 Wrote before the Parliament which sat from March 1678 to the end of 
 May 1679. . . . London, Printed for Tho. Parkhurst at the Bible and 
 Three Crowns at the lower end of Cheap-side, 1680.' This pamphlet 
 begins 'To his highly honoured friend, J. B. Esq. Honoured Sir, The 
 charitable design of this paper is ... to shew you one species of prisoners 
 whom no Parliament hath had leizure as yet to take notice of.' 
 
 £ netD fiallab of V^z parratoi: and t\z 
 2DibeU. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF The Miller would a wooing ride. 
 
 \A 
 
 It fell vpon a Sabaoth day 
 
 The Divell he would a hunting ride ; 
 
 To rang and ravine for a praye. 
 
 He beat the bushes that were so wide. 
 
 [i] I Sabaoth] i. e. Sabbath. 3 rang] i. e. range. 
 
 (306) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ LXXV 
 
 At last he tufled on a bush ; 
 A provd Parritor out did rushe : 
 His corum nomine ready had he, 
 His pen and inkehorne standinge by. 
 
 \A 
 
 With that the Divill amazbd was. 
 
 'What fellow art thow?' the Divill did say. 
 'I waite for profyt of all that passe, 
 'Of all that walke the feilds this waye. 
 ' I am a Parrator by my art, 
 'As thow shalt know ere thow depart. 
 ' My corum nomine here yow see, 
 ' And penne and inkehorne standing nye.' 
 
 [3] 
 
 The Divell desired him, courteouslye, 
 
 His whole Authority e for to tell. 
 'I am an Instrument,' quoth he, 
 'To punish those that Hue not well. 
 'For yf I see to clyppe and kysse, 
 "Although they doe nothinge amisse, 
 'My corum nomine is ready heere. 
 'I'le cause them soone for to appeare. 
 
 [4] 
 
 'And this is a place that fits me so — 
 'There is none but that I can see; 
 'Yong men with mayds a-milking goe, 
 'That thinke full little I am so nye. 
 'Although they doe no other thinge 
 'But chang a glove, or (say) a ringe, 
 ' My corum nomine is readye there, 
 'I'le cyte them at Lytchfield to appeare. 
 
 [S] 
 
 'And, when the sunne is gone to rest, 
 'At owlight, when the harlots walke, 
 'To the Towne I goe, and thinke me blest, 
 'Wher I heare manye laugh and talke. 
 ' When they haue drunken hard all day 
 'They little care then what they say. 
 ' My corum nomine is ready then ; 
 ' I note their names with my penne. 
 
 [i] 7 corum\ i.e. quorum. Part of the formula of the citation 
 to appear before the Archdeacon's official. [3] 5 to] i. e. two. 
 
 [5] 8 names with] read names down with. 
 
 X 2 ( 307 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXK 
 
 [6] 
 ' Then I come in : for drinke I call, 
 'And tosse the pot as others doe. 
 'I note their names, and summon all, 
 'For drinkers and for Swarrers too. 
 ' Then, in their Ale, they will vpbraid 
 'Each other with some wife or maide. 
 ' My corum nomine is ready then ; 
 'I note their names downe with my pen. 
 
 [7] 
 •And thus I spende the Sabaoth day, 
 
 'For that ys the cheefest of our gaine. — 
 ' If all the weeke I find no praye, 
 'I must devise, I tell yow plaine. 
 ' If one a-nother's howse doth vse 
 ' I say him selfe he doth abuse. 
 ' My corum nomine is ready heere, 
 'I summon them straight for to appeare. 
 
 [8] 
 ' If a man or a woman strike awrye, 
 'Though yt be fortye yeares agoe, 
 ' If I it heare, then hastylye 
 
 ' I never rest but I worke them woe. 
 
 'Although the marry and 'mends doe make, 
 
 'Yet must they pay, for fashion sake. 
 
 ' My corum nomine is readye heere ; 
 
 'I summon them straight for to appeare. 
 
 [9] 
 'If worke be scant, as seldome is, 
 
 'I practize to set shrowd queanes at bate; 
 'I tell one what another is 
 
 ' And soe do breede a deadlye hate : 
 
 ' At whore and whore then will they bee. 
 ' Citations then abroade must flye ; 
 'My corum nomine is verye neare 
 'For to correct what I doe heare. 
 
 [10] 
 
 ' And when the court daye draws neere, 
 
 'I must be sure to call to minde 
 ' That none within the court appeare 
 
 'But such as haue their purses linde. 
 
 [6] 4 Swarrers] i. e. swearers. [7] 6 him selfe] read his wife. 
 [8] 5 the] i.e. they. [9] 3 is] read says. 8 correct] read collect. 
 [10] I draws] rearfMraweth. 4 But such] read Of such 
 
 (308) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ L,XXV 
 
 'The rich will paye a double fee; 
 'The poore will yeeld something to mee. 
 ' My corum nomine beares such swaye, 
 'They'le sell their clothes my fees to paye. 
 
 ["] 
 • Many esteeme soe much good name, 
 
 'Yow would laugh to see their pitteous looks; 
 'Thei'le paye me well to staye the same, 
 'For feare they come within my books. 
 'But those that agree with me for feare, 
 ' My master of those shall not heare ; 
 ' My corum nomine makes no show 
 'That any such persons I doe know,' 
 
 [12] 
 
 ' In fayth,' quoth the Divell, thow art to blame, 
 
 'To punish those that be innocent. 
 'The guiltlesse therby loose their name, 
 'Besyde the mony that is spent. 
 ' But, sure, those people pay no fee, 
 ' But answere, and discharged bee. ' 
 ' My corum nomine sayth not so, 
 'For all pay fees before they goe. 
 
 [13] 
 
 'The lawier's fees must needs be payd, 
 
 ' And every clarke in his degree ; 
 'Or els the lawe cannot be stayd, 
 ' But excommunicate must they bee. 
 ' For, yf they come within the courts, 
 'Full largely it will cost their purse 
 '{My corum nomine telleth me), 
 'How free from synne so ever they be. 
 
 [14] 
 
 ' Well ! ' quoth the Divell, ' where I doe dwell, 
 
 ' The lawes in sharpnes doth exceed ; 
 'But yours excell the paines of hell, 
 'To punish men for no misdeedes. ' 
 — ' Why, felow ! ' quoth he, ' I can thee stay 
 'For traveling on the Sabaoth day — 
 'My corum nomine doth say so — 
 'Thow shalt pay fee befoore thow goe.' 
 
 [11] 5 agree] read 'gree. 6 My master of those shall] read 
 
 Of those my master shall. [la] a punish] read summon. 
 
 3 loose] i. e. lose. [14] 4 misdeedes] reat/ misdeed. 
 
 (309) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXV 
 
 The Divell he thought his money to save, 
 
 And thrust vnto his horse his spurres 
 And loath to be troubled with a knaue; 
 But downe they were amongst the furs. 
 
 'Thow art no constable;' quoth the Divell. 
 'I'le plage thee, knaue, now, for the evill. ' 
 His corum nomine could not stay ; 
 The Divell he carried him quite awaye. 
 
 [i6] 
 
 Thus this Parritor is gone to hell; 
 
 I wishe the rest for to take heede. 
 If they amend not — I can tell — 
 
 But styll on poore men pray and feede, 
 The Divell will haue an-other thrush; 
 And all he findeth in the bush 
 (Their corum nomine cannot staye), 
 For better and worse, hee'le carry awaye. 
 
 But I doe wish all maydes take heede, 
 
 And young men, that in fields do walke; 
 Beate well the bush ere yow proceede. 
 For feare the Barrator heare your talke. 
 Although this Barrator be gone to hell, 
 Ther 's others as bad — not farre they dwell ; 
 With corum nomine they will ye greete, 
 If that yow talke in open streete. 
 
 [i8] 
 
 If every man now would beware, 
 
 And Hue in compasse of the lawe. 
 The Barrator long might lay his snare. 
 And, in the ende, might prove a dawe. 
 Of all the plagues that may befall. 
 The Parritor's plague is worst of all ; 
 From corum nomine vs defende. 
 Sweet Jesus Christ, vnto our end. 
 
 ifinisf. 
 
 [15] 3 And loath] read As loath. 4 were] read went, furs] 
 i. e. furse. 6 plage] i. e. plague, for the evill] read for thy evill. 
 [16] I this Parritor is] readMma apparritor 's. 4 pray] i. e. prey. 
 ,[17] 5 Parrator be] substituted for Parrator's. 
 
 (310) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXVI 
 
 No. LXXVI 
 
 When as our noble king came home 
 from Nottingham 
 
 Fol. 348'' : a sequel to No. LI. Text given in Roxburghe Ballads^ i. 543, 
 from later Black-letter exemplars. 
 
 As in the companion piece (No. LI), the writer describes the events he 
 narrates, in terms derived from the circumstances of his own time. The 
 pursuivant (stanzas 3, 7), from the frequency of his visits, must 
 have been a familiar figure in Elizabethan and Jacobean times. He 
 brought with him his bundle of official orders printed in English on 
 paper-sheets, and a MS. slip of parchment, directed to each local authority, 
 containing commands in Latin to have the orders read in public places 
 and then set up so that all might read. At Maldon, in 1565, we find 
 ' payments of y. ^d. to the queen's pursevant, when he brought the procla- 
 mation for gould ; ■id., for nails and lether to nail up the proclamations ' : 
 and in 1 566, ' 3J. \d. to the queen's pursevant bringing proclamations for- 
 bidding the export of corn ; ^. for nailing these proclamations to the 
 posts of the market-cross.' The fee paid to the messenger is, generally, 
 3J. \d. ; but occasionally 5^., 2J i>d,, or even 2orf. Several of these pro- 
 clamations, with the nail-marks and weather-stains on them, are preserved 
 at Maldon. The most interesting is that given at Westminster, April 12, 
 4 Jac. I (1606), ordering all ships of Great Britain to 'beare in their 
 maine-toppe the Red Crosse commonly called S. George's Crosse, and 
 the White Crosse commonly called S. Andrewe's Crosse, joyned together 
 according to a forme made by our Heralds'. But, to distinguish the 
 shipping of the two kingdoms, ships of South Britain are to wear the Red 
 Cross in their fore-top ; and those of North Britain, the White Cross in 
 their fore-top, as they were accustomed. 
 
 2. merrp J15allab of t\z miller anb feing 
 Henry v^t iseconti ; jsj^etoing Ijotue |je came to 
 t^z Court tDit$ ]^0 toife anJj gonne, aitb 
 toj^at metrp conceits! pajsgetJ tiettoeen t|^e 
 "^va.^ an& tijem. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF T}ie French Lauata. 
 
 \A 
 
 When as our noble king came home from Nbtingham, 
 
 and with his nobles in Westminster lay, 
 Recounting the sports and the pastimes that they had tane 
 in his late progresse along the way. 
 
 Of them all, great and small, this he profest 
 the miller of Mansfielde's sport likbd him best. 
 
 [i] 3 that they] omit that. 4 along the] read along by the. 
 
 (3") 
 
Shirburn Ballads, LXXVI 
 
 'And now, my lords,' quoth our King, 'I am determined 
 
 'against s[ain]t geor^s next sumptuous feast, 
 'That this old miller, your youngest confirmed knight, 
 'with his Sonne Richard shall both be my guest: 
 ' For, in this meriment, ' tis my desyre, 
 'to talke with that royall knight and the young Squier.' 
 
 [3] 
 
 When-as the noble Lords saw the king's pleasantnesse, 
 
 they were right ioyfuU and glad in their harts. 
 A Pursevant there was sent strayght on this business, 
 the which had often tymes bin in those partes: 
 When he came to the place where he did dwell, 
 his messag orderlye then he did tell. 
 
 [4] 
 
 'God save your worship,' then sayd the messenger, 
 
 'and graunt your good Lady her owne hart's desire, 
 ' And to your sonne Richard good fortune and happynesse, 
 'that sweete yong Gentleman and gallant Squire. 
 ' Our King he greets yow all and thus doth say — 
 'yow must come to the Court on S[ain]t George's day. 
 
 [5] 
 ' Therefore, in any case, fayle not to be in place.' 
 ' I wis,' quoth the miller, ' this is an odde iest. 
 'What should we do there? ' he sayd, 'faith ! I am halfe afrayd.' 
 ' I doubt,' quoth Richard, ' hangd vp at the least.' 
 'Nay,' quoth the messenger, 'yow doe mistake; 
 ' our King he prepares a great feast for your sake.' 
 
 [6] 
 Then sayd the miller, 'Now, by my troth, messenger! 
 
 'thow hast contented my worship full well. 
 'Hold, here is three farthings to quite thy great gentlenes 
 ' for this happy tidings which thow dost me tell. 
 ' Let me see ; hear'st thow me ? tell to our king 
 • wee'le waight on his maistership in every thinge.' 
 
 [7l 
 The purseryant smiled at this their simplicytye, 
 
 and, making many legges, tooke their reward ; 
 And, taking then his leave with great humilitye, 
 to the King's Court againe backe he repaird, 
 Shewinge vnto his grace, in each degree, 
 this Knight's most liberall gift and great bountye. 
 
 [2] I determined] read determined quite, 2 next] read next our 6 royall] 
 read loyall. 
 
 (312) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXFI 
 
 [8] 
 When he was gone his waye, thus did the miller say:— 
 
 ' Here comes expences and charges, in deede ! 
 ' Now must we needs be braue, though we spend all we haue ; 
 'for of new garments we all haue great neede. 
 'Of horses and servingmen must we haue store, 
 'with brydles, and saddles, and twenty things more.' 
 
 [9] 
 ' Tush, Syr John ! ' quoth his wife, ' neyther do fret nor frowne ; 
 
 'yow shall be put to no chargs for me; 
 ' For I will trurne, and trim vp, my old russet gowne, 
 'with every thing as fine as maye be; 
 
 'And on our mill-horses full swift will we ride, 
 'with Pannyels and Pillions, as we shall provide.' 
 
 [10] 
 
 In this most stately sort rode they on to the Court, 
 
 their lusty sonne Richard the formost of all, 
 Who had set, by good hap, a Cock's feather in his cap ; 
 and so they ietted downe through the King's hall — 
 The merry old miller, with hands on his syde; 
 his wife, like Mayd Marrian, did mince it that tide. 
 
 ["] 
 The king and his nobles, that hard of his comming, 
 meeting this gallant Knight, with his brave traine, 
 'Welcome, syr knight,' quoth he, 'with this your gay Lady. 
 ' Good Sir Jhon Cockle, once welcome againe ; 
 'And so is this Squire, of courage so free.' 
 Quoth Dicke : ' A bots on yow ! do yow knowe me.' 
 
 [12] 
 
 Quoth our King, gently, 'How should I forget thee? 
 
 Thow was my owne bedfelow, well I do wot ! ' 
 ' But I do thinke on a tricke ? ' ' Tell me that, prethee, Dick' 
 ' How we with farting made our bed hot.' 
 
 'Thow horchet happye knave,' then quoth the knight, 
 ' Speake cleanly to our King, or else go and shite.' 
 
 [13] 
 The King and his Councellors hartely laft at this, 
 while the King tooke them both by the hand. 
 With Ladyes and their mayds, lyke to the Queene of Spades, 
 the miller's wife doth most mannerlye stand — 
 A milkemaye's cursye at every worde, 
 and downe these folkes were set at a syde-boord, 
 
 [9] 3 trurae] read turne. 
 
 (313) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ L.XXVI 
 
 ['4] 
 Where the King royally, in princely maiestye, 
 
 sat at his dinner, with ioy and delight. 
 When he had eatten well, to lasting then they fell. 
 Taking a bowle of wine, [he] drunke to the Knight : 
 ' Heere 's to yow both,' he sayd, ' in wine and beere, 
 ' thanking yow for my good countrye cheere.' 
 
 [IS] 
 Quoth Sir Jhon Cockle : ' I'le pledge yow a pottle, 
 
 'were yt the best ale in Nottingham shire.' 
 ' I but then,' sayd our King, ' I do thinke on a thing — 
 ' Some of our Lightfoot I would we had heere ! ' 
 ' Ho ho ! ' quoth Richard, ' full well may I say it : 
 ' 'tis Knauery to eate yt, and to bewray it.' 
 
 [i6] 
 
 ' What ! art thow angry ? ' quoth our Kinge merylye, 
 
 'in sooth, I do take yt very vnkinde. 
 ' I thought thow wouldst pledge me in wine or in ale hartely.' 
 'Y'are like to stay,' quoth Dicke, 'till I haue din'de. 
 ' Yow serue vs twatlinge sweete dishes full small ; 
 ' 'Swounds ! a blacke pudding were better then all.' 
 
 [17] 
 ' I, mary ! ' quoth our King, ' that were a dainty thing, 
 
 yf that a man could get it to eate.' 
 With that Diche straight arose, and pluckt on out his hose, 
 that, with heat of his breech, 'gan for to sweat. 
 The King made a proffer to snatch it awaye. 
 "Tis meat for your maister;' quoth Dicke, 'yow shall stay.' 
 
 [18] 
 
 Thus, with great meryment, was the time wholly spent, 
 
 and the Ladyes prepared to daunce ; 
 Old Sir yhofi Cockle, with Richard, incontinent, 
 vnto this practise the King did aduaunce; 
 
 Where, with the Ladyes, such sport they did make, 
 that the Nobles, with laughing, did make their harts ake. 
 
 [19] 
 Many thanks for their paines did our King give them then, 
 
 asking young Richard yf he would not wed : 
 ' Among these Ladyes free, tell me which liketh thee.' 
 Quoth he, 'Jugge Gramboll, with the red hed. 
 
 ' Sheel 's my love ; sheel 's my lyfe ; shee I will wed, 
 'for she hath sworne I shall haue her mayden head.' 
 
 [14] 3 When he] »«arf When they. [15] 3 I but] i.e. Aye but. 
 6 and to] read and then to bewray it] i. e. blab the secret of it. 
 [16] 3 or in] omit in. [17] i 1] i. c. Aye. 3 on] i. e. one. 
 
 [19] 5 sheel 's] i. e. she 's. 
 
 (314) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ LXXVI 
 
 [20] 
 
 Then Syr Jhon Cockle the kinge called to hym, 
 
 and of merry Sherwood made him overseer, 
 And gaue him, out of hand, three hundred pound yearely— 
 ' But now, take heed yow steale non of my Deare ! 
 ' And once a quarter let 's here haue your view, 
 'and thus, Siyx Jhon Cockle, I bid thee adyew.' 
 
 No. LXXVII 
 England, with cheerful heart, give ear 
 
 Fol. 250"'. Text gjiven, in Roxburghe Ballads, viii. 758, from a Black- 
 letter exemplar. Elizabeth died March 24, 1602-3. Stanza 3 of the ballad 
 expresses the surprise which was felt that, in spite of continual plots for 
 her assassination, her reign had extended to 44 years 4 months 7 days. 
 Henry VI, coming to the throne as an infant, and Edward III, as a boy, 
 had longer nominal reigns ; but Elizabeth, first of English sovereigns, had 
 attained the 70th year of life. 
 
 The ballad gives voice to two feelings, generally entertained, which 
 procured James I a warm welcome in the southern kingdom, (a) the 
 feeling (stanzas i, 2) that the throne was more fitly occupied by royalty 
 than by an ex-subject; {b) the apprehension (stanza ig) of a war of 
 succession between any English claimant, and the Scottish claimant 
 supported by a strong following in England. It shows also the fierce 
 indignation which was sure to arise when James developed his policy of 
 seeking accommodation with the Pope and with Spain (stanzas 4, 6, 9, 24). 
 
 The classical allusions are, for these ballads, inexplicably recondite. In 
 stanza 5 the month of March is said to be ' by the old world to wisdom 
 dedicate '. The reference must be to the Quinquatrus, festival of Minerva, 
 goddess of wisdom, which was held at Rome, March 19 to 23. Professor 
 J. E. B. Mayor (note on Juvenal, x. 114) points out that when Church 
 commemorations supplanted Pagan festivals, March 19 was appropriately 
 assigned to St. Gregory, because he was the great patron of schools. In 
 stanza 8 Saturn is treated as a gnome, the lord of mines and their wealth. 
 In Rome Saturn, although the patron of agriculture, was also the guardian 
 of the treasury ; and hence, perhaps, the ballad infers his connexion with 
 mining. In Grimm's Teutonic Mythology (English translation, i. 248) 
 mention is made of a 'burg' sacred to Saturn on the Hartz mountains, the 
 centre of mines and gnomes. 
 
 The geography of the ballad is not free from obscurity. Stanza 7, from 
 the separate mention in stanza 8 of Ireland and the islands, must describe 
 Great Britain. The ' half specified is probably England. We are to 
 think of England (on the map), as a standing female figure, whose 'bosom' 
 is the dimension from Flamborough-head to Fleetwood. ' The Virgin's 
 sea' will thus be the Irish sea. The Black-letter version has 'the 
 Virginian sea '. In stanza 8 the writer's enthusiasm spurns geology, and 
 makes the chalk-cliffs of the Wight do duty also for the sterner granite of 
 the Channel Islands. 
 
 (315) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ L.XXVII 
 
 From stanza 22 it is plain that the piece was written immediately upon 
 Elizabeth's death, March 24. James left Edinburgh, April 5, l6oj, and 
 reached London May 7. The ballad, however, was not registered at the 
 Stationers' Company till June 16, 1603. 
 
 Black feathers (stanza 23) had been worn in hats as Court mourning for 
 Elizabeth. The yellow and red ribbons, by which they were now displaced, 
 were in compliment to the blazoning of the royal arms (England, gules, 3 
 leopards passant or; but especially Scotland, where 'the ruddy lion ramps 
 in gold '). Change of the royal arms in official places seems to have been 
 deferred. It is 1606 before Maldon pays '4J. Zd. for blasinge of the king's 
 armes and armes of the towne in the moote-hall '. 
 
 ^n ejcccllent neto iballaD, sjetaing t^z petigree 
 
 of our ropal feing lames, tj^e fii*0t of t^^t 
 
 name in England. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Gallants all come mourne with mee. 
 
 [i] 
 
 England, ech cheareful hart giue eare 
 to that my muse shall now declare. 
 'Tis no bace thing I take in hand, 
 but what brings comfort to this land — 
 The Petygree of a noble king 
 whose name to thee doth honour bring. 
 O hone, honinonero, tarrararara, 
 tarrararara hone. 
 
 The dreadfuU sting of cruell death 
 hath stopt Elizds princely breath. 
 And, to her ioy, she now is gone 
 to heauen for an angel's throne, 
 Leaving her honors and her crowne 
 to princely James of great renowne. 
 
 [3] 
 
 She rulfed hath 'mongst vs longe tyme, 
 in spite of those that did repine 
 And sought to stop her princely breath, 
 but yet she dyed a naturall death. 
 And to our comfort god did send 
 King James, his Gospell to defend. 
 
 [i] I ech] read with. 7 Refrain to be sung at end of every 
 
 stanza. 
 
 (316) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXFII 
 
 [4] 
 The Romish Pope, who many a day 
 hath lokfed for a violent praye, 
 Frustrate by wisedome's power and care, 
 is readye now for to dispare ; 
 And in a sound he sincketh downe, 
 now noble James hath got the crowne. 
 
 [S] 
 With his raigne doth the spring begin, 
 as vsher, for to bring him in. 
 Which in consent doth well agree, 
 with yeere, the incarnate word to bee ; 
 And in that month greeing, by fate, 
 by the old world to wisedome dedicate. 
 
 [6] 
 And I devine thus, by the yeere, 
 England shall haue no other peere ; 
 But in his lyne yt shall remayne, 
 in spite of Pope and cruell Spaine, 
 Even vntyll the day of Doome 
 that CHRIST to iudgment downe shall come. 
 
 [7] 
 Eyght hundred myles his Empyre goes 
 in length, [in] spight of all his foes. 
 From Cornewall to past Calidon 
 is know[n]e to be King James owne, 
 Halfe which her beosome foorth doth lay 
 from German to the Virgin's sea. 
 
 [8] 
 A fertyle soyle is Ireland, 
 now subiect to his glorious hand. 
 Yea, all the lies from famous Fraurue 
 their chalkye tops to him advaunce. 
 Saturne to him resignes his charge, 
 making the wealthy mine's way large. 
 
 [9] 
 My Pen, why stay'st thow to report, 
 to latisfye the vulgar sort, 
 The Petigree oi James our King, 
 whose fame throughout the world doth ringe? 
 The Infidell and romish Spaine 
 shall tremble when they heare his name. 
 
 [4] 5 sound] i.e. swoon. [5] i begin] i.e. on March 25, 
 
 1603. 4 Annunciation of Mary was New Year's Day in the old 
 reckoning. [6] 6 that] rearfwhen. [7I 4 James owne] i.e. James 
 his own. [8] I Ireland] i.e. I-er-land. [g] 2 latisfye] re«rfsatisfye. 
 
 (317) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXFII 
 
 [lo] 
 
 O let my Pen your eares inchaunt 
 
 to looke vnto braue Jhon a Gaunt. 
 
 Of Edward the third fovrth son was hee, 
 
 from whom we draw this petygree; 
 
 For he behinde him issue left, 
 
 rhon, the Earle of Somerset. 
 
 ["] 
 Which likewise left a sonne behinde 
 called Jhorij of a noble minde, 
 The which was Duke of Somerset, 
 so made for his atchiments great, 
 The which did wine him great renownc, 
 but here I leave to set them downe. 
 
 [12] 
 
 Which Duke had issue, gentle Reader, 
 Margaret, matcht with Edmond Tuder. 
 Which Edmund Tuder had a sonne, 
 called Henrye, Earle of Richmon: 
 Which Henrye, after Richard's death, 
 espoused fayre Elizabeth. 
 
 [13] 
 This Elizabeth, of famous worth, 
 was daughter to k[ing] Edward the fourth; 
 And thus, by their predestinate bed, 
 they ioynd the whyt rose and the red, 
 To England's great unspeable ioy 
 and to our enimyes' sore anoy. 
 
 [14] 
 
 By which most blest and happy vnitye 
 they had a daughter cald Margaret, 
 First matcht to Scottish James the fourth, 
 which was a man of mickle worth ; 
 Which Margaret, to James, did bring 
 the fyft of that name, Scotland's king. 
 
 [io"l 3 the third] o»«V the. 6 Jhoiil pronounced here ]ohan. 
 
 He died 1410. [11] a Jhon] pronounced here Johan, He 
 
 died 1444, 3 Duke] so created in 1443. 4 atchiments] 
 
 r«a(/atchivments. [^la] a Margaret] pronounced here Margaret She 
 died 1509. 4 Richmon] i.e. Richmond : afterwards Henry VII. 
 5 Richard's] i.e. Richard III. [13] i Elizabeth] i.e. El'zabeth. 
 3 the fourth] omfV the. 3 predestinate] i.e. predest'nate. 5 un- 
 speable] i.e. unspeak'ble. [14] i happy vnitye] read happy mate, 
 i, e. match. 2 Margaret] i.e. Marg'ret. 3 James IV died 1513. 
 5 Margaret] pronounced here Marguerite. 6 James V died 1549. 
 
 (318) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXVII 
 
 This James a Daughter did possesse, 
 
 whose birth our sorrowes doth redresse, 
 
 Called Marye, by her name, 
 
 a very fayre and princelye dame, 
 
 The more her fame for to advaunce, 
 
 was matcht with Frauncis, K[ing] of Fraunce. 
 
 [i6] 
 But leaue we her in Fraunce a whyle ; 
 and nowe come backe vnto the style 
 Of Henry^s daughter Margaret, 
 whose blessfed wombe brought our delight : 
 For Archeball Douglas she did wed, 
 Angui^ braue Earle, whose issue bred. 
 
 By her, he had a Daughter bright 
 
 cald by name of Margaret; 
 
 To the Earle of Lenox wedded was shee, 
 
 and borne a son namfed Henrye, 
 
 The which was called the Lord Darlye, 
 
 and after wedded to Scottish Marye. 
 
 [i8] 
 By whose most sweet and happy bed 
 our sorrowes nowe are quight stroke dead; 
 For to Lord Darlye she did bring 
 olde Brittaris hope, and James our Kinge, 
 As next of Henry^s lyne, both other, 
 Comming both by father and mother. 
 
 [19] 
 England, reioyce and now giue prayse 
 vnto the Lord, that so did rayse 
 Our sorrowfull harts with hops of ioy, 
 when we were drownde with sad anoy 
 For losse of sweete Eliza'es lyfe, 
 looking for nothing more then stryfe, 
 
 [20] 
 Yet god for vs did soe provide, 
 and held vs vp when we did slyde; 
 And, as Eliza she is gone, 
 he sent an-other to ease our mone. 
 King James is hee, by whose sweete breath 
 we still possesse Queene Elzabeth. 
 
 [15] 3 her name] read possibly her own sweet name. 6 matcht] 
 in 1558- ['6] 3 Margaret] pronounced here Marguerite. 
 
 5 Archeball] i.e. Arch'bald. 6 whose] read viho. [17] 2 cald] 
 i.e. called. 3 the Earle] i.e. th' Earle. wedded] rearfwed. 
 4 borne] read bore. 5 Darlye] i.e. Darnley. 6 wedded to] 
 omit to. [18] 5 both] read 'bove. [19] 3 hops] i.e. hopes. 
 
 (319) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXVII 
 
 [21] 
 
 For, though her corps be lapt in leade, 
 and never on this earth shall tread, 
 Yet do her vertues styll remaine, 
 without [a] blot, blemish or staine. 
 I[n] noble James her vertues Hue, 
 to whom god doth her honours giue. 
 
 [22] 
 
 O noble King, to England hast, 
 that our full pleasures we may tast. 
 For nothing now breeds our despite, 
 but that we want our Prince his sight. 
 Which yf we had, we more should ioye 
 then Liza'es death wrought our annoy. 
 
 Now, Englishmen, leaue of your griefe, 
 for noble James brings vs releife. 
 Pull morninge feathers from your bed. 
 And flourish now in yeallow and red. 
 Sing ioyfuU Poems of his prayse, 
 that god may lengthen long his dayes. 
 
 God grant him amongst vs long to raigne, 
 to be a scorge to Eome and Spayne, 
 That, hating them and all their wayes, 
 he styll may stryve god's word to rayse, 
 And to defend the poore man's right 
 that they be not orecome by might. 
 
 O Lord, make thow his Counsell wise, 
 that the may gyve him good advise. 
 Blesse the Commons, and all those 
 that seeke the ruine of his foes. 
 And may he dye a thowsand shames 
 that with his hart loves not k[ing] James. 
 O hone honinonero tarrararara 
 Tarrararara hone. 
 
 ifinisi. 
 
 [23] t of] i.e. off. 3 morninge] i.e. mourning, bed] read head. 
 [24] I amongst] read 'mongst. [25] 2 the] i.e. they. 3 Blesse 
 
 the] read Blesse thou the. 
 
 (320 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads, LXXFIII 
 
 No. LXXVIII 
 Of joyful triumphs I must speak 
 
 Fol. 253'. Essex was definitely given the command in Ireland, with 
 16,000 foot and 1,300 horse under him, on March 25, 1599. He set out 
 from London, March 27, with a great attendance, and amid popular 
 expectations of speedy success; and reached Dublin, April 15. There 
 was thus ample time for him to arrange a ceremonial parade of troops on 
 the festival of the militant patron-saint of England, April 23. This was a 
 natural thing for him to do ; and is, therefore, possibly not a mere ballad- 
 fiction. On the other hand, we need not assume that the writer had any 
 actual report of a 'grand review at Dublin 'to versify from. He just 
 described what might be seen on any general muster-day of the trained- 
 bands of an English county. If Essex held a review, no doubt it proceeded 
 on the same lines. 
 
 The ballad is interesting as showing the composition of an English army 
 at the end of Elizabeth's reign ; arid is, in this respect, fully borne out by 
 contemporary documents. Stanza 5 describes the brave, lace-bedecked 
 array of the non-coms. Maldon accounts indicate that, until soiled by 
 campaign in Irish bogs, even the privates were gayly attired. In 1 599 we 
 have charged ' for xii. yeards of cloth at ixj. v\d. the yarde to make viii. 
 souldyers' coats for the towne; and for a grosse of lace, xviiij.; and for ix. 
 dossen rybbon, xvj. ; and for the making viii. souldyer's coates, xviiij.' 
 The destination of the coats is fixed by ten shillings paid 'in Prest-money 
 to souldyers that went into Ireland, which ' (forgetful Elizabeth !) ' was 
 not repayd agayne '. Stanzas 6 and 7 pass from gay uniform to (more or 
 less) the stern equipment of war. It is to be noticed that special appeals 
 must have been made by the queen to set out the horsemen who ' did 
 praunce about'. Maldon 159S account notes '2j. towards setting forth of 
 light horse into Ireland, being wanting of that was to be collected for that 
 service'; and the 1599 account, in a general bill of charges, includes 
 expenditure 'for careinge [carrying] the money collected in this towne 
 vnto Chelmesforde when the light horses went into Irelande'. 
 
 Two kinds of fire-arms are specified. There are (stanza 6) muskets, a 
 heavier sort of fire-arm, discharged from a rest. Allusions to these are 
 frequent in the Maldon papers. On January 29, 1587-8, Elizabeth called 
 on the inhabitants to provide ten muskets in addition to what they had 
 already, and a graduated tax was imposed to comply with the requisition. 
 The chief piece of the musketeer's defensive armour was a morion. When 
 he attended on the training day, he brought with him powder, match, and 
 bullet 'to be spent in exercise of his arms': March 1625-6, \ lb. of powder, 
 2 bullets, \\ yard of match ; May 1627, 2 lb. of powder, 6 bullets, 2 yards 
 of match. The calivers (stanza 7) were lighter pieces, fired without rests, 
 apparently with the arm extended (like pistols). They also were sent to 
 the county muster-day, with powder, for exercise: e.g. 1573, 'half a pound 
 of gunpowder to shoot off the callivers. May 19, Td.'\ and in 1 596, '5^. ^d. 
 for powder, match, and wages, for a man serving with a calliver, at the 
 treyning at Chelmsford.' In Elizabeth's reign the caliver seems to go out 
 of fashion, in favour of the musket. In January, 1602-3, Maldon armoury 
 contained 'i. caliver furnished, with head-peece, [powder-Jflaske, touch- 
 boxe, molde [to cast bullets], etc. ; ii. ould reicted callyvers ; ii. ould 
 barrells of callyvers '. But John Aubrey {Brief Lives, ii. 320-1) gives 
 calivers, in Charles I's wars, renewed employment, as carbines for cavalry. 
 
 In stanza 8 we come to another main division of the foot-forces, the 
 
 sHiBB. Y ( 321 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXVIII 
 
 pike-men, who were equipped in full body-armour, and were equal in 
 number to the musketeers. The bill-men, in stanza lo, represent lighter 
 troops, armed with the bill, now going out of fashion. Along 'with them 
 rank the archers (stanza lo). The relative importance of these items is 
 perhaps shown in the Maldon armoury return (1602-3), 'viii. long pykes all 
 armed, [with] viii. corsletts whole and complete, with coates [=uniform], 
 swords, daggers, gyrdles, and what other things therto belonging; iii. 
 holbeards, wherof i. brocken ; ii. black bills ; ii. ould bowes and i. ould 
 shieff of arrowes.' 
 
 The drums (stanza 9) were a regular feature of the county militia review- 
 day. In 1598, l2d. was paid to a man 'for playing on the drum when our 
 trayned men did show themselves in their furniture '. In 1612, 5^, was 
 paid for wine and sugar (on the muster-day) ' for the muster-master and 
 his drummer and fluter '. 
 
 The panegyric on the long-bow, in stanza 11, is especially characteristic 
 of Elizabeth's reign. Constant efforts were made to enforce the statute, 
 33 Henry VIII, cap. 9, which required every able-bodied man to possess 
 bow and arrows and to practise with them once a month. In April, 1561, 
 Maldon constables were ordered to make search, 'yea or no,' whether 
 every man and his sons had bow and arrows, according to the statute. In 
 1563 at the Epiphany, and again at the Easter sessions, the two chief 
 magistrates, the four aldermen, and thirty-four others were indicted for not 
 shooting monthly with the bow. In 1566, on market-day, Saturday, May 
 II, the statute was recited when the market was fullest. Maldon rebuilt 
 its archery-butts, under pressure from the Crown, in 1574, and again in 
 1596. In 1581, there was paid 'to John Fletcher, her maiestie's comys- 
 soner for the view of artylerie, y. ^d. ; and for his paynes in trayning of 
 the archers in Pottman mershe [the town common], and for i. kilderkyn 
 of beere given to the archers, 10s. 8d.' 
 
 SI netD ftallabe of t^t trpumpes feept in 
 
 Ireland bppoit §)aint Georg's bap la0t, 6^ 
 
 t\z noMe (Earle of Essex anb !ii0 f ollotoei:?, 
 Wi^ tijeir reisoUutioit againe t^zu. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Tryumph and iffy. 
 
 Of ioyfull triumphes I must speake. 
 Which our english friends did make, 
 For that renowned mayden's sake, 
 
 that weares the crowne of England, 
 In Ireland S[ain}ct Georges day 
 Was honored brauelye euery waye, 
 By lords and knights in rich array, 
 
 as though they had been in England. 
 Therefore let all trew English men. 
 With every faythfull subiect then, 
 Vnto my pray-ers say Amen ! 
 
 Now God and s\ain\ct George for England ! 
 
 Title. resoUution] referring to the vow to fight fiercely, 
 in stanzas a, 6, 7, and 9. [i] 5 Ireland] i.e. I-er-land. 9 to la 
 These four lines are to be sung in chorus at the end of every 
 stanza. 
 
 (322 ) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ LXXVIII 
 
 [^] 
 
 The Earle oi Essex, by report, 
 That day did keepe a gallant Court, 
 Most loyallye in seemely sott, 
 
 in honour of famous England, 
 Attended on by many a Lord. 
 Lyke subiects trewe, did there accorde, 
 With pining, famishing, fire and soord, 
 
 to scorge the foes of England. 
 
 [3] 
 
 Full many a bould renowned Knight, 
 Well trainde to armes'and martiall fight, 
 Were seene that day, with great delight, 
 
 to honour S[ain]ct George of England, 
 With gentlemen of high degree. 
 Our choycest flowres of chyualrye. 
 As brave a sight as one might see 
 
 to honour S[ain]ct George of England. 
 
 [4] 
 
 Who had been there for to behold 
 Our Captaines and leiftenantes bolde, 
 Attirfed braue in cloth of golde 
 
 to honour S[ain]ct George of England, 
 y 2 ( 323 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXVIII 
 
 Might truly then report and say 
 
 Our Champion bolde, S[ain]ct Georges, day 
 
 Was nobly gracfed every way 
 
 to the honour of famous England. 
 
 [S] 
 
 The Seargeants there that day were seen 
 In purple veluet, red, and greene, 
 In honour of that mayden Queene 
 
 which weares the crowne of England. 
 The corporals, with gallant grace, 
 In rich aray did keepe their place, 
 With garments deckt with sylver lace, 
 
 in honour of famous England. 
 
 [6] 
 
 The horsemen they, with courage stoute, 
 Vpon the free steeds did praunce abovt, 
 Resolufed brauelye, out of doubt, 
 
 to conquer the foes of England. 
 The valour of the musketyeres. 
 Whom death['s] alarum never feares, 
 Reioycfed all the English Peeres 
 
 which went to fight for England. 
 
 [7] 
 
 The nimble quicke Caliver-shot 
 Resolveth not to styrre a iot, 
 Although the fight be never so hot 
 
 against our freindes of Englande; 
 And there-vpon immediatelye 
 With thundring shot they dynn'd the skye 
 S[ain]ct Georgs day to gloryfye 
 
 to the honour of famous England. 
 
 [8] 
 
 The Pikemen there, like souldiers good. 
 In glistering corslets stoutlye stood, 
 Protestinge for to spend their bloode, 
 
 to the honour of famous England. 
 The insygne-bearers there likewise 
 Did waue their colours in the skyes. 
 And still ' S[ain]ct George for England V cryes, 
 
 lyke souldiers braue of England. 
 
 [6] 2 Vpon the free] read vpon their. 6 feares] i. e. affrights. 
 (324) 
 
Shirburn Ballads, LXXVIII 
 
 [9] 
 
 The drummes and fyfts, with ioyfull sound, 
 Did make much musicke on that ground, 
 Wherby no feare[ful] heart was found 
 
 amongst our souldiers of England; 
 But every one doth hope soe well 
 Ere long to sound these rebels' knell, 
 And send them posting downe to hell 
 
 that troubles the peace of England. 
 
 [10] 
 
 The bilmen bolde stoode next in sight, 
 Attirfed braue in armour bright. 
 And there protested mortall fight 
 
 against the provd foes of England. 
 The Bowmen braue came not behind; 
 Of stomackes stout and valiant minde, 
 A Place amongst them they did finde 
 
 to show their trew loves to England. 
 
 ["] 
 For many a warlyke English King 
 Most noble conquestes home did bringe, 
 Obtained by the grry goose winge, 
 the auncient fight of England. 
 
 [9] I fyfts] i. e. fyfes. 
 
 [11] 4 fight] i. e. national weapon. 
 (32s) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ LXXFIII 
 
 Then bowes for JSngland! bowes, we see, 
 Doth bring home fame and victorye. 
 For one Gun-shot, they will shoot three 
 against the proud foes of England. 
 
 [12] 
 
 S[ain]ct Georges day thus had an end; 
 And those which did it nobly spend — 
 The lord preserue them, and defend 
 
 our gratious Queene of England; 
 And that the Traytor, base Terone, 
 May not be conquered all alone, 
 But all the rebels everye one 
 
 by noble Essex of England. 
 Therefore, let all true [^English men, 
 With every faythful subiect then, 
 Vnto my prayers say Amen ! 
 
 J^ow God and Saint George for England t\ 
 
 No. LXXIX 
 All you that cry O hone ! O hone ! 
 
 Fol. 255. A lament for Robert Devereux, 2nd earl of Essex, beheaded 
 February 25, 1600-1 (Ash Wednesday). Text given in Roxburghe Ballads, 
 i. 571, from Black-letter exemplars. The popularity of the piece changed 
 the name of its tune : see No. XIV. 
 
 Stanza 2 enumerates various 'traitors' who had vexed Elizabeth. In its 
 first line a name occurs which is absent from the B.-L. copies. It is 
 apparently ' Sauit ', but it might be read as ' Saint '. It may be a mis- 
 reading by the copyist. But, reading ' Saint ', William Sterrell, alias Henry 
 Saint Main, was an active intriguer. — State Papers (Domestic) 1 591-4. Of 
 Elizabeth's other enemies, with disyllabic surnames, Nicholas Sanders 
 (d. 1581) comes nearest in lettering. Edmund Campion was executed 
 Dec. I, 1581 ; and Anthony Babington, 1586. Charles Neville, 6th earl of 
 Westmorland, revolted Nov. 1569, was attainted 1570, and died in exile 
 1601. Ballads in Campion's praise, singular among the one-sided verses 
 of the period, are given in Furnivall and MorfiU's Ballads from MS. ii. 157. 
 
 Stanzas 3 to 5 describe the Quixotic exploits which had endeared Essex 
 to the unreasoning populace. Decamping from court in April, 1589, he 
 joined the fleet oflf the Portuguese coast on May 13. He rushed to be the 
 first to wade ashore, May 16; and when the troops were preparing to 
 attack Lisbon, he went up to the gates and offered to fight any of the 
 garrison in the name of his mistress. In July, 1591, he commanded a force 
 
 [la] 5 Terone\ i. e. Tyrone : see No. XLII. 
 (326) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXIX 
 
 of 4,000 men who were landed at Dieppe to help Henri IV. He rode, 
 with a handful of followers, through the enemy's country, to interview 
 Henri. He took Goumay, Sept. 27, 1591 ; and, in the following November, 
 unsuccessfully besieged Rouen. Essex, in 1596, was joint-commander of 
 the great armada sent against Cadiz. Essex dashed ashore with 3,000 
 men ; pressed on to the market-place, June 21 ; and received the surrender 
 of the town. Tune 22, 1596, The capture of the town was remarkable for 
 the absence of outrage. What little pillage took place was ascribed to our 
 Dutch allies. Stanza 11 says that Derick, an offender against the orders 
 of the day, was pardoned, on condition of hanging his twenty-three ac- 
 complices ; and that he, four years later, was his general's executioner. 
 
 Essex's wife (stanza 10) was Frances (Walsingham), widow of Sir Philip 
 Sidney ; his children, Robert (restored as 3rd earl, by James I, 1603), 
 Frances (afterwards duchess of Somerset), and Dorothy (afterwards wife 
 of Sir Henry Shirley, bart.). 
 
 Essex's rising took place after 10 a.m. on Sunday, Feb. 8, 1600-1. 
 When it failed, he fled by boat to Essex House ; and surrendered himself 
 there the same night. The news of his outbreak was spread throughout 
 the country next morning by the galloping of messengers sent out by the 
 Privy Council (before his surrender was known) to prevent his escape 
 by sea. 
 
 In 1589 Essex had been elected 'High Recorder' (i.e. High Steward, 
 in modem parlance) of Maldon, at a yearly salary of £$. In the archives 
 of Maldon we find (i) an ofHcial copy of the warrant against Essex, with 
 Maldon endorsement ' Receyved this warrant the ixth of Februarie, about 
 X. of the clock ', and (2) appended note by the county magnate who trans- 
 mitted it. 
 
 f 
 
 1. Whereas the Earle of Essex hath shewed himself an open Traytor, 
 and it is greatlie to be dowbted that he will seeke the meanes to escape 
 beyond the seas, Theis shall be therefore in her ma[ies]tie's name to 
 requyer yow, that yow will take speciall order that no shippe departe out 
 of that harbore or any the portes adioyning. Hereof see yow fayle not, as 
 yow will answere the contrary at your perill. From the Courte at Whitthall 
 the viiith of February 1600. To our loving freindes the Maiors and officers 
 of the Portes of Essex. 
 
 Tho. Egerton, C[ustos] S[igilli] ; G. Hunsdon; Will. KnoUys; Ro. 
 Cecyll ; Jo. Popham ; J. Herbert. 
 
 [i.e. Sir Thomas Egerton, Master of the Rolls and Lord Keeper; George 
 Carey, 2nd baron Hunsdon, Lord Chamberlain ; Sir William Knollys, 
 Comptroller of the Household ; Sir Robert Cecil, Secretary of State ; Sir 
 John Popham, Chief Justice of the Queen's Bench ; John Herbert, perhaps 
 Clerk of the Council.] 
 
 2. Forasmuche as, this mornyng erly, being mundaye and the ixth of 
 feabruary 1600, a pursevantt browght vnto me. Sir Thomas Lucas, knyght, 
 a warrant vnder the hands of these above-named, being all of his [sic\ 
 magestye's moste honorable privye councell, wherof this is a trwe copye ; 
 and forasmuche as the pursyvantt hym selfe is gone forward with all speed 
 vnto the ports of Suffolke and Northfolke, with the warraunt it selfe, for the 
 lyke service to be done ; these are therfore, in his [stc\ magestye's name 
 to see this sayde warrantt, with the effecte, to be by you (the Baylyffs and 
 officers of the porte of Maiden) to be executed accordingly. 
 
 Tho. Lucas. 
 
 Sir Thomas Lucas had been High Sheriff of Essex, 1568, and was 
 probably now a Deputy-Lieutenant. He died, aet. 80, August 29, 161 1. 
 
 The obedience of Maldon authorities to this order is seen in the accounts 
 for 1601, where 2s. 4</. is paid to John Smalwood 'for carrying letters to 
 
 (327 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXIX 
 
 Burnham[-on-Crouch] and Lee [Leigh-on-Thames], February g, touching 
 the late earle of Essex '. 
 
 The earl's personal popularity, and the unexpectedness of his fall, 
 enlisted general sympathy, as is shown by numerous other ballads on this 
 subject : e. g. a Black-letter one, in Wood 401, fol. 75'' (' Sweet England's 
 prideisgone | Welladay! Welladay!'), printed in/?o*-*«r^^«5a//arfj,i. 564; 
 and two from MS. in Furnivall and MorfiU's Ballads from MS. ii. 24, 217. 
 
 ^ lamentflMe netn ISallati bpoit t\z (Earle 
 of Essex beatj^. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF The King's last Goodnight. 
 
 ['J 
 All yow that crye O hone ! O hone ! 
 
 come now and sing O lord! with me. 
 For why? our Jewell is from vs goone, 
 
 the valient Knight of Chiualrye. 
 Of rich and poore beloued was hee, — 
 
 in tyme an honorable Knight — 
 Who by our lawes condemnd was he 
 
 and late take his last good-night. 
 
 [i] 2 O lord] read O hone (i.e. Och hone), as in some B.-L. 
 copies. 7 read But by our laws condemn'd to die. The mis- 
 reading in the text is found also in B.-L. exemplars. 8 late take] 
 read late did take. Some B.-L. exemplars have ' lately tooke '. 
 (328) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXIX 
 
 [-] 
 
 Count him not like to Sauit, nor Campion, 
 
 these traytrous men, or Babbinton, 
 Nor like the earle of Westmerlande, 
 
 by whom a number were vndoone. 
 He never yet hurt mother's sonne ; 
 
 his quarrell still maintainde the right; 
 Which makes the teares my cheekes downe runne 
 
 when I thinke of his last good-night. 
 
 [3] 
 
 The Portingals can witnes be 
 
 his dagger at Lisbone gate he flunge, 
 And, like a knight of chevalrye, 
 
 his chane vpon the gate he hunge, 
 Would god that he would thither come 
 
 to fetch them both in order right, 
 Which thinge was by his honour doone ; 
 
 yet lately tooke his last good-night. 
 
 [4] 
 
 The Frenchmen they can testifye 
 
 the towne of Gourney he tooke in, 
 And marched to Roane immediatlye, 
 
 not caring for his foes a pinne : 
 With bullets he persed their skinne, 
 
 and made them flye farre from his sight : 
 He, at that time, did credite winne; 
 
 and nowe hath tane his last good-night. 
 
 [5] 
 
 And stately Cales can witnesse well, 
 
 even by his proclamations right. 
 He did commaund them all straytlye 
 
 to haue a care of infants' liues. 
 That non should ravishe mayde nor wife, 
 
 which was against their order right 
 Therefore they prayed for his longe life, 
 
 which lately tooke his last good-night. 
 
 [3] 2 Lisbom] in 1589. 5 Would] nod Vowed. [4I a 
 
 Gourney] in 1591. 3 Roam] i.e. Rouen, in 1591. 5 bullets 
 he persed] read bullets then he pierc'd. [5] i Cales] i.e. 
 
 Cadiz, in 1596. i and 2 and 4 : the MS. readings are wrong. 
 For ' well ' read ' be ', to rhyme loosely with line 3. Read ' pro- 
 clamation strong ' and ' infants young ' in 11. 2, 4, which ought 
 to end differently from 11. 6, 8. 6 theirj read his. right] 
 
 read quite, 
 
 (329) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXIX 
 
 [6] 
 Would god that he had ne'ere Ireland knowne, 
 
 nor set his feete in Maunders ground, 
 The[n] might we well inioyde our owne 
 
 where nowe our Jewell will not be found; 
 Which makes our woes still to abound, 
 
 trickling with salt teares in my sight, 
 To heare his name in our eares to sound — 
 
 Lord Deureux tooke his last good-night. 
 
 [7] 
 
 Ashe-wenesday, that dismall daye, 
 
 when he came forth of his chamber-dore, 
 Vpon a Scaffold there he sawe 
 
 his headsman standing him before. 
 The Nobles all that did deplore, 
 
 sheading their salt teares in his sight. 
 He bade farwell to rich and poore, 
 
 at his good-morrowe and good-night. 
 
 [8] 
 My Lords, (quoth he) yow stand but by, 
 
 to see performance of the lawe; 
 It's I that haue deserued to dy, 
 
 and yeeldes my selfe vnto the blowe. 
 I have deserved to dye, I knowe; 
 
 but never against my cuntrye's right, 
 Nor to my Queene was never foe ; 
 
 vpon my death, at my good-night. 
 
 [9] 
 Farwell, Elizabeth, my gracious Queene! 
 
 God blesse thee and thy counsell all. 
 Farwell, my Knights of chyvalrye ; 
 
 farwell my souldiers, great and tall; 
 Farwell, the Commons, great and small. 
 
 into the hands of men I light ; 
 My lyfe shall make amends for all, 
 
 for Essex bids the world good-night. 
 
 [10] 
 
 Farewell, deare wife, and children three; 
 
 farewell, my yong and tender sonne. 
 Comfort yourselues ; morne not for me, 
 
 although your fall be nowe begun. 
 
 '^9< \P^^^ ^^^ °"^^* "'^*- = Flounders'] ' Flanders ' is wrong : 
 read Munster's ', the scene of the futile expedition May ag. to 
 July 3,. 1599. which caused his disgrace. 3 well inioydel read 
 
 still enioy. 8 Deureux] i. e. Dev'reux. [7] i Ashe- 
 
 wenesday] February 25, i6oo-i. [9] 4 great] read stout 
 
 (330) 
 
Shirburn Balhds^ LXXIX 
 
 My tyme is come; the glasse is runne. 
 
 Comfort yourselues in former light. 
 Seeing, by my fall, yow are vndone, 
 
 your father bids the world good-night. 
 
 ["] 
 Dertcke ! thow knowst, at statelye Cales I saude 
 
 thy lyfe, lost for a rape there done, 
 Which thow thyselfe canst testyfye — 
 
 thy owne hand three and twenty hung. 
 But now, thow seest, my tyme is come; 
 
 by chaunce into thy hands I light. 
 Stricke out the blow, that I maye knowe 
 
 thow Essex lovedst at his good-night. 
 
 [12] 
 
 When England counted me a Papist, 
 
 the works of Papists I defye. 
 I never worshipe S[ain]ct nor angell in heauen, 
 
 nor to the Virgin Marye, I; 
 But to Christ, which for my synnes did dye. 
 
 Trickling with sad teares in his sight, 
 Sp[r]eading my armes to god on high, 
 
 Lord Jesus receive my soule this night. 
 
 ifinisi. 
 
 No. LXXX 
 Rest thee, desire ; gaze not at such a star 
 
 Fol. 257. This is a singular piece to be found in a collection of ballads. 
 Stanzas 3, S, 7 are, in origin, a condensation of the delicately tripping 
 verses of Anacreon : — 
 
 Metroi/uKTt'oir Ttoff &pais — 
 
 as may be seen in Robert Herrick's version. This version of them (with 
 some differences of reading) is one of the poems brought into Robert 
 Greene's romance of Orpharion (1588). Here, to Greene's version an initial 
 stanza has been prefixed, to convert the piece into the musing of a married 
 man on an ideal beauty beyond his reach. Further, to extend the piece 
 to the length requisite for a half-sheet, and to adapt it to the vulgarity 
 of ' the vulgar sort ', stanzas 2, 4, 6, 8 introduce the scoldings of the wife, 
 whose jealousy has been stirred by the husband's restlessness. Stanza 9 
 expresses their reconcilement. 
 
 [10] 7 Seeing] read Since. [11] i Cales\ i. e. Cadiz. [12] i When] 
 
 read Though. counted] read counteth. a defye] read denye. 3 omit in 
 heauen. 4 to] read yet. 5 But to] omit to. 
 
 (331 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads^ LXXX 
 Si plea;0attt breame. 
 
 To ANY NEW TUNE. 
 
 [i] M[an.J 
 
 Rest thee, disire ; gaze not at such a starre : 
 
 sweete fancy, sleepe: love, take a nap awhile. 
 My busy thoughts that reach and rome soe farre, 
 with pleasant dreames the length of tyme beguile. 
 D[e]are Venus, cool my overheated breast, 
 and let my fancy take her wonted rest. 
 
 [2] Wo[man.] 
 
 A-lacke, good syr ! what troubleth so your minde ? 
 
 yow cannot sleepe, for being over kynd. 
 
 Sure yow are vexed with fancyes in the night : 
 
 yow naught but dreame of her that's your delight. 
 But, take good heed she corns not crosse your nose, 
 for here lyes shee that now weares yellow hose. 
 
 [3] Man. 
 
 Cupid abrad was latfed in the night ; 
 
 his wings were wett with ranging in the raine. 
 Harbour he sought; to me he tooke his flight 
 to drye his plumes. I hard the boy complayne ; 
 My dore I opte to graunt him his desyre, 
 and rose my selfe to make the wag a fyre. 
 
 [4] Wo[man.] 
 
 Are yow so great growne with that little god, 
 
 that in your breast he maketh his abode? 
 
 It had beene better sure he had from hence be gone; 
 
 ther's other matters, syr, for yow to thinke vpon. 
 
 Are yow soe idle, syr, yow dreame of naught but loue? 
 
 I know a meanes that will those things remove. 
 
 [5] Man. 
 
 Looking more nearer, by the fyre's flame, 
 
 I spi'de his quiver hanging at his backe. 
 I feard the child might my misfortune frame — 
 I would haue gone, for feare of further wracke: 
 And what I durst, poore man, did me betyde: 
 for forth he drew an arrowe from his syde. 
 
 Title. any]»-«8rfa [2] 3 vexed] i.e. vext. 6 yellow] i. e. the 
 
 colour of jealousy. [3] x abrad] i. e. abroad. [5] i nearer] 
 
 narrow (in Greene), fyre's] i. e. fi-er's. 5 durst] i. e. dreaded. 
 Greene has 'drad'. 
 
 (332 ) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads^ LXXX 
 
 [6] Wo[man.] 
 
 Had yow such eyes yow can so clearly see, 
 and had no eares to listen vnto me? 
 I haue a bow, syr, more fytter for your bent, 
 where yow may shoote your fill and not be shent. 
 
 But yf yow range, syr, to mysse yow shalbe sure ; 
 
 The buzzard neere will stoope to grant your lure. 
 
 [7] Man. 
 
 He pierst the quicke, that I began to starte: 
 
 the wound was sweet, but that it was to hye. 
 And yet the pleasure had a feeling smart. 
 
 This done, awaye he flyes (his wings were dry); 
 But left his arrow styll within my brest, 
 that now I grieve I welcomd such a ghest. 
 
 [8] Wo[man.] 
 
 Your wound, good man, is dangerous and deepe. 
 
 It needs insic-i-on (poore soule) your health to keepe. 
 
 Be ruld by me; and I your griefe will ease. 
 
 Turne this way quickly ; here 's help for your disease. 
 
 Leave of your dreming : vse yow more delay. 
 
 To mend your maladye, this is the readye way. 
 
 [9 L'Envoy.J 
 
 The goodman and his wife they both so well agree : 
 'This is the only meanes, sweet hart, indeed; 
 'to keepe me walking.' 'Then, prethe, be content; 
 'let's end this dreaming with this night's meriment.' 
 
 Thus then yow see that dreams somtyme prove true. 
 
 Conceit their pastimes, and byd them both adew. 
 
 Horace [Eftst. i. xi. 27] : 
 ' Coelum, non animum mutant, qui trans mare currant.' 
 
 [End of the MS. as now made up. End, as I assume, of the 
 portion first written.] 
 
 [6] 6 grant] read grasp. [7] 3 to hye] read too nye. 
 
 6 now I grieve] sore I greeude (in Greene). [8] 5 of] i. e. off. 
 yow] read no. [9] 3 walking] i. e. waking: see n. i, p. 43. 
 
 prethe] i. e. prithee. 
 
 ( 333 ) 
 
APPENDIX OF SUPPLEMENTARY 
 BALLADS 
 
 The Bodleian has a small oblong MS. (shelf-mark MS. Rawlinson 
 poet. 185), written in 1589 or 1590, of the same type as the Shirburn 
 MS., and supplying a most interesting supplement to it. This volume 
 now contains twenty-four leaves of paper (leaf 25, as foliated, being 
 the old back-cover of the MS. and of thicker paper), but a leaf has 
 been torn out after fol. 24, and a leaf or leaves between fol. 5, 6. 
 The writing is in a good, scholarly hand, which uses English letters 
 for the body of the text, and Roman letters for titles, refrains, &c., 
 exactly as the scribe of the Shirburn MS. (see pp. i, 2). Three 
 names are found in the book; but, to my mind, they are all later 
 than the text, say of date 1600 to 1620. 'Dorothy Halford' occurs 
 at the top right corner of fol. i : cf. Richard and William Halford 
 (p. 2). 'William Wagstaife' is written between the columns on 
 fol. 9 ; and ' William WagstafTe ' and ' Thomas Wagstaffe ', among 
 scribblings, on fol. 25. The leaves are 6^ inches high by 8|- inches 
 wide. This oblong form seems chosen to allow the longer lines to 
 be written continuously across the page. Where the 'pieces are in 
 short lines, they are written in double columns. 
 
 The MS. has several points of interest. It affords additional 
 indication of the surprising amount (p. 2) of printed matter, which 
 people in Elizabeth's time thought it worth while to transfer from the 
 perishable printed Broad-sheet to the more lasting MS. notebook. It 
 supplies also ballads descriptive of important features of Elizabethan 
 life (country pursuits, street cries, the apprenticeship system) which 
 are absent from the Shirburn MS. It furnishes a quaint additional 
 example of the ballad-drama. 
 
 The volume had not escaped the search of the pioneers of ballad- 
 studies. To Furnivall and MorfiU's Ballads from MS. it has yielded 
 two lengthy panegyrics on Queen Ehzabeth, comparable to, but 
 without the individualities of, No, XLII, viz. the piece (on fol. 13) 
 beginning : — 
 
 London! londonl singe and praise thy lord, 
 
 to the tune of Tarleioris caroll {Ballads jrom MS. ii. 92) ; and that 
 (on fol. 11^) beginning : — 
 
 Prepare with speed: 
 crist['s] comming is at hand. 
 
 to the tune of The Medley (ibid. ii. 109). 
 
 (334) 
 
Appendix I 
 
 Appendix I 
 Will you buy any broom-birches green 
 
 Fol. I of the Rawlinson MS. 
 
 9i 0o«nge of t\z guise of JLonbon. 
 
 Will you buy any broome birch and greene, 
 The finest Broome that euer was scene, 
 Broome of the best, you knowe what I meane — 
 Will you buy any Broome, Mistris ? 
 
 Will you buy any brushes that be stronge, 
 Brushes shorte and Brushes lounge, 
 Lylie-white Brushes, this is my sounge — 
 
 [3] 
 Will you buy any Brushes for your Cotes, 
 To brush away dust, and allso motes, 
 Very fine Brushes for gownes and Clokes — 
 
 [4] 
 Will you buy any Rods or holly-wands; 
 Pyes the best that euer came in your hands : 
 I haue the daintiest puddinges in all these lands — 
 
 [5] 
 What lacke you, goodwife? What do you seeke? 
 A goode neate's foote? or a good hogg's Cheeke? 
 My ware is the best that you saw this weeke — 
 
 [6] 
 New place, new, as new as the daye ; 
 New whittings, new, here haue you maye. 
 Come, buy all my fishe, and send me awaye — 
 
 [7] 
 Mackrell new, Choppers longe and greate; 
 Walflett oysters, they be very good meate; 
 Fishe of the best and scant to gett — 
 
 Title, guise] reorfcries. [i] i birch and] read perhaps 
 
 -birches green or fresh and green. 4 Refrain to follow each 
 
 verse. [6] i place] i. e. plaice. [7] i Choppers] i. e. 
 
 big ones. 
 
 (335) 
 
Shirburn Ballads 
 
 [8] 
 Will you buy any flory that is blacke? 
 Worke for a tinker ? Mistres, what do you lack ? 
 Haue you any olde Bellows to mend that be in wrack— 
 
 [9] 
 Will you buy any milke and firmetie ? 
 A good sawsedge, a good, comma buy of me. 
 Fine Oranges, the best you did see — 
 
 [10] 
 
 Pippins fine, the best in the streat ; 
 
 Quinces and wardens, the best you can meete ; 
 
 Nutts of the best, both smale and great — 
 
 ["] 
 Haue you any old Iron to sell? 
 Old broken silver? I pray you tell. 
 An old broken goblett would do very well — 
 
 [12] 
 
 Old pasles or Cunneyskines, maides ; 
 
 Good shomakers heres, or good all blades. 
 
 In Smithfield is to sell good horses and Jades — 
 
 [13] 
 Chimney sweep, maides ! Chimney sweepp ! 
 Aqua-vite of the best, to spend or to keepp. 
 Callis sande of the best between london and deepp— 
 
 [14] 
 Kitchen stufe, maids ! haue you any to sell ? 
 Shirte laces and bottons that here the bell; 
 I haue other thinges that will like you well — 
 
 [15] 
 Hard young letuce, faire and white ! 
 A ripe Cowcumber, a ripe ! 
 I haue all fine herbes that you can resite — 
 Will you buy any Broome, mistres 1 
 
 ifimsf. 
 
 [8] I flory] not in the Dictionaries. [12] i pasles] sic. 
 
 n heres] i. e. hairs. all] i. e. awl. [13] 3 Callis sandej 
 
 white sand for scouring. deepp] i. e. Dieppe. 
 
 (336) 
 
Appendix II 
 
 Appendix II 
 These passions here which you profess 
 
 Fol. V. The antithesis of No. LXXI V and its kidney. 
 The last ballad in the MS. is also : — 
 
 2i uounge in praise of t$e single life. 
 
 To the tune of The gosie's hearse alias 
 The voice of the earth, 
 
 a dreary piece in six 15 -lined stanzas, beginning 
 
 Some do write of bloodie warres ; 
 Some shewes the sundrie iarres 
 
 'twixt men through envie raised. . . . 
 
 2i pret^ songe. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF legoranto. 
 
 These passions here which I professe, 
 
 good sir, requires great cost. 
 I pray you make not to jnuch hast 
 
 lest that your loue be lost. 
 When sommer is goinge then winter is comminge 
 
 apace. 
 I you advise, if you be wise, 
 in tyme to stay your chase 
 
 w 
 
 Lest that you run, as Phehus did 
 
 who Daphne did persue 
 With flyinge flyght, yet naught avayld 
 
 although his loue was trew. 
 For she desired rather Peneius her father 
 
 agree 
 to tourne this wench Jove's loue to quench 
 
 into a lawrell tree. 
 
 [i] I I] read yoa. 
 sHiRB. z ( 337 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads 
 
 [3] 
 
 I pray you therfore stay your steppes; 
 
 your sute is very colde. 
 To loue to soone without advise, 
 
 I dare not be so bolde. 
 The tymes they do varry, and I cannot tarry 
 
 or staye. 
 Your sute, or prayer, I will not here; 
 for needs I must awaye. . 
 
 [4] 
 Diana'es Love I doe embrace, 
 
 from which I will not change. 
 I meane as yet to locke my love 
 
 least frowardly it range. 
 The thinge you requested to grant I detested 
 
 for why? 
 I will be said to Hue a maide 
 till atrapos drawe nye. 
 
 [S] 
 Your foresaid love and sute I scorne; 
 
 from Cupid I am free. 
 In Bales I boste, with Daphne faire ; 
 
 I loue the lawrell tree. 
 Then who can remove me, although ye do love 
 
 me so dere. 
 For Cupid! s lawe I passe not a strawe : 
 his shafte I httle feare. 
 
 [6] 
 What Cankered care and Jelowsie 
 
 the maried wiues sustaine : 
 What fancie[s] fond the husbands haue, 
 
 to show it were in vaine. 
 If I should be maried my Corpes should be Caried 
 
 awaye. 
 For stormes of stryfe would end my life, 
 and close me fast in Claye. 
 
 [7] 
 
 Behold how Jove most cunnyngly 
 
 did take the shape of Bull; 
 Who, though he maried Juno faire, 
 
 deceiued many a trull. 
 Seeth gods have abused the thynge that well vsed 
 
 should bee, 
 I'll not be made, but very glade 
 to love the Lawrell tree. 
 
 [4] I Love] read Lore. 
 (338) 
 
Appendix II 
 
 [8] 
 
 The silly soule, poor Prochris, once, 
 
 who was a marled wife, 
 the Crooked carlle Jelowsie 
 
 did cause her end her life. 
 For when her spouse Cephall, in huntyng thus 
 
 call ... for ayre, 
 With leveled darte, he perced her harte, 
 thinking she was a dere. 
 
 [9] 
 
 A virgin hath none of these harmes 
 
 her daintie minde to cloye. 
 A maiden hath noe Jelows thoughts 
 
 to kill her with anoye. 
 A maide hath no moninge, in Childbed no groninge, 
 
 but still 
 she lives in Joy; far from anoye 
 
 she houldes her ease at will. 
 
 [10] 
 
 Yet surely - 1 am sorye, sir, 
 
 because such paines you take. 
 In lovinge her that loves not you, 
 
 who doth you quite forsake. 
 Yet reson pretendeth, and wisdome intendeth 
 
 to vse 
 a med'cine pure your wittes to cure, 
 the which you do refuse. 
 
 ["] 
 
 Let reason rule the raginge loue 
 
 of Cupid's flaming fire. 
 Let wisdome haue the vpor hande 
 
 of this your fond desire. 
 Let not loue dismaye you ; sweete freend, I pray 
 
 you, remaine 
 in wisdome's power and reason's bower, 
 then shall you be whole againe. 
 
 [8] 5 Margin frayed. [11] 3 vpor] i. e. upper. 
 
 z 2 ( 339 ) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads 
 
 Appendix III 
 It was a maid of Islington 
 
 Fol. 5^, The beginning of a ballad which harps on the same theme as 
 No. LXXIV. 
 
 The tune-title possibly connects with Lady Jane Grey's Lamentation 
 in Furnivall and MorfiU's Ballads from MS. i. 427, or Lady Jan^s 
 Lament, ibid. 429. 
 
 ja prette Wi^z. 
 
 To THE TUNE OFF ladie Jane. 
 
 It was a maide of Islington, 
 and her wheell ran very rounde; 
 and many a waton web she spun, 
 and it cost her many a pound — 
 
 Alas ! (she saide) what hap had I ! 
 
 run round, run round, my whele ! 
 
 I fere a maiden I shall die, 
 
 before my web I rele. 
 
 My mistres is a daintie dame, 
 and bravely she can iet it ; 
 and if my whele runs out of frame, 
 she will say 'wanton letts it.' 
 
 Thus many a Check and taunt haue I 
 
 run round, run round, my wkele ! 
 
 I fere a maiden I shall die, 
 
 before my web I reele. 
 
 Appendix IV 
 An art whose end was never known 
 
 Fol. 6. The first line of the last stanza is taken to name this ballad, 
 because the title and beginning are wanting, a leaf or leaves having been 
 torn out before fol. 6. To judge by the length of the companion piece 
 (Appendix V), a stanza and a half are missing here. The theme is ' the 
 Admonition of a Father to his Son, whom he is binding apprentice ' to a 
 weaver (stanza 9). His text is the great advantage that a man has who 
 
 [i] 3 waton] sic. 
 (340) 
 
Appendix IV 
 
 is a capable craftsman (stanza 7), much in the strain of one of Thomas 
 Tusser's (d. 1580) Good husbandly lessons :— 
 
 The greatest preferment that child we can give 
 is learning and nurture to train him to live. 
 
 The Mother's Admonition (Appendix V) takes a less exalted point of 
 view, and describes the social arts by which the apprentice may escape 
 too much stick. 
 
 It is impossible for us to take in the full extent of the social difference 
 which the abandonment of the apprenticeship system has made between 
 Elizabeth]s days and our own. The statute which codified the system 
 was 5 Eliz. c. 4 (1562-3). By this no one might open shop or practise 
 trade unless he had become free of the traffic or trade by having served 
 his seven years of apprenticeship. Hence, a very large number of lads were 
 taken from home at tender years to live for a protracted period in a 
 master's house. If they ran away, owing to home-sickness, weariness, or 
 even ill-treatment, the law and the constable sent them back. The term 
 of years was usually seven, as in the statute (5 Eliz. c. 4, § 24) ; but much 
 longer periods are known. Thus, at Maldon, November 12, 1593, John 
 Loffe was apprenticed ' for twelve years with Thomas Bennett, musicion, 
 of Maldon, to learn the art of a musicion or mynstrell '. The indentures 
 by which lads were bound apprentice contained these stipulations by the 
 master : — (i) he is to instruct the apprentice ' in every feate, cunning, and 
 skill, apperteyninge to the science, mistery, or trade ' in question ; (2) (and 
 this receives as much prominence as is given to instruction) he is 'to 
 chastise and correct him for his faultes and offences charitably and 
 moderately ' ; (3) to supply him with board and clothing ; (4) and, at the 
 end of his time, to give him an outfit of ' double apparell, that is to saie, 
 one good sute for the Lord's daye, and the other for the workinge dayes, 
 meete and decent for such a servant to have and weare '. 
 
 Stanzas 8 and 9 speak of the weaver's craft as a somewhat dignified 
 one. This is found even in the cold style of the Statute. 5 Eliz. c. 4, 
 § 23, enumerates twenty-five trades (bricklayers, &c.) which may take for 
 apprentices boys whose parents have no lands ; § 20 forbids merchants 
 taking apprentices unless of parents who have lands of yearly value of 
 ;£2 ; but § 25 forbids woollen-cloth-weavers taking an apprentice except 
 father or mother have lands of yearly value of £'i. 
 
 {?\ 
 
 And he that hath the hevenly skill 
 
 of Lerning's lore attaind, 
 a Jewell rare, a perle of price, 
 
 that happie man hath gaind. 
 
 [3] 
 
 Though now to thee the frutes therof 
 
 doth not so fully growe, 
 the profit of so rare a tree 
 
 thow shalt hereafter knowe. 
 For why ? by learninge first the trew 
 
 and livinge god was knowne, 
 whose perfect truth from falshood vile 
 
 therby is plainly showne. 
 
 (341) 
 
Shirburn Ballads 
 
 [4] 
 
 The vertue eke of Sune and Moone, 
 
 the stares, and plannets seven, 
 and each thinge els that beareth life 
 
 and dwelleth vnder heaven. 
 Yea, every beast and fethered foule, 
 
 the fish in fominge flood, 
 each plant and tree in Summer tyme 
 
 that one the earth doth bood. 
 
 [5] 
 Then, sith it is so rare a thinge 
 
 with lerninge to abide, 
 forsake not thou that gratious guest 
 
 which is so good a guide. 
 And, last of all, my loving sonne, 
 
 haue thow in heedfull mynde 
 the perfect knowledge of the trade 
 
 wherto I shall thee binde 
 
 [6] 
 That thou maist be, in tyme to come, 
 
 a worthy workman deemd, 
 and, for thy skill in Curious arte, 
 
 amonge the best esteemd. 
 Apelles and JPigmalion both 
 
 examples well may be 
 whose fame doth live (though they be dead) 
 
 and florish still we see. 
 
 [7] 
 Then thinke no scorne, my lovinge sonne, 
 
 a handy-craft to learne, 
 though yet the profit of the same 
 
 thy witts do not discerne. 
 No one thinge in the world so sure, 
 
 by all men's just consent ; 
 for skill doth stay when goods be gone 
 
 and riches all be spente. 
 
 [8] 
 No Tyrant's traine, nor furious foe, 
 
 can reeve thee of thy skill, 
 except that they by envie seeke 
 
 thy guiltles life to spill. 
 Besides it is no triflinge trade 
 
 that I would haue thee vse, 
 but such a one as worthie weightes 
 
 to do did not refuse ; 
 
 [4] 8 one] i. e. on. bood] i. e. bud. [8] 2 reeve] i. e. 
 
 reave, deprive. 7 weightes] i.e. wights. 
 
 (S42) 
 
Appendix IV 
 
 [9] 
 
 An arte whose end was never knowne, 
 
 a curious arte and fine, 
 even such as Pallas, hevenly dame, 
 
 did practis many a tyme. 
 Therfore, to doe thy father's will 
 
 thy paines do thou imploye : 
 so shalt thow be a common-welth 
 
 a member of great ioy. 
 
 ifinisi. 
 
 Appendix V 
 My father having moved his mind 
 
 Fol. 6^. See introductory note to Appendix IV. Stanza 4 makes 
 mention of the boy's ' fellows ' in his master's house. Many weavers had 
 quite a large household of apprentices, the only statutable restriction 
 being (5 Eliz. c. 4, § 26) that one journeyman must be employed for every 
 three apprentices. Maldon records suggest that there were occasions on 
 which telling of tales was not uncalled for. May, 1633, alderman John 
 Rudland, webster (i. e. weaver), asked the borough authorities to control 
 his unruly apprentices. They (four in number) slept in a room which 
 was supposed to be entered only through their master's bedroom. They 
 had found that, by pushing up the ceiling-boards of their room, they could 
 pull themselves up into a loft which ran the whole length of the house, 
 and so, by again shifting some loose boards, let themselves down into 
 empty rooms at the far-end of the house. On Thursday, May 15, having 
 been locked in their room by their mistress, their master being then in 
 London, the four left the house at 10 p.m. and went down to the harbour, 
 where they did much damage to the salt-pit and salt-house, threw goods 
 from the quay into the Channel, and, on their way home, broke latches off 
 people's doors. Unsatisfied with this mohawking, the elder three came 
 out a second time, threw down the stocks, and cast fish-stalls into the 
 cart-way. When this came out, the youngest apprentice submitted to 
 ' sufficient correction ' at his master's hands ; but the three others were 
 defiant, and had to be bound over to the Sessions to answer for their 
 conduct. 
 
 By the Statute 33 Henry VIII c. 9, § 11, playing at cards (stanzas 6 
 and 7) was expressly forbidden to apprentices, under penalty of bs. ?'f. 
 for each ofifence, except during Christmas-tide, when they might play in 
 their master's house or in his presence. 
 
 [9] 7 a] read in. 
 
 (343) 
 
Shirburn Ballads 
 
 TL\z abmonitiottss of j^is ^ot|ier, anb \tt 
 couttisatle at %i^ beparttng. 
 
 [^] 
 
 My father having moued his minde 
 
 that now his tale was done, 
 with watery eyes my mother dere 
 
 vnto me straight doth toume ; 
 and takinge oft my hand in holde, 
 
 when teres were wipte awaye, 
 her inward thoughtes she vtterfed, 
 
 and thus she gan to saye — 
 
 Marke well (quoth she) the sage precepts 
 
 thy father lately taught; 
 and set not thow thy Mother's words 
 
 and counsell clean e at naught, 
 but ponder well within thy brest 
 
 the things I shall declare ; 
 and evermore in redie minde 
 
 thy mother's saings beare. 
 
 [3] 
 Although thie father, with great care, 
 
 hath well instructed thee, 
 yet, eare thow parte, my lovinge sonne, 
 
 somme counsaile take of me. 
 When to thy master thow arte bound, 
 
 apply thy busie paine 
 in each respect to plese him well, 
 
 his favour to obtaine ; 
 
 [4] 
 So shalt thou be in happie case, 
 
 and live in quiet rest. 
 But yet, to be in ioyfuU state, 
 
 plese thou thy Mistres best : 
 for why? thy meirth is very smale, 
 
 wheras her friendshipp fayles. 
 And of thy fellowes in the house 
 
 take heede thow tell no tales. 
 
 [5] 
 Thus breefly haue I tould the summe 
 
 of that I had to say ; 
 but why thou shouldst observe the same 
 
 I will somme resons laye. 
 The london dames be hasty shrowes ; 
 
 and therfore it is best 
 to win ther favour first of all ; 
 soone shalt thow haue the rest. 
 [i] 5 oft] read of. [5] 8 the restj i. e. (the favour of) the rest 
 (of the household). 
 
 (344) 
 
Appendix V 
 
 [6] 
 For, if that stubborne thow remaine 
 
 against thy mistres mynde, 
 thow shalt be sure, of all the rest, 
 
 the hardest mache to finde. 
 If thow shouldst chance in christmas tyme 
 
 the knaue of clubes to playe, 
 she wilbe sure the Queene of trumpes 
 
 vpon thy trycke to laye. 
 
 [7] 
 And if she see, by course of Cards, 
 
 her porposse do not frame, 
 she will not sticke to steale a Carde 
 
 but she will win the game. 
 But if thy master chance to Chide, 
 
 and she remaine thy freend, 
 the wande shall not come nere thy backe 
 
 before she hould the end. 
 
 [8] 
 And if intretance may prevayle 
 
 thy suretyshipe to crave, 
 then maist thou make thy full accompt 
 
 thy pardon for to haue. 
 Thus maist thou live in good accompt, 
 
 if thou regarde dost take. 
 These resons, from an hundred more, 
 
 I vtter for thy sake. 
 
 [9] 
 Now, if thow hast thy maister's love, 
 
 thy mistres eke as well, 
 yet, if thy fellowes here thee spight, 
 
 thow art not far from hell. 
 And therfore, seeke, with willinge mynde, 
 
 to plese thy fellowes all; 
 so shalt thow be esteemed well, 
 
 and loved, of great and smale. 
 
 [lo] 
 
 And thus I end for want (quoth she) 
 
 of longer tyme and space, 
 beseeching him that rules the heavens 
 
 to sheeld thee with his grace. 
 
 ifitti?. 
 
 [6] 3 the rest] i. e. the inmates of the house. 4 mache] i. e. 
 
 match. L9] 3 bere] i. e. bear. 
 
 (345) 
 
Shirburn Ballads 
 
 Appendix VI 
 Prepare yourselves to fast this Lent 
 
 Fol. 7^ Thomas Preston (d. 1598), to whom the MS. assigns the 
 ballad, Master of Trinity Hall, Cambridge, occupies a niche in the 
 Temple of Fame by reason of Shakespeare's allusion (l Henry IV, ii. 4) 
 to the ranting style of his Tragedy of Cambises (is(><)). There are several 
 contemporary allusions to him as a writer of ballads ; so it is pleasant, 
 after so long a time, to recover one of these. The theme of the ballad is 
 the spiritual discipline which ought to accompany the Lenten fast, and 
 without which the material observance of Lent is nothing worth. We are 
 at once reminded, in the next generation of Englishmen, of Robert 
 Herrick's To keep a true Lent, in his Noble Numbers : — 
 
 Is this a fast, to keep 
 the larder lean 
 and clean 
 from fat of veals and sheep ? 
 
 Laying the two pieces side by side, we are helped to judge of the gulf 
 which separates the parson who versifies from the poet who preaches. 
 
 The occasion of the ballad was the recent tightening of the Statute 
 enforcing the observance of Lent. The Statute, 5 Eliz. c. 5, § 12 (1562-3), 
 had subjected to a penalty of ;£3, or three months' close imprisonment, 
 all persons who (without licence) ate flesh-meat in Lent, and to a penalty 
 of £7., any householder who connived at their doing so. Licence could be 
 purchased by a peer for 26j. 8rf. yearly ; by a knight, for 13^. 4^/. ; by a 
 commoner, for ds. %d. — the fees to be paid to the poor-box of the parish in 
 which the person so licensed lived. A later Statute, 27 Eliz. c. 11, § S 
 (1584-5), provided that 'noinholder, taverner, alehousekeeper, common 
 vitteler, common cook, or common-table-keeper, shall utter or put to sale, 
 upon any day in the time of Lent, any kind of flesh victuals' under 
 penalty of ^5 and ten days' imprisonment, one-third of the fine to go to 
 the Crown, one-third to the lord of the leet in which the offence was com- 
 mitted, and one-third to the informer. Henceforward, right on to the out- 
 break of the great Civil War, yearly, at the approach of Lent, printed 
 proclamations enforcing the Statute were issued by the Privy Council to 
 the Justices of the Peace. These justices, or, in the case of the privileged 
 boroughs, the corporations, then bound over butchers, innholders, and 
 victuallers, themselves in ^10 each and two sureties in £1 each, to observe 
 the regulations. Every Easter Quarter Sessions there was a good deal of 
 business in inquiring into, and inflicting fines for, breach of the Statute. 
 A definite instance occurs at Maldon, February 14, 1586-7, when Sir 
 Arthur Herrys, High Sheriff of Essex, sent to the borough the Privy 
 Council orders about ' the restraynt of kyllinge, utteringe, and eatinge of 
 fleshe in Lente ', with a covering letter, enjoining their due execution. 
 Occasionally the Privy Council added special reasons for enforcing the 
 orders. In I58(?8) the Council's letter states that the Queen requires 
 last year's orders to be very strictly observed this year, ' the rather in 
 respecte of the late greate mortallitie of sheepe and other kinde of great 
 cattle, generallie, almost thoroughowte the realme, and of the dearth and 
 scarcetie also of other kinde of victualls at this tyme.' The signatures 
 are :— Jo. Cant., W. Burghley, H. Darbie, T. (.') Cobham, T. Buckhurst, 
 
 ( 346 ) " 
 
Appendix ■ VI 
 
 F. Knolls, Jamys Croftys, Jo. WoUey— i. e. Arbp. John Whitgift ; 
 William Cecil, baron Burghley, Lord High Treasurer ; Henry Stanley, 
 earl of Derby; (probably) William Brooke, baron Cobham; Thomas 
 Sackville, baron Buckhurst ; Sir Francis KnoUys, Treasurer of the 
 Household ; Sir James Croft, Comptroller of the Household ; and John 
 WoUey, perhaps Clerk of the Council. No doubt the authorities had 
 intimated to the courtly clergy that the Crown would be grateful if they 
 could persuade the people to ready acceptance of the orders about Lent. 
 
 % fiallati from t\z countrie sent 
 to ^l^otoe l^oto toe si]^oulb fasst V^$ lent 
 
 To THE TUNE OF the crattipe. 
 
 \A 
 
 Prepare yourselves to fast this lent, 
 
 as princesse law hath willed ; 
 to obay the same be you content, 
 and let it be fulfilled. 
 
 Submit yourselves, most humbly, 
 
 to the hyare powers hartely; 
 
 for cons[cjience sake, doe not denie. 
 
 \A 
 
 And, seeth a fast commanded ys, 
 
 I wish you to obay it, 
 and fallow ther precepts in this : 
 seeme not once to denay yt. 
 
 And though from flesh restrayned ye be, 
 
 observe a greater fast must we, 
 
 for Christ and pall made that decree. 
 
 [3] 
 It is not for to fast from meate, 
 
 of yt to make a sparinge ; 
 but fast above that, and more great, 
 for this we must be caringe. 
 
 Our hands, and feete, and members all, 
 must fast this fast, as tell I shall, 
 as all should fast in generall. 
 
 [4] 
 With all our power, to fast from sinn, 
 
 and keep vs vndefiled; 
 this lent therfore let vs begine, 
 
 lest that we be begyled. 
 
 [i] a princesse] i. c. queen Elizabeth's. 6 hyare] 1. c 
 
 higher. [a] i seeth] i. c. sith, since. 3 fallow] i. c. 
 
 follow. 7 pM'\ i. e. Paul 
 
 (347) 
 
Shirburn Ballads 
 
 Let vs no longer glottons rest; 
 and lyve in sin, but it detest — 
 to learne this fast I thinke it best. 
 
 [S] 
 From thinking evill, or wishing it, 
 
 our mynds must fast each day a; 
 but thinking good, and seeking it, 
 so that it ought to stay a. 
 
 For many wayes the mynde is bent ; 
 
 to many eviles yt doth consent, 
 
 from which the mynde must fast this lent. 
 
 [6] 
 The head must fast from craftines, 
 
 which ever is devysing 
 to splay the flage of wickednes 
 by sutteltye dysguysinge. 
 
 For heads in these dayes svttle be 
 for to devise — the world may see — 
 to finde out a commoditye. 
 
 [7] 
 In singlenes the eye must fast ; 
 not wish to see thing wicked, 
 on vanetie the sight to cast, 
 which is not to be lykfed. 
 
 As eyes should fast and should not see, 
 some eyes at these dayes blynded be 
 to england's harme — the more pittie. 
 
 [8] 
 The tounge must fast from sclandering, 
 
 or vsing for to lye a : 
 the mouth allso from evill spekinge 
 where no treuth one can flye a. 
 
 Who keeps this fast I do not knowe : 
 some tounges to swift, and some to slowe, 
 both good and bad, Esopp doth showe. 
 
 [9] 
 Our eares lykewise from hering evyll 
 
 should fast, and keepe a dyet. 
 When wordes be spoke, even from the devill, 
 they should not then be quiet. 
 
 But few men['s] eares this fast do keepe ; 
 for they can heare, and seeme to sleep — 
 a covetous man can play bopeep. 
 
 [6] 3 splay] i. e. display. [8] 4 flye] read spy. 6 to] i. e. too. 
 (348) 
 
Appendix VI 
 
 [lo] 
 
 From hatred should our hartes all fast, 
 
 and ever feed on pittie ; 
 and shew mercy while life doth last, 
 in countrey, towne, and cittie. 
 
 But many hartes be frosen harde; 
 and hartes from treuth haue lately erd; 
 from falshed hartes haue no regard. 
 
 ["] 
 
 The bodye also it must fast 
 
 from meates and drinkes excessing: 
 superfluytye they must of-cast, 
 lest yt suffer oppressinge. 
 
 Continew not in banquet styll; 
 set not delight the panch to fill ; 
 lerne now, this lent, to fast from ill. 
 
 [12] 
 
 The hands allso must fast likewise 
 
 from brawling, and from fitetynge, 
 
 from theft, or mvrdor, or yll gvysse, 
 
 from rounging and from smittinge. 
 
 To fast from bribes hands must begine, 
 and hands must fast from gaines of sinn, 
 from dice, from cardes, and polling in. 
 
 But let our hands wide open bee 
 
 to helpe the poore afflicted ; 
 to distribute where need we see 
 let hands be so adicted. 
 And let our hands no whitt be slow 
 our charetie for to bestow : 
 we fast to much from this, I know. 
 
 [14] 
 
 And feet also this fast must keep. 
 They must not still be runnynge 
 for to shed blood, and make some weepe — 
 from that they must be turninge. 
 And feet must fast for making hast 
 to hurt our neighbour, him to wast : 
 but of this fast but few will tast. 
 
 [11] 3 of-cast] i.e. off-cast. [12] a fitetynge] i. e. fighting. 
 
 [13] 7 to] i. e. too. [14] 5 for] rtad from. 
 
 (349) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads 
 
 [is] 
 
 For feet be redy, at this day, 
 
 to go for to do wrong a; 
 to run to law, each weeke and day, 
 feet thinkes no iorney long a. 
 And feet can go, for to beguyle 
 another man, an hundred myle. 
 Eares, mouth, and feet, worke many a wyle. 
 
 [i6] 
 
 For eyes can see, loung time before, 
 
 what afterward will hap a. 
 The mouth can speake, and eares can heare, 
 and hands can it vp snap a. 
 And feet can run before it fall ; 
 mouth, hands, be ope to swallow all : 
 this fast is kept of great and smale. 
 
 [17] 
 From whordome, drunckennes, and such, 
 
 we all should fast and leaue yt. 
 And covetousnes is vsfed muchj 
 each one doth still receaue yt. 
 From vsery but few will fast ; 
 in pryson still the poore they cast : 
 oppression setts them on the last. 
 
 [18] 
 
 Thus few, or none, lernes the trew fast, 
 
 and few ther be will vse yt. 
 Away from vs we do it cast, 
 and styll we do refuse yt. 
 Yet every man can fast amysse; 
 and every man can hould fast this, 
 and eeke that keep, that's none of his. 
 
 [19] 
 Each man fasts from restoring that 
 
 which wrongfully is gotton. 
 They feed still of I wot not what; 
 all serues, be it ripe or rotton. 
 
 God grant vs the trew fast to learne, 
 
 to driue the fox out of the fearne, 
 
 the wolves from lambes for to descerne. 
 
 JfiltilS : q\uo\d Tho. Preston. 
 1589. 
 
 (35°) 
 
Appendix VIT 
 
 Appendix VII 
 Regard my sorrows, you lasses that love 
 
 Fol. 10. This lament raises difficult questions as to who is the sweet 
 Willie here mourned over, and what is his kinship to Edmund Spenser's 
 pleasant Willy in The Teares of the Muses (1590), 11. 205-210 : — 
 
 And he, the man whom Nature selfe had made 
 to mock her selfe, and Truth to imitate, 
 with kindly counter under Mimick shade, 
 our pleasant Willy, ah ! is dead of late : 
 with whom all ioy, and ioUy meriraent 
 is also deaded, and in dolour drent. 
 
 The piece is assigned (p. 353) to Richard Tarlton, Elizabeth's favourite 
 jester, died 1588. If that attribution be correct, we are thrown back 
 upon an older explanation of pleasant Willy, viz. that Sir Philip Sidney 
 (d. 1586) is meant, and is thus commemorated because of the masques 
 he had conducted at Court. On the other hand, the points touched on in 
 the ballad are all consistent with what we know mainly from John Stow 
 of Tarlton's life. He was (stanza 2) a maker of mirth of the greatest 
 popularity. He was a special favourite of Queen Elizabeth's (stanza 8), 
 even in her bitterest moods. He was an original member of her company 
 of twelve actors (constituted 1583), who received pay and allowances as a 
 groom of the chamber (stanza 9). His forte was improvising doggerel 
 verses (stanzas 12, 13) on subjects suggested to him by his audience. On 
 the whole, therefore, it seems that we should set aside ' quod Richard 
 Tarlton ', and take the verses as a lament, by an unknown pen, over the 
 famous jester, singer of ballad-dramas, and comedian. In that case, 
 strong support is given to the suggestion that by pleasant Willy Spenser 
 meant Tarlton. 
 
 ja Tffttixz netD ballab, intituled wilUe anJj 
 
 peggie. 
 To THE TUNE OF tarlton's Carroll. 
 
 v\ 
 
 Regard my sorroes, you lasses that loue; 
 
 for now I haue cause to complaine. 
 The weight, whome I loued in harte aboue all, 
 
 is now away from me tane — 
 My trewest loue, he is gone : 
 my nowne sweete willie is laide in his grave. 
 Ay me I what comforte may peggie now haue: 
 sweet lasses, then ayde me to waile and to moone. 
 
 [i] 3 weight] i. e. wjght. 
 
 (3SI) 
 
Shirburn Ballads 
 
 [»] 
 
 I morne for to here how, in bower and hall, 
 
 men say ' sweet willie, farewell ! ' 
 His like behinde him for merth is not left : 
 
 all other he did excell. 
 Sut now he is dead and gonne : 
 my nowne sweet willie is laide in his grave. 
 Aye me I What comforte may peggie now have: 
 sweet lasses, then aide m^ to waile and to moone. 
 
 [3] 
 Commended he was, both of great and smale, 
 
 where-soever he did abide, 
 in courte or in cittie, in countrie or towne — 
 
 so well himselfe he could guide. 
 
 [4] 
 His lookes and his gesture, his tomes and his grace, 
 
 each man so well did delight 
 that none would be wery to see him one stage 
 
 from morning vntill it were night. 
 
 [5] 
 Admetus to Akest was never more trew, 
 
 sweet willie, then thow arte to me ; 
 and as alcest for admetus her life would give, 
 
 so would I haue donne for thee. 
 
 [6] 
 Rest[s] naught for peggte but sorroe and care, 
 
 to waile the losse of her frend. 
 Seeth Death he hath taken my willie away, 
 
 would god my life it would end. 
 
 [7] 
 Dead is my wilhe whome one peggiis white hands 
 
 bestowfed perfumed gloves, 
 bis silver, himselfe, and his gaye gould ring, 
 
 as token of our trew loues. 
 
 [8] 
 Tyme caused my willte to come to the courte, 
 
 and in favour to be with the Queene: 
 wher oft he made her grace for to smile 
 
 when she full sad was seene. 
 
 [9] 
 A groome of her chamber my willie was made 
 
 to waight vpon her grace, 
 and well he behavfed him selfe therin 
 
 when he had obtaynfed the place. 
 
 [a] 5 Refrain to follow every stanza, except the two last. 
 [4] 3 one] i. e. on. [6] 3 seeth] i e. sith, since. f?] i 
 
 whome one] read who on, 3 i, e, in the marriage ceremony. 
 
 (352) 
 
Appendix VII 
 
 [lo] 
 Regarded he was of gentelmen all 
 
 that in the corte did remaine, 
 and ladies desirfed his companie oft 
 
 because of his plesant vaine. 
 
 ["] 
 Lyke argoes my willie had eyes for to see 
 
 least any he might offend; 
 and though that he iested, his iestes they weare such 
 
 as vnto reason did tend. >|c*- 
 
 [la] 
 
 To rich and to poore my willy was found 
 so meeke, so courteous, and kynde ; 
 • to singe them their themes he never denied, 
 so that it might plese their minde. 
 
 [13] 
 
 poets, now aide me with your grave style 
 
 to deck his toome with your verse, 
 seeinge, whilst he was living, on themes so hard 
 the meaning he could well rehersse. 
 
 [14] 
 Now farewell my willy, my ioy and delight; 
 
 my turtle so trew of love. 
 Though dead be thy bodie, thy soule yet (I hope) 
 
 in heaven is dwelling above. 
 And seeth thow arte dead and gonne, 
 sweet willy now farewell and adew. 
 
 1 will never forgett thee for no new 
 but like the turtle still will I moone. 
 
 [15. L'Envoy] 
 
 Thus peggy bewailed the losse of her freend 
 
 whom fates had taken away, 
 and wished her bodie intoombfed with his 
 
 in graue wheras he lay. 
 But seeth thy willy is gonne. 
 What needs thow for to waile ^nd moone. 
 Be merry, I say ; let sorro alone. 
 Some other will love the as he hath done,. 
 
 ^inilS ; q\uo\d Richard Tarlton. 
 
 [11] I argoes\ i.e. Argus. 
 
 A a ( 353 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads 
 
 Appendix VIII 
 Tell me, John, why art thou so sad 
 
 Fol. 15''. Another example of a four-act ballad-drama, similar to 
 No. LXI, but of simpler construction, having only one tune and one form 
 of stanza throughout. There are three dramatis personae ; stage directions 
 are absent, but can easily be supplied. The subject is the risky one of a 
 husband wronged, beaten, and duped by his faithless wife and manservant. 
 This is a stock piece in Italian novelle (e. g. Boccaccio, Decameron, 1352, 
 day vii, novel 7; Bandello, 1554), and French /^^//^^^^(Brabazon-Mdon, 
 Fabliaux (1808), iii. 161). See a long list^of analogues and imitations 
 in Henri Regnier's CEuvres de J. de la Fontaine (1887), iv. 83-5. 
 Granted the situation, the ballad steers clear of further offence. 
 
 The title ' Rowland's godson ' is peculiar. When taken in connexion 
 with No. LXX. it seems as though Rowland in Elizabethan folklore were 
 a generic name for a libertine or Don Juan. 
 
 Notice again (cp. p. 245) the 'you' of the servant speaking to the 
 mistress, and of the wife speaking to the husband ; and the plain ' thou ' of 
 mistress to servant, and husband to wife. 
 
 9i proper iteto fiallett, intttuleb Rowland's 
 go&#siOtttte. 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Loth to departc. 
 [Act I : Bess ; to her enters John.] 
 
 Besse. Tell me, Jhon, why art thow soe sade ? 
 
 Tell me, Jhon ; tell me, JAon, 
 
 what is'te will make thee glade ? 
 Thow knowest thy misteries loues thee well, 
 soe dearelye as I shune to tell. 
 
 Tell me, I praye thee ; 
 
 lett nothinge dismaye thee ; 
 but let mee inioye thy loue, thy loue 
 
 Jhon. O misteris myne, I cannot be merrye. 
 Be[sse]. Tell mee, /Aon ; tell me, /Aon, 
 
 why lookes thow soe heauylye? 
 Jhon. My master carries a Jealous eie, 
 
 and warnes me from your companie. 
 Bess. Heauens forfend it ! 
 
 Jo[hn]. You maist amende it; 
 
 or ells farewell to our loue, our loue. 
 
 [i] 4 misteries] i. e. mis-ter-ess, mistress. 5 shune] i. e. shun, 
 
 [a] 7 maist] read (per/taps) must, 
 
 ( 354 ) 
 
Appendix VIII 
 
 [3] 
 
 Be[ss]. Why, Jhon, thy master mis-trustes not thee. 
 Jo[hn]. Wo is me ! wo is me ! 
 
 much he mistrusteth me, 
 
 and sayes he sawe me kisse your lippes, 
 
 suspectinge other secrete slippes. 
 Be[ssl. I will excuse thee. 
 
 Jo[hnj. I will refuse thee, 
 
 except you excuse our loue, [our loue.] 
 
 [4] 
 
 Be[ss]. Why tell me, Jacke, and be not afrade ; 
 tell me, Jacke ; tell me, Jacke ; 
 haste thow not hard it saied 
 that weomen in loue haue witt at will? 
 Jo[hn]. I praye you, misteries, show your skill ; 
 
 heare comes your husband ! 
 Be[ssj. Hid thee, my leaman; 
 
 and I will goe plead for our loue, our loue. 
 
 [Exit John.] 
 
 [Act II : Husband ; to him enters Bess, looking sad.] 
 
 [S] 
 
 Hu[sband]. How now, sweete wife ! what, all amorte ? 
 Be. I ! my deare j I ! my deare ; 
 
 I haue no lust to sporte. 
 Although I was tempted very late 
 to abuse your bed and my manage state, 
 yet, in my tryall, 
 I made a denyall. 
 Hu. How happie am I in my loue, my loue ! 
 
 [6] 
 
 But tell me, wyfe; who tempted thee. 
 Be. John, your man ; John, your man, 
 
 Vrginge me shamfully; 
 and, had I not graunted to meete him at length, 
 he would have forst me with his strength. 
 Hu. Out one him, villaine ! 
 
 Be. Not for a millaine 
 
 of gould, would I loose my loue, my loue. 
 
 [4] 7 hid] i. e. hide, [6] 6 one] i. e. on. 7 millaine] i. cj million. 
 
 8 loose] i. e. lose. 
 
 A a 2 ( 355 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads 
 
 [7] 
 Hu. O Besse, the knaue is growne to proude : 
 take him downe ; take him downe ; 
 such twiges must needs be bound. 
 Be. But in the Orcharde, where I should meete him, 
 there, in my apparell, yourselfe shall greete him. 
 Gett thee a coudgell — 
 Hu. I'le pay the young losell 
 
 for offering to tempt my loue, my love. 
 
 [8] 
 Thou didst appoynte to meete him there. 
 Be. Out, alas ! out, alas ! 
 
 I did it all for feare. 
 Hu. How didst thow say thow wouldst come attired? 
 Be. In my blacke silke gowne, for soe he desired. 
 Hu. That will I put on. 
 
 Be. Looke to thy selfe, John! 
 
 Hu. I'le course him for tempting my loue, my loue. 
 
 M. 
 
 But when did he point this sporte should bee ? 
 Be. All alone; all alone, 
 
 vnder the holly tree. 
 Hu. Then of that tree I'le get [me] a wande. 
 Be. I would you had a stronger hande 
 
 to chastise the treacher. 
 Hu. Out on him, leacher ! 
 
 that would have defielfed my loue, &c. 
 
 [lo] 
 O what a wife haue I of thee. 
 Be. Praise thy god, praise thy god ! 
 
 'Tis he hath blessfed thee. 
 Hus. Would all my neighbors were so sped 
 with such a trew loue in their bed. 
 Be. Good wives are daintie. 
 
 Hus. Not one amongest twentie 
 
 so constant as thow in thy loue, &c. 
 
 ["] 
 Hus. Vppon what houre did you agree ? 
 Be. By and by, [by] and by, 
 
 after the stroke of three. 
 Hus. Then it is tyme that I were gone — 
 Be. I ! if you meane to meete with John. 
 Lay him one sowndlye. 
 Hus. I'le beat him profoundly, 
 
 for offeringe to temple my love, &c. 
 
 f 7] I to ] i. e. too. 3 bound] read bowed (i. e. bent). [9] 6 treacher] 
 
 i. e. treacherous one. [11] 6 one] i.e. on. 
 
 (356) 
 
Appendix VIII 
 
 [12] 
 
 Be. But hide your bearde in any case. 
 Hus. Hould thy peace, hould thy peace, 
 
 a moufler shall hide my face : 
 and, when he comes, and thinkes to settle, 
 his flowre shall prowfe a stinkinge nettle. 
 
 [13] 
 
 Be. Then goe and make you readie straight. 
 Hus. Now I goe, now I goe, 
 
 for John to lie in waight. 
 The goose is betraide vnto the fox. 
 Be. The ase will prowfe himselfe an ox. 
 Hus. What say est thow, my sweetinge? 
 
 Be. I say, in your meettinge 
 
 you will course him for tempting your loue, [your loue.] 
 
 [Exit Husband : Bess moralizes.] 
 
 [14] 
 
 Thus doe the weeds overgroe the corne, 
 
 alunseene, alunseene, 
 
 with laughing and great scorne. 
 I'st not a world to heare vs speake : 
 then doe your vessels soonest leake. 
 
 Men are importune j 
 
 then blame not our fortune, 
 our sexe were ordainfed to loue, to loue. 
 
 [Act III : Bess ; to her enters John,] 
 
 [IS] 
 
 Jo. Say, mris, which wayes blowes the winde ? 
 Be. Towards the cost, towards the cost 
 
 which we too strive to finde. 
 Jo. Oh that I could that cost descerne ! 
 Be. Playe thow the pylat at the stearne ; 
 
 and feare not aryving, 
 
 no winde is dryvinge 
 to hinder vs of our loue, our loue. 
 
 [12] 5 stinkinge] read stinginge. 6, 7, 8 Blank left in MS. for the three 
 
 missing lines. [13] 5 Spoken by Bess aside, and imperfectly heard by 
 
 husband. [15] a eost] i. e. coast. 3 too] i. e. two. s pylat] 1. e. pilot. 
 
 (357) 
 
Shirburn Ballads 
 
 [i6] 
 Jo. What sayes my master to this geare? 
 Be. Now the mouse, now the mouse 
 
 sleepes in the catt's eare. 
 Jo. But tell me, mris ; what doth bee say ? 
 Be. That he will wincke while we two playe. 
 lo. Is all this veritie? 
 
 Be. I ! of my honestye. 
 
 lo. But tell me how, my loue, my loue. 
 
 [17] 
 Be. O John ! I haue complayned of thee, 
 
 Blamynge thee, blamynge thee 
 
 all for thy leachery. 
 Jo. Out alas ! why did you soe ? 
 Be. Thow knowest not how the winde doth blowe. 
 
 It was my poUicye — 
 Jo. to kyll his Jelowsie ? 
 
 Be. Onely for that, my loue, my loue. 
 
 [18] 
 Jo. I stande accused in this case — 
 Be. Be content ! be content ! 
 
 I'le keepe thee from abuse. 
 Within the orchard looke thow staye, 
 and when thy master comes this waye 
 in my apparell — 
 Jo. Will he not quarrel! 
 
 with me about our loue, our loue? 
 
 Be. Thow must suppose him to be me : 
 raile one me, raile one me; 
 blame my dysloyaltie. 
 And, to make his loue to roote the faster 
 
 andj in your talkinge, 
 let blowes be walkinge, 
 and call him a whore in his loue, his loue. 
 
 [20] 
 Jo. The finest device that euer I harde, 
 that so soone, that so soone 
 my loue hath got a bearde ! 
 Therefore, mris, get you awaye. 
 Be. Looke, in the orcharde see you staye. 
 Jo. I do conceyte you. 
 
 Be. I will awaight you, 
 
 and see how you handle our loue, our loue. 
 
 [18] 3 abuse] Jrorf disgrace. [19] a one] i. e. on. 5 Line dropped ; 
 
 something like — ' fail not to protest thou dost honour thy master ;'. 
 
 (3S8) 
 
Appendix VIII 
 
 [Act IV : Husband finds John in the orchard, and is drubbed by him.] 
 
 [.I] 
 
 Hus. Now, John, we will pay the score — 
 Jo. Fye one thee ! fye one thee 1 
 
 thou art an arrant whore. 
 Hus. John, I know thou doest but lest. 
 Jo. I know thou art a filthie beast 
 to fawne one a leaman, 
 and leaue thy good husbande, 
 Hus. O John ! it is for loue, for loue. 
 
 [22] 
 
 Jo. The devill in hell take such a wife ! 
 
 Hearest thou me ? Hearest thou me ? 
 'tys pittie of thy life. 
 Hus. Why wilt thou wound, and give no plaster? 
 Jo. Why wilt thou haue me wroung my master? 
 Hus. Thou saidst thou didst loue me — 
 
 Jo. I did it to proue thee; 
 
 and therefore, take this for thy loue, thy l[oue.J 
 
 [Beats him.] 
 
 1^3] 
 [Bess emerges from her hiding-place.] 
 Be. Be advised and hould thy hand. 
 
 See'st thou not, see'st thou not 
 where thy master doth stand? 
 Jo. What makes my master in your weede? 
 Be. He came to rate thy filthy deed. 
 Hus. O John ! I loue thee ; 
 
 for now I have proved thee : 
 thou wilt not fleet in thy loue, thy loue, 
 
 [24] 
 
 Be. O husband ! you will not take it soe ? 
 Hus. Yes, my love; yes, my love, 
 
 and ioy in every blowe. 
 Jo. Master, my mris is very light. 
 Hus. No, John ! my wife is pure and right. 
 Now I haue try'de ye— 
 Be. Knave, I defie thee 
 
 for callinge me light in my loue, my lo[ue]. 
 
 [si] 6 one] i. e. on. [24] i Bess hypocritically remonstrates with 
 
 Husband, for putting up with the beating. 
 
 (359) 
 
Shirhurn Ballads 
 
 [25] 
 Hus. John t thou art my seruant trew 
 and my love, and my love; 
 I'le change the for no new. 
 Jo. A seruant's dewtie prict me one — 
 Hus. Now Jesus blese thee, gtn\\& John/ 
 O ioy out of measure 
 to haue such a treasure 
 of such a seruant and loue, and loue. 
 
 [26] 
 Goe, wife ! goe, make vs merrie cheare 
 of the best, of the best : 
 let nothinge be to deare. 
 Be. I will, seeth you will haue it soe. [Exit Bess.] 
 
 Jo. About your business I will goe. 
 Hus. Doe soe, good John ! [Exit John.] 
 
 How happie I am 
 That haue such a seruant and loue, and loue. 
 
 Appendix IX 
 A prince doth sit in slippery seat 
 
 Fol. 19^ This tuneful piece may well have suggested Robert Herrick's 
 similar musing on The Country Life in his Hesperides : — 
 
 Sweet country life, to such unknown 
 
 whose lives are others', not their own ; 
 
 but, serving courts and cities, be 
 
 less happy, not enioying thee. 
 Most of the stanzas have some detail of interest. In stanza 3 we have 
 the long winter evening by firelight, all hands at some profitable work, 
 and all minds interested by story or song. When I was a boy in Scotland, 
 old labouring men used to relate their reminiscences of just such evenings. 
 Candles were dear ; reading-matter, and the power to read, were scarce. 
 The family had no other light than the fire of wood or turf. Every one 
 had some work in hand. The mother and the older girls had whorl or 
 spinning-wheel to make flax-thread or woollen thread. The father and 
 the older boys split wood with their knives to form pegs for shoemakers, 
 or, when dipped in brimstone, lucifer matches. The younger children 
 peeled rushes, that the pith-stalks might be dipped in tallow to make 
 candles. Stories were told of ghost, and witch, and fairy, of brownie, and 
 kelpie, and Satanic visitation ; of omens dire, and second sight, and 
 presentiments of death, all with local attribution of person or place. 
 Here, in the same way, the wife peels hemp, and the husband pegs his 
 
 [25] 3 the] i. e. thee. 4 one] i . e. on. 5 blese] i. e. bless. [26] 3 to] 
 
 i. e. too, 4 seeth] i. e. sith, since. 
 
 (360) 
 
Appendix IX 
 
 clogs ; and tale is not lacking. The mixture of apple-pulp and ale 
 made the lamb's- wool of No. LI, stanza i8. 
 
 In stanza 5, and again in stanza 10, tabor and pipe are mentioned as 
 the staple of country music. John Aubrey tells us [Brief Lives, ii. 3 1 9) that 
 this continued till the great Civil War, when ' the drumme and trumpet 
 putte that peaceable musique to silence '. 
 
 Stanza 7 dilates upon the feast which rewarded the labour of sheep- 
 washing and shearing. Tusser gives this Sheep-shearing due notice among 
 his The Ploughmen's Feasting days : — 
 
 Wife, make us a dinner: 
 
 spare flesh, neither com. 
 Make wafers and cakes, for 
 
 our sheep must be shorn. 
 
 Stanza 1 1 shows that the piece is from the pen of a parson-poet, as was 
 Herrick ; but an optimist, not a realist. Neither his contemporaries, nor 
 any of their successors, have found, or find, that cheerful alacrity in the 
 payment of tithe. Thomas Tusser (d. 1580) lays down, as a general 
 maxim of husbandry, that ' some in their tithing ', i. e. payment of tithe, 
 ' be slack ' ; and, from his painful personal experience as a collector of tithe 
 at Fairstead, Essex, recounts how : — 
 
 The tithing life, the tithing strife, 
 through tithing ill of Jack and Gill, 
 . . . too long I felt. 
 
 Stanza 12 describes riding at the Quinten (quintain) as a sport associated 
 with the mounted escort of the bride at a country wedding. John Aubrey 
 (Brief Lives, ii. 330) records how this continued to the Civil War and then 
 ceased. In Aubrey's time the rider used a club, and gave ' a lusty bang ' 
 at one of the swinging arms of the apparatus, and, if his horse was too 
 slow, got a knock on the head from the other arm. According to the 
 ballad, the sport had at the earlier date more resemblance to the exercises 
 of the tilt-yard, the rider thrusting with a spear, and, if he missed the right 
 point, suffering the penalty of his arm being jarred by the splintered wood. 
 
 a proper netD ISallab, ^ntituleii K^t ^erp 
 ILife of tj^e Countrimait, etc. toijerin 10 
 ^l^etDeii |iig contenteb minbe, ani> labour* 
 jsome to^le mijceb iDit!j pleasiure : moist 
 pleagaunte anJj belig|)tfull : to i»e 3Songe» 
 
 To THE TUNE OF Lacaranto. 
 
 . t^] 
 A Prince dothe sit a slippery seate, 
 
 and beares a carefuU minde : 
 the Nobles, which in silkes doe let, 
 
 do Title pleasure finde. 
 Our safegard and safetie, with many great matters, 
 
 they scan ; 
 and non Hues merrier, in my mynde, 
 than dothe the plaine countryman. 
 [i] I a] read in. 
 
 ( 361 ) 
 
Shirburn Ballads 
 
 Although with patched clothes he go, 
 
 and stockinge out at heele, 
 he litle knowes the greife and wo 
 
 that mightie men do feele ; 
 But merrely whistles, and plowes vp the thistles 
 
 a pace. 
 When sunne goes downe so rounde as a crowne, 
 
 his oxen he doth vnbrace. 
 
 [3] 
 When they are in stall, his wife he dothe call : — 
 
 ' Come hether, my owne sweete megge, 
 'and peele the hempe at the chymney wall, 
 
 ' while I my shewes do pegge.' 
 Then, by good fier, he merrely tels her 
 
 a tale. 
 And then, with delight, to quicken their sprite, 
 they drinke of their apples and ale. 
 
 [4] 
 When springe time comes, his pleasure he turnes 
 
 about his grownd to go, 
 to see howe trime his corne dothe springe, 
 
 which he did lately sowe. 
 Which when he perceiueth bothe forwarde and fruitfull 
 
 to bee, 
 vpon his toe he turnes him tho, 
 so pleasant as any can see. 
 
 [5] 
 And then in may, by breake of day, 
 
 with morrice daunces trime 
 his men and he dothe quickly agree 
 
 to fetch their raay-powle in. 
 With pipe and with tabor, in very good order, 
 
 you knowe, 
 throughout the towne, bothe vp and downe, 
 their may-game they will sho. 
 
 [6] 
 And though they do great toyle abide, 
 
 and labour, all the weeke, 
 of a sommer lorde, at whitsontide, 
 
 they will not be to seeke. 
 The lorde and the lady, so m6rry as m§iy be 
 
 all day, 
 like kinge and queene, will there be sene, 
 all in their best array. 
 
 [3] 4 shewes] i. e. shoes. [4] 4 lately] i. e. in the winter 
 
 wheat-sowing. 7 i. e.he cuts a caper, for joy. 
 
 (362) 
 
Appendix IX 
 
 [7] 
 At sheeringe of sheepe, which they do keepe, 
 
 good lorde ! what sporte is than. 
 What great good cheire, what ale and beare, 
 
 is set to euery man. 
 With beefe and with baken, in wooden browne platters, 
 
 good store, 
 they fall to their meate, and merrily eate : 
 they call for no sawce therfore. 
 
 [8] 
 When midsommer comes, with bauens and bromes 
 
 they do bonefiers make, 
 and swiftly, then, the nimble yong men 
 
 runnes leapinge ouer the same. 
 The women and maydens together do couple 
 
 their handes. 
 With bagpipe's sounde, they daunce a rounde; 
 no malice amongest them standes. 
 
 [9] 
 When sommer's day hath dry'de the hay 
 
 that growes vppon the grownde, 
 they merrily iet, their sythes to whet ; 
 
 and downe they cut it rounde. 
 Their wiues and daughters, with forkes and with rakers, 
 
 do come, 
 in petticotes gay, to spread out the hay, 
 with a strawne hat for the sunne. 
 
 [10] 
 When come is ripe, with tabor and pipe, 
 
 their sickles they prepare; 
 and wagers they lay how muche in a day 
 
 they meane to cut downe there. 
 And he which is quickest, and cutteth downe cleanest 
 
 the come, 
 a garlande trime they make for him, 
 and brauely they bringe him home. 
 
 ["] 
 And when in the barne, without any harme, 
 
 they haue layd vp their corne, 
 In hart they singe high praises to him 
 
 that so increast their gaine. 
 And vnto the parson, their pastor and teacher 
 
 also, 
 With harts most blyth, they geue their tyth — 
 their duties full well they knowe. 
 
 [8] I bauens] i.e. bavins, loppings of hedges, brushwood, 
 a fiers] i. e. fi-ers. [9] 8 strawne] i. e. straw-en, made of straw. 
 
 (363) 
 
Shirburn Ballads 
 
 [12] 
 
 But when they ride to fetche home a bride 
 
 the bagpipe's not forgot; 
 Nor bridecakes fine, to beare with them, 
 
 whether cut do amble or trot. 
 And then, at the Quinten, the yongemen prepare them 
 
 to ride, 
 and manly their they break a speare 
 
 in honnour of mistris bride. 
 
 [13] 
 When Ch[r]istmas drawes neare, to make good cheare 
 
 they nede not to market go, 
 for brawne and souse they haue in the house, 
 
 with goose and capon also. 
 For brewer and Baker they care not a couple 
 
 of flyes. 
 Yet will they haue ale, bothe nappy and stale ; 
 yea, white loues and Ch[r]istmas pyes. 
 
 [14] 
 And thus you heare, throughout the yeare, 
 
 the merrie Countrieman's life, 
 how pleasantly they do spende the day, 
 
 with litle trouble or strife. 
 For backe and for belly if that they haue redie 
 
 in store, 
 and rent to pay at the quarter day, 
 they never desier more. 
 
 But with a quiet contented minde 
 
 he spends his time till deathe ; 
 yet beares away as muche as they 
 
 that Hues like lordes on earthe. 
 And allwayes continewes to god and his princesse 
 
 most true, 
 and geueth plaine, without disdaine, 
 
 to euery man his due. 
 
 [16], 
 Whose harte is not ambitiously bent 
 
 to clinke to high estate ; 
 but, all his life, is well content 
 
 to Hue in simple rate. 
 Through faith in Ch[r]ist Jesus his soule is saufed 
 
 from thrall, 
 and plast in ioy, where Christ, we pray, 
 bringe vs bothe great and smale. 
 
 [12] 4 cut] farm-horse. 7 their] i. e. there. [13] 8 loues] 
 
 i. e. loaves. [15] 5 princesse] i. e. Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 [16] 2 clinke] read climb. 7 plast] i. e. plac'd. 
 
 (364) 
 
GRAMMAR NOTES 
 
 It seems desirable to bring together, under a few heads, some 
 characteristic features of grammatical construction which appear in these 
 ballads. It is to be borne in mind that the copyist of the Shirburn MS. and 
 the copyist of the Rawlinson MS. were by no means illiterate persons. It 
 is plain from their respective handwritings (pp. I, 334) that they were of 
 scholarly attainments. For this reason, their grammatical eccentricities 
 are not blunders, mere and positive, but expressions of a general care- 
 lessness as to inflexions which was afterwards corrected and curbed by the 
 influence of printed matter. 
 
 Plural subject with singular verb. This is of frequent occurrence. 
 e. g. with the inflexion -th, we have : — men who doth, 26 ; some riseth, 68 ; 
 climbers doth, 114; foes that doth, 128; blossoms aboundeth, 186; 
 stories hath, 192 ; streets doth, 241 ; bodies hath, 243 ; thoughts doth, 
 305 ; laws doth, 309 ; fruits doth, 341. 
 
 With the inflexion -s, we have : — things that is, 27 ; pleasures is sought, 
 51 ; wonders foretells, 80; those sits, 114; things is, 131; beagles that 
 hunts, 152 ; years was, 165 ; fowls sits, 187 ; sons was, 231 ; graces binds, 
 237 ; causes wills, 237 ; friends holds, 239 ; hands was, 256 ; men dwells, 
 257 ; children cries, 258; men sits, 258 ; years fits, 264 ; humors stops, 
 269; maidens strives, 299; buds bears, 302; them that troubles, 325; 
 passions requires, 337. 
 
 In several cases, rhyme is a motive for neglect of pure grammar, as in 
 these instances : — people bestows, 69 ; they craves, 70 ; friends makes, 
 70 ; lives lies, 79 ; lips misses, 87 ; those knows, 122 ; wights fights, 227. 
 
 In still other instances, the construction may be glossed over (i) by the 
 subject being two-membered and of only cumulative plurality : — e. g. 
 heaven and earth doth, 86 ; care and woe hath, 109 ; theft and robbery 
 follows, 23; shaft and bow seeks, 121 ; grief and care kills, 137 ; cmnamon 
 and sugar grows, 173 ; conscience and credit bids, 265 ; thoughts and 
 industry is, 303 ; lily and rose strives, 282 ; milk and roses shews, 283 ; 
 men and he doth, 362; or (ii) by the subject being collective, e.g. 
 news was, 17, 232 : tidings comes, 171 ; or (iii) by inversions, e.g. doth 
 madmen use, 268; was men, 131; is nectar and ambrose, 173; was 
 sorrows, 198; is others, 310; comes expenses, 313. 
 
 Conversely, singular subject with pluralverb occurs : — e. g. nature seeke, 
 58 ; the which (thing) were, 70; safety do abide, 99; mind despise, 114; 
 the younger (brother) were, 168 ; fortune are, 239 ; face look, 243 ; year 
 have, 29s ; god have, 295. 
 
 This is sometimes disguised by ad sensum construction : — e. g. myself 
 (with others) were, 200, 201 ; myself (with more) were, 201 ; or by in- 
 version, e.g. have England won, 124. 
 
 (36s) 
 
Grammar ^?{otes 
 
 Peculiar uses of the pronouns, (i) There is carelessness in attaching 
 person- and number-inflexion-marks to pronouns : — e. g. I yields, 330 ; 
 thou was, 313 ; thou were, 252; looks thou, 354. (ii) The archaic use 
 in which thou was spoken by superior to inferior, and you by inferior to 
 superior, is still prevalent, 245. (iii) Confusion is creeping in, e.g. thy 
 and you, in the same connexion, refer to the same person, 149, 150. 
 (iv) She occurs for the objective case (her), 282. 
 
 Double comparison is frequent : — e. g. more sharper, 137 ; more vilder, 
 167 ; more worse, 168 ; more purer, 189 ; worser, 201 ; more nearer, 332 ; 
 more fitter, 333. 
 
 Double negative is equally frequent : — e. g. no . . . not, 45 ; nor . . . never, 
 73) 303) 330 ; nor . . . not, 83, 112, 171 ; nor . . . no, 211. 
 
 (366) 
 
I. INDEX OF TUNES 
 
 The number of the ballad is given. P.M. refers to William Chappell's Popular 
 Music of the Olden Time, 1855-7 ; O.E.D. to Oxenfoord-Macfarren, Old English 
 Ditties [1881] ; and R.B., to Roxburghe Ballads, edited by J. W. Ebsworth. 
 
 All in a garden green (LIT) : P.M. 
 
 no; O.E.D. ii. 84. 
 All those that are good fellows (LXVII) : 
 
 P.M. 151.. 
 All you that fathers be (XXXIII) = 
 
 All you that love good fellows : 
 
 P.M. 149. 
 Awake, awake, O England (XLIU) = 
 
 O man in desperation. 
 
 Beggar comes, the (XXXIV). 
 Bragandary (I,V) : R.B. viii. 14. 
 Bride's good-morrow, the (XI.IV) : 
 
 R.B. i. 6a. 
 Buggleboe (LXI, act III). 
 
 Cramp, the: Appendix VI: O.E.D. 
 
 ii. 184. 
 Crimson velvet (XXXIX, XLVI, LX) : 
 
 P.M. 178; O.E.D. u. 168. 
 
 Dainty, come thou to me (XVIII, 
 
 LXXIII): P.M. 517. 
 Down Plumpton Park (II). 
 Dulcina (XI, XII, XIII) : P.M. 14a ; 
 
 O.E.D. i. aoS. 
 
 Essex's ( = the King's) last good-night 
 (XIV) : P.M. 174 ; O.E.D. ii. 19a. 
 
 Flying fame (XXIII, XLVIII): P.M. 
 
 198. 
 Fortune my foe (XV, XXVI, XXVII, 
 
 XXXI, LV): P.M. i6a; O.E.D. 
 
 ii. 188. 
 French lauata ( = levalto), the (LI, 
 
 LXXVI) : P.M. 169. 
 
 Gallants all come mourn with me 
 
 (LXXVII) : R.B. viii. 758. 
 Galliard, see Robinson's, Wigmore's. 
 Ghost's hearse, the, p. 337. 
 Gigg-a-gogg (XLV) = Over the water 
 
 fain would I pass. 
 Glass doth run, the (XVI I) = Wigmore's 
 
 Galliard. 
 Go from my window (I-XI, act IV) : 
 
 P.M. 140, 14a. 
 
 Heart's ease (LXV): P.M. 309 ;,O.E.D. 
 ii. 170= Wit whither wilt thou. 
 
 In Christmas time as it befell (LXX). 
 In Crete (XXVIII). 
 
 Jewish Dance, the (LXI, act II) : cp. 
 the eighteen-lined ballad to the tune 
 of The Jewish Coranto, R.B. vi. 420. 
 
 Jovial Tinker, the (XXII) : P.M. 187. 
 
 King's ( = Essex's) last good-night, the 
 (LXXIX) : P.M. 174. 
 
 Labandalashot (IX) : R.B. vii. p. xx. 
 Lacaranto : Appendix IX : see Lego- 
 
 ranto. 
 Lady Jane : Appendix III. 
 Lady's fall, the (III, X, XVI, XLIX, 
 
 LXXI, LXXII) : P.M. 196. 
 Legoranto. : Appendix II : see Lacor- 
 
 anto. 
 Light o' love (LXII) : P.M. 221 ; O.E.D. 
 
 i. 84. 
 Live with me and be my love (XXX, 
 
 L) : P.M. 213. 
 Loath to depart : Appendix VIIL 
 
 Medley, the : p. 334. 
 
 Merchant of Emden, the (XXXIX) : 
 
 P.M. 179. 
 Miller would a wooing ride, the 
 
 (LXXV). 
 
 Nay fie ! Nay fie I (IV). 
 
 Newton fields (IV). 
 
 Nutmegs and Ginger (XXIX). 
 
 Oh hone (XXXV) : P.M. 369. 
 
 O man in desperation (VI, XXXVIII, , 
 
 XL) : R.B. viii. p. xxi=Awake, 
 
 awake, O England. 
 Oyster pie^ an (LXXIV). 
 
 Pagginton's round (XXXII): P.M. 
 
 123. 
 Peascod time (XLIX) : P.M. 196. 
 Peggy Ramsay (XXXVII): P.M. 
 
 ai8 ; O.E.D. ii. 172. 
 Phillida flouts me (LXXIII) : P.M. 
 
 182 ; O.E.D. i. 18. 
 Pity, pity me (LIII). 
 Plumpton Park (II). 
 
 ( 367 ), 
 
Index of Tunes 
 
 Queen Dido (XXXVI, LXVIII) : P.M. 
 
 370-2. 
 Queen's hunt 's up, the (XLII) : P.M. 
 
 60, 6a. 
 
 Rest thee, desire (LXXX). 
 Robinson's galliard (LXXIV). 
 Rogero (VIII, LXIV) : P.M. 93, 96 ; 
 O.E.D. ii. 26. 
 
 Shore's wife (XXV, XLVII) : P.M. 
 
 215. 
 So ho (XX). 
 Stand thy ground, old Harry (XXI) : 
 
 P.M. 365. 
 Sweet Gardiner (XIX). 
 
 Tarleton's carol : p. 334 : Appendix 
 
 VII. 
 Trentam's toy (LXVI). 
 
 Triumph and joy (XXIV, LXXVIII) ; 
 P.M. 229 = Green sleeves, P.M. 227 : 
 O.E.D. i. 3a. 
 
 Voice of the earth, the : p. 337. 
 
 Walsingham (LXI) : P.M. lai. 
 Wanton wife [? of Westminster], the 
 
 (I, part II) : R.B. viii. 14. 
 Watton town's end : (XXXIV, part 
 
 II) : P.M. 219, 220. 
 What if a day or a month (LIX) : 
 
 P.M. 310, 311 ; O E.D. i. 158. 
 What shall I do ? Shall I die for love 
 
 (LXXIV) : R.B. vi. 236. 
 Wigmore's galliard (VII) : P.M. 24a 
 
 = The glass doth run. 
 Will you buy any broom : Appendix I. 
 Wit, whither wilt thou (LXIX). 
 Woody cock, the (XLV) : P.M. 793. 
 
 II. INDEX OF FIRST LINES 
 
 [The number of the ballad is given.] 
 
 Agreaterfall, envy,you cannot require : 
 
 LVI. 
 A heavy doleful story : XXXIX. 
 A hundred shepherds come with him : 
 
 XIII, part II. 
 All careful Christians, mark my song : 
 
 VII. 
 All Christian raen,give ear awhile : XV. 
 All in a garden green : LII. 
 All such as lead a jealous life : LXIV. 
 All you that cry O hone ! O hone : 
 
 LXXIX. 
 All you that now have heard me sing : 
 
 XXXIV, part II. 
 An art whose end was never known : 
 
 Appendix IV. 
 And wilt thou, my dear, begone? : XIX. 
 A prince doth sit in slippery seat : 
 
 Appendix IX. 
 Arise, and wake from wickedness : 
 
 VIII. 
 Arise up, my darling : XLIV. 
 As I walked forth in a morning tide : 
 
 LXIII. 
 As I went to Walsingham : LXI. 
 At last, in dead of drowsy night : 
 
 XXXVm, part II. 
 Awake, awake, O England : VI. 
 Away, I will forsake her company : 
 ■ LIII. 
 
 Come I come ! come ! come ! what shall 
 
 I say : XVII. 
 Come hither, mine host, come hither •- 
 
 XXI. 
 
 (368) 
 
 Come, lovely lasses, listen well : L. 
 Come, sisters three, with fatal knife : 
 LVII. 
 
 England, give praise unto the Lord 
 
 thy God : XXXI. 
 England's fair dainty dames : XXXIII. 
 England, with cheerful heart, give ear : 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 From sluggish sleep and slumber : 
 XLIII. 
 
 Good Christians all, attend a while : 
 
 LXXII. 
 Goodpeopleall, repentwith speed : III. 
 Grief and care kills their heart : 
 
 XXXIII, part IL 
 
 Henry, our royal king, would go on 
 
 hunting : LI. 
 Here's to the old wench in Folgate; 
 
 XXI, part II. 
 
 I read that many years ago : XLI. 
 If ever woe did touch a woman's 
 
 heart : XXVII. 
 If ever woeful tale mov6d man to pity : 
 
 LX. 
 If ever words did move a wight : 
 
 XLVIII. 
 If I might entreat you to alter your 
 
 mind : XLV, part II. 
 In Christmas time as it befell : LXX. 
 In reading merry memories : XXXVII. 
 
Index of First Lines 
 
 In the days of old when fair France : 
 
 XLVI. 
 In the merry month of May : IV. 
 In this town fair Susan dwelleth : LIV. 
 It fell upon a Sabbath day : LXXV. 
 It was a maid of Islington : Appendix 
 
 III. 
 
 Jerusalem, my happy home : XL. 
 Jesu, my loving spouse : XVIII. 
 Jewry came to Jerusalem : XI. 
 
 London! London! sing and praise thy 
 lord : p. 334. 
 
 Mark well ray heavy doleful tale : 
 XLIX. 
 
 Mark well this story strange and true : 
 LXXI. 
 
 My dear, adieu ! my sweet love, fare- 
 well : LVIII. 
 
 My father having moved his mind : 
 Appendix V. 
 
 My heart is in pain my body within : 
 XLV. 
 
 My mind to me a kingdom is : XXVIII. 
 
 Now draws on the fruitful time : 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Of Hector's deeds did Homer sing : 
 
 xxin. 
 
 Of joyful triumphs I must speak : 
 
 LXXVIII.' 
 Of the kind widow of Watling Street : I. 
 Oh gracious God, look down upon : 
 
 XXV. 
 O mortal man, bedrencht in sin : 
 
 XXXVI. 
 O smile, o smile, o my joy : XX. 
 O what a plague is love : LXXI II. 
 
 Prepare with speed : Christ's coming 
 
 is at hand : p. 334. 
 Prepare yourselves to fast this Lent : 
 
 Appendix VI. 
 Prince doth sit in slippery seat, A: 
 
 Appendix IX. 
 
 Regard my sorrows, you lasses that 
 
 love : Appendix VII. 
 Rest thee, desire : gaze not : LXXX. 
 Ring out your bells : XLII. 
 Rise up my darling : XLIV. 
 
 Scarce could they stay God's service 
 
 end : XIV, part II. 
 Shall I wed an aged man : LXVI. 
 So long have I followed the akwife's 
 
 cans : XXXIV. 
 Some do write of bloody wars : p. 337. 
 
 Tell me, John, why art thou so sad : 
 Appendix VIII. 
 
 That gallant prince, Graaf Maurice : 
 
 LXVII. 
 The bait beguiles the bonny fish : II, 
 
 part II. 
 The beautiful widow of Watling 
 
 Street : I, part II. 
 The dreadful day of doom draws near : 
 
 XVI. 
 The father mangled in such sort : 
 
 XXXIX, part II. 
 The golden god Hyperion : XIII. 
 Theman thatsighsandsorrows: XXVI. 
 The miller in his best array : XXIX. 
 The wondrous works of God above : 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 There was a proud brawler : XXXII. 
 There was a rat-catcher : XXII. 
 These passions here which you profess: 
 
 Appendix II. 
 Those gentle hearts which true love 
 
 crave : XXX. 
 To lodge it was my luck of late : II. 
 Toward England then St. George did 
 
 bring : XXIII (stanza 38). 
 Turn your eyes, that are afiSxdd : XII. 
 
 We go to brave buildings : LXII. 
 We that are here in banishment : XL, 
 
 part II. 
 What greater grief than loss of love : 
 
 LXIX. 
 What heart so hard, but will relent : 
 
 XIV. 
 What if a day, or a month, or a year : 
 
 LIX. 
 What if a smile, or a beck, or a look : 
 
 LIX (stanza 2). 
 When as our noble king came home : 
 
 LXXVI. 
 When death had pierced the tender 
 
 heart : LXVIII, part II. 
 When fair Jerusalem did stand : V. 
 When Jesus Christ was twelve years 
 
 old : XXIV. 
 When Troy town for ten years' wars : 
 
 LXVIII. 
 Where, after many speeches past : X, 
 
 part II. 
 Whereof the first was seen to be : 
 
 XVI, part II. 
 Who views the life of mortal man ; IX. 
 Will you buy any broom-birches green ^ 
 
 Appendix I. 
 Wilt thou, my dear, be gone : XIX. 
 Wit, whither wilt thou 1 : LXV. 
 With heart oppressed with grief and 
 
 care : XLVII. 
 
 You gallant maidens of the world : X. 
 You noble minds and famous martial 
 
 wights : LV. 
 Your answer to my sad laments : 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Bb 
 
 (369) 
 
III. INDEX AND GLOSSARY 
 
 [References are to pages.] 
 
 Abate, to, make less, 26. 
 
 A. b. c. ballads, 43. 
 
 Abingdon, 7. 
 
 abrogate, to, put an end to, 235. 
 
 abronne, auburn, 282. 
 
 Accession day, bell-ringing on, 177. 
 
 accounting, value, 239. 
 
 act, to (verb trans.), execute, 164. 
 
 addicted, given up to, 349. 
 
 Adlington, Henry, 106, 108. 
 
 Adonis, 190. 
 
 advancing, advancement, 239. 
 
 Aeneas, 276, 279. 
 
 Aesop, 348. 
 
 aSbrd, to, supply, 147, 160. 
 
 ' Aid,' a feudal, 55. 
 
 Albert, archduke, 172. 
 
 Alcestis, 352. 
 
 Aldgate, 92, 106. 
 
 alehowsen, 67. 
 
 aleknight, drunkard, 52. 
 
 alfaris, 126. 
 
 AUeyn, Edward, 245. 
 
 allowed, acknowledged, 328. 
 
 allures, allurements, 239. 
 
 almain rivets, a kind of light armour, 
 
 178. 
 aloof, in a row, 180. 
 alunseene (refrain), 357. 
 amain (adv.), at once, 34, 83, 126, 14a, 
 
 211, 313, 232, 234, 275, 277. 
 ambrose, ambrosia, 173. 
 amend, to (verb intr.), 137, 215. 
 amiss (subst.), error, fault, 71, 112, 
 
 240 ; amiss (adv.), 201. 
 amort, dejected, 355. 
 Amsterdam, 164. 
 Anacreon, 331. 
 and, if, 140. 
 
 Anderson, Sir Edmund, 109. 
 angel, a gold, 129. 
 angling, 188. 
 Anna, 276. 
 
 Anne of Denmark, queen, 152. 
 annoy (subst.), suffering, 42, 86, 100, 
 
 147, 151, 192, 233, 235, 238, 280, 288, 
 
 318, 319, 320, 339. 
 antic (subst,), a mad dance, 158, 
 Antwerp 160. 
 apparel, double, 341. 
 apparitor, 306. 
 
 appayde (apaid), rewarded, 122, 289. 
 Appelles, 342. 
 apples and ale, 361. 
 apprentices, notices of, 340, 343. 
 aqua vitae, sold on the streets, 336 
 
 (370) 
 
 Aquila, Don Juan d', 123, 124, 127. 
 
 archery, 323. 
 
 arm the heart, to, 378. 
 
 Armotteredinge, William, I3g. 
 
 asquint, to look, 141. 
 
 attach, to, arrest, 162 
 
 Attowell (Atwell), Hugh, 345. 
 
 Aubrey, John, a, 7, 8, 361 
 
 Audley End, Essex, 355. 
 
 augment, to (verb intrans.), 167. 
 
 Aurora's clock, 30. 
 
 Autolycus, 6, 7, 158, 212, 293. 
 
 avail, to, help, 161. 
 
 awry, to go, 32 ; to live, 38 ; to strike, 
 
 308. 
 Ay me, 351. 
 Azores, expedition to the, 336. 
 
 Bacchus, god, 53. 
 Bacon, Francis, 8. 
 badge of gold, of a person of quality, 
 
 151. 
 Bagford ballads, 5, 6. 
 Bagford, John, 4. 
 bagpipe, 362, 363. 
 bag puddings, 218. 
 ball, the shoemaker's, 9a. 
 ballad dramas, 344, 334, 354. 
 ballads, printed, 2, 3, 4, 334 ; founded 
 
 on books, 31, 73, 96, 109, 113, 123, 
 
 133, 163 ; coincident with plays, 72, 
 
 227. 
 ballad-singers, 6, 7. 
 ballett, 354. 
 Baltimore, 123, 128. 
 bands, of women's dress, 137. 
 Barnstaple, 9, 109. 
 bates of steel, armour, loi. 
 Bath, 17. 
 
 bavens, brushwood, 363. 
 beagles, 152. 
 beck, gesture, 239. 
 beck, to, (?) of a falcon, swoop at the 
 
 lure, 2S4. 
 becomd, 227. 
 Bedford, Francis, 2nd earl of, 7, 255, 
 
 258. 
 beggar, the, poverty, 139, 141, 142. 
 behove (subst.), behoof, 13. 
 bell and lanthorn, 184. 
 bell, at funerals, 234. 
 bell, the passing, 122, 232. 
 bell, to win the bell, at horse-race, 
 
 286 ; to bear the bell, 336. 
 bellman, the, 36, 182, 
 
Index and Glossary 
 
 bells, church, melted down for cannon, 
 
 177. 
 bellygods, 56. 
 
 benevolence, a municipal tax, 198. 
 benevolence, armour of, voluntarily 
 
 provided, 178. 
 bereaven, bereaved, 163. 
 Berehaven, laS. 
 Berg, Berk, 271, 27a. 
 beseeming, it being right, 283. 
 besides, to fall, away from, 37. 
 bewray, to, reveal, 183, 209, 266, 314. 
 Bible book, 73, 122, 135, 189. 
 bide, to (verb trans.), endure, 122 
 bill-men, 322, 325. 
 bills, 203, 32a ; black, 178, 322 ; forest, 
 
 131- 
 bird-lime, no. 
 blackamoor, aa8. 
 Black-letter ballads, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. 
 blade, a person, 94. 
 bleak life, to, take away, 194. 
 blockhouses, 181. 
 bloodthirstily, 166. 
 blubbered, flooded with tears, 233. 
 boe, bow, 209. 
 bonfires at Midsummer, 363. 
 Bonn, 156, 160. 
 book, swearing on the, 17. 
 bopeep, to play, 348. 
 bots on you, plague take you, 313. 
 bow and arrows, 178, 203, 323, 326. 
 Bow, bell of, a34. 
 bowling on Sundays, 52. 
 bowmen, 335. 
 bowzer, drunkard, 95. 
 branding, as -a. punishment, 199, 201. 
 brands, burning pieces, 38. 
 brave it, to, 107, 149. 
 bravery, fine clothes, 135. 
 bribes, 114, 177. 
 brickmaker's fire, a, 231. 
 bride-cakes, 366. 
 brief, abruptly, 217. 
 bring in, to, into, 78, 
 brinish tears, aio. 
 Bristol fair, 17. 
 brittle life, unstable, 4a, 
 Broadsides, 3, 334. 
 brood, used of one child, 136. 
 brook, to, put up with, 114. 
 broom, 335. 
 brown as a berry, 91. 
 brushes, 335. 
 budget, wallet, 131. 
 buildings, stately Elizabethan, 35, 39, 
 
 151, 256- 
 burning at the stake, as punishment, 
 
 163. 
 Burns, Robert, 285. 
 but, without, 174. 
 Byrd, William, 113. 
 
 C, E., 332. 
 
 Cadiz, 177, 337, 339, 331. 
 
 Calais, sack of, 7, 240-44. 
 
 caliver, a kind of light musket, 178, 
 
 199, 331. 
 caliver-shot, men armed with calivers, 
 
 324- 
 Callis sand, 336. 
 Cambridge, 4. 
 camomile, 220. 
 Campion, Edmund, 336, 329. 
 Campo, Alonzo del, 123, 126. 
 capital letters, use of, 3. 
 cards, gambling at, 2r, 49, 53, 140, 204, 
 
 349 ; allowed at Christmas, 343. 
 careful, causing sorrow, 233, 334 ; full 
 
 of sorrow, 290. 
 carouse, to, 94. 
 Carthage, 377. 
 
 cast, latter, last hours of life, 38. 
 cat, let care kill a, 91 ; cat speak, to 
 
 make, 93 ; like dog and cat, 51 ; 
 
 mouse in the cat's ear, 358. 
 catch up, to, take by force, 357. 
 causer, isi. 
 
 chain, magic, preserves virginity, loa. 
 chains, hanging criminals in, 106, 108. 
 chameleon-like, 383. 
 chancing, fortune, 339. 
 Chappell, William, 4. 
 charge, to, load a gun, 267. 
 Chaucer, Geoff'rey, 306. 
 Cheapside, 304. 
 cheer, to (verb refl.), 155. 
 Chirvill(!), Essex, 132. 
 choppers, whoppers, 335. 
 Christmas customs, 343, 345, 364. 
 cinnamon, 173. ' 
 
 Clanricarde, earl of, 123, 137. 
 clap, to, pat fondly, 87 ; seize, 151. 
 claret wine, 54 ; claret wine, c^ear as, 
 
 214. 
 cleared, made bright, 383. 
 click a clack, 1 19. 
 climb a pitch, to, ia6, 
 clink, to, 364. 
 cloak, hiding-place, 133. 
 close in clay, to, 233, 338. 
 close, to get up, pack up, 193. 
 closely, secretly, 131. 
 clothe in clay, to, bury, 356. 
 coaches, 135, 15 r. 
 Cockle, Sir John, 313. 
 Colchester, 138, 129, 177, 199. 
 coll, to, embrace, 87. 
 Collins, Philip, 130. 
 collogue with, to, talk familiarly with, 
 
 95- 
 colour, to, excuse, 253. 
 comd, arrived, 143. 
 comet, 61. 
 common, rights of, 255, 257. 
 
 (371) 
 
Index and Glossary 
 
 cdmpact (adj.), 28s. 
 
 conceit, countenance, (97. 
 
 conceit, opinion, 263. 
 
 conceit, to, 333 ; understand, 358. 
 
 conceits, morbid thoughts, 14,, 269. 
 
 conduction, 199. 
 
 conjuration, 72, 73. 
 
 conjuring, 75, 153, 156, 158. 
 
 constables, petty, 55, 128, 140. 
 
 contentings, pleasures, 239. 
 
 convert, to (verb intr.), change, 
 
 change to a better mind, 45, 138, 
 
 194. 
 convey, to, carry oif and hide, 167, 290. 
 copesmate, fellow, 130. 
 Corbet, Dr. Richard, 7. 
 corslets, 177, 199. 
 corum nomine, 307. 
 counter, representation, 351. 
 country, county, 131. 
 country-life, praise of the, 360. 
 course, to, thrash, 356. 
 courtnoule, courtier, 218. 
 Coventry, 103. 
 Coventry, lace-work, 298. 
 cowcumber, 336. 
 creepers, 218. 
 crew, company, 106. 
 cries of London, 335. 
 Croesus, 41, 115. 
 crooks, 185, 188. 
 Cuma, 61. 
 
 cunning, trade, 341. 
 curl-headed, 191. 
 curtsy, reverence, 218. 
 custom of London, the, 11, 15. 
 custom-houses, 778, 180. 
 customs : — Christmas, 345, 364 ; harvest, 
 
 363; May-day, 362; Midsummer, 363; 
 
 wedding, 361 ; Whit-sunday, 362. 
 cut, farm-horse, 364. 
 cut-purse (adj.), 200 ; (subst.), 129. 
 cutting (adj.), swaggering, 106. 
 
 d'Aquila, Don Juan, 123, 124, 127. 
 
 date, term of life, 280. 
 
 dated, having a fixed limit of time, 74. 
 
 daunce a downe, 116. 
 
 daunt, to, frighten, 50, 149. 
 
 daw, to prove a, be made a fool of, 310. 
 
 deadly man, dying man, 270. 
 
 deathful, deadly, 71. 
 
 debate, discord, 107, 228. 
 
 decay, to, be forgotten, 127. 
 
 deer, stealing the king's, 35, 219. 
 
 deer-hunting, 35,39, 148, 152, 196,216. 
 
 defaced, disgraced, 128. 
 
 del Campo, Alonzo, 123, 126. 
 
 delicates (subst.), delicacies, 270. 
 
 denay, to deny, 122, 234, 225, 347. 
 
 Denmark, 178, 181, 
 
 Derick, 327, 331. 
 
 (372) 
 
 desart, by, i. c. by insisting on one's 
 
 just rights, 114. 
 desertion from army, 199, 201. 
 dice, gambling at, 21, 49, 53, 140, 143, 
 
 168, 349. 
 Dido, 276. 
 Dieppe, 336. 
 
 discarded, dismissed from favour, 85. 
 discontentments, griefs, 268. 
 discry, to, perceive, 149 ; reveal, 133 ; 
 
 describe, 197. 
 disdain, to (verb neut.), to show dis- 
 dain, 81, 117 ; (verb trans.), to put 
 
 to shame, 42. 
 Dives, 296. 
 
 dogged, hunted by dogs, 243. 
 Don Juan, 276. 
 Dome, John, 4, 153. 
 double apparel, 341. 
 downe, daunce a, n6. 
 downe diddle, to sing, 93. 
 downe, Hey, 248. 
 
 Dragon, St. George's, 97, 98, 99, 100. 
 drama, see play, 
 dress, extravagance or strange 
 
 fashions in, 41, 47, 51, 117, 135, 
 
 138, 304. 
 drift, a, plan, 161. 
 drums, 322, 325. 
 drunk, drank, 95. 
 drunkenness, invectives against, 46, 
 
 48, 52, 56, 108, 184, 261, 350. 
 ducat, a gold, 129. 
 
 Dutchland (subst.), 55 ; (adj.), 59, 134. 
 Dyer, Sir Edward, 113. 
 
 ears, losing the, punishment, 19. 
 easer, 232. 
 
 Ebsworth, Rev. J. W., 5, 133. 
 eclipse, to, destroy temporarily, 166. 
 Elizabeth, Queen, 7, 35, 177, 178, 185, 
 
 236, 240, 244, 255, 257, 296, 315, 
 
 316, 319. 320, 3241 330, 334, 346, 
 
 351, 352- 
 Elizabeth, princess Palatine, 54, 55, 58. 
 Elizabethan ballads, 9. 
 endings, deathbeds, 68. 
 enflame, to (verb intrans.), 166. 
 English type, i, 3, 334. 
 ensigns, flags, 126. 
 Essex, Robert Devereux, earl of, 7, 
 
 178, 321, 326 ; poem by, 238. 
 etc., 46. 
 
 excommunication, 306, 309. 
 excuse, to, sc. one's self, 283. 
 excuser, no. 
 executed (adj.), i6s. 
 exercise, family worship, 8, 32. 
 Exeter, 131, 133. 
 extremity, lawless violence, 166. 
 extremity, to show, go toextremes,303. 
 eyne, eyes, 210. 
 
Index and Glossary 
 
 fact, evil deed, i6a, 233, 265. 
 
 faine, to, feign, 115. 
 
 fairies, 64. 
 
 faithless, infidel, 243. 
 
 fans, 151. 
 
 farings, presents brought from a fair, 
 
 141. 
 farthing tokens, 90, 93. 
 fate, destructive influence, 95. 
 Fauns, 65. 
 Faustus, Dr., 7a. 
 favour, a lady's, 238. 
 fay, faith, 219. 
 
 fear, to (verb trans.), frighten, 27, 324. 
 feat, trade, 341. 
 feathers, mourning, 316, 320. 
 feaze, to, drive away, 180. 
 feere, mate, 188. 
 
 fern, to drive the fox out of the, 350. 
 ferret, rabbiting with, 22. 
 fet, to (past tense), 277. 
 fetch breath, to, gasp, 267. 
 fight, weapon, 325. 
 filths, foul-living persons, a6i. 
 finding, maintenance, 199, 
 fire, leaping through, 363. 
 fire-arms, different kinds of, 321. 
 fits, state of excitement, 37. 
 fix, to (verb neut.), 290. 
 flat, positively, 284. 
 flaunt it, to, swagger, 130. 
 flaunting, swaggering, 130. 
 fletcher, arrow-maker, 153. 
 Fletcher, John, 322. 
 flory, 336. 
 
 fluter, player on the flute, 322. 
 Folgate, 9a. 
 foot it, to, 66. 
 for, instead of, 135. 
 fore-passed, 79. 
 forethink, to, 151. 
 forsook, forsake, 280. 
 fother, to, give fodder to, 157. 
 Fotheringay, 153. 
 fowlers, devices of, 22. 
 fox, the, as vermin, 148 ; out of the 
 
 fern, the, 350. 
 fox-hunting, 148. 
 
 frame, method of construction, 283. 
 frame, out of, ill at ease, 268. 
 France, king of, 192, 196. 
 Frankfort-on-Main fair, 158, 160. 
 freire, 156. 
 
 Friar and the boy, the, 4, 153. 
 friend, i. e. lover, used of the man, 112, 
 
 191, 194, 238, 250, 352, 353 ; used of 
 
 the woman, 225, 227, 232, 248. 
 friendship, i. e. love, 29. 
 fro, from, 233. 
 froe, 134. 
 
 froth, to, go, 9a ; froth (subst.), 92. 
 fulsome, hateful, 94. 
 
 SHIRB. B 5 
 
 funerals, verses at, 145, 353 ; the bell 
 
 at, 122, 234. 
 furmety, 336. 
 furnished, 177, 178, 199. 
 
 Gad's hill, 132. 
 
 gambling, see cards, dice, tables. 
 
 game, to, sport, 52. 
 
 gan, began, 29. 
 
 gard, to, braid, 51 ; garded, braided, 
 
 41- 
 garders, warders, 132. 
 gawde, to, make merry, 52. 
 Geneva, 134. 
 gentle craft, the, 122. 
 George, see St. George. 
 Gibbons, Orlando, 236. 
 Glandfield, Eulalia, 109. 
 glean, to, take away, 358. 
 glend, glen, 21. 
 gloves, to exchange, 307. 
 God and the country, to be tried by, 
 
 133- 
 God's blood ! God's wounds ! 48, 5a. 
 gold, cloth of, 196, 197. 
 gormandizing, 69. 
 gospellers, clergymen, 261. 
 Goths, the, 228. 
 Gournay, 327, 329. 
 grace, to, ornament, 204. 
 GramboU, Jugge, 314. 
 grave, count (graf), 272. 
 gray, of morning, 30 ; of peasant's 
 
 dress, 65, 197. 
 great game, i. e. play for high stakes, 
 
 168. 
 gree, agree, 153, 317. 
 green, of years, no. 
 Greene, Robert, 227, 331. 
 gripe, spasmodic pain, 240. 
 grudge, to (intrans.), feel anger, 112, 
 
 114 ; (trans.), to feel anger at, 98. 
 grudge at, to, 238. 
 grudges, quarrels, 266. 
 guilty, to be found, to have a true bill 
 
 found against one by the grand 
 
 jury, 133. 
 
 hacquebuts, 177, 178. 
 
 hair, see locks. 
 
 halberts, 131, 178, 322. 
 
 half, husband, 118: cp. better-half. 
 
 Halford, Dorothy, 334 ; Richard, 2 ; 
 
 William, 2. 
 hampered, distressed, 243. 
 hand, holding up the, in answering to 
 
 an indictment, 107, 108. 
 handwriting of MS., i, 2. 
 hangman's spoon, the, 132. 
 hardly, with energy, 249. 
 hare, as smooth as a, 132. 
 hare, coursing the, 148, 152. 
 Harington, John, lord, 54. 
 
 3 (373) 
 
Index and Glossary 
 
 Harleian ballads, 5, 6. 
 
 Hasnett, Samuel, 54. 
 
 harvest customs, 363. 
 
 Harwich, 177. 
 
 hawking, 148, 153, 216. 
 
 head, suffix of abstract noun, 65, 282, 
 
 286. 
 heare, hair, 75. 
 
 heat, of anger, 103, 253 ; of lust, 252. 
 hedge-bill, 143. 
 
 heigh! exclamation of joy, 271. 
 heigh-ho, 224, 225. 
 Heigh-ho the mare, 154. 
 Helen's beauty, 225. 
 helplessly, 241. 
 hemp, peeling, 362. 
 hempen sheets, 218. 
 Henry 11, 177, 216, 311. 
 Henry IV of France, 240. 
 Herrick, Robert, 331, 346, 360. 
 Heydowne, a downe, 248. 
 hie me, to, make haste, 337, 338. 
 highwaymen, 7, 139, 130. 
 Hill, Hugh, 123, S13, 214 ; Sarah, 121, 
 
 212. 
 Holdt, Germany, 76. 
 hoUywands, 335, 356. 
 holpe, p.p. of help, 344. 
 Holten, Germany, 75. 
 homilist, one who only reads the 
 
 homilies and does not preach, 7. 
 horchet (adj.), 313. 
 horn, 253 ; horns, 251, 264. 
 horning a bow, 303. 
 horsekeepers, loi. 
 housekeeper, one who keeps a 
 
 hospitable house, 256. 
 house-keeping, great hospitality, 258. 
 hue and cry, 128, 131, 140. 
 hugy (adj.), 50. 
 Hull, Edward, i, 120. 
 humming, of water, 64. 
 hundredth, 58, 65. 
 hungers, 242. 
 Hyperion, 63, 64. 
 
 I ! aye, 318, 331, 350, 314, 355, 358. 
 idleness, invectives against, 23, 44, 
 
 143- 
 imps, children, 152, 187. 
 incontinent, immediately, 19, 97, 367, 
 
 314. 
 India, the nut of, 94. 
 Indies, Spanish cruelty in West, 243. 
 indurate, implacable, 281. 
 inglazfed, 88. 
 
 intreatance, entreaty, 345. 
 Ireland, 317 ; Essex's campaign in, 7, 
 
 321, 330 ; Spanish descent on, 7, 133, 
 
 124, 128. 
 Irish game, a sort of backgammon, 49. 
 Islington, 340. 
 
 (374) 
 
 Italian sources of ballads, 7, 227, 287, 
 
 293. 354- 
 Ivan the Terrible, czar, 178. 
 Ivy Bridge, London, 67, 68. 
 
 Jack, knave, 264. 
 
 jacks (armour), 178. 
 
 Jacobean ballads, 9. 
 
 jagges, frivolous amusements, 51. 
 
 James I, 35, 55, 67, 90, 315-20. 
 
 James IV of Scotland, 55, 318. 
 
 jealous head, jealousy, 65. 
 
 jealous man, the, 363. 
 
 jemmes = gems, 58. 
 
 Jena, 133. 
 
 Jephtha, 175. 
 
 Jerusalem, 31, 33, 59, 170. 
 
 jet, to, 361, 363. 
 
 jet down, to, 313. 
 
 jet it, to, 51. 
 
 Jewish hearts, hardened hearts, 46 ; 
 cp. 104. 
 
 jig, dramatic piece set to dance music, 
 344. 
 
 jigges, idle amusements, 51. 
 
 Jonson, Ben, 245. 
 
 Josephus, 31. 
 
 Jubilie, joy, 86. 
 
 judgement-day, predictions of immi- 
 nence of, 35, 75, 138, 363. 
 
 jugge a-jugge, 187. 
 
 Jugge, female name, 314. 
 
 keep, to have in, 133. 
 
 ken, to, know, 33. 
 
 Kendal, 20. 
 
 key, wharf, 180. 
 
 key-knobs, 301. 
 
 kill, to, wound mortally, 367. 
 
 kind (collective suffix) ; maiden kind, 
 
 83 ; woman kind, 139 ; female kind, 
 
 284. 
 kind, sex, 288, 394. 
 Kinsale, siege of, 133, 134, 138. 
 kiss the earth, to, 242. 
 knacks, tools, 143. 
 Knave of clubs, 345. 
 knell, tolling of bell at death, 83, 107, 
 
 232 ; see passing bell, 
 knighthood on battle-field, 137. 
 knit up, to (verb intrans.), leave off, 54. 
 knoUed, p.p. of knell, 332. 
 Kyd, Thomas, 237. 
 
 lack, to, feel the loss of, 256 ; fail to 
 
 succeed, 282. 
 lady, sweetheart, 232. 
 lamb's-wool, spiced ale, 319, 361. 
 lanthorn, a, warning, 33. 
 lappe, liquor, 93. 
 last, a shoemaker's, 93. 
 
Index and Glossary 
 
 last, to set on the, 350. 
 
 laugh and be fat, 91, 92. 
 
 Lavinia, 229. 
 
 law, judge's sentence, 108. 
 
 lawnds, lawns, 65. 
 
 lay, to, wager, 93 ; lie down, 102 ; 
 propound, 363. 
 
 Lazare, 131. 
 
 Lazarus, 296. 
 
 leave, to, desist from, 237. 
 
 leekes, likes, 117. 
 
 leet, the, 346. 
 
 Leez priory, Essex, 355. 
 
 length, to, lengthen, 41. 
 
 Lent, observance of, 336. 
 
 lets, hindrances, 161. 
 
 lettuce, 336 
 
 Lichfield, 307. 
 
 lien, p.p. of lie, 32. 
 
 lig, to, lie, 28s. 
 
 lightfoot, deer, 219, 314. 
 
 lily-white, 189, 336. 
 
 lin, to, desist from, 261. 
 
 Lincolnshire, 145. 
 
 lions respect virginity, 102. 
 
 Lisbon, 326, 329. 
 
 list, to, wish, IIS, iiP- 
 
 little England, i.e. as contrasted with 
 Spain, 124. 
 
 livery, 131. 
 
 locks, curled, 136 ; love, 293, 295. 
 
 London, 34, 67, 107, 137, 200, 334, 
 344; the custom of, 11, 15 ; street- 
 cries of 335. 
 
 long, to, belong, 205. 
 
 long-begun, 265. 
 
 long-bow, the, 178, 322. 
 
 looking-glass, worship of the, 135, 136. 
 
 lope, leaped, 285. 
 
 lord and lady, Whitsuntide, 362. 
 
 lounge, long, 335. 
 
 lover, used of the woman, 89, 114, 
 
 I as- 
 Low Countries, expedition to the, 198. 
 lowne, lad, 119. 
 Lucas, Sir Thomas, 327. 
 
 mackerel, 335. 
 
 magpie stagger, to make the, 94. 
 
 Maid Marian, 313. 
 
 Maiden kind, 83. 
 
 make, to, have business, 253. 
 
 make away, to (verb trans.), put to 
 
 death, loi. 
 Maldon, Essex, 3, 5, 6, 11, et passim. 
 man-amazing, 205. 
 man of death, executioner, 24. 
 Manchester, 116. 
 Mansfield, 216, 311. 
 Manton, Rich., 2 ; Tho., 2. 
 March, month of, 315. 
 Margate, 263. 
 
 market-man, purchaser in a market, 
 
 270. 
 Marlborough fair, 132. 
 Marlowe, Christopher, 72. 
 Marshalsea, the, 108. 
 marts, wares, 160. 
 Mary, asseveration by, 156 ; entreaty 
 
 by, 158 ; invocation of, 331. 
 Mary, Queen of Scots, 319. 
 Mass I by the, 5a. 
 match, 34S. 
 
 matter, statement of fact, 97. 
 Maurice, prince, of Nassau, 271, 272. 
 maw, stomach, s6. 
 Mawe the (in gambling), 49. 
 May, month of, 29, 186. 
 May-day customs, 362. 
 May-game, the, 362. 
 may, may, imitation of lamb's cry, 188. 
 may-pole, the, 362. 
 maze, a state of bewilderment, 77 ; 
 
 but a-mase should perhaps be read, 
 mean, the golden, 115. 
 means, 97. 
 
 memorial verses, 145, 232. 
 mends, amends, 308. 
 mere (adj.), without anything else, 
 
 39, 267. 
 mermaids, 138. 
 merry-make, to, 69. 
 Meurs, 54. 
 
 Midsummer customs, 363. 
 militia, see trained bands, 
 milkmaid's curtsy, a, 313. 
 milk-white, 230, 243. 
 millers, 116, 216. 
 Milton, John, "8, 60, 185. 
 mince it, to, 313. 
 minstrel, 341. 
 
 minute of an hour, in, 104, 207, 
 mirrors, used by fowlers, aa. 
 mitigate, to, 235. 
 Moers, 54. 
 
 monasteries, the, 255. 
 monstrous births, 8, 136, 293. 
 moon, month, 187. 
 Moor, the murdering, 228. 
 morions, 177, 199, 321. 
 morris-dances, 362. 
 mortar, carrying the, punishment, 47. 
 mount, to (verb refl.), 238. 
 Mountjoy, Charles Blount, lord, 123, 
 
 124, 178. 
 mourningly, 64. 
 
 mouse in the cat's ear, the, 358. 
 move, to, solicit, 248, 249. 
 mow, to (mock), 132. 
 Mozart, 276. 
 muck, wealth, no. 
 Munimouth cap, a, 118. 
 murtherers, 231. 
 Muscovite, the, 181. 
 
 (375) 
 
Index and Glossary 
 
 muses, the nine, 232. 
 
 Musgrave, John, 20, 22. 
 
 music noted in MS., i, 185, 186, 236, 
 
 245, 272. 
 musician, 341, 
 muskets, 32r. 
 
 mute of malice, to stand, 129. 
 mutilation of the MS., i. 
 muttering, 261. 
 
 n, plural suffix ; alehousen, 67 ; eyne, 
 
 210. 
 nappy,foamingand strong, 91, 218, 364. 
 narrow, narrowly, 183. 
 naught (adj.), vicious, 246, 265. 
 naule, 92. 
 
 navy, the, 94, 177, 180. 
 ne . . ne . . , neither nor, 115. 
 neat, cattle, 154, 155. 
 Nestor, 28, 47, 152. 
 Netherlands, 1601 campaign in, 7. 
 new, newly, 206. 
 newcome, newly arrived, 150. 
 new cut (in gambling), 143. 
 Newgate, 129, 130, 133, 203. 
 nick, to, 90, 92 ; nick (subst.), 92. 
 North Britain, 311. 
 North-country cloth, 90. 
 Norwich cathedral, 7, 203, 204. 
 Nottingham, 133, 217, 311, 314. 
 nourish, to (verb intr.), be nourished, 
 
 288. 
 novem quinque, 49. 
 novum et eundem, 140. 
 nowne, own, 351. 
 nut of India, the, 94. 
 Nut-brown maid, the, 4. 
 
 oaten reeds, 65. 
 Och hone, 328. 
 O'Donnell, the, 123, 126, 178. 
 official, the, the judge of the arch- 
 deacon's court, 153, 158, 306. 
 O'Neill, the, 123, 178. 
 on hunting, 216. 
 on sudden, suddenly, 38. 
 onset to, to give, begin, 126. 
 Ophelia, 29. 
 or, before, 261. 
 oranges, 336. 
 ordinance, cannon, 125. 
 Orlando (Gibbons), 236. 
 Osburne, Philip, 130. 
 Ostend, 272. 
 ostisse, hostess, 143. 
 ostrey faggots, 199. 
 Our Lady, by, 285. 
 
 out of hand, immediately, 19, 97, 209. 
 outblush, to, 61. 
 
 over-reached, tricked into a fault, 250. 
 overtake to, seize hold on, 258. 
 overthwart, across, 271. 
 owe, to, possess, 257. 
 
 (376) 
 
 owl-light, dusk, 307. 
 Oxford, 4, 177. 
 Oxford, Harley, earl of, 4. 
 oysters, 335. 
 
 Page Eulalia, 109, iii. 
 
 pained, painful, 291. 
 
 painful bag, 95. 
 
 painted flies, butterflies, 84. 
 
 palisadoes, 273. 
 
 palmer, pilgrim, 246. 
 
 Palsgrave, the, 58, 59. 
 
 pannyel, pannier, basket, 313. 
 
 parrator, parritor, 307, 3ro. 
 
 pasles (unexplained), 336. 
 
 passing bell, the, 122, 232 ; see knell. 
 
 passing well, 175. 
 
 passingly, 117. 
 
 passport, servant's, 215, 217, 218. 
 
 pawn, a, pledge, 119. 
 
 pawn, to, for drink, 92. 
 
 pay, to, pay out, punish, 356. 
 
 peat, girl, 300, 303. 
 
 Pepys, Samuel, 4. 
 
 persuade, to, plead with, 237. 
 
 pestilence, 8, 31, 33, 75, 78, 79, 97. 
 
 petygree, pedigree, 316. 
 
 pewter standard, 90, 92. 
 
 Phillida, 297. 
 
 Picardy, expedition to, 236. 
 
 pikemen, 178, 32a, 324. 
 
 pikes, 177, 178, 180, 199. 
 
 pin, not worth a, 300 ; to care not a, 
 
 329- 
 
 pinde, penned, enclosed, 298. 
 
 pine, to (verb trans.), cause to waste, 
 214. 
 
 pinked shoes, i. e. with the over- 
 leathers pierced with patterns, 138. 
 
 pinnacle, spire of a tower, 203, 205. 
 
 pinnion, pillion, i. e. woman's seat 
 attached to the saddle, 129. 
 
 pinsons, pincers, 169, 
 
 pipe and tabor, 361. 
 
 place, in, present, 248, 257. 
 
 place-names in ballads, 9. 
 
 plaice, 335. 
 
 plaint, complaint, 147, 234, 241. 
 
 planets, the seven, 342. 
 
 plaster (metaphorical use), 258. 
 
 players. Queen Elizabeth's company 
 of) 351 ; princess Elizabeth's com- 
 pany of, 55. 
 
 play-houses, censure of, 8, 107. 
 
 plays, on Sunday, 48, 67 ; set out in 
 ballad-form, 344, 354 ; connected 
 with ballads, 72, 227. 
 
 plovers, caught by mirrors, 22. 
 
 Plume, Dr. Thomas, g. 
 
 Plumpton park, 20. 
 
 plunge in pain, to, 72, 234, 235. 
 
 Plymouth, log, no. 
 
Index and Glossary 
 
 point, to, appoint, 356. 
 
 points, ribbons to fasten hose to 
 
 doublet, 264, 299. 
 Portingale, Portugal, ig8, 329. 
 ports, stopping the, 327. 
 potmates, 52. 
 poule, to, rob, 261. 
 powder, supply of, 177, 180. 
 poynt, 117. 
 
 praise to one's face, to, 248. 
 pressing to death, punishment, 129, 
 
 130, 133- 
 prest-money, 199, 321. 
 Preston, Thomas, LL.D., 346, 350. 
 pride, invectives against, 51, 78, 83, 
 
 134, 136, 137, 138, 139, 152, 262. 
 Prideaux, bp. John, 5. 
 prince, i. e. princess, 59, 202, 237. 
 Privy Council, judical functions of, 11, 
 
 16,17; orders issued by, 346. 
 proclamations, royal, 311. 
 procure, to, contrive, 260. 
 proper, handsome, 261, 263, 291, 
 proportion, likeness, 295. 
 proverb, 225, i.e. he that will not 
 
 when he may, &c. 
 Prynne, William, 293. 
 punctuation of MS., 2. 
 purchase, to, acquire, 39, 127. 
 pursuivants, 48, 311, 312, 327. 
 put back, to, put off, 28. 
 Pygmalion, 342. 
 Pytchley, Northants, 148. 
 
 quack, sore throat and hoarseness, 270. 
 quail, to (verb trans.), put an end to, 
 
 235- 
 Queen of Spades, like the, 313. 
 Queen of Trumps, 3. 
 quinces, 336. 
 quintain, the, 361, 
 quirks, 284. ■ 
 quod, quoth, 210, 217, 218. 
 
 racket, placket, 287. 
 
 rag, not worth a, 301. 
 
 rage, to, act madly, 261. 
 
 rakers, hay-rakes, 363. 
 
 randed, 140. 
 
 rat-catcher, 94. 
 
 rate, in simple, 364. 
 
 rate, to scold, 359. 
 
 rats, drunk as, 95. 
 
 ratter, rat-catcher, 94. 
 
 ravine, to go about seeking, 306. 
 
 Rawlinson, Rich., collection of printed 
 
 ballads, 5 ; MS. of ballads, 334. 
 rear, to, raise, 144. 
 receiver, the king's, 20. 
 redating of ballads, g, 11, 109, iii. 
 reeve, to, take away, 342. 
 regard, to have a, 358. 
 
 regardless, 69. 
 
 release, to, get set free, 257. 
 
 remediless, 69. 
 
 remorse of, regret to give up, 193. 
 
 rent, complaints of increase of, 52, 151. 
 
 repair, to, return, 238. 
 
 repine, to, grumble, 239, 316. 
 
 report, to, repeat, 138. 
 
 resalgar, 94. 
 
 resolve, to, cure, 278. 
 
 rest, to, remain, 19, 97. 
 
 resty, obstinate, 270. 
 
 retain, to, belong, 294, 
 
 Rheinberg, 271. 
 
 rid, rode, 164 ; ridden, 247, 250. 
 
 rid, to (verb trans.), take away, 209. 
 
 right, exactly, 136, 137, 294. 
 
 rings, to exchange, 307. 
 
 rivets, almain, 178. 
 
 Robin Hood ballads, 4, 6. 
 
 Rochester, 132. 
 
 rock, rocking, 230. 
 
 Rogers, Daniel, 54. 
 
 Roman letters, i, 2, 334. 
 
 Rome, 228. 
 
 roseaker, 94. 
 
 Rouen, 327, 329. 
 
 round, a dance in a circle, 64, 363. 
 
 roundelays, 64. 
 
 round-house, the, 274. 
 
 route (adj.), numerous, 181. 
 
 Rowland, 285, 354. 
 
 Roxburghe, Ker, duke of, 5. 
 
 Roxburghe ballads, 4, 5, 6. 
 
 royster, roisterer, 133. 
 
 ruffians, 16. 
 
 ruifs, 48, 137. 
 
 rush-rings, 301. 
 
 Sabbath observance, 45, 48, sa, 67, 
 
 68, 69, 71, 309. 
 Sabra, 102 ; Sabrine, 98. 
 St. Andrew's cross, 311. 
 St. George, legend of, 96 ; cross of, 
 
 99, 311 ; day of, 312, 327, 322 ; St. 
 
 George for England, 125, 322, 324, 
 
 326. 
 St. Gregory's day, 315. 
 Saint Main, Henry, 326. 
 sampler, working a, 229. 
 Samson, 41, 47. 
 sand, writing on, 230. 
 Saturn, 315, 317. 
 satyrs, 64. 
 
 Savage, Anthony, 294. 
 scabado, 218. 
 scant (adj.), 235, 335. 
 Scape, escape, 131, 209. 
 score, tavern reckoning, 91, 93. 
 scrape, to, amass money, 261. 
 Scriptural ballads, 8. 
 scull, steel cap, 178. 
 
 (377) 
 
Index and Glossary 
 
 scuse, excuse, 17, 353. 
 seem, to, be evident, loa. 
 seeming, apparently, 61. 
 seemly, good-looking, no. 
 seeth, since, 338, 347, 35a, 353. 
 Selden, John, 4. 
 sermonic ballads, 8. 
 serviture, servitor, 218. 
 Shadwell, Thomas, 276. 
 Shakespeare, 3, 8, 11, 
 Hamlet, ag, 174. 
 Henry IV, Ig8, 223, 346. 
 Measure for Measure, 244. 
 Titus Andronicus, 227. 
 Winter's Tale, 6, 158, 212, 285, 393. 
 shakt, shook, 206. 
 shape, pretence, 114. 
 share, stock of money, 132. 
 she (obj. case), 282. 
 sheep-shearing feast, 361. 
 shent, scolded, 222, 262. 
 Shepton Mallet, 131. 
 Sherman, 140. 
 
 Sherwood forest, 216, 219, 315. 
 shift away, to, depart, 144. 
 shined, shone, 88. 
 shipraoney, 177. 
 Shirburn ballads, 6. 
 Shirburn library, i. 
 shot, tavern reckoning, 92, 141. 
 shot and lot, 198. 
 show, to, appear, 186. 
 shrine, to, 235. 
 sickest, 26. 
 side-board, i. e. table at the side of 
 
 the hall, 313. 
 Sidney, Sir Philip, 351. 
 sight, his = act of seeing him, 112; 
 
 thy, thee, 1 10 ; whose, whom, 100. 
 silk roses on shoes, 138. 
 silvered, silvery, 188. 
 singlesheets, 3. 
 sink or swim, 13. 
 si's, says, 285. 
 sises, assises, 20. 
 sith, since, 209, 233, 235, 342. 
 sithence, since, 176. 
 skirmidge, skirmish, 274. 
 slack, sluggish, 160, 238. 
 slack, to (verb trans.), 47. 
 slake, te (verb intrans), 155. 
 sledge, 139, 142. 
 sleeps, plural of sleep, 66, 92. 
 slips, misdeeds, 355. 
 slyit, slit, 206. 
 Smithfield horse-fair, 336. 
 smoothing (adj.), flattering, 29. 
 snaring birds, no. 
 socket wedge, 139, 142. 
 soft, 253 ; softly, 251. 
 solace (adj.), solaced, free from care, 
 
 224. 
 
 (378) 
 
 solace (subst.), 233 ; (adv.), 305. 
 
 solace, to (verb abs.), 64. 
 
 soldiers, i. e. angels, 61 (' heavenly 
 host,' Luke, ii. 13). 
 
 soldiers, levying, 198, 199, 201 ; equip- 
 ment of, 321, 322. 
 
 Solomon, 41, 47, 189, 
 
 somnour, the, 306. 
 
 sonnet-poem, 113, 297. 
 
 Sophy, the Shah, loi. 
 
 sops, sour, 235. 
 
 sorcery, 153. 
 
 Southampton, 293, 294. 
 
 Southwark, 67, 69. 
 
 sowse, i.e. meat put in pickle, 217, 
 
 364- 
 Spain, English dread of, 127, 940, 
 
 242-44, 315, 317, 320. 
 Spanish descent on Ireland, 7, 123, 
 
 124, 128 ; sack of Calais, 7, 240-44. 
 Spanish pride, 243. 
 sparkle forth, to (verb trans.), 295. 
 spelling of MS., 2. 
 spend away, to, 69, 74. 
 Spenser, Edmund, 8, 23a, 351. 
 spiders, to eat, 95. 
 spider's web, as mark of untidiness, 
 
 172. 
 splay, to, display, 348. 
 splents, 178. 
 spoil, sack, 241. 
 
 spoon (1 shoon), the hangman's, 132. 
 stage, the, see plays, 
 star chamber, 17. 
 starch, white and blue, 137. 
 starve to death, to, punishment, 231. 
 state, class ofmen, 243 ; stability, 244. 
 state, condition, 240, 
 state, person of quality, 20, 56. 
 States, the, of Holland, 273, 275. 
 stay, to stand in a, 262. 
 stay, to, stay away, refrain from 
 
 coming, 257. 
 stealth, stealing, 46. 
 steeple, tower, 203,. 205. 
 sterve, to, starve, 231. 
 stick, to, hesitate, 345. 
 sting, to, wound, 374. 
 stint strife, to, 98, 170, 265. 
 Stockwood, John, 31. 
 stoolball, 48. 
 store (quasi-adj.), in plenty, 133, 166, 
 
 248. 
 strain forth, to, 37. 
 Strand, the, 68. 
 
 Strangwidge, George, 109, in. 
 straw, for beds, a 18; as expression 
 
 for worthlessness, 115,338. 
 strawn, of straw, 363. 
 street-cries of London, 335. 
 stripe, stroke, 173. 
 stroken, struck, 30. 
 
Index and Glossary 
 
 stroy, destroy, 97. 
 
 Sturgis, Edw., a ; Thos., u. 
 
 sucker, succour, 135. 
 
 sugared wines, 54, 56, 323. 
 
 suited, clothed, 64. 
 
 Summer lord and lady, 362. 
 
 supreme-head, supremacy, 282. 
 
 surcease, to, 280. 
 
 sure together, to make, betroth, 213. 
 
 suretyship, immunity, 345. 
 
 surmount, to (verb neut.), mount high, 
 
 126. 
 surmounting (subst.), 239. 
 surmising, surpassing, 190. 
 surpass, to (verb neut.), 33. 
 Susan, 225. 
 
 suspect, in, i. e. suspicion, 161. 
 Sussex, Radclifie, earl of, 54. 
 swage, to (verb trans.), assuage, 97, 
 
 146 ; (verb intrans.), grow less, 234. 
 swashing, 130. 
 swearing, profane, 48, 49^ 53, 14I, 
 
 361, 308. 
 Sweden, 178, 181. 
 sweeting, sweetheart, 88, 221, 237, 
 
 250, 357- 
 swift-winged, 30. 
 sword and dagger, 139, 178, 199. 
 swound, swoon, 57. 
 syce, assises, 109. 
 syses, assises, 144. 
 syth, since, 41, 23s. 
 syve, sieve, 361. 
 
 tables (gambling), 140. 
 
 tabor and pipe, 361. 
 
 taffata, sillc, 285. 
 
 Tagus land, 326. 
 
 Tarlton, Richard, 351, 353. 
 
 tavern songs, 89, 94. 
 
 Tavistock, 109. 
 
 tearing flesh to pieces, punishment, 
 
 169. 
 tell, to, count, 58. 
 Tethys, 63. 
 
 than, then; 104, 150, 339, 363. 
 themes, 353. 
 
 then, than, 114, 130, 204, as6, &c. 
 Thetis, 63, 64. 
 thrall (adj.), tied, 99. 
 thread of life, the, 332. 
 threadbare, 141. 
 thrice-rackt, 151. 
 timeless, i. e. untimely, 69. 
 tithe, payment of, 361. 
 Titus, 31, 32. 
 Titus Andronicus, 237. 
 tobacco, 93. 
 took, taken, 131. 
 top, graft, 190. 
 tore, torn, 157. - 
 tormentings, 239. 
 
 Tower, armoury in the, 177, 180. 
 toys, trifles, 47, 339, 240. 
 trace, to, walk, 187, 188. 
 tract of time, passage, 41. 
 train (subst.), device, 290. 
 train, to, entice, 57. 
 train in, to, 283. 
 
 trained-bands, the, 177, 199, 331. 
 traunce, a, 168, 281. 
 tray-trip, 49. 
 treacher, traitor, 356. 
 trick, at cards, 345. 
 trick (adj.), neat, 270. 
 trick, to, dally, 226. 
 Trinidado, 93. 
 Troilus, 233. 
 troth, truth, 253. 
 trowl, to (verb intrans.), 318. 
 Troy, 96, 233, 276. 
 Troyan, 377, 378. 
 trumps, 345. 
 tufle on, to, 307. 
 
 turn, way of holding oneself, 353. 
 turn of an eye, in the, 190. 
 Tusser, Thomas, 341, 361. 
 tut I 254. 
 
 twatling(adj.),3i4. 
 twoe, too, 51. 
 
 Tyrone, earl of, 123, 134, 128, 178, 
 326. 
 
 unbrace, to, unyoke, 36a. 
 
 uncertainty, at, 191. 
 
 undermine, to, find out by stealth, 
 
 230. 
 unfold, to, let out of a pen, 30. 
 unpossible, 156. 
 unremoved, 244. 
 unreverently, 69. 
 unsufficed, unsatisfied, 56, 
 unthriftiness, 44. 
 untill, unto, 171. 
 untruss, to, arise and go, 150. 
 up a chamber, to come, ascend to, 267. 
 up a horse, to get, mount, 161. 
 usher (i. e. the Star of Bethlehem), 61. 
 usury, tirades against, 39, 45, 46, 52, 
 
 152. 256, 350. 
 
 vail, to, avail, 233. 
 
 vain, in such a, 83. 
 
 vain, within their, 143. 
 
 vains, fancies, 231. 
 
 venison, 319. 
 
 Vere, Sir Francis, 372. 
 
 vermin, lists of, 94, 148. 
 
 vilde, vile, 83, 169 ; vilder, 167. 
 
 virginity, ornaments of, 99 ; preserved 
 
 by magic chain, 102 ; respected by 
 
 lions, 102. 
 Virgin's Sea, the, 315. 
 vouch, to, acknowledge, 151. 
 
 (379) 
 
Index and Glossary 
 
 Wagstaffe. Thomas and William, 334. 
 wait, to (verb trans.), attend on, 125. 
 \valed eye, a, 140. 
 Walfleet oysters, 335. 
 walke, to, wake, 43, 333. 
 walking, to let be, 358. 
 Walsingham, pilgrimage to, 245, 
 
 246. 
 wander from, to, 83. 
 want, to (verb intr.), be without food, 
 
 373- 
 wanting, being without, 86, iia. 
 wap, to, 285. 
 wardons, 336. 
 watch, the night, 203, 207. 
 watching-shafts, i. e. arrows for the 
 
 watch, 203. 
 Watling street, 11. 
 Watton, 340. 
 weal or woe, 240.. 
 weavers, dignity of, 341. 
 Webster, 343. 
 wedding-customs, 361. 
 weed, robe, 63, 73, 246, 291, 359. 
 well-browed, 271. 
 Westminster, 311. 
 which, who, 42, 83, 104, 192, 267. 
 whig and whey, 300. 
 whipping apprentices, 341, 343. 
 whipping, rushing, 188. 
 white dress of virginity, 99. 
 whitings, 335. 
 
 Whitsuntide customs, 362. < 
 
 whom = which, 32. 
 
 will, to, request, 249. 
 Willy, pleasant, sweet, 351. 
 wine and women, 108. 
 wines, sugared, 54, 56, 322. 
 Wingfield, Sir Rich., 123, 125. 
 winter's moon, a, 65. 
 witchcraft, 7a, 74, 153. 
 within, during the time of, 102. 
 without, out of keeping with, 298. 
 wits, to seek one's, rack one's brain, 
 
 17- 
 Wittenberg, 73, 
 woe, woefully, 133. 
 womankind, 139. 
 won, one, 158. 
 Wood, Anthony, 4, 5. 
 woodcuts in Black-letter ballads, 3, 5, 
 
 6, 31, 43, 75, 133. I74> =93, 295. 
 woodlands, pasture in, 153, 154, 235. 
 Worcester, 212. 
 worldliness, in error for some word 
 
 expressive of pain, 83. 
 worm, the merciless, remorse, 169. 
 worser, 201. 
 wrack, injury, 32a. 
 wrap in, to, 109. 
 Wrench, Will., 200. 
 wring, to, turn aside, 191. 
 wrong, oppression, 243. 
 wrong (past tense of wring), 289, 
 wrongful, 229. 
 
 yellow hose, to wear, 332. 
 I York, 170. 
 
 Oxford: Printed at the Clarendon Press by Horace Hart, M.A. 
 
J^ The old black-letter ballads have an in- 
 terest, and even charm, which is quite in- 
 dependent of any literary value — to which, 
 indeed, very few of them can lay claim. 
 Typography, titles, the rude woodcuts 
 which often accompany them — all are 
 equally quaint, and not less so is the 
 treatment of the varied matters with 
 which they are concerned — murders, mon- 
 strous births, contemporary public events, 
 religious exhortation, etc. A valuable ad- 
 dition to this form of popular literature 
 is the volume which has just issued 
 from the Clarendon Press (Henry Frowde), 
 entitled "The Shirburn_Ballads, 1585-1616," 
 edited by Andrew Clark, honorary fellow 
 of Lincoln College, from the manuscript in 
 the library of the Earl of Macclesfield, at 
 Shirburn Castle, Oxfordshire. The manu- 
 script originally contained 257 leaves, of 
 which about 100 have been lost, but even 
 what remains makes up, as the editor re- 
 marks, "a singularly representative col- 
 lection, embracing ballads of almost every 
 type in circulation, and so presenting 
 us with Just the library which was found 
 in most English households in Shake- 
 speare's time." The pieces were evident- 
 ly all transcribed in the early seventeenth 
 century from the printed copies known as 
 broadsides, and the majority of them have 
 already appeared in the "Roxburghe Bal- 
 lads," but even of these we have often in 
 the present collection earlier and better 
 texts; and, on the other hand, some of the 
 best are printed here for the first time. 
 Perhaps the greatest importance of the 
 collection is that it bridges over the gap 
 in ballad-literature between the early bal- 
 lads as represented by Prof. F. J. Child's 
 monumental work and those of the post- 
 Restoration period. One may note among 
 
 a4'ir / f ^7 
 
 the new pieces some that have a distinct 
 literary value, as, for instance. No. 13, en- 
 titled "The Golden God Hyperion," a 
 charming Elizabethan' pastoral, which, like 
 No. 28, Dyer's "My Mind to Me a King- 
 dom Is," we suspect had originally no place 
 in the literature of the ballad-singers. Two 
 or three of the ballads which are of inter- 
 est to Shakespearean scholars, such as that 
 on the story of Titus Andronicus or the 
 one on Jephthah's daughter (quoted in 
 "Hamlet"), have already appeared in print. 
 Mr. Clark, however, fails to note' that in 
 No. 65 we have at last the "old madrigal" 
 long ago conjectured by Malone to explain 
 Orlando's phrase, "Wit, whither wilt," 
 "As You Like It." The editor has repro- 
 Iduced the manuscript text practically 
 -ithout changes. He has, moreover, pre- 
 Ixed to each ballad explanatory notes, and 
 |u his general iotroduction he has set 
 >rth the conditions under which ballads 
 ere composed and circulated in the six- 
 tlenth and seventeenth centuries. Finally, 
 slveral interesting ballads of the same 
 c^racter as those in the Shirburn manu- 
 sciipt are added in an appendix from 
 B(iileian manuscript, viz., Rawlinson poet 
 189 
 
L. 727 
 
 an admirable quality, which the desire for 
 vividness sometimes overrides. The ob- 
 server at first hand who can write and is a 
 scholar, like Dr. Atkinson, has no need of 
 
 ; brilliant inaccuracies. 
 H The Shirburn Ballads, 1585-1616. Edited 
 
 : by Andrew Clark. (Oxford, Clarendon 
 Press.) — This volume is an interesting 
 
 ; addition to that Tarleton and Deloney 
 " literature " which is not literature, but 
 which is always useful to the student of the 
 Elizabethan and Jacobean periods. For 
 the editor's task httle more than antiquarian 
 zeal was required. There is small room for 
 
 ' criticism of any kind ; and the collection 
 is too haphazard to tempt the reader to 
 generalize or modify previous impressions. 
 The permanent usefulness of the book will 
 be to aid in the interpretation of dark 
 passages and in suppl5dng future editors with 
 fresh notes. 
 
 The text is a literal reprint of the MS. 
 preserved in the hbrary of the Earl of 
 Macclesfield at Shirburn Castle. Its chief 
 value lies in the fact that it preserves the 
 text of several printed broadsides which are 
 not extant. Some of the ballads (twenty- 
 seven or more) have appeared in the ' Rox- 
 burghe Ballads,' and others have been 
 printed before. 
 
 The editor, the Rev. Andrew Clark, who 
 requires no introduction to historical and 
 antiquarian readers, has done his work with 
 great care. If we were to find fault with 
 anything, it would be that he does not always 
 stick to his antiquarian last. When, for 
 example, he says, apropos of the line " Ye 
 wanton writers, leaue your fylthy rime," 
 that the only remarkable point in the ballad 
 in which it occurs is " the recognition of the 
 vileness of much contemporary verse " 
 (p. 260), he makes a point which is no 
 point. Again, when he says of a couplet 
 in another ballad (p. 107) — 
 
 All sacred churches 1 despized 
 and Playhowse stages better prizd— 
 
 " Note the condemnation of the stage 
 (stanza 7)," he makes too much of a com- 
 ! monplace and too- little of his readers' 
 \ reserve of information. So, too in his 
 I Introduction, which contains much inter- 
 esting material, he proposes a classification 
 of the ballads, showing the important place 
 they occupied in the intellectual life of the 
 nation." He gives three divisions with 
 lists of examples : (1) " They served, for one 
 thing, as a weekly newspaper " ; (2) " They 
 represent modern fiction, in something of its 
 variety of interest and diversity of source " ; 
 and (3) " They discharged the functions of 
 the modem pulpit.'" Remarks of this kind 
 — " Critical Observations " the older title- 
 pages called them — have always been a fail- 
 ing of antiquaries, even the best. 
 
'l'"i