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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Book of Ballads, Volume 2, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Book of Ballads, Volume 2
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Beverly Nichols
+
+Posting Date: April 29, 2014 [EBook #7532]
+Release Date: February, 2005
+First Posted: May 15, 2003
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BOOK OF BALLADS, VOLUME 2 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger, Juliet Sutherland, Phil McLaury,
+Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading
+Team. Text version by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A BOOK OF OLD BALLADS
+
+Selected and with an Introduction
+
+by
+
+BEVERLEY NICHOLS
+
+
+[Illustration: Title page art]
+
+
+
+
+
+  CONTENTS
+
+  THE HEIR OF LINNE
+  KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID
+  SIR ANDREW BARTON
+  MAY COLLIN
+  THE BLIND BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL GREEN
+  THOMAS THE RHYMER
+  YOUNG BEICHAN
+  BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBEY
+  THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE
+  THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY
+
+
+
+  LIST OF COLOUR PLATES
+
+  KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID
+  MAY COLLIN
+  THOMAS THE RHYMER
+  YOUNG BEICHAN
+
+
+
+
+THE HEIR OF LINNE
+
+[Illustration: The Heir of Linne headpiece]
+
+  PART THE FIRST
+
+  Lithe and listen, gentlemen,
+    To sing a song I will beginne:
+  It is of a lord of faire Scotland,
+    Which was the unthrifty heire of Linne.
+
+  His father was a right good lord,
+    His mother a lady of high degree;
+  But they, alas! were dead, him froe,
+    And he lov'd keeping companie.
+
+  To spend the daye with merry cheare,
+    To drinke and revell every night,
+  To card and dice from eve to morne,
+    It was, I ween, his hearts delighte.
+
+  To ride, to runne, to rant, to roare,
+    To alwaye spend and never spare,
+  I wott, an' it were the king himselfe,
+    Of gold and fee he mote be bare.
+
+  Soe fares the unthrifty lord of Linne
+    Till all his gold is gone and spent;
+  And he maun sell his landes so broad,
+    His house, and landes, and all his rent.
+
+  His father had a keen stewarde,
+    And John o' the Scales was called hee:
+  But John is become a gentel-man,
+    And John has gott both gold and fee.
+
+  Sayes, Welcome, welcome, lord of Linne,
+    Let nought disturb thy merry cheere;
+  Iff thou wilt sell thy landes soe broad,
+    Good store of gold Ile give thee heere,
+
+  My gold is gone, my money is spent;
+    My lande nowe take it unto thee:
+  Give me the golde, good John o' the Scales,
+    And thine for aye my lande shall bee.
+
+  Then John he did him to record draw,
+    And John he cast him a gods-pennie;
+  But for every pounde that John agreed,
+    The lande, I wis, was well worth three.
+
+  He told him the gold upon the borde,
+    He was right glad his land to winne;
+  The gold is thine, the land is mine,
+    And now Ile be the lord of Linne.
+
+  Thus he hath sold his land soe broad,
+    Both hill and holt, and moore and fenne,
+  All but a poore and lonesome lodge,
+    That stood far off in a lonely glenne.
+
+  For soe he to his father hight.
+    My sonne, when I am gonne, sayd hee,
+  Then thou wilt spend thy land so broad,
+    And thou wilt spend thy gold so free:
+
+  But sweare me nowe upon the roode,
+    That lonesome lodge thou'lt never spend;
+  For when all the world doth frown on thee,
+    Thou there shalt find a faithful friend.
+
+  The heire of Linne is full of golde:
+    And come with me, my friends, sayd hee,
+  Let's drinke, and rant, and merry make,
+    And he that spares, ne'er mote he thee.
+
+  They ranted, drank, and merry made,
+    Till all his gold it waxed thinne;
+  And then his friendes they slunk away;
+    They left the unthrifty heire of Linne.
+
+  He had never a penny in his purse,
+    Never a penny left but three,
+  And one was brass, another was lead,
+    And another it was white money.
+
+  Nowe well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne,
+    Nowe well-aday, and woe is mee,
+  For when I was the lord of Linne,
+    I never wanted gold nor fee.
+
+  But many a trustye friend have I,
+    And why shold I feel dole or care?
+  Ile borrow of them all by turnes,
+    Soe need I not be never bare.
+
+  But one, I wis, was not at home;
+    Another had payd his gold away;
+  Another call'd him thriftless loone,
+    And bade him sharpely wend his way.
+
+  Now well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne,
+    Now well-aday, and woe is me;
+  For when I had my landes so broad,
+    On me they liv'd right merrilee.
+
+  To beg my bread from door to door
+    I wis, it were a brenning shame:
+  To rob and steale it were a sinne:
+    To worke my limbs I cannot frame.
+
+  Now Ile away to lonesome lodge,
+    For there my father bade me wend;
+  When all the world should frown on mee
+    I there shold find a trusty friend.
+
+
+  PART THE SECOND
+
+  Away then hyed the heire of Linne
+    Oer hill and holt, and moor and fenne,
+  Untill he came to lonesome lodge,
+    That stood so lowe in a lonely glenne.
+
+  He looked up, he looked downe,
+    In hope some comfort for to winne:
+  But bare and lothly were the walles.
+    Here's sorry cheare, quo' the heire of Linne.
+
+  The little windowe dim and darke
+    Was hung with ivy, brere, and yewe;
+  No shimmering sunn here ever shone;
+    No halesome breeze here ever blew.
+
+  No chair, ne table he mote spye,
+    No cheerful hearth, ne welcome bed,
+  Nought save a rope with renning noose,
+    That dangling hung up o'er his head.
+
+  And over it in broad letters,
+    These words were written so plain to see:
+  "Ah! gracelesse wretch, hast spent thine all,
+    And brought thyselfe to penurie?
+
+  "All this my boding mind misgave,
+    I therefore left this trusty friend:
+  Let it now sheeld thy foule disgrace,
+    And all thy shame and sorrows end."
+
+  Sorely shent wi' this rebuke,
+    Sorely shent was the heire of Linne,
+  His heart, I wis, was near to brast
+    With guilt and sorrowe, shame and sinne.
+
+  Never a word spake the heire of Linne,
+    Never a word he spake but three:
+  "This is a trusty friend indeed,
+    And is right welcome unto mee."
+
+  Then round his necke the corde he drewe,
+    And sprung aloft with his bodie:
+  When lo! the ceiling burst in twaine,
+    And to the ground came tumbling hee.
+
+  Astonyed lay the heire of Linne,
+    Ne knewe if he were live or dead:
+  At length he looked, and saw a bille,
+    And in it a key of gold so redd.
+
+  He took the bill, and lookt it on,
+    Strait good comfort found he there:
+  It told him of a hole in the wall,
+    In which there stood three chests in-fere.
+
+  Two were full of the beaten golde,
+   The third was full of white money;
+  And over them in broad letters
+   These words were written so plaine to see:
+
+  "Once more, my sonne, I sette thee clere;
+   Amend thy life and follies past;
+  For but thou amend thee of thy life,
+   That rope must be thy end at last."
+
+  And let it bee, sayd the heire of Linne;
+   And let it bee, but if I amend:
+  For here I will make mine avow,
+   This reade shall guide me to the end.
+
+  Away then went with a merry cheare,
+   Away then went the heire of Linne;
+  I wis, he neither ceas'd ne blanne,
+   Till John o' the Scales house he did winne.
+
+  And when he came to John o' the Scales,
+   Upp at the speere then looked hee;
+  There sate three lords upon a rowe,
+   Were drinking of the wine so free.
+
+  And John himself sate at the bord-head,
+   Because now lord of Linne was hee.
+  I pray thee, he said, good John o' the Scales,
+   One forty pence for to lend mee.
+
+  Away, away, thou thriftless loone;
+    Away, away, this may not bee:
+  For Christs curse on my head, he sayd,
+    If ever I trust thee one pennèe.
+
+  Then bespake the heire of Linne,
+    To John o' the Scales wife then spake he:
+  Madame, some almes on me bestowe,
+    I pray for sweet Saint Charitèe.
+
+  Away, away, thou thriftless loone,
+    I swear thou gettest no almes of mee;
+  For if we shold hang any losel heere,
+    The first we wold begin with thee.
+
+  Then bespake a good fellòwe,
+    Which sat at John o' the Scales his bord
+  Sayd, Turn againe, thou heire of Linne;
+    Some time thou wast a well good lord;
+
+  Some time a good fellow thou hast been,
+    And sparedst not thy gold nor fee;
+  Therefore He lend thee forty pence,
+    And other forty if need bee.
+
+  And ever, I pray thee, John o' the Scales,
+    To let him sit in thy companie:
+  For well I wot thou hadst his land,
+    And a good bargain it was to thee.
+
+  Up then spake him John o' the Scales,
+    All wood he answer'd him againe:
+  Now Christs curse on my head, he sayd,
+    But I did lose by that bargàine.
+
+  And here I proffer thee, heire of Linne,
+    Before these lords so faire and free,
+  Thou shalt have it backe again better cheape,
+    By a hundred markes, than I had it of thee.
+
+  I draw you to record, lords, he said.
+    With that he cast him a gods pennie:
+  Now by my fay, sayd the heire of Linne,
+    And here, good John, is thy monèy.
+
+  And he pull'd forth three bagges of gold,
+    And layd them down upon the bord:
+  All woe begone was John o' the Scales,
+    Soe shent he cold say never a word.
+
+  He told him forth the good red gold,
+    He told it forth with mickle dinne.
+  The gold is thine, the land is mine,
+    And now Ime againe the lord of Linne.
+
+  Sayes, Have thou here, thou good fellòwe,
+    Forty pence thou didst lend me:
+  Now I am againe the lord of Linne,
+    And forty pounds I will give thee.
+
+  He make the keeper of my forrest,
+    Both of the wild deere and the tame;
+  For but I reward thy bounteous heart,
+    I wis, good fellowe, I were to blame.
+
+  Now welladay! sayth Joan o' the Scales:
+    Now welladay! and woe is my life!
+  Yesterday I was lady of Linne,
+    Now Ime but John o' the Scales his wife.
+
+  Now fare thee well, sayd the heire of Linne;
+    Farewell now, John o' the Scales, said hee:
+  Christs curse light on me, if ever again
+    I bring my lands in jeopardy.
+
+[Illustration: The Heir of Linne tailpiece]
+
+
+
+
+KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID
+
+[Illustration: The King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid headpiece]
+
+
+[Illustration: The King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid]
+
+  I Read that once in Affrica
+    A princely wight did raine,
+  Who had to name Cophetua,
+    As poets they did faine:
+  From natures lawes he did decline,
+  For sure he was not of my mind.
+  He cared not for women-kinde,
+    But did them all disdaine.
+  But, marke, what hapened on a day,
+  As he out of his window lay,
+  He saw a beggar all in gray,
+    The which did cause his paine.
+
+  The blinded boy, that shootes so trim,
+    From heaven downe did hie;
+  He drew a dart and shot at him,
+    In place where he did lye:
+  Which soone did pierse him to the quicke.
+  And when he felt the arrow pricke,
+  Which in his tender heart did sticke,
+    He looketh as he would dye.
+  What sudden chance is this, quoth he,
+  That I to love must subject be,
+  Which never thereto would agree,
+    But still did it defie?
+
+  Then from the window he did come,
+    And laid him on his bed,
+  A thousand heapes of care did runne
+    Within his troubled head:
+  For now he meanes to crave her love,
+  And now he seekes which way to proove
+  How he his fancie might remoove,
+    And not this beggar wed.
+  But Cupid had him so in snare,
+  That this poor begger must prepare
+  A salve to cure him of his care,
+    Or els he would be dead.
+
+  And, as he musing thus did lye,
+    He thought for to devise
+  How he might have her companye,
+    That so did 'maze his eyes.
+  In thee, quoth he, doth rest my life;
+  For surely thou shalt be my wife,
+  Or else this hand with bloody knife
+    The Gods shall sure suffice.
+  Then from his bed he soon arose,
+  And to his pallace gate he goes;
+  Full little then this begger knowes
+    When she the king espies.
+
+  The Gods preserve your majesty,
+    The beggers all gan cry:
+  Vouchsafe to give your charity
+    Our childrens food to buy.
+  The king to them his pursse did cast,
+    And they to part it made great haste;
+  This silly woman was the last
+    That after them did hye.
+  The king he cal'd her back againe,
+  And unto her he gave his chaine;
+  And said, With us you shal remaine
+    Till such time as we dye:
+
+  For thou, quoth he, shalt be my wife,
+    And honoured for my queene;
+  With thee I meane to lead my life,
+    As shortly shall be seene:
+  Our wedding shall appointed be,
+  And every thing in its degree:
+  Come on, quoth he, and follow me,
+    Thou shalt go shift thee cleane.
+  What is thy name, faire maid? quoth he.
+  Penelophon, O king, quoth she;
+  With that she made a lowe courtsey;
+    A trim one as I weene.
+
+  Thus hand in hand along they walke
+    Unto the king's pallace:
+  The king with curteous comly talke
+    This beggar doth imbrace:
+  The begger blusheth scarlet red,
+  And straight againe as pale as lead,
+  But not a word at all she said,
+    She was in such amaze.
+  At last she spake with trembling voyce,
+  And said, O king, I doe rejoyce
+  That you wil take me from your choyce,
+    And my degree's so base.
+
+  And when the wedding day was come,
+    The king commanded strait
+  The noblemen both all and some
+    Upon the queene to wait.
+  And she behaved herself that day,
+  As if she had never walkt the way;
+  She had forgot her gown of gray,
+    Which she did weare of late.
+  The proverbe old is come to passe,
+  The priest, when he begins his masse,
+  Forgets that ever clerke he was;
+    He knowth not his estate.
+
+  Here you may read, Cophetua,
+    Though long time fancie-fed,
+  Compelled by the blinded boy
+    The begger for to wed:
+  He that did lovers lookes disdaine,
+  To do the same was glad and faine,
+  Or else he would himselfe have slaine,
+  In storie, as we read.
+    Disdaine no whit, O lady deere,
+    But pitty now thy servant heere,
+    Least that it hap to thee this yeare,
+      As to that king it did.
+
+  And thus they led a quiet life
+    Duringe their princely raigne;
+  And in a tombe were buried both,
+    As writers sheweth plaine.
+  The lords they tooke it grievously,
+  The ladies tooke it heavily,
+  The commons cryed pitiously,
+    Their death to them was paine,
+    Their fame did sound so passingly,
+    That it did pierce the starry sky,
+    And throughout all the world did flye
+      To every princes realme.
+
+
+[Illustration: The King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid tailpiece]
+
+
+
+SIR ANDREW BARTON
+
+
+[Illustration: Sir Andrew Barton headpiece]
+
+
+
+  'When Flora with her fragrant flowers
+    Bedeckt the earth so trim and gaye,
+  And Neptune with his daintye showers
+    Came to present the monthe of Maye;'
+  King Henrye rode to take the ayre,
+    Over the river of Thames past hee;
+  When eighty merchants of London came,
+    And downe they knelt upon their knee.
+
+  "O yee are welcome, rich merchants;
+    Good saylors, welcome unto mee."
+  They swore by the rood, they were saylors good,
+    But rich merchànts they cold not bee:
+  "To France nor Flanders dare we pass:
+    Nor Bourdeaux voyage dare we fare;
+  And all for a rover that lyes on the seas,
+    Who robbs us of our merchant ware."
+
+  King Henrye frowned, and turned him rounde,
+    And swore by the Lord, that was mickle of might,
+  "I thought he had not beene in the world,
+    Durst have wrought England such unright."
+  The merchants sighed, and said, alas!
+    And thus they did their answer frame,
+  He is a proud Scott, that robbs on the seas,
+    And Sir Andrewe Barton is his name.
+
+  The king lookt over his left shoulder,
+    And an angrye look then looked hee:
+  "Have I never a lorde in all my realme,
+    Will feitch yond tray tor unto me?"
+  Yea, that dare I; Lord Howard sayes;
+    Yea, that dare I with heart and hand;
+  If it please your grace to give me leave,
+    Myselfe wil be the only man.
+
+  Thou art but yong; the kyng replyed:
+    Yond Scott hath numbered manye a yeare.
+  "Trust me, my liege, lie make him quail,
+    Or before my prince I will never appeare."
+  Then bowemen and gunners thou shalt have,
+    And chuse them over my realme so free;
+  Besides good mariners, and shipp-boyes,
+    To guide the great shipp on the sea.
+
+  The first man, that Lord Howard chose,
+    Was the ablest gunner in all the realm,
+  Thoughe he was three score yeeres and ten;
+    Good Peter Simon was his name.
+  Peter, sais hee, I must to the sea,
+    To bring home a traytor live or dead:
+  Before all others I have chosen thee;
+    Of a hundred gunners to be the head.
+
+  If you, my lord, have chosen mee
+    Of a hundred gunners to be the head,
+  Then hang me up on your maine-mast tree,
+    If I misse my marke one shilling bread.
+  My lord then chose a boweman rare,
+    "Whose active hands had gained fame."
+  In Yorkshire was this gentleman borne,
+    And William Horseley was his name.
+
+  Horseley, said he, I must with speede
+    Go seeke a traytor on the sea,
+  And now of a hundred bowemen brave
+    To be the head I have chosen thee.
+  If you, quoth hee, have chosen mee
+    Of a hundred bowemen to be the head
+  On your main-mast He hanged bee,
+    If I miss twelvescore one penny bread.
+
+  With pikes and gunnes, and bowemen bold,
+    This noble Howard is gone to the sea;
+  With a valyant heart and a pleasant cheare,
+    Out at Thames mouth sayled he.
+  And days he scant had sayled three,
+    Upon the 'voyage,' he tooke in hand,
+  But there he mett with a noble shipp,
+    And stoutely made itt stay and stand.
+
+  Thou must tell me, Lord Howard said,
+    Now who thou art, and what's thy name;
+  And shewe me where they dwelling is:
+    And whither bound, and whence thou came.
+  My name is Henry Hunt, quoth hee
+    With a heavye heart, and a carefull mind;
+  I and my shipp doe both belong
+    To the Newcastle, that stands upon Tyne.
+
+  Hast thou not heard, nowe, Henrye Hunt,
+    As thou hast sayled by daye and by night,
+  Of a Scottish rover on the seas;
+    Men call him Sir Andrew Barton, knight!
+  Then ever he sighed, and said alas!
+    With a grieved mind, and well away!
+  But over-well I knowe that wight,
+    I was his prisoner yesterday.
+
+  As I was sayling uppon the sea,
+    A Burdeaux voyage for to fare;
+  To his hach-borde he clasped me,
+    And robd me of all my merchant ware:
+  And mickle debts, God wot, I owe,
+    And every man will have his owne;
+  And I am nowe to London bounde,
+    Of our gracious king to beg a boone.
+
+  That shall not need, Lord Howard sais;
+    Lett me but once that robber see,
+  For every penny tane thee froe
+    It shall be doubled shillings three.
+  Nowe God forefend, the merchant said,
+    That you should seek soe far amisse!
+  God keepe you out of that traitors hands!
+    Full litle ye wott what a man hee is.
+
+  Hee is brasse within, and steele without,
+    With beames on his topcastle stronge;
+  And eighteen pieces of ordinance
+    He carries on each side along:
+  And he hath a pinnace deerlye dight,
+    St. Andrewes crosse that is his guide;
+  His pinnace beareth ninescore men,
+    And fifteen canons on each side.
+
+  Were ye twentye shippes, and he but one;
+    I sweare by kirke, and bower, and hall;
+  He wold overcome them everye one,
+    If once his beames they doe downe fall.
+  This is cold comfort, sais my lord,
+    To wellcome a stranger thus to the sea:
+  Yet He bring him and his ship to shore,
+    Or to Scottland hee shall carrye mee.
+
+  Then a noble gunner you must have,
+    And he must aim well with his ee,
+  And sinke his pinnace into the sea,
+    Or else hee never orecome will bee:
+  And if you chance his shipp to borde,
+    This counsel I must give withall,
+  Let no man to his topcastle goe
+    To strive to let his beams downe fall.
+
+  And seven pieces of ordinance,
+    I pray your honour lend to mee,
+  On each side of my shipp along,
+    And I will lead you on the sea.
+  A glasse He sett, that may be seene
+    Whether you sail by day or night;
+  And to-morrowe, I sweare, by nine of the clocke
+    You shall meet with Sir Andrewe Barton knight.
+
+
+
+  THE SECOND PART
+
+  The merchant sett my lorde a glasse
+    Soe well apparent in his sight,
+  And on the morrowe, by nine of the clocke,
+    He shewed him Sir Andrewe Barton knight.
+  His hachebord it was 'gilt' with gold,
+    Soe deerlye dight it dazzled the ee:
+  Nowe by my faith, Lord Howarde sais,
+    This is a gallant sight to see.
+
+  Take in your ancyents, standards eke,
+    So close that no man may them see;
+  And put me forth a white willowe wand,
+    As merchants use to sayle the sea.
+  But they stirred neither top, nor mast;
+    Stoutly they past Sir Andrew by.
+  What English churles are yonder, he sayd,
+    That can soe little curtesye?
+
+  Now by the roode, three yeares and more
+    I have beene admirall over the sea;
+  And never an English nor Portingall
+    Without my leave can passe this way.
+  Then called he forth his stout pinnace;
+    "Fetch backe yond pedlars nowe to mee:
+  I sweare by the masse, yon English churles
+    Shall all hang att my maine-mast tree."
+
+  With that the pinnace itt shot off,
+    Full well Lord Howard might it ken;
+  For itt stroke down my lord's fore mast,
+    And killed fourteen of his men.
+  Come hither, Simon, sayes my lord,
+    Looke that thy word be true, thou said;
+  For at my maine-mast thou shalt hang,
+    If thou misse thy marke one shilling bread.
+
+  Simon was old, but his heart itt was bold;
+    His ordinance he laid right lowe;
+  He put in chaine full nine yardes long,
+    With other great shott lesse, and moe;
+  And he lette goe his great gunnes shott:
+    Soe well he settled itt with his ee,
+  The first sight that Sir Andrew sawe,
+    He see his pinnace sunke in the sea.
+
+  And when he saw his pinnace sunke,
+    Lord, how his heart with rage did swell!
+  "Nowe cutt my ropes, itt is time to be gon;
+    Ile fetch yond pedlars backe mysell."
+  When my lord sawe Sir Andrewe loose,
+    Within his heart he was full faine:
+  "Now spread your ancyents, strike up your drummes,
+    Sound all your trumpetts out amaine."
+
+  Fight on, my men, Sir Andrewe sais,
+    Weale howsoever this geere will sway;
+  Itt is my Lord Admirall of England,
+    Is come to seeke mee on the sea.
+  Simon had a sonne, who shott right well,
+    That did Sir Andrewe mickle scare;
+  In att his decke he gave a shott,
+    Killed threescore of his men of warre.
+
+  Then Henrye Hunt with rigour hott
+    Came bravely on the other side,
+  Soone he drove downe his fore-mast tree,
+    And killed fourscore men beside.
+  Nowe, out alas! Sir Andrewe cryed,
+    What may a man now thinke, or say?
+  Yonder merchant theefe, that pierceth mee,
+    He was my prisoner yesterday.
+
+  Come hither to me, thou Gordon good,
+    That aye wast readye att my call:
+  I will give thee three hundred markes,
+    If thou wilt let my beames downe fall.
+  Lord Howard hee then calld in haste,
+    "Horseley see thou be true in stead;
+  For thou shalt at the maine-mast hang,
+    If thou misse twelvescore one penny bread."
+
+  Then Gordon swarved the maine-mast tree,
+    He swarved it with might and maine;
+  But Horseley with a bearing arrowe,
+    Stroke the Gordon through the braine;
+  And he fell unto the haches again,
+    And sore his deadlye wounde did bleed:
+  Then word went through Sir Andrews men,
+    How that the Gordon hee was dead.
+
+  Come hither to mee, James Hambilton,
+    Thou art my only sisters sonne,
+  If thou wilt let my beames downe fall
+    Six hundred nobles thou hast wonne.
+  With that he swarved the maine-mast tree,
+    He swarved it with nimble art;
+  But Horseley with a broad arròwe
+    Pierced the Hambilton thorough the heart:
+
+  And downe he fell upon the deck,
+    That with his blood did streame amaine:
+  Then every Scott cryed, Well-away!
+    Alas! a comelye youth is slaine.
+  All woe begone was Sir Andrew then,
+    With griefe and rage his heart did swell:
+  "Go fetch me forth my armour of proofe,
+    For I will to the topcastle mysell."
+
+  "Goe fetch me forth my armour of proofe;
+    That gilded is with gold soe cleare:
+  God be with my brother John of Barton!
+    Against the Portingalls hee it ware;
+  And when he had on this armour of proofe,
+    He was a gallant sight to see:
+  Ah! nere didst thou meet with living wight,
+    My deere brother, could cope with thee."
+
+  Come hither Horseley, sayes my lord,
+    And looke your shaft that itt goe right,
+  Shoot a good shoote in time of need,
+    And for it thou shalt be made a knight.
+  Ile shoot my best, quoth Horseley then,
+    Your honour shall see, with might and maine;
+  But if I were hanged at your maine-mast,
+    I have now left but arrowes twaine.
+
+  Sir Andrew he did swarve the tree,
+   With right good will he swarved then:
+  Upon his breast did Horseley hitt,
+    But the arrow bounded back agen.
+  Then Horseley spyed a privye place
+    With a perfect eye in a secrette part;
+  Under the spole of his right arme
+    He smote Sir Andrew to the heart.
+
+  "Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes,
+    "A little Ime hurt, but yett not slaine;
+  He but lye downe and bleede a while,
+    And then He rise and fight againe.
+  Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes,
+    "And never flinch before the foe;
+  And stand fast by St. Andrewes crosse
+    Until you heare my whistle blowe."
+
+  They never heard his whistle blow--
+    Which made their hearts waxe sore adread:
+  Then Horseley sayd, Aboard, my lord,
+    For well I wott Sir Andrew's dead.
+  They boarded then his noble shipp,
+    They boarded it with might and maine;
+  Eighteen score Scots alive they found,
+    The rest were either maimed or slaine.
+
+  Lord Howard tooke a sword in hand,
+    And off he smote Sir Andrewes head,
+  "I must have left England many a daye,
+    If thou wert alive as thou art dead."
+  He caused his body to be cast
+    Over the hatchboard into the sea,
+  And about his middle three hundred crownes:
+    "Wherever thou land this will bury thee."
+
+  Thus from the warres Lord Howard came,
+    And backe he sayled ore the maine,
+  With mickle joy and triumphing
+    Into Thames mouth he came againe.
+  Lord Howard then a letter wrote,
+    And sealed it with scale and ring;
+  "Such a noble prize have I brought to your grace,
+    As never did subject to a king:
+
+  "Sir Andrewes shipp I bring with mee;
+    A braver shipp was never none:
+  Nowe hath your grace two shipps of warr,
+    Before in England was but one."
+  King Henryes grace with royall cheere
+    Welcomed the noble Howard home,
+  And where, said he, is this rover stout,
+   That I myselfe may give the doome?
+
+  "The rover, he is safe, my liege,
+    Full many a fadom in the sea;
+  If he were alive as he is dead,
+    I must have left England many a day:
+  And your grace may thank four men i' the ship
+    For the victory wee have wonne,
+  These are William Horseley, Henry Hunt,
+    And Peter Simon, and his sonne."
+
+  To Henry Hunt, the king then sayd,
+    In lieu of what was from thee tane,
+  A noble a day now thou shalt have,
+    Sir Andrewes jewels and his chayne.
+  And Horseley thou shalt be a knight,
+    And lands and livings shalt have store;
+  Howard shall be erle Surrye hight,
+    As Howards erst have beene before.
+
+  Nowe, Peter Simon, thou art old,
+    I will maintaine thee and thy sonne:
+  And the men shall have five hundred markes
+    For the good service they have done.
+  Then in came the queene with ladyes fair
+    To see Sir Andrewe Barton knight:
+  They weend that hee were brought on shore,
+    And thought to have seen a gallant sight.
+
+  But when they see his deadlye face,
+    And eyes soe hollow in his head,
+  I wold give, quoth the king, a thousand markes,
+    This man were alive as hee is dead:
+  Yett for the manfull part hee playd,
+    Which fought soe well with heart and hand,
+  His men shall have twelvepence a day,
+    Till they come to my brother kings high land.
+
+
+
+
+MAY COLLIN
+
+[Illustration: May Collin headpiece]
+
+[Illustration: May Collin]
+
+  May Collin ...
+    ... was her father's heir,
+  And she fell in love with a false priest,
+    And she rued it ever mair.
+
+  He followd her butt, he followd her benn,
+    He followd her through the hall,
+  Till she had neither tongue nor teeth
+    Nor lips to say him naw.
+
+  "We'll take the steed out where he is,
+    The gold where eer it be,
+  And we'll away to some unco land,
+    And married we shall be."
+
+  They had not riden a mile, a mile,
+    A mile but barely three,
+  Till they came to a rank river,
+    Was raging like the sea.
+
+  "Light off, light off now, May Collin,
+    It's here that you must die;
+  Here I have drownd seven king's daughters,
+    The eight now you must be.
+
+  "Cast off, cast off now, May Collin,
+    Your gown that's of the green;
+  For it's oer good and oer costly
+    To rot in the sea-stream.
+
+  "Cast off, cast off now, May Collin,
+    Your coat that's of the black;
+  For it's oer good and oer costly
+    To rot in the sea-wreck.
+
+  "Cast off, cast off now, May Collin,
+    Your stays that are well laced;
+  For thei'r oer good and costly
+    In the sea's ground to waste.
+
+  "Cast [off, cast off now, May Collin,]
+    Your sark that's of the holland;
+  For [it's oer good and oer costly]
+    To rot in the sea-bottom."
+
+  "Turn you about now, falsh Mess John,
+    To the green leaf of the tree;
+  It does not fit a mansworn man
+    A naked woman to see."
+
+  He turnd him quickly round about,
+    To the green leaf of the tree;
+  She took him hastly in her arms
+    And flung him in the sea.
+
+  "Now lye you there, you falsh Mess John,
+    My mallasin go with thee!
+  You thought to drown me naked and bare,
+    But take your cloaths with thee,
+  And if there be seven king's daughters there
+    Bear you them company"
+
+  She lap on her milk steed
+    And fast she bent the way,
+  And she was at her father's yate
+    Three long hours or day.
+
+  Up and speaks the wylie parrot,
+    So wylily and slee:
+  "Where is the man now, May Collin,
+    That gaed away wie thee?"
+
+  "Hold your tongue, my wylie parrot,
+    And tell no tales of me,
+  And where I gave a pickle befor
+    It's now I'll give you three."
+
+[Illustration: May Collin tailpiece]
+
+
+
+
+THE BLIND BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL GREEN
+
+[Illustration: The Blind Beggar's Daughter of Bednall Green headpiece]
+
+
+  PART THE FIRST
+
+  Itt was a blind beggar, had long lost his sight,
+  He had a faire daughter of bewty most bright;
+  And many a gallant brave suiter had shee,
+  For none was soe comelye as pretty Bessee.
+
+  And though shee was of favour most faire,
+  Yett seeing shee was but a poor beggars heyre,
+  Of ancyent housekeepers despised was shee,
+  Whose sonnes came as suitors to prettye Bessee.
+
+  Wherefore in great sorrow faire Bessy did say,
+  Good father, and mother, let me goe away
+  To seeke out my fortune, whatever itt bee.
+  This suite then they granted to prettye Bessee.
+
+  Then Bessy, that was of bewtye soe bright,
+  All cladd in gray russett, and late in the night
+  From father and mother alone parted shee;
+  Who sighed and sobbed for prettye Bessee.
+
+  Shee went till shee came to Stratford-le-Bow;
+  Then knew shee not whither, nor which way to goe:
+  With teares shee lamented her hard destinie,
+  So sadd and soe heavy was pretty Bessee.
+
+  Shee kept on her journey untill it was day,
+  And went unto Rumford along the hye way;
+  Where at the Queenes armes entertained was shee;
+  Soe faire and wel favoured was pretty Bessee.
+
+  Shee had not beene there a month to an end,
+  But master and mistress and all was her friend:
+  And every brave gallant, that once did her see,
+  Was straight-way enamoured of pretty Bessee.
+
+  Great gifts they did send her of silver and gold,
+  And in their songs daylye her love was extold;
+  Her beawtye was blazed in every degree;
+  Soe faire and soe comelye was pretty Bessee.
+
+  The young men of Rumford in her had their joy;
+  Shee shewed herself curteous, and modestlye coye;
+  And at her commandment still wold they bee;
+  Soe fayre and soe comlye was pretty Bessee.
+
+  Foure suitors att once unto her did goe;
+  They craved her favor, but still she sayd noe;
+  I wold not wish gentles to marry with mee.
+  Yett ever they honored prettye Bessee.
+
+  The first of them was a gallant young knight,
+  And he came unto her disguisde in the night;
+  The second a gentleman of good degree,
+  Who wooed and sued for prettye Bessee.
+
+  A merchant of London, whose wealth was not small,
+  He was the third suiter, and proper withall:
+  Her masters own sonne the fourth man must bee,
+  Who swore he would dye for pretty Bessee.
+
+  And, if thou wilt marry with mee, quoth the knight,
+  Ile make thee a ladye with joy and delight;
+  My hart's so inthralled by thy bewtle,
+  That soone I shall dye for prettye Bessee.
+
+  The gentleman sayd, Come, marry with mee,
+  As fine as a ladye my Bessy shal bee:
+  My life is distressed: O heare me, quoth hee;
+  And grant me thy love, my prettye Bessee.
+
+  Let me bee thy husband, the merchant cold say,
+  Thou shalt live in London both gallant and gay;
+  My shippes shall bring home rych jewells for thee,
+  And I will for ever love pretty Bessee.
+
+  Then Bessy shee sighed, and thus she did say,
+  My father and mother I meane to obey;
+  First gett their good will, and be faithfull to mee,
+  And you shall enjoye your prettye Bessee.
+
+  To every one this answer shee made,
+  Wherfore unto her they joyfullye sayd,
+  This thing to fulfill wee all doe agree;
+  But where dwells thy father, my prettye Bessee?
+
+  My father, shee said, is soone to be seene:
+  The seely blind beggar of Bednall-greene,
+  That daylye sits begging for charitie,
+  He is the good father of pretty Bessee.
+
+  His markes and his tokens are knowen very well;
+  He alwayes is led with a dogg and a bell:
+  A seely olde man, God knoweth, is hee,
+  Yett hee is the father of pretty Bessee.
+
+  Nay then, quoth the merchant, thou art not for mee:
+  Nor, quoth the innholder, my wiffe thou shalt bee:
+  I lothe, sayd the gentle, a beggars degree,
+  And therefore, adewe, my pretty Bessee!
+
+  Why then, quoth the knight, hap better or worse,
+  I waighe not true love by the waight of my pursse,
+  And bewtye is bewtye in every degree;
+  Then welcome unto me, my prettye Bessee.
+
+  With thee to thy father forthwith I will goe.
+  Nay soft, quoth his kinsmen, it must not be soe;
+  A poor beggars daughter noe ladye shal bee,
+  Then take thy adew of pretty Bessee.
+
+  But soone after this, by breake of the day,
+  The knight had from Rumford stole Bessy away.
+  The younge men of Rumford, as thicke might bee,
+  Rode after to feitch againe pretty Bessee.
+
+  As swifte as the winde to ryde they were scene,
+  Untill they came neare unto Bednall-greene;
+  And as the knight lighted most courteouslèe,
+  They all fought against him for pretty Bessee.
+
+  But rescew came speedilye over the plaine,
+  Or else the young knight for his love had been slaine.
+  This fray being ended, then straitway he see
+  His kinsmen come rayling at pretty Bessee.
+
+  Then spake the blind beggar, Although I bee poore,
+  Yett rayle not against my child at my own doore:
+  Though shee be not decked in velvett and pearle,
+  Yett will I dropp angells with you for my girle.
+
+  And then, if my gold may better her birthe,
+  And equall the gold that you lay on the earth,
+  Then neyther rayle nor grudge you to see
+  The blind beggars daughter a lady to bee.
+
+  But first you shall promise, and have it well knowne,
+  The gold that you drop shall all be your owne.
+  With that they replyed, Contented bee wee.
+  Then here's, quoth the beggar, for pretty Bessee.
+
+  With that an angell he cast on the ground,
+  And dropped in angels full three thousand pound;
+  And oftentime itt was proved most plaine,
+  For the gentlemens one the beggar droppt twayne:
+
+  Soe that the place, wherin they did sitt,
+  With gold it was covered every whitt.
+  The gentlemen then having dropt all their store,
+  Sayd, Now, beggar, hold, for wee have noe more.
+
+  Thou hast fulfilled thy promise arright.
+  Then marry, quoth he, my girle to this knight;
+  And heere, added hee, I will now throwe you downe
+  A hundred pounds more to buy her a gowne.
+
+  The gentlemen all, that this treasure had seene,
+  Admired the beggar of Bednall-greene:
+  And all those, that were her suitors before,
+  Their fleshe for very anger they tore.
+
+  Thus was faire Besse matched to the knight,
+  And then made a ladye in others despite:
+  A fairer ladye there never was seene,
+  Than the blind beggars daughter of Bednall-greene.
+
+  But of their sumptuous marriage and feast,
+  What brave lords and knights thither were prest,
+  The SECOND FITT shall set forth to your sight
+  With marveilous pleasure, and wished delight.
+
+
+  PART THE SECOND
+
+  Off a blind beggars daughter most bright,
+  That late was betrothed unto a younge knight;
+  All the discourse therof you did see;
+  But now comes the wedding of pretty Bessee.
+
+  Within a gorgeous palace most brave,
+  Adorned with all the cost they cold have,
+  This wedding was kept most sumptuouslèe,
+  And all for the credit of pretty Bessee.
+
+  All kind of dainties, and delicates sweete
+  Were bought for the banquet, as it was most meete;
+  Partridge, and plover, and venison most free,
+  Against the brave wedding of pretty Bessee.
+
+  This marriage through England was spread by report,
+  Soe that a great number therto did resort
+  Of nobles and gentles in every degree;
+  And all for the fame of prettye Bessee.
+
+  To church then went this gallant younge knight;
+  His bride followed after, an angell most bright,
+  With troopes of ladyes, the like nere was scene
+  As went with sweete Bessy of Bednall-greene.
+
+  This marryage being solempnized then,
+  With musicke performed by the skilfullest men,
+  The nobles and gentles sate downe at that tyde,
+  Each one admiring the beautiful bryde.
+
+  Now, after the sumptuous dinner was done,
+  To talke, and to reason a number begunn:
+  They talkt of the blind beggars daughter most bright,
+  And what with his daughter he gave to the knight.
+
+  Then spake the nobles, "Much marveil have wee,
+  This jolly blind beggar wee cannot here see."
+  My lords, quoth the bride, my father's so base,
+  He is loth with his presence these states to disgrace.
+
+  "The prayse of a woman in question to bringe
+  Before her own face, were a flattering thinge;
+  But wee thinke thy father's baseness," quoth they,
+  "Might by thy bewtye be cleane put awaye."
+
+  They had noe sooner these pleasant words spoke,
+  But in comes the beggar cladd in a silke cloke;
+  A faire velvet capp, and a fether had hee,
+  And now a musicyan forsooth he wold bee.
+
+  He had a daintye lute under his arme,
+  He touched the strings, which made such a charme,
+  Saies, Please you to heare any musicke of mee,
+  Ile sing you a song of pretty Bessee.
+
+  With that his lute he twanged straightway,
+  And thereon begann most sweetlye to play;
+  And after that lessons were playd two or three,
+  He strayn'd out this song most delicatelèe.
+
+  "A poore beggars daughter did dwell on a greene,
+  Who for her fairenesse might well be a queene:
+  A blithe bonny lasse, and a daintye was shee,
+  And many one called her pretty Bessee.
+
+  "Her father hee had noe goods, nor noe land,
+  But begged for a penny all day with his hand;
+  And yett to her marriage he gave thousands three,
+  And still he hath somewhat for pretty Bessee.
+
+  "And if any one here her birth doe disdaine,
+  Her father is ready, with might and with maine,
+  To proove shee is come of noble degree:
+  Therfore never flout att prettye Bessee."
+
+  With that the lords and the companye round
+  With harty laughter were readye to swound;
+  Att last said the lords, Full well wee may see,
+  The bride and the beggar's behoulden to thee.
+
+  On this the bride all blushing did rise,
+  The pearlie dropps standing within her faire eyes,
+  O pardon my father, grave nobles, quoth shee,
+  That throughe blind affection thus doteth on mee.
+
+  If this be thy father, the nobles did say,
+  Well may he be proud of this happy day;
+  Yett by his countenance well may wee see,
+  His birth and his fortune did never agree:
+
+  And therefore, blind man, we pray thee bewray,
+  (and looke that the truth thou to us doe say)
+  Thy birth and thy parentage, whatt itt may bee;
+  For the love that thou bearest to pretty Bessee.
+
+  "Then give me leave, nobles and gentles, each one,
+  One song more to sing, and then I have done;
+  And if that itt may not winn good report,
+  Then doe not give me a GROAT for my sport.
+
+  "Sir Simon de Montfort my subject shal bee;
+  Once chiefe of all the great barons was hee,
+  Yet fortune so cruelle this lorde did abase,
+  Now loste and forgotten are hee and his race.
+
+  "When the barons in armes did King Henrye oppose,
+  Sir Simon de Montfort their leader they chose;
+  A leader of courage undaunted was hee,
+  And oft-times he made their enemyes flee.
+
+  "At length in the battle on Eveshame plaine
+  The barons were routed, and Montford was slaine;
+  Moste fatall that battel did prove unto thee,
+  Thoughe thou wast not borne then, my prettye Bessee!
+
+  "Along with the nobles, that fell at that tyde,
+  His eldest son Henrye, who fought by his side,
+  Was fellde by a blowe, he receivde in the fight!
+  A blowe that deprivde him for ever of sight.
+
+  "Among the dead bodyes all lifeless he laye,
+  Till evening drewe on of the following daye,
+  When by a yong ladye discovered was hee;
+  And this was thy mother, my prettye Bessee!
+
+  "A barons faire daughter stept forth in the nighte
+  To search for her father, who fell in the fight,
+  And seeing young Montfort, where gasping he laye,
+  Was moved with pitye, and brought him awaye.
+
+  "In secrette she nurst him, and swaged his paine,
+  While he throughe the realme was beleeved to be slaine
+  At lengthe his faire bride she consented to bee,
+  And made him glad father of prettye Bessee.
+
+  "And nowe lest oure foes our lives sholde betraye,
+  We clothed ourselves in beggars arraye;
+  Her jewelles shee solde, and hither came wee:
+  All our comfort and care was our prettye Bessee.
+
+  "And here have we lived in fortunes despite,
+  Thoughe poore, yet contented with humble delighte:
+  Full forty winters thus have I beene
+  A silly blind beggar of Bednall-greene.
+
+  "And here, noble lordes, is ended the song
+  Of one, that once to your own ranke did belong:
+  And thus have you learned a secrette from mee,
+  That ne'er had been knowne, but for prettye Bessee."
+
+  Now when the faire companye everye one,
+  Had heard the strange tale in the song he had showne,
+  They all were amazed, as well they might bee,
+  Both at the blinde beggar, and pretty Bessee.
+
+  With that the faire bride they all did embrace,
+  Saying, Sure thou art come of an honourable race,
+  Thy father likewise is of noble degree,
+  And thou art well worthy a lady to bee.
+
+  Thus was the feast ended with joye and delighte,
+  A bridegroome most happy then was the younge knighte,
+  In joy and felicitie long lived hee,
+  All with his faire ladye, the pretty Bessee.
+
+
+[Illustration: The Blind Beggar's Daughter of Bednall Green tailpiece]
+
+
+
+
+THOMAS THE RHYMER
+
+[Illustration: Thomas the Rhymer headpiece]
+
+[Illustration: Thomas the Rhymer]
+
+  Thomas lay on the Huntlie bank,
+    A spying ferlies wi his eee,
+  And he did spy a lady gay,
+    Come riding down by the lang lee.
+
+  Her steed was o the dapple grey,
+    And at its mane there hung bells nine;
+  He thought he heard that lady say,
+    "They gowden bells sall a' be thine."
+
+  Her mantle was o velvet green,
+    And a' set round wi jewels fine;
+  Her hawk and hounds were at her side,
+    And her bugle-horn wi gowd did shine.
+
+  Thomas took aff baith cloak and cap,
+    For to salute this gay lady:
+  "O save ye, save ye, fair Queen o Heavn,
+    And ay weel met ye save and see!"
+
+  "I'm no the Queen o Heavn, Thomas;
+    I never carried my head sae hee;
+  For I am but a lady gay,
+    Come out to hunt in my follee.
+
+  "Now gin ye kiss my mouth, Thomas,
+    Ye mauna miss my fair bodee;
+  Then ye may een gang hame and tell
+    That ye've lain wi a gay ladee."
+
+  "O gin I loe a lady fair,
+    Nae ill tales o her wad I tell,
+  And it's wi thee I fain wad gae,
+    Tho it were een to heavn or hell."
+
+  "Then harp and carp, Thomas," she said,
+    "Then harp and carp alang wi me;
+  But it will be seven years and a day
+    Till ye win back to yere ain countrie."
+
+  The lady rade, True Thomas ran,
+    Until they cam to a water wan;
+  O it was night, and nae delight,
+    And Thomas wade aboon the knee.
+
+  It was dark night, and nae starn-light,
+    And on they waded lang days three,
+  And they heard the roaring o a flood,
+    And Thomas a waefou man was he.
+
+  Then they rade on, and farther on,
+    Untill they came to a garden green;
+  To pu an apple he put up his hand,
+    For the lack o food he was like to tyne.
+
+  "O haud yere hand, Thomas," she cried,
+    "And let that green flourishing be;
+  For it's the very fruit o hell,
+    Beguiles baith man and woman o yere countrie.
+
+  "But look afore ye, True Thomas,
+    And I shall show ye ferlies three;
+  Yon is the gate leads to our land,
+    Where thou and I sae soon shall be.
+
+  "And dinna ye see yon road, Thomas,
+    That lies out-owr yon lilly lee?
+  Weel is the man yon gate may gang,
+    For it leads him straight to the heavens hie.
+
+  "But do you see yon road, Thomas,
+    That lies out-owr yon frosty fell?
+  Ill is the man yon gate may gang,
+    For it leads him straight to the pit o hell.
+
+  "Now when ye come to our court, Thomas,
+    See that a weel-learned man ye be;
+  For they will ask ye, one and all,
+    But ye maun answer nane but me.
+
+  "And when nae answer they obtain,
+    Then will they come and question me,
+  And I will answer them again
+    That I gat yere aith at the Eildon tree.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  "Ilka seven years, Thomas,
+    We pay our teindings unto hell,
+  And ye're sae leesome and sae strang
+    That I fear, Thomas, it will be yeresell."
+
+
+
+
+YOUNG BEICHAN
+
+[Illustration: Young Beichan headpiece]
+
+[Illustration: Young Beichan]
+
+  In London city was Bicham born,
+    He longd strange countries for to see,
+  But he was taen by a savage Moor,
+    Who handld him right cruely.
+
+  For thro his shoulder he put a bore,
+    An thro the bore has pitten a tree,
+  An he's gard him draw the carts o wine,
+    Where horse and oxen had wont to be.
+
+  He's casten [him] in a dungeon deep,
+    Where he coud neither hear nor see;
+  He's shut him up in a prison strong,
+    An he's handld him right cruely.
+
+  O this Moor he had but ae daughter,
+    I wot her name was Shusy Pye;
+  She's doen her to the prison-house,
+    And she's calld Young Bicham one word
+
+  "O hae ye ony lands or rents,
+    Or citys in your ain country,
+  Coud free you out of prison strong,
+    An coud mantain a lady free?"
+
+  "O London city is my own,
+    An other citys twa or three,
+  Coud loose me out o prison strong,
+    An coud mantain a lady free."
+
+  O she has bribed her father's men
+    Wi meikle goud and white money,
+  She's gotten the key o the prison doors,
+    An she has set Young Bicham free.
+
+  She's g'in him a loaf o good white bread,
+    But an a flask o Spanish wine,
+  An she bad him mind on the ladie's love
+    That sae kindly freed him out o pine.
+
+  "Go set your foot on good ship-board,
+    An haste you back to your ain country,
+  An before that seven years has an end,
+    Come back again, love, and marry me."
+
+  It was long or seven years had an end
+    She longd fu sair her love to see;
+  She's set her foot on good ship-board,
+    And turnd her back on her ain country.
+
+  She's saild up, so has she doun,
+    Till she came to the other side;
+  She's landed at Young Bicham's gates,
+    An I hop this day she sal be his bride.
+
+  "Is this Young Bicham's gates?" says she,
+    "Or is that noble prince within?"
+  "He's up the stairs wi his bonny bride,
+    An monny a lord and lady wi him."
+
+  "O has he taen a bonny bride,
+    An has he clean forgotten me!"
+  An sighing said that gay lady,
+    I wish I were in my ain country!
+
+  But she's pitten her han in her pocket,
+    An gin the porter guineas three;
+  Says, Take ye that, ye proud porter,
+    An bid the bridegroom speak to me.
+
+  O whan the porter came up the stair,
+    He's fa'n low down upon his knee:
+  "Won up, won up, ye proud porter,
+    An what makes a' this courtesy?"
+
+  "O I've been porter at your gates
+    This mair nor seven years an three,
+  But there is a lady at them now
+    The like of whom I never did see.
+
+  "For on every finger she has a ring,
+    An on the mid-finger she has three,
+  An there's a meikle goud aboon her brow
+    As woud buy an earldome o lan to me."
+
+  Then up it started Young Bicham,
+    An sware so loud by Our Lady,
+  "It can be nane but Shusy Pye,
+    That has come oer the sea to me."
+
+  O quickly ran he down the stair,
+    O fifteen steps he has made but three;
+  He's tane his bonny love in his arms,
+    An a wot he kissd her tenderly.
+
+  "O hae you tane a bonny bride?
+    An hae you quite forsaken me?
+  An hae ye quite forgotten her
+    That gae you life an liberty?"
+
+ She's lookit oer her left shoulder
+    To hide the tears stood in her ee;
+  "Now fare thee well, Young Bicham," she says,
+    "I'll strive to think nae mair on thee."
+
+  "Take back your daughter, madam," he says,
+    "An a double dowry I'll gi her wi;
+  For I maun marry my first true love,
+    That's done and suffered so much for me."
+
+  He's take his bonny love by the ban,
+    And led her to yon fountain stane;
+  He's changd her name frae Shusy Pye,
+    An he's cald her his bonny love, Lady Jane.
+
+
+
+
+BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBEY
+
+[Illustration: Brave Lord Willoughbey headpiece]
+
+
+  The fifteenth day of July,
+    With glistering spear and shield,
+  A famous fight in Flanders
+    Was foughten in the field:
+  The most couragious officers
+    Were English captains three;
+  But the bravest man in battel
+    Was brave Lord Willoughbèy.
+
+  The next was Captain Norris,
+    A valiant man was hee:
+  The other Captain Turner,
+    From field would never flee.
+  With fifteen hundred fighting men,
+    Alas! there were no more,
+  They fought with fourteen thousand then,
+    Upon the bloody shore.
+
+  Stand to it, noble pikemen,
+    And look you round about:
+  And shoot you right, you bow-men,
+    And we will keep them out:
+  You musquet and callèver men,
+    Do you prove true to me,
+  I'le be the formost man in fight,
+    Says brave Lord Willoughbèy.
+
+  And then the bloody enemy
+    They fiercely did assail,
+  And fought it out most furiously,
+    Not doubting to prevail:
+  The wounded men on both sides fell
+    Most pitious for to see,
+  Yet nothing could the courage quell
+    Of brave Lord Willoughbèy.
+
+  For seven hours to all mens view
+    This fight endured sore,
+  Until our men so feeble grew
+    That they could fight no more;
+  And then upon dead horses
+    Full savourly they eat,
+  And drank the puddle water,
+    They could no better get.
+
+  When they had fed so freely,
+    They kneeled on the ground,
+  And praised God devoutly
+    For the favour they had found;
+  And beating up their colours,
+    The fight they did renew,
+  And turning tow'rds the Spaniard,
+    A thousand more they slew.
+
+  The sharp steel-pointed arrows,
+    And bullets thick did fly,
+  Then did our valiant soldiers
+    Charge on most furiously;
+  Which made the Spaniards waver,
+    They thought it best to flee,
+  They fear'd the stout behaviour
+    Of brave Lord Willoughbey.
+
+  Then quoth the Spanish general,
+    Come let us march away,
+  I fear we shall be spoiled all
+    If here we longer stay;
+  For yonder comes Lord Willoughbey
+    With courage fierce and fell,
+  He will not give one inch of way
+    For all the devils in hell.
+
+  And then the fearful enemy
+    Was quickly put to flight,
+  Our men persued couragiously,
+    And caught their forces quite;
+  But at last they gave a shout,
+    Which ecchoed through the sky,
+  God, and St. George for England!
+    The conquerors did cry.
+
+  This news was brought to England
+    With all the speed might be,
+  And soon our gracious queen was told
+    Of this same victory.
+  O this is brave Lord Willoughbey,
+    My love that ever won,
+  Of all the lords of honour
+    'Tis he great deeds hath done.
+
+  To the souldiers that were maimed,
+    And wounded in the fray,
+  The queen allowed a pension
+    Of fifteen pence a day;
+  And from all costs and charges
+    She quit and set them free:
+  And this she did all for the sake
+    Of brave Lord Willoughbey.
+
+  Then courage, noble Englishmen,
+    And never be dismaid;
+  If that we be but one to ten,
+    We will not be afraid
+  To fight with foraign enemies,
+    And set our nation free.
+  And thus I end the bloody bout
+    Of brave Lord Willoughbey.
+
+
+
+
+THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE
+
+[Illustration: The Spanish Lady's Love headpiece]
+
+
+  Will you hear a Spanish lady,
+    How shed wooed an English man?
+  Garments gay and rich as may be
+    Decked with jewels she had on.
+  Of a comely countenance and grace was she,
+  And by birth and parentage of high degree.
+
+  As his prisoner there he kept her,
+    In his hands her life did lye!
+  Cupid's bands did tye them faster
+    By the liking of an eye.
+  In his courteous company was all her joy,
+  To favour him in any thing she was not coy.
+
+  But at last there came commandment
+    For to set the ladies free,
+  With their jewels still adorned,
+    None to do them injury.
+  Then said this lady mild, Full woe is me;
+  O let me still sustain this kind captivity!
+
+  Gallant captain, shew some pity
+    To a ladye in distresse;
+  Leave me not within this city,
+    For to dye in heavinesse:
+  Thou hast this present day my body free,
+  But my heart in prison still remains with thee.
+
+  "How should'st thou, fair lady, love me,
+    Whom thou knowest thy country's foe?
+  Thy fair wordes make me suspect thee:
+    Serpents lie where flowers grow."
+  All the harme I wishe to thee, most courteous knight,
+  God grant the same upon my head may fully light.
+
+  Blessed be the time and season,
+    That you came on Spanish ground;
+  If our foes you may be termed,
+    Gentle foes we have you found:
+  With our city, you have won our hearts eche one,
+  Then to your country bear away, that is your owne.
+
+  "Rest you still, most gallant lady;
+    Rest you still, and weep no more;
+  Of fair lovers there is plenty,
+    Spain doth yield a wonderous store."
+  Spaniards fraught with jealousy we often find,
+  But Englishmen through all the world are counted kind.
+
+  Leave me not unto a Spaniard,
+    You alone enjoy my heart:
+  I am lovely, young, and tender,
+    Love is likewise my desert:
+  Still to serve thee day and night my mind is prest;
+  The wife of every Englishman is counted blest.
+
+  "It wold be a shame, fair lady,
+    For to bear a woman hence;
+  English soldiers never carry
+    Any such without offence."
+  I'll quickly change myself, if it be so,
+  And like a page He follow thee, where'er thou go.
+
+  "I have neither gold nor silver
+    To maintain thee in this case,
+  And to travel is great charges,
+    As you know in every place."
+  My chains and jewels every one shal be thy own,
+  And eke five hundred pounds in gold that lies unknown.
+
+  "On the seas are many dangers,
+    Many storms do there arise,
+  Which wil be to ladies dreadful,
+    And force tears from watery eyes."
+  Well in troth I shall endure extremity,
+  For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee.
+
+  "Courteous ladye, leave this fancy,
+    Here comes all that breeds the strife;
+  I in England have already
+    A sweet woman to my wife:
+  I will not falsify my vow for gold nor gain,
+  Nor yet for all the fairest dames that live in Spain."
+
+  O how happy is that woman
+    That enjoys so true a friend!
+  Many happy days God send her;
+    Of my suit I make an end:
+  On my knees I pardon crave for my offence,
+  Which did from love and true affection first commence.
+
+  Commend me to thy lovely lady,
+    Bear to her this chain of gold;
+  And these bracelets for a token;
+    Grieving that I was so bold:
+  All my jewels in like sort take thou with thee,
+  For they are fitting for thy wife, but not for me.
+
+  I will spend my days in prayer,
+    Love and all her laws defye;
+  In a nunnery will I shroud mee
+    Far from any companye:
+  But ere my prayers have an end, be sure of this,
+  To pray for thee and for thy love I will not miss.
+
+  Thus farewell, most gallant captain!
+    Farewell too my heart's content!
+  Count not Spanish ladies wanton,
+    Though to thee my love was bent:
+  Joy and true prosperity goe still with thee!
+   "The like fall ever to thy share, most fair ladie."
+
+
+
+
+THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY
+
+[Illustration: The Friar of Orders Gray headpiece]
+
+
+  It was a friar of orders gray
+   Walkt forth to tell his beades;
+  And he met with a lady faire,
+    Clad in a pilgrime's weedes.
+
+  Now Christ thee save, thou reverend friar,
+    I pray thee tell to me,
+  If ever at yon holy shrine
+    My true love thou didst see.
+
+  And how should I know your true love
+    From many another one?
+  O by his cockle hat, and staff,
+    And by his sandal shoone.
+
+  But chiefly by his face and mien,
+    That were so fair to view;
+  His flaxen locks that sweetly curl'd,
+    And eyne of lovely blue.
+
+  O lady, he is dead and gone!
+    Lady, he's dead and gone!
+  And at his head a green grass turfe,
+    And at his heels a stone.
+
+  Within these holy cloysters long
+    He languisht, and he dyed,
+  Lamenting of a ladyes love,
+    And 'playning of her pride.
+
+  Here bore him barefac'd on his bier
+    Six proper youths and tall,
+  And many a tear bedew'd his grave
+    Within yon kirk-yard wall.
+
+  And art thou dead, thou gentle youth!
+    And art thou dead and gone!
+  And didst thou die for love of me!
+    Break, cruel heart of stone!
+
+  O weep not, lady, weep not soe;
+    Some ghostly comfort seek:
+  Let not vain sorrow rive thy heart,
+    Ne teares bedew thy cheek.
+
+  O do not, do not, holy friar,
+    My sorrow now reprove;
+  For I have lost the sweetest youth,
+    That e'er wan ladyes love.
+
+  And nowe, alas! for thy sad losse,
+    I'll evermore weep and sigh;
+  For thee I only wisht to live,
+    For thee I wish to dye.
+
+  Weep no more, lady, weep no more,
+    Thy sorrowe is in vaine:
+  For violets pluckt the sweetest showers
+    Will ne'er make grow againe.
+
+  Our joys as winged dreams doe flye,
+    Why then should sorrow last?
+  Since grief but aggravates thy losse,
+    Grieve not for what is past.
+
+  O say not soe, thou holy friar;
+    I pray thee, say not soe:
+  For since my true-love dyed for mee,
+    'Tis meet my tears should flow.
+
+  And will he ne'er come again?
+    Will he ne'er come again?
+  Ah! no, he is dead and laid in his grave,
+    For ever to remain.
+
+  His cheek was redder than the rose;
+    The comliest youth was he!
+  But he is dead and laid in his grave:
+    Alas, and woe is me!
+
+  Sigh no more, lady, sigh no more,
+    Men were deceivers ever:
+  One foot on sea and one on land,
+    To one thing constant never.
+
+  Hadst thou been fond, he had been false,
+    And left thee sad and heavy;
+  For young men ever were fickle found,
+    Since summer trees were leafy.
+
+  Now say not so, thou holy friar,
+    I pray thee say not soe;
+  My love he had the truest heart:
+    O he was ever true!
+
+  And art thou dead, thou much-lov'd youth,
+    And didst thou dye for mee?
+  Then farewell home; for ever-more
+    A pilgrim I will bee.
+
+  But first upon my true-loves grave
+    My weary limbs I'll lay,
+  And thrice I'll kiss the green-grass turf,
+    That wraps his breathless clay.
+
+  Yet stay, fair lady; rest awhile
+    Beneath this cloyster wall:
+  See through the hawthorn blows the cold wind,
+    And drizzly rain doth fall.
+
+  O stay me not, thou holy friar;
+    O stay me not, I pray;
+  No drizzly rain that falls on me,
+    Can wash my fault away.
+
+  Yet stay, fair lady, turn again,
+    And dry those pearly tears;
+  For see beneath this gown of gray
+    Thy own true-love appears.
+
+  Here forc'd by grief, and hopeless love,
+    These holy weeds I sought;
+  And here amid these lonely walls
+    To end my days I thought.
+
+  But haply for my year of grace
+    Is not yet past away,
+  Might I still hope to win thy love,
+    No longer would I stay.
+
+  Now farewell grief, and welcome joy
+    Once more unto my heart;
+  For since I have found thee, lovely youth,
+    We never more will part.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Book of Ballads, Volume 2, by Various
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+<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN">
+<html>
+<head>
+<title>Old Ballads</title>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8">
+<style type="text/css">
+
+body {margin:20%; text-align:justify}
+h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {color:#A82C28}
+blockquote {font-size:14pt}
+P {font-size:16pt}
+
+</style>
+</head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Book of Ballads, Volume 2, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Book of Ballads, Volume 2
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Beverly Nichols
+
+Posting Date: April 29, 2014 [EBook #7532]
+Release Date: February, 2005
+First Posted: May 15, 2003
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BOOK OF BALLADS, VOLUME 2 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger, Juliet Sutherland, Phil McLaury,
+Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading
+Team. Text version by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<center>
+<h1>A BOOK OF OLD BALLADS</h1>
+
+<h4>Selected and with an Introduction</h4>
+
+<h3>by</h3>
+
+<h2>BEVERLEY NICHOLS</h2>
+<br><br>
+
+<img alt="001.jpg (14K)" src="images/001.jpg" height="223" width="280">
+
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+<a href="#chap01">THE HEIR OF LINNE</a><br>
+<a href="#chap02">KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID</a> <br>
+<a href="#chap03">SIR ANDREW BARTON</a><br>
+<a href="#chap04">MAY COLLIN</a><br>
+<a href="#chap05">THE BLIND BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL GREEN</a><br>
+<a href="#chap06">THOMAS THE RHYMER</a><br>
+<a href="#chap07">YOUNG BEICHAN</a><br>
+<a href="#chap08">BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBEY</a><br>
+<a href="#chap09">THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE</a><br>
+<a href="#chap10">THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY</a><br>
+
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+<h2>LIST OF COLOUR PLATES</h2>
+<a href="#cophetua">KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID</a><br>
+<a href="#collin">MAY COLLIN</a><br>
+<a href="#rhymer">THOMAS THE RHYMER</a><br>
+<a href="#beichan">YOUNG BEICHAN</a><br>
+
+
+
+<br><br><br><br><br><br>
+<h2><a name="chap01">THE HEIR OF LINNE</a></h2>
+<img alt="096.jpg (13K)" src="images/096.jpg" height="151" width="237">
+<br><br>
+<h3>PART THE FIRST</h3>
+
+<p>  Lithe and listen, gentlemen,<br>
+    To sing a song I will beginne:<br>
+  It is of a lord of faire Scotland,<br>
+    Which was the unthrifty heire of Linne.</p>
+
+<p>  His father was a right good lord,<br>
+    His mother a lady of high degree;<br>
+  But they, alas! were dead, him froe,<br>
+    And he lov'd keeping companie.</p>
+
+<p>  To spend the daye with merry cheare,<br>
+    To drinke and revell every night,<br>
+  To card and dice from eve to morne,<br>
+    It was, I ween, his hearts delighte.</p>
+
+<p>  To ride, to runne, to rant, to roare,<br>
+    To alwaye spend and never spare,<br>
+  I wott, an' it were the king himselfe,<br>
+    Of gold and fee he mote be bare.</p>
+
+<p>  Soe fares the unthrifty lord of Linne<br>
+    Till all his gold is gone and spent;<br>
+  And he maun sell his landes so broad,<br>
+    His house, and landes, and all his rent.</p>
+
+<p>  His father had a keen stewarde,<br>
+    And John o' the Scales was called hee:<br>
+  But John is become a gentel-man,<br>
+    And John has gott both gold and fee.</p>
+
+<p>  Sayes, Welcome, welcome, lord of Linne,<br>
+    Let nought disturb thy merry cheere;<br>
+  Iff thou wilt sell thy landes soe broad,<br>
+    Good store of gold Ile give thee heere,</p>
+
+<p>  My gold is gone, my money is spent;<br>
+    My lande nowe take it unto thee:<br>
+  Give me the golde, good John o' the Scales,<br>
+    And thine for aye my lande shall bee.</p>
+
+<p>  Then John he did him to record draw,<br>
+    And John he cast him a gods-pennie;<br>
+  But for every pounde that John agreed,<br>
+    The lande, I wis, was well worth three.</p>
+
+<p>  He told him the gold upon the borde,<br>
+    He was right glad his land to winne;<br>
+  The gold is thine, the land is mine,<br>
+    And now Ile be the lord of Linne.</p>
+
+<p>  Thus he hath sold his land soe broad,<br>
+    Both hill and holt, and moore and fenne,<br>
+  All but a poore and lonesome lodge,<br>
+    That stood far off in a lonely glenne.</p>
+
+<p>  For soe he to his father hight.<br>
+    My sonne, when I am gonne, sayd hee,<br>
+  Then thou wilt spend thy land so broad,<br>
+    And thou wilt spend thy gold so free:</p>
+
+<p>  But sweare me nowe upon the roode,<br>
+    That lonesome lodge thou'lt never spend;<br>
+  For when all the world doth frown on thee,<br>
+    Thou there shalt find a faithful friend.</p>
+
+<p>  The heire of Linne is full of golde:<br>
+    And come with me, my friends, sayd hee,<br>
+  Let's drinke, and rant, and merry make,<br>
+    And he that spares, ne'er mote he thee.</p>
+
+<p>  They ranted, drank, and merry made,<br>
+    Till all his gold it waxed thinne;<br>
+  And then his friendes they slunk away;<br>
+    They left the unthrifty heire of Linne.</p>
+
+<p>  He had never a penny in his purse,<br>
+    Never a penny left but three,<br>
+  And one was brass, another was lead,<br>
+    And another it was white money.</p>
+
+<p>  Nowe well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne,<br>
+    Nowe well-aday, and woe is mee,<br>
+  For when I was the lord of Linne,<br>
+    I never wanted gold nor fee.</p>
+
+<p>  But many a trustye friend have I,<br>
+    And why shold I feel dole or care?<br>
+  Ile borrow of them all by turnes,<br>
+    Soe need I not be never bare.</p>
+
+<p>  But one, I wis, was not at home;<br>
+    Another had payd his gold away;<br>
+  Another call'd him thriftless loone,<br>
+    And bade him sharpely wend his way.</p>
+
+<p>  Now well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne,<br>
+    Now well-aday, and woe is me;<br>
+  For when I had my landes so broad,<br>
+    On me they liv'd right merrilee.</p>
+
+<p>  To beg my bread from door to door<br>
+    I wis, it were a brenning shame:<br>
+  To rob and steale it were a sinne:<br>
+    To worke my limbs I cannot frame.</p>
+
+<p>  Now Ile away to lonesome lodge,<br>
+    For there my father bade me wend;<br>
+  When all the world should frown on mee<br>
+    I there shold find a trusty friend.</p>
+
+<br><br>
+<h3>PART THE SECOND</h3>
+
+<p>  Away then hyed the heire of Linne<br>
+    Oer hill and holt, and moor and fenne,<br>
+  Untill he came to lonesome lodge,<br>
+    That stood so lowe in a lonely glenne.</p>
+
+<p>  He looked up, he looked downe,<br>
+    In hope some comfort for to winne:<br>
+  But bare and lothly were the walles.<br>
+    Here's sorry cheare, quo' the heire of Linne.</p>
+
+<p>  The little windowe dim and darke<br>
+    Was hung with ivy, brere, and yewe;<br>
+  No shimmering sunn here ever shone;<br>
+    No halesome breeze here ever blew.</p>
+
+<p>  No chair, ne table he mote spye,<br>
+    No cheerful hearth, ne welcome bed,<br>
+  Nought save a rope with renning noose,<br>
+    That dangling hung up o'er his head.</p>
+
+<p>  And over it in broad letters,<br>
+    These words were written so plain to see:<br>
+  "Ah! gracelesse wretch, hast spent thine all,<br>
+    And brought thyselfe to penurie?</p>
+
+<p>  "All this my boding mind misgave,<br>
+    I therefore left this trusty friend:<br>
+  Let it now sheeld thy foule disgrace,<br>
+    And all thy shame and sorrows end."</p>
+
+<p>  Sorely shent wi' this rebuke,<br>
+    Sorely shent was the heire of Linne,<br>
+  His heart, I wis, was near to brast     With guilt and sorrowe,
+shame<br>
+and sinne.</p>
+
+<p>  Never a word spake the heire of Linne,<br>
+    Never a word he spake but three:<br>
+  "This is a trusty friend indeed,<br>
+    And is right welcome unto mee."</p>
+
+<p>  Then round his necke the corde he drewe,<br>
+    And sprung aloft with his bodie:<br>
+  When lo! the ceiling burst in twaine,<br>
+    And to the ground came tumbling hee.</p>
+
+<p>  Astonyed lay the heire of Linne,<br>
+    Ne knewe if he were live or dead:<br>
+  At length he looked, and saw a bille,<br>
+    And in it a key of gold so redd.</p>
+
+<p>  He took the bill, and lookt it on,<br>
+    Strait good comfort found he there:<br>
+  It told him of a hole in the wall,<br>
+    In which there stood three chests in-fere.</p>
+
+<p>  Two were full of the beaten golde,<br>
+   The third was full of white money;<br>
+  And over them in broad letters<br>
+   These words were written so plaine to see:</p>
+
+<p>  "Once more, my sonne, I sette thee clere;<br>
+   Amend thy life and follies past;<br>
+  For but thou amend thee of thy life,<br>
+   That rope must be thy end at last."</p>
+
+<p>  And let it bee, sayd the heire of Linne;<br>
+   And let it bee, but if I amend:<br>
+  For here I will make mine avow,<br>
+   This reade shall guide me to the end.</p>
+
+<p>  Away then went with a merry cheare,<br>
+   Away then went the heire of Linne;<br>
+  I wis, he neither ceas'd ne blanne,<br>
+   Till John o' the Scales house he did winne.</p>
+
+<p>  And when he came to John o' the Scales,<br>
+   Upp at the speere then looked hee;<br>
+  There sate three lords upon a rowe,<br>
+   Were drinking of the wine so free.</p>
+
+<p>  And John himself sate at the bord-head,<br>
+   Because now lord of Linne was hee.<br>
+  I pray thee, he said, good John o' the Scales,<br>
+   One forty pence for to lend mee.</p>
+
+<p>  Away, away, thou thriftless loone;<br>
+    Away, away, this may not bee:<br>
+  For Christs curse on my head, he sayd,<br>
+    If ever I trust thee one penn&igrave;e.</p>
+
+<p>  Then bespake the heire of Linne,<br>
+    To John o' the Scales wife then spake he:<br>
+  Madame, some almes on me bestowe,<br>
+    I pray for sweet Saint Charit&igrave;e.</p>
+
+<p>  Away, away, thou thriftless loone,<br>
+    I swear thou gettest no almes of mee;<br>
+  For if we shold hang any losel heere,<br>
+    The first we wold begin with thee.</p>
+
+<p>  Then bespake a good fell&ograve;we,<br>
+    Which sat at John o' the Scales his bord<br>
+  Sayd, Turn againe, thou heire of Linne;<br>
+    Some time thou wast a well good lord;</p>
+
+<p>  Some time a good fellow thou hast been,<br>
+    And sparedst not thy gold nor fee;<br>
+  Therefore He lend thee forty pence,<br>
+    And other forty if need bee.</p>
+
+<p>  And ever, I pray thee, John o' the Scales,<br>
+    To let him sit in thy companie:<br>
+  For well I wot thou hadst his land,<br>
+    And a good bargain it was to thee.</p>
+
+<p>  Up then spake him John o' the Scales,<br>
+    All wood he answer'd him againe:<br>
+  Now Christs curse on my head, he sayd,<br>
+    But I did lose by that barg&agrave;ine.</p>
+
+<p>  And here I proffer thee, heire of Linne,<br>
+    Before these lords so faire and free,<br>
+  Thou shalt have it backe again better cheape,<br>
+    By a hundred markes, than I had it of thee.</p>
+
+<p>  I draw you to record, lords, he said.<br>
+    With that he cast him a gods pennie:<br>
+  Now by my fay, sayd the heire of Linne,<br>
+    And here, good John, is thy mon&egrave;y.</p>
+
+<p>  And he pull'd forth three bagges of gold,<br>
+    And layd them down upon the bord:<br>
+  All woe begone was John o' the Scales,<br>
+    Soe shent he cold say never a word.</p>
+
+<p>  He told him forth the good red gold,<br>
+    He told it forth with mickle dinne.<br>
+  The gold is thine, the land is mine,<br>
+    And now Ime againe the lord of Linne.</p>
+
+<p>  Sayes, Have thou here, thou good fell&ograve;we,<br>
+    Forty pence thou didst lend me:<br>
+  Now I am againe the lord of Linne,<br>
+    And forty pounds I will give thee.</p>
+
+<p>  He make the keeper of my forrest,<br>
+    Both of the wild deere and the tame;<br>
+  For but I reward thy bounteous heart,<br>
+    I wis, good fellowe, I were to blame.</p>
+
+<p>  Now welladay! sayth Joan o' the Scales:<br>
+    Now welladay! and woe is my life!<br>
+  Yesterday I was lady of Linne,<br>
+    Now Ime but John o' the Scales his wife.</p>
+
+<p>  Now fare thee well, sayd the heire of Linne;<br>
+    Farewell now, John o' the Scales, said hee:<br>
+  Christs curse light on me, if ever again<br>
+    I bring my lands in jeopardy.</p>
+
+<img alt="105.jpg (3K)" src="images/105.jpg" height="124" width="90">
+
+<br><br><br><br><br><br>
+<h2><a name="chap02">KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID</a></h2>
+<img alt="106.jpg (8K)" src="images/106.jpg" height="122" width="230">
+<br><br>
+<a name="cophetua"></a>
+<img alt="cophetua.jpg (147K)" src="images/cophetua.jpg" height="991" width="750">
+
+<p>  I Read that once in Affrica<br>
+    A princely wight did raine,<br>
+  Who had to name Cophetua,<br>
+    As poets they did faine:<br>
+  From natures lawes he did decline,<br>
+  For sure he was not of my mind.<br>
+  He cared not for women-kinde,<br>
+    But did them all disdaine.<br>
+  But, marke, what hapened on a day,<br>
+  As he out of his window lay,<br>
+  He saw a beggar all in gray,<br>
+    The which did cause his paine.</p>
+
+<p>  The blinded boy, that shootes so trim,<br>
+    From heaven downe did hie;<br>
+  He drew a dart and shot at him,<br>
+    In place where he did lye:<br>
+  Which soone did pierse him to the quicke.<br>
+  And when he felt the arrow pricke,<br>
+  Which in his tender heart did sticke,<br>
+    He looketh as he would dye.<br>
+  What sudden chance is this, quoth he,<br>
+  That I to love must subject be,<br>
+  Which never thereto would agree,<br>
+    But still did it defie?</p>
+
+<p>  Then from the window he did come,<br>
+    And laid him on his bed,<br>
+  A thousand heapes of care did runne<br>
+    Within his troubled head:<br>
+  For now he meanes to crave her love,<br>
+  And now he seekes which way to proove<br>
+  How he his fancie might remoove,<br>
+    And not this beggar wed.<br>
+  But Cupid had him so in snare,<br>
+  That this poor begger must prepare<br>
+  A salve to cure him of his care,<br>
+    Or els he would be dead.</p>
+
+<p>  And, as he musing thus did lye,<br>
+    He thought for to devise<br>
+  How he might have her companye,<br>
+    That so did 'maze his eyes.<br>
+  In thee, quoth he, doth rest my life;<br>
+  For surely thou shalt be my wife,<br>
+  Or else this hand with bloody knife<br>
+    The Gods shall sure suffice.<br>
+  Then from his bed he soon arose,<br>
+  And to his pallace gate he goes;<br>
+  Full little then this begger knowes<br>
+    When she the king espies.</p>
+
+<p>  The Gods preserve your majesty,<br>
+    The beggers all gan cry:<br>
+  Vouchsafe to give your charity<br>
+    Our childrens food to buy.<br>
+  The king to them his pursse did cast,<br>
+    And they to part it made great haste;<br>
+  This silly woman was the last<br>
+    That after them did hye.<br>
+  The king he cal'd her back againe,<br>
+  And unto her he gave his chaine;<br>
+  And said, With us you shal remaine<br>
+    Till such time as we dye:</p>
+
+<p>  For thou, quoth he, shalt be my wife,<br>
+    And honoured for my queene;<br>
+  With thee I meane to lead my life,<br>
+    As shortly shall be seene:<br>
+  Our wedding shall appointed be,<br>
+  And every thing in its degree:<br>
+  Come on, quoth he, and follow me,<br>
+    Thou shalt go shift thee cleane.<br>
+  What is thy name, faire maid? quoth he.<br>
+  Penelophon, O king, quoth she;<br>
+  With that she made a lowe courtsey;<br>
+    A trim one as I weene.</p>
+
+<p>  Thus hand in hand along they walke<br>
+    Unto the king's pallace:<br>
+  The king with curteous comly talke<br>
+    This beggar doth imbrace:<br>
+  The begger blusheth scarlet red,<br>
+  And straight againe as pale as lead,<br>
+  But not a word at all she said,<br>
+    She was in such amaze.<br>
+  At last she spake with trembling voyce,<br>
+  And said, O king, I doe rejoyce<br>
+  That you wil take me from your choyce,<br>
+    And my degree's so base.</p>
+
+<p>  And when the wedding day was come,<br>
+    The king commanded strait<br>
+  The noblemen both all and some<br>
+    Upon the queene to wait.<br>
+  And she behaved herself that day,<br>
+  As if she had never walkt the way;<br>
+  She had forgot her gown of gray,<br>
+    Which she did weare of late.<br>
+  The proverbe old is come to passe,<br>
+  The priest, when he begins his masse,<br>
+  Forgets that ever clerke he was;<br>
+    He knowth not his estate.</p>
+
+<p>  Here you may read, Cophetua,<br>
+    Though long time fancie-fed,<br>
+  Compelled by the blinded boy<br>
+    The begger for to wed:<br>
+  He that did lovers lookes disdaine,<br>
+  To do the same was glad and faine,<br>
+  Or else he would himselfe have slaine,<br>
+  In storie, as we read.<br>
+    Disdaine no whit, O lady deere,<br>
+    But pitty now thy servant heere,<br>
+    Least that it hap to thee this yeare,<br>
+      As to that king it did.</p>
+
+<p>  And thus they led a quiet life<br>
+    Duringe their princely raigne;<br>
+  And in a tombe were buried both,<br>
+    As writers sheweth plaine.<br>
+  The lords they tooke it grievously,<br>
+  The ladies tooke it heavily,<br>
+  The commons cryed pitiously,<br>
+    Their death to them was paine,<br>
+    Their fame did sound so passingly,<br>
+    That it did pierce the starry sky,<br>
+    And throughout all the world did flye<br>
+      To every princes realme.</p>
+
+
+<img alt="110.jpg (3K)" src="images/110.jpg" height="126" width="72">
+<br><br><br><br><br><br>
+<h2><a name="chap03">SIR ANDREW BARTON</a></h2>
+<img alt="111.jpg (16K)" src="images/111.jpg" height="162" width="238">
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>  'When Flora with her fragrant flowers<br>
+    Bedeckt the earth so trim and gaye,<br>
+  And Neptune with his daintye showers<br>
+    Came to present the monthe of Maye;'<br>
+  King Henrye rode to take the ayre,<br>
+    Over the river of Thames past hee;<br>
+  When eighty merchants of London came,<br>
+    And downe they knelt upon their knee.</p>
+
+<p>  "O yee are welcome, rich merchants;<br>
+    Good saylors, welcome unto mee."<br>
+  They swore by the rood, they were saylors good,<br>
+    But rich merch&agrave;nts they cold not bee:<br>
+  "To France nor Flanders dare we pass:<br>
+    Nor Bourdeaux voyage dare we fare;<br>
+  And all for a rover that lyes on the seas,<br>
+    Who robbs us of our merchant ware."</p>
+
+<p>  King Henrye frowned, and turned him rounde,<br>
+    And swore by the Lord, that was mickle of might,<br>
+  "I thought he had not beene in the world,<br>
+    Durst have wrought England such unright."<br>
+  The merchants sighed, and said, alas!<br>
+    And thus they did their answer frame,<br>
+  He is a proud Scott, that robbs on the seas,<br>
+    And Sir Andrewe Barton is his name.</p>
+
+<p>  The king lookt over his left shoulder,<br>
+    And an angrye look then looked hee:<br>
+  "Have I never a lorde in all my realme,<br>
+    Will feitch yond tray tor unto me?"<br>
+  Yea, that dare I; Lord Howard sayes;<br>
+    Yea, that dare I with heart and hand;<br>
+  If it please your grace to give me leave,<br>
+    Myselfe wil be the only man.</p>
+
+<p>  Thou art but yong; the kyng replyed:<br>
+    Yond Scott hath numbered manye a yeare.<br>
+  "Trust me, my liege, lie make him quail,<br>
+    Or before my prince I will never appeare."<br>
+  Then bowemen and gunners thou shalt have,<br>
+    And chuse them over my realme so free;<br>
+  Besides good mariners, and shipp-boyes,<br>
+    To guide the great shipp on the sea.</p>
+
+<p>  The first man, that Lord Howard chose,<br>
+    Was the ablest gunner in all the realm,<br>
+  Thoughe he was three score yeeres and ten;<br>
+    Good Peter Simon was his name.<br>
+  Peter, sais hee, I must to the sea,<br>
+    To bring home a traytor live or dead:<br>
+  Before all others I have chosen thee;<br>
+    Of a hundred gunners to be the head.</p>
+
+<p>  If you, my lord, have chosen mee<br>
+    Of a hundred gunners to be the head,<br>
+  Then hang me up on your maine-mast tree,<br>
+    If I misse my marke one shilling bread.<br>
+  My lord then chose a boweman rare,<br>
+    "Whose active hands had gained fame."<br>
+  In Yorkshire was this gentleman borne,<br>
+    And William Horseley was his name.</p>
+
+<p>  Horseley, said he, I must with speede<br>
+    Go seeke a traytor on the sea,<br>
+  And now of a hundred bowemen brave<br>
+    To be the head I have chosen thee.<br>
+  If you, quoth hee, have chosen mee<br>
+    Of a hundred bowemen to be the head<br>
+  On your main-mast He hanged bee,<br>
+    If I miss twelvescore one penny bread.</p>
+
+<p>  With pikes and gunnes, and bowemen bold,<br>
+    This noble Howard is gone to the sea;<br>
+  With a valyant heart and a pleasant cheare,<br>
+    Out at Thames mouth sayled he.<br>
+  And days he scant had sayled three,<br>
+    Upon the 'voyage,' he tooke in hand,<br>
+  But there he mett with a noble shipp,<br>
+    And stoutely made itt stay and stand.</p>
+
+<p>  Thou must tell me, Lord Howard said,<br>
+    Now who thou art, and what's thy name;<br>
+  And shewe me where they dwelling is:<br>
+    And whither bound, and whence thou came.<br>
+  My name is Henry Hunt, quoth hee<br>
+    With a heavye heart, and a carefull mind;<br>
+  I and my shipp doe both belong<br>
+    To the Newcastle, that stands upon Tyne.</p>
+
+<p>  Hast thou not heard, nowe, Henrye Hunt,<br>
+    As thou hast sayled by daye and by night,<br>
+  Of a Scottish rover on the seas;<br>
+    Men call him Sir Andrew Barton, knight!<br>
+  Then ever he sighed, and said alas!<br>
+    With a grieved mind, and well away!<br>
+  But over-well I knowe that wight,<br>
+    I was his prisoner yesterday.</p>
+
+<p>  As I was sayling uppon the sea,<br>
+    A Burdeaux voyage for to fare;<br>
+  To his hach-borde he clasped me,<br>
+    And robd me of all my merchant ware:<br>
+  And mickle debts, God wot, I owe,<br>
+    And every man will have his owne;<br>
+  And I am nowe to London bounde,<br>
+    Of our gracious king to beg a boone.</p>
+
+<p>  That shall not need, Lord Howard sais;<br>
+    Lett me but once that robber see,<br>
+  For every penny tane thee froe<br>
+    It shall be doubled shillings three.<br>
+  Nowe God forefend, the merchant said,<br>
+    That you should seek soe far amisse!<br>
+  God keepe you out of that traitors hands!<br>
+    Full litle ye wott what a man hee is.</p>
+
+<p>  Hee is brasse within, and steele without,<br>
+    With beames on his topcastle stronge;<br>
+  And eighteen pieces of ordinance<br>
+    He carries on each side along:<br>
+  And he hath a pinnace deerlye dight,<br>
+    St. Andrewes crosse that is his guide;<br>
+  His pinnace beareth ninescore men,<br>
+    And fifteen canons on each side.</p>
+
+<p>  Were ye twentye shippes, and he but one;<br>
+    I sweare by kirke, and bower, and hall;<br>
+  He wold overcome them everye one,<br>
+    If once his beames they doe downe fall.<br>
+  This is cold comfort, sais my lord,<br>
+    To wellcome a stranger thus to the sea:<br>
+  Yet He bring him and his ship to shore,<br>
+    Or to Scottland hee shall carrye mee.</p>
+
+<p>  Then a noble gunner you must have,<br>
+    And he must aim well with his ee,<br>
+  And sinke his pinnace into the sea,<br>
+    Or else hee never orecome will bee:<br>
+  And if you chance his shipp to borde,<br>
+    This counsel I must give withall,<br>
+  Let no man to his topcastle goe<br>
+    To strive to let his beams downe fall.</p>
+
+<p>  And seven pieces of ordinance,<br>
+    I pray your honour lend to mee,<br>
+  On each side of my shipp along,<br>
+    And I will lead you on the sea.<br>
+  A glasse He sett, that may be seene<br>
+    Whether you sail by day or night;<br>
+  And to-morrowe, I sweare, by nine of the clocke<br>
+    You shall meet with Sir Andrewe Barton knight.</p>
+
+<p>  THE SECOND PART</p>
+
+<p>  The merchant sett my lorde a glasse<br>
+    Soe well apparent in his sight,<br>
+  And on the morrowe, by nine of the clocke,<br>
+    He shewed him Sir Andrewe Barton knight.<br>
+  His hachebord it was 'gilt' with gold,<br>
+    Soe deerlye dight it dazzled the ee:<br>
+  Nowe by my faith, Lord Howarde sais,<br>
+    This is a gallant sight to see.</p>
+
+<p>  Take in your ancyents, standards eke,<br>
+    So close that no man may them see;<br>
+  And put me forth a white willowe wand,<br>
+    As merchants use to sayle the sea.<br>
+  But they stirred neither top, nor mast;<br>
+    Stoutly they past Sir Andrew by.<br>
+  What English churles are yonder, he sayd,<br>
+    That can soe little curtesye?</p>
+
+<p>  Now by the roode, three yeares and more<br>
+    I have beene admirall over the sea;<br>
+  And never an English nor Portingall<br>
+    Without my leave can passe this way.<br>
+  Then called he forth his stout pinnace;<br>
+    "Fetch backe yond pedlars nowe to mee:<br>
+  I sweare by the masse, yon English churles<br>
+    Shall all hang att my maine-mast tree."</p>
+
+<p>  With that the pinnace itt shot off,<br>
+    Full well Lord Howard might it ken;<br>
+  For itt stroke down my lord's fore mast,<br>
+    And killed fourteen of his men.<br>
+  Come hither, Simon, sayes my lord,<br>
+    Looke that thy word be true, thou said;<br>
+  For at my maine-mast thou shalt hang,<br>
+    If thou misse thy marke one shilling bread.</p>
+
+<p>  Simon was old, but his heart itt was bold;<br>
+    His ordinance he laid right lowe;<br>
+  He put in chaine full nine yardes long,<br>
+    With other great shott lesse, and moe;<br>
+  And he lette goe his great gunnes shott:<br>
+    Soe well he settled itt with his ee,<br>
+  The first sight that Sir Andrew sawe,<br>
+    He see his pinnace sunke in the sea.</p>
+
+<p>  And when he saw his pinnace sunke,<br>
+    Lord, how his heart with rage did swell!<br>
+  "Nowe cutt my ropes, itt is time to be gon;<br>
+    Ile fetch yond pedlars backe mysell."<br>
+  When my lord sawe Sir Andrewe loose,<br>
+    Within his heart he was full faine:<br>
+  "Now spread your ancyents, strike up your drummes,<br>
+    Sound all your trumpetts out amaine."</p>
+
+<p>  Fight on, my men, Sir Andrewe sais,<br>
+    Weale howsoever this geere will sway;<br>
+  Itt is my Lord Admirall of England,<br>
+    Is come to seeke mee on the sea.<br>
+  Simon had a sonne, who shott right well,<br>
+    That did Sir Andrewe mickle scare;<br>
+  In att his decke he gave a shott,<br>
+    Killed threescore of his men of warre.</p>
+
+<p>  Then Henrye Hunt with rigour hott<br>
+    Came bravely on the other side,<br>
+  Soone he drove downe his fore-mast tree,<br>
+    And killed fourscore men beside.<br>
+  Nowe, out alas! Sir Andrewe cryed,<br>
+    What may a man now thinke, or say?<br>
+  Yonder merchant theefe, that pierceth mee,<br>
+    He was my prisoner yesterday.</p>
+
+<p>  Come hither to me, thou Gordon good,<br>
+    That aye wast readye att my call:<br>
+  I will give thee three hundred markes,<br>
+    If thou wilt let my beames downe fall.<br>
+  Lord Howard hee then calld in haste,<br>
+    "Horseley see thou be true in stead;<br>
+  For thou shalt at the maine-mast hang,<br>
+    If thou misse twelvescore one penny bread."</p>
+
+<p>  Then Gordon swarved the maine-mast tree,<br>
+    He swarved it with might and maine;<br>
+  But Horseley with a bearing arrowe,<br>
+    Stroke the Gordon through the braine;<br>
+  And he fell unto the haches again,<br>
+    And sore his deadlye wounde did bleed:<br>
+  Then word went through Sir Andrews men,<br>
+    How that the Gordon hee was dead.</p>
+
+<p>  Come hither to mee, James Hambilton,<br>
+    Thou art my only sisters sonne,<br>
+  If thou wilt let my beames downe fall<br>
+    Six hundred nobles thou hast wonne.<br>
+  With that he swarved the maine-mast tree,<br>
+    He swarved it with nimble art;<br>
+  But Horseley with a broad arr&ograve;we<br>
+    Pierced the Hambilton thorough the heart:</p>
+
+<p>  And downe he fell upon the deck,<br>
+    That with his blood did streame amaine:<br>
+  Then every Scott cryed, Well-away!<br>
+    Alas! a comelye youth is slaine.<br>
+  All woe begone was Sir Andrew then,<br>
+    With griefe and rage his heart did swell:<br>
+  "Go fetch me forth my armour of proofe,<br>
+    For I will to the topcastle mysell."</p>
+
+<p>  "Goe fetch me forth my armour of proofe;<br>
+    That gilded is with gold soe cleare:<br>
+  God be with my brother John of Barton!<br>
+    Against the Portingalls hee it ware;<br>
+  And when he had on this armour of proofe,<br>
+    He was a gallant sight to see:<br>
+  Ah! nere didst thou meet with living wight,<br>
+    My deere brother, could cope with thee."</p>
+
+<p>  Come hither Horseley, sayes my lord,<br>
+    And looke your shaft that itt goe right,<br>
+  Shoot a good shoote in time of need,<br>
+    And for it thou shalt be made a knight.<br>
+  Ile shoot my best, quoth Horseley then,<br>
+    Your honour shall see, with might and maine;<br>
+  But if I were hanged at your maine-mast,<br>
+    I have now left but arrowes twaine.</p>
+
+<p>  Sir Andrew he did swarve the tree,<br>
+   With right good will he swarved then:<br>
+  Upon his breast did Horseley hitt,<br>
+    But the arrow bounded back agen.<br>
+  Then Horseley spyed a privye place<br>
+    With a perfect eye in a secrette part;<br>
+  Under the spole of his right arme<br>
+    He smote Sir Andrew to the heart.</p>
+
+<p>  "Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes,<br>
+    "A little Ime hurt, but yett not slaine;<br>
+  He but lye downe and bleede a while,<br>
+    And then He rise and fight againe.<br>
+  Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes,<br>
+    "And never flinch before the foe;<br>
+  And stand fast by St. Andrewes crosse<br>
+    Until you heare my whistle blowe."</p>
+
+<p>  They never heard his whistle blow--<br>
+    Which made their hearts waxe sore adread:<br>
+  Then Horseley sayd, Aboard, my lord,<br>
+    For well I wott Sir Andrew's dead.<br>
+  They boarded then his noble shipp,<br>
+    They boarded it with might and maine;<br>
+  Eighteen score Scots alive they found,<br>
+    The rest were either maimed or slaine.</p>
+
+<p>  Lord Howard tooke a sword in hand,<br>
+    And off he smote Sir Andrewes head,<br>
+  "I must have left England many a daye,<br>
+    If thou wert alive as thou art dead."<br>
+  He caused his body to be cast<br>
+    Over the hatchboard into the sea,<br>
+  And about his middle three hundred crownes:<br>
+    "Wherever thou land this will bury thee."</p>
+
+<p>  Thus from the warres Lord Howard came,<br>
+    And backe he sayled ore the maine,<br>
+  With mickle joy and triumphing<br>
+    Into Thames mouth he came againe.<br>
+  Lord Howard then a letter wrote,<br>
+    And sealed it with scale and ring;<br>
+  "Such a noble prize have I brought to your grace,<br>
+    As never did subject to a king:</p>
+
+<p>  "Sir Andrewes shipp I bring with mee;<br>
+    A braver shipp was never none:<br>
+  Nowe hath your grace two shipps of warr,<br>
+    Before in England was but one."<br>
+  King Henryes grace with royall cheere<br>
+    Welcomed the noble Howard home,<br>
+  And where, said he, is this rover stout,<br>
+   That I myselfe may give the doome?</p>
+
+<p>  "The rover, he is safe, my liege,<br>
+    Full many a fadom in the sea;<br>
+  If he were alive as he is dead,<br>
+    I must have left England many a day:<br>
+  And your grace may thank four men i' the ship<br>
+    For the victory wee have wonne,<br>
+  These are William Horseley, Henry Hunt,<br>
+    And Peter Simon, and his sonne."</p>
+
+<p>  To Henry Hunt, the king then sayd,<br>
+    In lieu of what was from thee tane,<br>
+  A noble a day now thou shalt have,<br>
+    Sir Andrewes jewels and his chayne.<br>
+  And Horseley thou shalt be a knight,<br>
+    And lands and livings shalt have store;<br>
+  Howard shall be erle Surrye hight,<br>
+    As Howards erst have beene before.</p>
+
+<p>  Nowe, Peter Simon, thou art old,<br>
+    I will maintaine thee and thy sonne:<br>
+  And the men shall have five hundred markes<br>
+    For the good service they have done.<br>
+  Then in came the queene with ladyes fair<br>
+    To see Sir Andrewe Barton knight:<br>
+  They weend that hee were brought on shore,<br>
+    And thought to have seen a gallant sight.</p>
+
+<p>  But when they see his deadlye face,<br>
+    And eyes soe hollow in his head,<br>
+  I wold give, quoth the king, a thousand markes,<br>
+    This man were alive as hee is dead:<br>
+  Yett for the manfull part hee playd,<br>
+    Which fought soe well with heart and hand,<br>
+  His men shall have twelvepence a day,<br>
+    Till they come to my brother kings high land.</p>
+
+
+<br><br><br><br><br><br>
+<h2><a name="chap04">MAY COLLIN</a></h2>
+<img alt="125.jpg (13K)" src="images/125.jpg" height="129" width="240">
+<br><br>
+<a name="collin"></a>
+<img alt="collin.jpg (139K)" src="images/collin.jpg" height="1017" width="750">
+
+<p>  May Collin ...<br>
+    ... was her father's heir,<br>
+  And she fell in love with a false priest,<br>
+    And she rued it ever mair.</p>
+
+<p>  He followd her butt, he followd her benn,<br>
+    He followd her through the hall,<br>
+  Till she had neither tongue nor teeth<br>
+    Nor lips to say him naw.</p>
+
+<p>  "We'll take the steed out where he is,<br>
+    The gold where eer it be,<br>
+  And we'll away to some unco land,<br>
+    And married we shall be."</p>
+
+<p>  They had not riden a mile, a mile,<br>
+    A mile but barely three,<br>
+  Till they came to a rank river,<br>
+    Was raging like the sea.</p>
+
+<p>  "Light off, light off now, May Collin,<br>
+    It's here that you must die;<br>
+  Here I have drownd seven king's daughters,<br>
+    The eight now you must be.</p>
+
+<p>  "Cast off, cast off now, May Collin,<br>
+    Your gown that's of the green;<br>
+  For it's oer good and oer costly<br>
+    To rot in the sea-stream.</p>
+
+<p>  "Cast off, cast off now, May Collin,<br>
+    Your coat that's of the black;<br>
+  For it's oer good and oer costly<br>
+    To rot in the sea-wreck.</p>
+
+<p>  "Cast off, cast off now, May Collin,<br>
+    Your stays that are well laced;<br>
+  For thei'r oer good and costly<br>
+    In the sea's ground to waste.</p>
+
+<p>  "Cast [off, cast off now, May Collin,]<br>
+    Your sark that's of the holland;<br>
+  For [it's oer good and oer costly]<br>
+    To rot in the sea-bottom."</p>
+
+<p>  "Turn you about now, falsh Mess John,<br>
+    To the green leaf of the tree;<br>
+  It does not fit a mansworn man<br>
+    A naked woman to see."</p>
+
+<p>  He turnd him quickly round about,<br>
+    To the green leaf of the tree;<br>
+  She took him hastly in her arms<br>
+    And flung him in the sea.</p>
+
+<p>  "Now lye you there, you falsh Mess John,<br>
+    My mallasin go with thee!<br>
+  You thought to drown me naked and bare,<br>
+    But take your cloaths with thee,<br>
+  And if there be seven king's daughters there<br>
+    Bear you them company"</p>
+
+<p>  She lap on her milk steed<br>
+    And fast she bent the way,<br>
+  And she was at her father's yate<br>
+    Three long hours or day.</p>
+
+<p>  Up and speaks the wylie parrot,<br>
+    So wylily and slee:<br>
+  "Where is the man now, May Collin,<br>
+    That gaed away wie thee?"</p>
+
+<p>  "Hold your tongue, my wylie parrot,<br>
+    And tell no tales of me,<br>
+  And where I gave a pickle befor<br>
+    It's now I'll give you three."</p>
+
+<img alt="128.jpg (5K)" src="images/128.jpg" height="124" width="127">
+<br><br><br><br><br><br>
+<h2><a name="chap05">THE BLIND BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL GREEN</a></h2>
+<img alt="129.jpg (11K)" src="images/129.jpg" height="152" width="237">
+<br><br>
+
+<h3>PART THE FIRST</h3>
+
+<p>  Itt was a blind beggar, had long lost his sight,<br>
+  He had a faire daughter of bewty most bright;<br>
+  And many a gallant brave suiter had shee,<br>
+  For none was soe comelye as pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  And though shee was of favour most faire,<br>
+  Yett seeing shee was but a poor beggars heyre,<br>
+  Of ancyent housekeepers despised was shee,<br>
+  Whose sonnes came as suitors to prettye Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  Wherefore in great sorrow faire Bessy did say,<br>
+  Good father, and mother, let me goe away<br>
+  To seeke out my fortune, whatever itt bee.<br>
+  This suite then they granted to prettye Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  Then Bessy, that was of bewtye soe bright,<br>
+  All cladd in gray russett, and late in the night<br>
+  From father and mother alone parted shee;<br>
+  Who sighed and sobbed for prettye Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  Shee went till shee came to Stratford-le-Bow;<br>
+  Then knew shee not whither, nor which way to goe:<br>
+  With teares shee lamented her hard destinie,<br>
+  So sadd and soe heavy was pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  Shee kept on her journey untill it was day,<br>
+  And went unto Rumford along the hye way;<br>
+  Where at the Queenes armes entertained was shee;<br>
+  Soe faire and wel favoured was pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  Shee had not beene there a month to an end,<br>
+  But master and mistress and all was her friend:<br>
+  And every brave gallant, that once did her see,<br>
+  Was straight-way enamoured of pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  Great gifts they did send her of silver and gold,<br>
+  And in their songs daylye her love was extold;<br>
+  Her beawtye was blazed in every degree;<br>
+  Soe faire and soe comelye was pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  The young men of Rumford in her had their joy;<br>
+  Shee shewed herself curteous, and modestlye coye;<br>
+  And at her commandment still wold they bee;<br>
+  Soe fayre and soe comlye was pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  Foure suitors att once unto her did goe;<br>
+  They craved her favor, but still she sayd noe;<br>
+  I wold not wish gentles to marry with mee.<br>
+  Yett ever they honored prettye Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  The first of them was a gallant young knight,<br>
+  And he came unto her disguisde in the night;<br>
+  The second a gentleman of good degree,<br>
+  Who wooed and sued for prettye Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  A merchant of London, whose wealth was not small,<br>
+  He was the third suiter, and proper withall:<br>
+  Her masters own sonne the fourth man must bee,<br>
+  Who swore he would dye for pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  And, if thou wilt marry with mee, quoth the knight,<br>
+  Ile make thee a ladye with joy and delight;<br>
+  My hart's so inthralled by thy bewtle,<br>
+  That soone I shall dye for prettye Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  The gentleman sayd, Come, marry with mee,<br>
+  As fine as a ladye my Bessy shal bee:<br>
+  My life is distressed: O heare me, quoth hee;<br>
+  And grant me thy love, my prettye Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  Let me bee thy husband, the merchant cold say,<br>
+  Thou shalt live in London both gallant and gay;<br>
+  My shippes shall bring home rych jewells for thee,<br>
+  And I will for ever love pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  Then Bessy shee sighed, and thus she did say,<br>
+  My father and mother I meane to obey;<br>
+  First gett their good will, and be faithfull to mee,<br>
+  And you shall enjoye your prettye Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  To every one this answer shee made,<br>
+  Wherfore unto her they joyfullye sayd,<br>
+  This thing to fulfill wee all doe agree;
+  But where dwells thy father, my prettye Bessee?</p>
+
+<p>  My father, shee said, is soone to be seene:<br>
+  The seely blind beggar of Bednall-greene,<br>
+  That daylye sits begging for charitie,<br>
+  He is the good father of pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  His markes and his tokens are knowen very well;<br>
+  He alwayes is led with a dogg and a bell:<br>
+  A seely olde man, God knoweth, is hee,<br>
+  Yett hee is the father of pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  Nay then, quoth the merchant, thou art not for mee:<br>
+  Nor, quoth the innholder, my wiffe thou shalt bee:<br>
+  I lothe, sayd the gentle, a beggars degree,<br>
+  And therefore, adewe, my pretty Bessee!</p>
+
+<p>  Why then, quoth the knight, hap better or worse,<br>
+  I waighe not true love by the waight of my pursse,<br>
+  And bewtye is bewtye in every degree;<br>
+  Then welcome unto me, my prettye Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  With thee to thy father forthwith I will goe.<br>
+  Nay soft, quoth his kinsmen, it must not be soe;<br>
+  A poor beggars daughter noe ladye shal bee,<br>
+  Then take thy adew of pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  But soone after this, by breake of the day,<br>
+  The knight had from Rumford stole Bessy away.<br>
+  The younge men of Rumford, as thicke might bee,<br>
+  Rode after to feitch againe pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  As swifte as the winde to ryde they were scene,<br>
+  Untill they came neare unto Bednall-greene;<br>
+  And as the knight lighted most courteousl&igrave;e,<br>
+  They all fought against him for pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  But rescew came speedilye over the plaine,<br>
+  Or else the young knight for his love had been slaine.<br>
+  This fray being ended, then straitway he see<br>
+  His kinsmen come rayling at pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  Then spake the blind beggar, Although I bee poore,<br>
+  Yett rayle not against my child at my own doore:<br>
+  Though shee be not decked in velvett and pearle,<br>
+  Yett will I dropp angells with you for my girle.</p>
+
+<p>  And then, if my gold may better her birthe,<br>
+  And equall the gold that you lay on the earth,<br>
+  Then neyther rayle nor grudge you to see<br>
+  The blind beggars daughter a lady to bee.</p>
+
+<p>  But first you shall promise, and have it well knowne,<br>
+  The gold that you drop shall all be your owne.<br>
+  With that they replyed, Contented bee wee.<br>
+  Then here's, quoth the beggar, for pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  With that an angell he cast on the ground,<br>
+  And dropped in angels full three thousand pound;<br>
+  And oftentime itt was proved most plaine,<br>
+  For the gentlemens one the beggar droppt twayne:</p>
+
+<p>  Soe that the place, wherin they did sitt,<br>
+  With gold it was covered every whitt.<br>
+  The gentlemen then having dropt all their store,<br>
+  Sayd, Now, beggar, hold, for wee have noe more.</p>
+
+<p>  Thou hast fulfilled thy promise arright.<br>
+  Then marry, quoth he, my girle to this knight;<br>
+  And heere, added hee, I will now throwe you downe<br>
+  A hundred pounds more to buy her a gowne.</p>
+
+<p>  The gentlemen all, that this treasure had seene,<br>
+  Admired the beggar of Bednall-greene:<br>
+  And all those, that were her suitors before,<br>
+  Their fleshe for very anger they tore.</p>
+
+<p>  Thus was faire Besse matched to the knight,<br>
+  And then made a ladye in others despite:<br>
+  A fairer ladye there never was seene,<br>
+  Than the blind beggars daughter of Bednall-greene.</p>
+
+<p>  But of their sumptuous marriage and feast,<br>
+  What brave lords and knights thither were prest,<br>
+  The SECOND FITT shall set forth to your sight<br>
+  With marveilous pleasure, and wished delight.</p>
+
+<br><br>
+<h3>PART THE SECOND</h3>
+
+<p>  Off a blind beggars daughter most bright,<br>
+  That late was betrothed unto a younge knight;<br>
+  All the discourse therof you did see;<br>
+  But now comes the wedding of pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  Within a gorgeous palace most brave,<br>
+  Adorned with all the cost they cold have,<br>
+  This wedding was kept most sumptuousl&igrave;e,<br>
+  And all for the credit of pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  All kind of dainties, and delicates sweete<br>
+  Were bought for the banquet, as it was most meete;<br>
+  Partridge, and plover, and venison most free,<br>
+  Against the brave wedding of pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  This marriage through England was spread by report,<br>
+  Soe that a great number therto did resort<br>
+  Of nobles and gentles in every degree;<br>
+  And all for the fame of prettye Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  To church then went this gallant younge knight;<br>
+  His bride followed after, an angell most bright,<br>
+  With troopes of ladyes, the like nere was scene<br>
+  As went with sweete Bessy of Bednall-greene.</p>
+
+<p>  This marryage being solempnized then,<br>
+  With musicke performed by the skilfullest men,<br>
+  The nobles and gentles sate downe at that tyde,<br>
+  Each one admiring the beautiful bryde.</p>
+
+<p>  Now, after the sumptuous dinner was done,<br>
+  To talke, and to reason a number begunn:<br>
+  They talkt of the blind beggars daughter most bright,<br>
+  And what with his daughter he gave to the knight.</p>
+
+<p>  Then spake the nobles, "Much marveil have wee,<br>
+  This jolly blind beggar wee cannot here see."<br>
+  My lords, quoth the bride, my father's so base,<br>
+  He is loth with his presence these states to disgrace.</p>
+
+<p>  "The prayse of a woman in question to bringe<br>
+  Before her own face, were a flattering thinge;<br>
+  But wee thinke thy father's baseness," quoth they,<br>
+  "Might by thy bewtye be cleane put awaye."</p>
+
+<p>  They had noe sooner these pleasant words spoke,<br>
+  But in comes the beggar cladd in a silke cloke;<br>
+  A faire velvet capp, and a fether had hee,<br>
+  And now a musicyan forsooth he wold bee.</p>
+
+<p>  He had a daintye lute under his arme,<br>
+  He touched the strings, which made such a charme,<br>
+  Saies, Please you to heare any musicke of mee,<br>
+  Ile sing you a song of pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  With that his lute he twanged straightway,<br>
+  And thereon begann most sweetlye to play;<br>
+  And after that lessons were playd two or three,<br>
+  He strayn'd out this song most delicatel&igrave;e.</p>
+
+<p>  "A poore beggars daughter did dwell on a greene,<br>
+  Who for her fairenesse might well be a queene:<br>
+  A blithe bonny lasse, and a daintye was shee,<br>
+  And many one called her pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  "Her father hee had noe goods, nor noe land,<br>
+  But begged for a penny all day with his hand;<br>
+  And yett to her marriage he gave thousands three,<br>
+  And still he hath somewhat for pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  "And if any one here her birth doe disdaine,<br>
+  Her father is ready, with might and with maine,<br>
+  To proove shee is come of noble degree:<br>
+  Therfore never flout att prettye Bessee."</p>
+
+<p>  With that the lords and the companye round<br>
+  With harty laughter were readye to swound;<br>
+  Att last said the lords, Full well wee may see,<br>
+  The bride and the beggar's behoulden to thee.</p>
+
+<p>  On this the bride all blushing did rise,<br>
+  The pearlie dropps standing within her faire eyes,<br>
+  O pardon my father, grave nobles, quoth shee,<br>
+  That throughe blind affection thus doteth on mee.</p>
+
+<p>  If this be thy father, the nobles did say,<br>
+  Well may he be proud of this happy day;<br>
+  Yett by his countenance well may wee see,<br>
+  His birth and his fortune did never agree:</p>
+
+<p>  And therefore, blind man, we pray thee bewray,<br>
+  (and looke that the truth thou to us doe say)<br>
+  Thy birth and thy parentage, whatt itt may bee;<br>
+  For the love that thou bearest to pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  "Then give me leave, nobles and gentles, each one,<br>
+  One song more to sing, and then I have done;<br>
+  And if that itt may not winn good report,<br>
+  Then doe not give me a GROAT for my sport.</p>
+
+<p>  "Sir Simon de Montfort my subject shal bee;<br>
+  Once chiefe of all the great barons was hee,<br>
+  Yet fortune so cruelle this lorde did abase,<br>
+  Now loste and forgotten are hee and his race.</p>
+
+<p>  "When the barons in armes did King Henrye oppose,<br>
+  Sir Simon de Montfort their leader they chose;<br>
+  A leader of courage undaunted was hee,<br>
+  And oft-times he made their enemyes flee.</p>
+
+<p>  "At length in the battle on Eveshame plaine<br>
+  The barons were routed, and Montford was slaine;<br>
+  Moste fatall that battel did prove unto thee,<br>
+  Thoughe thou wast not borne then, my prettye Bessee!</p>
+
+<p>  "Along with the nobles, that fell at that tyde,<br>
+  His eldest son Henrye, who fought by his side,<br>
+  Was fellde by a blowe, he receivde in the fight!<br>
+  A blowe that deprivde him for ever of sight.</p>
+
+<p>  "Among the dead bodyes all lifeless he laye,<br>
+  Till evening drewe on of the following daye,<br>
+  When by a yong ladye discovered was hee;<br>
+  And this was thy mother, my prettye Bessee!</p>
+
+<p>  "A barons faire daughter stept forth in the nighte<br>
+  To search for her father, who fell in the fight,<br>
+  And seeing young Montfort, where gasping he laye,<br>
+  Was moved with pitye, and brought him awaye.</p>
+
+<p>  "In secrette she nurst him, and swaged his paine,<br>
+  While he throughe the realme was beleeved to be slaine<br>
+  At lengthe his faire bride she consented to bee,<br>
+  And made him glad father of prettye Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  "And nowe lest oure foes our lives sholde betraye,<br>
+  We clothed ourselves in beggars arraye;<br>
+  Her jewelles shee solde, and hither came wee:<br>
+  All our comfort and care was our prettye Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  "And here have we lived in fortunes despite,<br>
+  Thoughe poore, yet contented with humble delighte:<br>
+  Full forty winters thus have I beene<br>
+  A silly blind beggar of Bednall-greene.</p>
+
+<p>  "And here, noble lordes, is ended the song<br>
+  Of one, that once to your own ranke did belong:<br>
+  And thus have you learned a secrette from mee,<br>
+  That ne'er had been knowne, but for prettye Bessee."</p>
+
+<p>  Now when the faire companye everye one,<br>
+  Had heard the strange tale in the song he had showne,<br>
+  They all were amazed, as well they might bee,<br>
+  Both at the blinde beggar, and pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+<p>  With that the faire bride they all did embrace,<br>
+  Saying, Sure thou art come of an honourable race,<br>
+  Thy father likewise is of noble degree,<br>
+  And thou art well worthy a lady to bee.</p>
+
+<p>  Thus was the feast ended with joye and delighte,<br>
+  A bridegroome most happy then was the younge knighte,<br>
+  In joy and felicitie long lived hee,<br>
+  All with his faire ladye, the pretty Bessee.</p>
+
+
+
+<img alt="141.jpg (3K)" src="images/141.jpg" height="131" width="112">
+<br><br><br><br><br><br>
+<h2><a name="chap06">THOMAS THE RHYMER</a></h2>
+<img alt="142.jpg (20K)" src="images/142.jpg" height="191" width="240">
+<br><br>
+<a name="rhymer"></a>
+<img alt="rhymer.jpg (93K)" src="images/rhymer.jpg" height="908" width="664">
+
+<p>  Thomas lay on the Huntlie bank,<br>
+    A spying ferlies wi his eee,<br>
+  And he did spy a lady gay,<br>
+    Come riding down by the lang lee.</p>
+
+<p>  Her steed was o the dapple grey,<br>
+    And at its mane there hung bells nine;<br>
+  He thought he heard that lady say,<br>
+    "They gowden bells sall a' be thine."</p>
+
+<p>  Her mantle was o velvet green,<br>
+    And a' set round wi jewels fine;<br>
+  Her hawk and hounds were at her side,<br>
+    And her bugle-horn wi gowd did shine.</p>
+
+<p>  Thomas took aff baith cloak and cap,<br>
+    For to salute this gay lady:<br>
+  "O save ye, save ye, fair Queen o Heavn,<br>
+    And ay weel met ye save and see!"</p>
+
+<p>  "I'm no the Queen o Heavn, Thomas;<br>
+    I never carried my head sae hee;<br>
+  For I am but a lady gay,<br>
+    Come out to hunt in my follee.</p>
+
+<p>  "Now gin ye kiss my mouth, Thomas,<br>
+    Ye mauna miss my fair bodee;<br>
+  Then ye may een gang hame and tell<br>
+    That ye've lain wi a gay ladee."</p>
+
+<p>  "O gin I loe a lady fair,<br>
+    Nae ill tales o her wad I tell,<br>
+  And it's wi thee I fain wad gae,<br>
+    Tho it were een to heavn or hell."</p>
+
+<p>  "Then harp and carp, Thomas," she said,<br>
+    "Then harp and carp alang wi me;<br>
+  But it will be seven years and a day<br>
+    Till ye win back to yere ain countrie."</p>
+
+<p>  The lady rade, True Thomas ran,<br>
+    Until they cam to a water wan;<br>
+  O it was night, and nae delight,<br>
+    And Thomas wade aboon the knee.</p>
+
+<p>  It was dark night, and nae starn-light,<br>
+    And on they waded lang days three,<br>
+  And they heard the roaring o a flood,<br>
+    And Thomas a waefou man was he.</p>
+
+<p>  Then they rade on, and farther on,<br>
+    Untill they came to a garden green;<br>
+  To pu an apple he put up his hand,<br>
+    For the lack o food he was like to tyne.</p>
+
+<p>  "O haud yere hand, Thomas," she cried,<br>
+    "And let that green flourishing be;<br>
+  For it's the very fruit o hell,<br>
+    Beguiles baith man and woman o yere countrie.</p>
+
+<p>  "But look afore ye, True Thomas,<br>
+    And I shall show ye ferlies three;<br>
+  Yon is the gate leads to our land,<br>
+    Where thou and I sae soon shall be.</p>
+
+<p>  "And dinna ye see yon road, Thomas,<br>
+    That lies out-owr yon lilly lee?<br>
+  Weel is the man yon gate may gang,<br>
+    For it leads him straight to the heavens hie.</p>
+
+<p>  "But do you see yon road, Thomas,<br>
+    That lies out-owr yon frosty fell?<br>
+  Ill is the man yon gate may gang,<br>
+    For it leads him straight to the pit o hell.</p>
+
+<p>  "Now when ye come to our court, Thomas,<br>
+    See that a weel-learned man ye be;<br>
+  For they will ask ye, one and all,<br>
+    But ye maun answer nane but me.</p>
+
+<p>  "And when nae answer they obtain,<br>
+    Then will they come and question me,<br>
+  And I will answer them again<br>
+    That I gat yere aith at the Eildon tree.</p>
+
+<p>       *       *       *       *       *</p>
+
+<p>  "Ilka seven years, Thomas,<br>
+    We pay our teindings unto hell,<br>
+  And ye're sae leesome and sae strang<br>
+    That I fear, Thomas, it will be yeresell."</p>
+
+
+
+<br><br><br><br><br><br>
+<h2><a name="chap07">YOUNG BEICHAN</a></h2>
+<img alt="146.jpg (16K)" src="images/146.jpg" height="177" width="239">
+<br><br>
+<a name="beichan"></a>
+<img alt="beichan.jpg (140K)" src="images/beichan.jpg" height="1021" width="750">
+
+<p>  In London city was Bicham born,<br>
+    He longd strange countries for to see,<br>
+  But he was taen by a savage Moor,<br>
+    Who handld him right cruely.</p>
+
+<p>  For thro his shoulder he put a bore,<br>
+    An thro the bore has pitten a tree,<br>
+  An he's gard him draw the carts o wine,<br>
+    Where horse and oxen had wont to be.</p>
+
+<p>  He's casten [him] in a dungeon deep,<br>
+    Where he coud neither hear nor see;<br>
+  He's shut him up in a prison strong,<br>
+    An he's handld him right cruely.</p>
+
+<p>  O this Moor he had but ae daughter,<br>
+    I wot her name was Shusy Pye;<br>
+  She's doen her to the prison-house,<br>
+    And she's calld Young Bicham one word</p>
+
+<p>  "O hae ye ony lands or rents,<br>
+    Or citys in your ain country,<br>
+  Coud free you out of prison strong,<br>
+    An coud mantain a lady free?"</p>
+
+<p>  "O London city is my own,<br>
+    An other citys twa or three,<br>
+  Coud loose me out o prison strong,<br>
+    An coud mantain a lady free."</p>
+
+<p>  O she has bribed her father's men<br>
+    Wi meikle goud and white money,<br>
+  She's gotten the key o the prison doors,<br>
+    An she has set Young Bicham free.</p>
+
+<p>  She's g'in him a loaf o good white bread,<br>
+    But an a flask o Spanish wine,<br>
+  An she bad him mind on the ladie's love<br>
+    That sae kindly freed him out o pine.</p>
+
+<p>  "Go set your foot on good ship-board,<br>
+    An haste you back to your ain country,<br>
+  An before that seven years has an end,<br>
+    Come back again, love, and marry me."</p>
+
+<p>  It was long or seven years had an end<br>
+    She longd fu sair her love to see;<br>
+  She's set her foot on good ship-board,<br>
+    And turnd her back on her ain country.</p>
+
+<p>  She's saild up, so has she doun,<br>
+    Till she came to the other side;<br>
+  She's landed at Young Bicham's gates,<br>
+    An I hop this day she sal be his bride.</p>
+
+<p>  "Is this Young Bicham's gates?" says she,<br>
+    "Or is that noble prince within?"<br>
+  "He's up the stairs wi his bonny bride,<br>
+    An monny a lord and lady wi him."</p>
+
+<p>  "O has he taen a bonny bride,<br>
+    An has he clean forgotten me!"<br>
+  An sighing said that gay lady,<br>
+    I wish I were in my ain country!</p>
+
+<p>  But she's pitten her han in her pocket,<br>
+    An gin the porter guineas three;<br>
+  Says, Take ye that, ye proud porter,<br>
+    An bid the bridegroom speak to me.</p>
+
+<p>  O whan the porter came up the stair,<br>
+    He's fa'n low down upon his knee:<br>
+  "Won up, won up, ye proud porter,<br>
+    An what makes a' this courtesy?"</p>
+
+<p>  "O I've been porter at your gates<br>
+    This mair nor seven years an three,<br>
+  But there is a lady at them now<br>
+    The like of whom I never did see.</p>
+
+<p>  "For on every finger she has a ring,<br>
+    An on the mid-finger she has three,<br>
+  An there's a meikle goud aboon her brow<br>
+    As woud buy an earldome o lan to me."</p>
+
+<p>  Then up it started Young Bicham,<br>
+    An sware so loud by Our Lady,<br>
+  "It can be nane but Shusy Pye,<br>
+    That has come oer the sea to me."</p>
+
+<p>  O quickly ran he down the stair,<br>
+    O fifteen steps he has made but three;<br>
+  He's tane his bonny love in his arms,<br>
+    An a wot he kissd her tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>  "O hae you tane a bonny bride?<br>
+    An hae you quite forsaken me?<br>
+  An hae ye quite forgotten her<br>
+    That gae you life an liberty?"</p>
+
+ <p>She's lookit oer her left shoulder<br>
+    To hide the tears stood in her ee;<br>
+  "Now fare thee well, Young Bicham," she says,<br>
+    "I'll strive to think nae mair on thee."</p>
+
+<p>  "Take back your daughter, madam," he says,<br>
+    "An a double dowry I'll gi her wi;<br>
+  For I maun marry my first true love,<br>
+    That's done and suffered so much for me."</p>
+
+<p>  He's take his bonny love by the ban,<br>
+    And led her to yon fountain stane;<br>
+  He's changd her name frae Shusy Pye,<br>
+    An he's cald her his bonny love, Lady Jane.</p>
+
+
+<br><br><br><br><br><br>
+<h2><a name="chap08">BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBEY</a></h2>
+<img alt="151.jpg (18K)" src="images/151.jpg" height="181" width="237">
+<br><br>
+
+<p>  The fifteenth day of July,<br>
+    With glistering spear and shield,<br>
+  A famous fight in Flanders<br>
+    Was foughten in the field:<br>
+  The most couragious officers<br>
+    Were English captains three;<br>
+  But the bravest man in battel<br>
+    Was brave Lord Willoughb&egrave;y.</p>
+
+<p>  The next was Captain Norris,<br>
+    A valiant man was hee:<br>
+  The other Captain Turner,<br>
+    From field would never flee.<br>
+  With fifteen hundred fighting men,<br>
+    Alas! there were no more,<br>
+  They fought with fourteen thousand then,<br>
+    Upon the bloody shore.</p>
+
+<p>  Stand to it, noble pikemen,<br>
+    And look you round about:<br>
+  And shoot you right, you bow-men,<br>
+    And we will keep them out:<br>
+  You musquet and call&igrave;ver men,<br>
+    Do you prove true to me,<br>
+  I'le be the formost man in fight,<br>
+    Says brave Lord Willoughb&egrave;y.</p>
+
+<p>  And then the bloody enemy<br>
+    They fiercely did assail,<br>
+  And fought it out most furiously,<br>
+    Not doubting to prevail:<br>
+  The wounded men on both sides fell<br>
+    Most pitious for to see,<br>
+  Yet nothing could the courage quell<br>
+    Of brave Lord Willoughb&egrave;y.</p>
+
+<p>  For seven hours to all mens view<br>
+    This fight endured sore,<br>
+  Until our men so feeble grew<br>
+    That they could fight no more;<br>
+  And then upon dead horses<br>
+    Full savourly they eat,<br>
+  And drank the puddle water,<br>
+    They could no better get.</p>
+
+<p>  When they had fed so freely,<br>
+    They kneeled on the ground,<br>
+  And praised God devoutly<br>
+    For the favour they had found;<br>
+  And beating up their colours,<br>
+    The fight they did renew,<br>
+  And turning tow'rds the Spaniard,<br>
+    A thousand more they slew.</p>
+
+<p>  The sharp steel-pointed arrows,<br>
+    And bullets thick did fly,<br>
+  Then did our valiant soldiers<br>
+    Charge on most furiously;<br>
+  Which made the Spaniards waver,<br>
+    They thought it best to flee,<br>
+  They fear'd the stout behaviour<br>
+    Of brave Lord Willoughbey.</p>
+
+<p>  Then quoth the Spanish general,<br>
+    Come let us march away,<br>
+  I fear we shall be spoiled all<br>
+    If here we longer stay;<br>
+  For yonder comes Lord Willoughbey<br>
+    With courage fierce and fell,<br>
+  He will not give one inch of way<br>
+    For all the devils in hell.</p>
+
+<p>  And then the fearful enemy<br>
+    Was quickly put to flight,<br>
+  Our men persued couragiously,<br>
+    And caught their forces quite;<br>
+  But at last they gave a shout,<br>
+    Which ecchoed through the sky,<br>
+  God, and St. George for England!<br>
+    The conquerors did cry.</p>
+
+<p>  This news was brought to England<br>
+    With all the speed might be,<br>
+  And soon our gracious queen was told<br>
+    Of this same victory.<br>
+  O this is brave Lord Willoughbey,<br>
+    My love that ever won,<br>
+  Of all the lords of honour<br>
+    'Tis he great deeds hath done.</p>
+
+<p>  To the souldiers that were maimed,<br>
+    And wounded in the fray,<br>
+  The queen allowed a pension<br>
+    Of fifteen pence a day;<br>
+  And from all costs and charges<br>
+    She quit and set them free:<br>
+  And this she did all for the sake<br>
+    Of brave Lord Willoughbey.</p>
+
+<p>  Then courage, noble Englishmen,<br>
+    And never be dismaid;<br>
+  If that we be but one to ten,<br>
+    We will not be afraid<br>
+  To fight with foraign enemies,<br>
+    And set our nation free.<br>
+  And thus I end the bloody bout<br>
+    Of brave Lord Willoughbey.</p>
+
+
+
+<br><br><br><br><br><br>
+<h2><a name="chap09">THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE</a></h2>
+<img alt="155.jpg (12K)" src="images/155.jpg" height="168" width="239">
+<br><br>
+
+<p>  Will you hear a Spanish lady,<br>
+    How shed wooed an English man?<br>
+  Garments gay and rich as may be<br>
+    Decked with jewels she had on.<br>
+  Of a comely countenance and grace was she,<br>
+  And by birth and parentage of high degree.</p>
+
+<p>  As his prisoner there he kept her,<br>
+    In his hands her life did lye!<br>
+  Cupid's bands did tye them faster<br>
+    By the liking of an eye.<br>
+  In his courteous company was all her joy,<br>
+  To favour him in any thing she was not coy.</p>
+
+<p>  But at last there came commandment<br>
+    For to set the ladies free,<br>
+  With their jewels still adorned,<br>
+    None to do them injury.<br>
+  Then said this lady mild, Full woe is me;<br>
+  O let me still sustain this kind captivity!</p>
+
+<p>  Gallant captain, shew some pity<br>
+    To a ladye in distresse;<br>
+  Leave me not within this city,<br>
+    For to dye in heavinesse:<br>
+  Thou hast this present day my body free,<br>
+  But my heart in prison still remains with thee.</p>
+
+<p>  "How should'st thou, fair lady, love me,<br>
+    Whom thou knowest thy country's foe?<br>
+  Thy fair wordes make me suspect thee:<br>
+    Serpents lie where flowers grow."<br>
+  All the harme I wishe to thee, most courteous knight,<br>
+  God grant the same upon my head may fully light.<br></p>
+
+<p>  Blessed be the time and season,<br>
+    That you came on Spanish ground;<br>
+  If our foes you may be termed,<br>
+    Gentle foes we have you found:<br>
+  With our city, you have won our hearts eche one,<br>
+  Then to your country bear away, that is your owne.</p>
+
+<p>  "Rest you still, most gallant lady;<br>
+    Rest you still, and weep no more;<br>
+  Of fair lovers there is plenty,<br>
+    Spain doth yield a wonderous store."<br>
+  Spaniards fraught with jealousy we often find,<br>
+  But Englishmen through all the world are counted kind.</p>
+
+<p>  Leave me not unto a Spaniard,<br>
+    You alone enjoy my heart:<br>
+  I am lovely, young, and tender,<br>
+    Love is likewise my desert:<br>
+  Still to serve thee day and night my mind is prest;<br>
+  The wife of every Englishman is counted blest.<br></p>
+
+<p>  "It wold be a shame, fair lady,<br>
+    For to bear a woman hence;<br>
+  English soldiers never carry<br>
+    Any such without offence."<br>
+  I'll quickly change myself, if it be so,<br>
+  And like a page He follow thee, where'er thou go.</p>
+
+<p>  "I have neither gold nor silver<br>
+    To maintain thee in this case,<br>
+  And to travel is great charges,<br>
+    As you know in every place."<br>
+  My chains and jewels every one shal be thy own,<br>
+  And eke five hundred pounds in gold that lies unknown.</p>
+
+<p>  "On the seas are many dangers,<br>
+    Many storms do there arise,<br>
+  Which wil be to ladies dreadful,<br>
+    And force tears from watery eyes."<br>
+  Well in troth I shall endure extremity,<br>
+  For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee.</p>
+
+<p>  "Courteous ladye, leave this fancy,<br>
+    Here comes all that breeds the strife;<br>
+  I in England have already<br>
+    A sweet woman to my wife:<br>
+  I will not falsify my vow for gold nor gain,<br>
+  Nor yet for all the fairest dames that live in Spain."</p>
+
+<p>  O how happy is that woman<br>
+    That enjoys so true a friend!<br>
+  Many happy days God send her;<br>
+    Of my suit I make an end:<br>
+  On my knees I pardon crave for my offence,<br>
+  Which did from love and true affection first commence.</p>
+
+<p>  Commend me to thy lovely lady,<br>
+    Bear to her this chain of gold;<br>
+  And these bracelets for a token;<br>
+    Grieving that I was so bold:<br>
+  All my jewels in like sort take thou with thee,<br>
+  For they are fitting for thy wife, but not for me.</p>
+
+<p>  I will spend my days in prayer,<br>
+    Love and all her laws defye;<br>
+  In a nunnery will I shroud mee<br>
+    Far from any companye:<br>
+  But ere my prayers have an end, be sure of this,<br>
+  To pray for thee and for thy love I will not miss.</p>
+
+<p>  Thus farewell, most gallant captain!<br>
+    Farewell too my heart's content!<br>
+  Count not Spanish ladies wanton,<br>
+    Though to thee my love was bent:<br>
+  Joy and true prosperity goe still with thee!<br>
+   "The like fall ever to thy share, most fair ladie."</p>
+
+
+<br><br><br><br><br><br>
+<p><a name="chap10">THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY</a></p>
+<img alt="160.jpg (9K)" src="images/160.jpg" height="121" width="235">
+<br><br>
+
+<p>  It was a friar of orders gray<br>
+   Walkt forth to tell his beades;<br>
+  And he met with a lady faire,<br>
+    Clad in a pilgrime's weedes.</p>
+
+<p>  Now Christ thee save, thou reverend friar,<br>
+    I pray thee tell to me,<br>
+  If ever at yon holy shrine<br>
+    My true love thou didst see.</p>
+
+<p>  And how should I know your true love<br>
+    From many another one?<br>
+  O by his cockle hat, and staff,<br>
+    And by his sandal shoone.</p>
+
+<p>  But chiefly by his face and mien,<br>
+    That were so fair to view;<br>
+  His flaxen locks that sweetly curl'd,<br>
+    And eyne of lovely blue.</p>
+
+<p>  O lady, he is dead and gone!<br>
+    Lady, he's dead and gone!<br>
+  And at his head a green grass turfe,<br>
+    And at his heels a stone.</p>
+
+<p>  Within these holy cloysters long<br>
+    He languisht, and he dyed,<br>
+  Lamenting of a ladyes love,<br>
+    And 'playning of her pride.</p>
+
+<p>  Here bore him barefac'd on his bier<br>
+    Six proper youths and tall,<br>
+  And many a tear bedew'd his grave<br>
+    Within yon kirk-yard wall.</p>
+
+<p>  And art thou dead, thou gentle youth!<br>
+    And art thou dead and gone!<br>
+  And didst thou die for love of me!<br>
+    Break, cruel heart of stone!</p>
+
+<p>  O weep not, lady, weep not soe;<br>
+    Some ghostly comfort seek:<br>
+  Let not vain sorrow rive thy heart,<br>
+    Ne teares bedew thy cheek.</p>
+
+<p>  O do not, do not, holy friar,<br>
+    My sorrow now reprove;<br>
+  For I have lost the sweetest youth,<br>
+    That e'er wan ladyes love.</p>
+
+<p>  And nowe, alas! for thy sad losse,<br>
+    I'll evermore weep and sigh;<br>
+  For thee I only wisht to live,<br>
+    For thee I wish to dye.</p>
+
+<p>  Weep no more, lady, weep no more,<br>
+    Thy sorrowe is in vaine:<br>
+  For violets pluckt the sweetest showers<br>
+    Will ne'er make grow againe.</p>
+
+<p>  Our joys as winged dreams doe flye,<br>
+    Why then should sorrow last?<br>
+  Since grief but aggravates thy losse,<br>
+    Grieve not for what is past.</p>
+
+<p>  O say not soe, thou holy friar;<br>
+    I pray thee, say not soe:<br>
+  For since my true-love dyed for mee,<br>
+    'Tis meet my tears should flow.</p>
+
+<p>  And will he ne'er come again?<br>
+    Will he ne'er come again?<br>
+  Ah! no, he is dead and laid in his grave,<br>
+    For ever to remain.</p>
+
+<p>  His cheek was redder than the rose;<br>
+    The comliest youth was he!<br>
+  But he is dead and laid in his grave:<br>
+    Alas, and woe is me!</p>
+
+<p>  Sigh no more, lady, sigh no more,<br>
+    Men were deceivers ever:<br>
+  One foot on sea and one on land,<br>
+    To one thing constant never.</p>
+
+<p>  Hadst thou been fond, he had been false,<br>
+    And left thee sad and heavy;<br>
+  For young men ever were fickle found,<br>
+    Since summer trees were leafy.</p>
+
+<p>  Now say not so, thou holy friar,<br>
+    I pray thee say not soe;<br>
+  My love he had the truest heart:<br>
+    O he was ever true!</p>
+
+<p>  And art thou dead, thou much-lov'd youth,<br>
+    And didst thou dye for mee?<br>
+  Then farewell home; for ever-more<br>
+    A pilgrim I will bee.</p>
+
+<p>  But first upon my true-loves grave<br>
+    My weary limbs I'll lay,<br>
+  And thrice I'll kiss the green-grass turf,<br>
+    That wraps his breathless clay.</p>
+
+<p>  Yet stay, fair lady; rest awhile<br>
+    Beneath this cloyster wall:<br>
+  See through the hawthorn blows the cold wind,<br>
+    And drizzly rain doth fall.</p>
+
+<p>  O stay me not, thou holy friar;<br>
+    O stay me not, I pray;<br>
+  No drizzly rain that falls on me,<br>
+    Can wash my fault away.</p>
+
+<p>  Yet stay, fair lady, turn again,<br>
+    And dry those pearly tears;<br>
+  For see beneath this gown of gray<br>
+    Thy own true-love appears.</p>
+
+<p>  Here forc'd by grief, and hopeless love,<br>
+    These holy weeds I sought;<br>
+  And here amid these lonely walls<br>
+    To end my days I thought.</p>
+
+<p>  But haply for my year of grace<br>
+    Is not yet past away,<br>
+  Might I still hope to win thy love,<br>
+    No longer would I stay.</p>
+
+<p>  Now farewell grief, and welcome joy<br>
+    Once more unto my heart;<br>
+  For since I have found thee, lovely youth,<br>
+    We never more will part.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr>
+<br><br><br><br><br><br>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Book of Ballads, Volume 2, by Various
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #7532 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/7532)
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Book of Ballads, Volume 2, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Book of Ballads, Volume 2
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Beverly Nichols
+
+Posting Date: April 29, 2014 [EBook #7532]
+Release Date: February, 2005
+First Posted: May 15, 2003
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BOOK OF BALLADS, VOLUME 2 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger, Juliet Sutherland, Phil McLaury,
+Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading
+Team. Text version by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A BOOK OF OLD BALLADS
+
+Selected and with an Introduction
+
+by
+
+BEVERLEY NICHOLS
+
+
+[Illustration: Title page art]
+
+
+
+
+
+  CONTENTS
+
+  THE HEIR OF LINNE
+  KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID
+  SIR ANDREW BARTON
+  MAY COLLIN
+  THE BLIND BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL GREEN
+  THOMAS THE RHYMER
+  YOUNG BEICHAN
+  BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBEY
+  THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE
+  THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY
+
+
+
+  LIST OF COLOUR PLATES
+
+  KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID
+  MAY COLLIN
+  THOMAS THE RHYMER
+  YOUNG BEICHAN
+
+
+
+
+THE HEIR OF LINNE
+
+[Illustration: The Heir of Linne headpiece]
+
+  PART THE FIRST
+
+  Lithe and listen, gentlemen,
+    To sing a song I will beginne:
+  It is of a lord of faire Scotland,
+    Which was the unthrifty heire of Linne.
+
+  His father was a right good lord,
+    His mother a lady of high degree;
+  But they, alas! were dead, him froe,
+    And he lov'd keeping companie.
+
+  To spend the daye with merry cheare,
+    To drinke and revell every night,
+  To card and dice from eve to morne,
+    It was, I ween, his hearts delighte.
+
+  To ride, to runne, to rant, to roare,
+    To alwaye spend and never spare,
+  I wott, an' it were the king himselfe,
+    Of gold and fee he mote be bare.
+
+  Soe fares the unthrifty lord of Linne
+    Till all his gold is gone and spent;
+  And he maun sell his landes so broad,
+    His house, and landes, and all his rent.
+
+  His father had a keen stewarde,
+    And John o' the Scales was called hee:
+  But John is become a gentel-man,
+    And John has gott both gold and fee.
+
+  Sayes, Welcome, welcome, lord of Linne,
+    Let nought disturb thy merry cheere;
+  Iff thou wilt sell thy landes soe broad,
+    Good store of gold Ile give thee heere,
+
+  My gold is gone, my money is spent;
+    My lande nowe take it unto thee:
+  Give me the golde, good John o' the Scales,
+    And thine for aye my lande shall bee.
+
+  Then John he did him to record draw,
+    And John he cast him a gods-pennie;
+  But for every pounde that John agreed,
+    The lande, I wis, was well worth three.
+
+  He told him the gold upon the borde,
+    He was right glad his land to winne;
+  The gold is thine, the land is mine,
+    And now Ile be the lord of Linne.
+
+  Thus he hath sold his land soe broad,
+    Both hill and holt, and moore and fenne,
+  All but a poore and lonesome lodge,
+    That stood far off in a lonely glenne.
+
+  For soe he to his father hight.
+    My sonne, when I am gonne, sayd hee,
+  Then thou wilt spend thy land so broad,
+    And thou wilt spend thy gold so free:
+
+  But sweare me nowe upon the roode,
+    That lonesome lodge thou'lt never spend;
+  For when all the world doth frown on thee,
+    Thou there shalt find a faithful friend.
+
+  The heire of Linne is full of golde:
+    And come with me, my friends, sayd hee,
+  Let's drinke, and rant, and merry make,
+    And he that spares, ne'er mote he thee.
+
+  They ranted, drank, and merry made,
+    Till all his gold it waxed thinne;
+  And then his friendes they slunk away;
+    They left the unthrifty heire of Linne.
+
+  He had never a penny in his purse,
+    Never a penny left but three,
+  And one was brass, another was lead,
+    And another it was white money.
+
+  Nowe well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne,
+    Nowe well-aday, and woe is mee,
+  For when I was the lord of Linne,
+    I never wanted gold nor fee.
+
+  But many a trustye friend have I,
+    And why shold I feel dole or care?
+  Ile borrow of them all by turnes,
+    Soe need I not be never bare.
+
+  But one, I wis, was not at home;
+    Another had payd his gold away;
+  Another call'd him thriftless loone,
+    And bade him sharpely wend his way.
+
+  Now well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne,
+    Now well-aday, and woe is me;
+  For when I had my landes so broad,
+    On me they liv'd right merrilee.
+
+  To beg my bread from door to door
+    I wis, it were a brenning shame:
+  To rob and steale it were a sinne:
+    To worke my limbs I cannot frame.
+
+  Now Ile away to lonesome lodge,
+    For there my father bade me wend;
+  When all the world should frown on mee
+    I there shold find a trusty friend.
+
+
+  PART THE SECOND
+
+  Away then hyed the heire of Linne
+    Oer hill and holt, and moor and fenne,
+  Untill he came to lonesome lodge,
+    That stood so lowe in a lonely glenne.
+
+  He looked up, he looked downe,
+    In hope some comfort for to winne:
+  But bare and lothly were the walles.
+    Here's sorry cheare, quo' the heire of Linne.
+
+  The little windowe dim and darke
+    Was hung with ivy, brere, and yewe;
+  No shimmering sunn here ever shone;
+    No halesome breeze here ever blew.
+
+  No chair, ne table he mote spye,
+    No cheerful hearth, ne welcome bed,
+  Nought save a rope with renning noose,
+    That dangling hung up o'er his head.
+
+  And over it in broad letters,
+    These words were written so plain to see:
+  "Ah! gracelesse wretch, hast spent thine all,
+    And brought thyselfe to penurie?
+
+  "All this my boding mind misgave,
+    I therefore left this trusty friend:
+  Let it now sheeld thy foule disgrace,
+    And all thy shame and sorrows end."
+
+  Sorely shent wi' this rebuke,
+    Sorely shent was the heire of Linne,
+  His heart, I wis, was near to brast
+    With guilt and sorrowe, shame and sinne.
+
+  Never a word spake the heire of Linne,
+    Never a word he spake but three:
+  "This is a trusty friend indeed,
+    And is right welcome unto mee."
+
+  Then round his necke the corde he drewe,
+    And sprung aloft with his bodie:
+  When lo! the ceiling burst in twaine,
+    And to the ground came tumbling hee.
+
+  Astonyed lay the heire of Linne,
+    Ne knewe if he were live or dead:
+  At length he looked, and saw a bille,
+    And in it a key of gold so redd.
+
+  He took the bill, and lookt it on,
+    Strait good comfort found he there:
+  It told him of a hole in the wall,
+    In which there stood three chests in-fere.
+
+  Two were full of the beaten golde,
+   The third was full of white money;
+  And over them in broad letters
+   These words were written so plaine to see:
+
+  "Once more, my sonne, I sette thee clere;
+   Amend thy life and follies past;
+  For but thou amend thee of thy life,
+   That rope must be thy end at last."
+
+  And let it bee, sayd the heire of Linne;
+   And let it bee, but if I amend:
+  For here I will make mine avow,
+   This reade shall guide me to the end.
+
+  Away then went with a merry cheare,
+   Away then went the heire of Linne;
+  I wis, he neither ceas'd ne blanne,
+   Till John o' the Scales house he did winne.
+
+  And when he came to John o' the Scales,
+   Upp at the speere then looked hee;
+  There sate three lords upon a rowe,
+   Were drinking of the wine so free.
+
+  And John himself sate at the bord-head,
+   Because now lord of Linne was hee.
+  I pray thee, he said, good John o' the Scales,
+   One forty pence for to lend mee.
+
+  Away, away, thou thriftless loone;
+    Away, away, this may not bee:
+  For Christs curse on my head, he sayd,
+    If ever I trust thee one pennèe.
+
+  Then bespake the heire of Linne,
+    To John o' the Scales wife then spake he:
+  Madame, some almes on me bestowe,
+    I pray for sweet Saint Charitèe.
+
+  Away, away, thou thriftless loone,
+    I swear thou gettest no almes of mee;
+  For if we shold hang any losel heere,
+    The first we wold begin with thee.
+
+  Then bespake a good fellòwe,
+    Which sat at John o' the Scales his bord
+  Sayd, Turn againe, thou heire of Linne;
+    Some time thou wast a well good lord;
+
+  Some time a good fellow thou hast been,
+    And sparedst not thy gold nor fee;
+  Therefore He lend thee forty pence,
+    And other forty if need bee.
+
+  And ever, I pray thee, John o' the Scales,
+    To let him sit in thy companie:
+  For well I wot thou hadst his land,
+    And a good bargain it was to thee.
+
+  Up then spake him John o' the Scales,
+    All wood he answer'd him againe:
+  Now Christs curse on my head, he sayd,
+    But I did lose by that bargàine.
+
+  And here I proffer thee, heire of Linne,
+    Before these lords so faire and free,
+  Thou shalt have it backe again better cheape,
+    By a hundred markes, than I had it of thee.
+
+  I draw you to record, lords, he said.
+    With that he cast him a gods pennie:
+  Now by my fay, sayd the heire of Linne,
+    And here, good John, is thy monèy.
+
+  And he pull'd forth three bagges of gold,
+    And layd them down upon the bord:
+  All woe begone was John o' the Scales,
+    Soe shent he cold say never a word.
+
+  He told him forth the good red gold,
+    He told it forth with mickle dinne.
+  The gold is thine, the land is mine,
+    And now Ime againe the lord of Linne.
+
+  Sayes, Have thou here, thou good fellòwe,
+    Forty pence thou didst lend me:
+  Now I am againe the lord of Linne,
+    And forty pounds I will give thee.
+
+  He make the keeper of my forrest,
+    Both of the wild deere and the tame;
+  For but I reward thy bounteous heart,
+    I wis, good fellowe, I were to blame.
+
+  Now welladay! sayth Joan o' the Scales:
+    Now welladay! and woe is my life!
+  Yesterday I was lady of Linne,
+    Now Ime but John o' the Scales his wife.
+
+  Now fare thee well, sayd the heire of Linne;
+    Farewell now, John o' the Scales, said hee:
+  Christs curse light on me, if ever again
+    I bring my lands in jeopardy.
+
+[Illustration: The Heir of Linne tailpiece]
+
+
+
+
+KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID
+
+[Illustration: The King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid headpiece]
+
+
+[Illustration: The King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid]
+
+  I Read that once in Affrica
+    A princely wight did raine,
+  Who had to name Cophetua,
+    As poets they did faine:
+  From natures lawes he did decline,
+  For sure he was not of my mind.
+  He cared not for women-kinde,
+    But did them all disdaine.
+  But, marke, what hapened on a day,
+  As he out of his window lay,
+  He saw a beggar all in gray,
+    The which did cause his paine.
+
+  The blinded boy, that shootes so trim,
+    From heaven downe did hie;
+  He drew a dart and shot at him,
+    In place where he did lye:
+  Which soone did pierse him to the quicke.
+  And when he felt the arrow pricke,
+  Which in his tender heart did sticke,
+    He looketh as he would dye.
+  What sudden chance is this, quoth he,
+  That I to love must subject be,
+  Which never thereto would agree,
+    But still did it defie?
+
+  Then from the window he did come,
+    And laid him on his bed,
+  A thousand heapes of care did runne
+    Within his troubled head:
+  For now he meanes to crave her love,
+  And now he seekes which way to proove
+  How he his fancie might remoove,
+    And not this beggar wed.
+  But Cupid had him so in snare,
+  That this poor begger must prepare
+  A salve to cure him of his care,
+    Or els he would be dead.
+
+  And, as he musing thus did lye,
+    He thought for to devise
+  How he might have her companye,
+    That so did 'maze his eyes.
+  In thee, quoth he, doth rest my life;
+  For surely thou shalt be my wife,
+  Or else this hand with bloody knife
+    The Gods shall sure suffice.
+  Then from his bed he soon arose,
+  And to his pallace gate he goes;
+  Full little then this begger knowes
+    When she the king espies.
+
+  The Gods preserve your majesty,
+    The beggers all gan cry:
+  Vouchsafe to give your charity
+    Our childrens food to buy.
+  The king to them his pursse did cast,
+    And they to part it made great haste;
+  This silly woman was the last
+    That after them did hye.
+  The king he cal'd her back againe,
+  And unto her he gave his chaine;
+  And said, With us you shal remaine
+    Till such time as we dye:
+
+  For thou, quoth he, shalt be my wife,
+    And honoured for my queene;
+  With thee I meane to lead my life,
+    As shortly shall be seene:
+  Our wedding shall appointed be,
+  And every thing in its degree:
+  Come on, quoth he, and follow me,
+    Thou shalt go shift thee cleane.
+  What is thy name, faire maid? quoth he.
+  Penelophon, O king, quoth she;
+  With that she made a lowe courtsey;
+    A trim one as I weene.
+
+  Thus hand in hand along they walke
+    Unto the king's pallace:
+  The king with curteous comly talke
+    This beggar doth imbrace:
+  The begger blusheth scarlet red,
+  And straight againe as pale as lead,
+  But not a word at all she said,
+    She was in such amaze.
+  At last she spake with trembling voyce,
+  And said, O king, I doe rejoyce
+  That you wil take me from your choyce,
+    And my degree's so base.
+
+  And when the wedding day was come,
+    The king commanded strait
+  The noblemen both all and some
+    Upon the queene to wait.
+  And she behaved herself that day,
+  As if she had never walkt the way;
+  She had forgot her gown of gray,
+    Which she did weare of late.
+  The proverbe old is come to passe,
+  The priest, when he begins his masse,
+  Forgets that ever clerke he was;
+    He knowth not his estate.
+
+  Here you may read, Cophetua,
+    Though long time fancie-fed,
+  Compelled by the blinded boy
+    The begger for to wed:
+  He that did lovers lookes disdaine,
+  To do the same was glad and faine,
+  Or else he would himselfe have slaine,
+  In storie, as we read.
+    Disdaine no whit, O lady deere,
+    But pitty now thy servant heere,
+    Least that it hap to thee this yeare,
+      As to that king it did.
+
+  And thus they led a quiet life
+    Duringe their princely raigne;
+  And in a tombe were buried both,
+    As writers sheweth plaine.
+  The lords they tooke it grievously,
+  The ladies tooke it heavily,
+  The commons cryed pitiously,
+    Their death to them was paine,
+    Their fame did sound so passingly,
+    That it did pierce the starry sky,
+    And throughout all the world did flye
+      To every princes realme.
+
+
+[Illustration: The King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid tailpiece]
+
+
+
+SIR ANDREW BARTON
+
+
+[Illustration: Sir Andrew Barton headpiece]
+
+
+
+  'When Flora with her fragrant flowers
+    Bedeckt the earth so trim and gaye,
+  And Neptune with his daintye showers
+    Came to present the monthe of Maye;'
+  King Henrye rode to take the ayre,
+    Over the river of Thames past hee;
+  When eighty merchants of London came,
+    And downe they knelt upon their knee.
+
+  "O yee are welcome, rich merchants;
+    Good saylors, welcome unto mee."
+  They swore by the rood, they were saylors good,
+    But rich merchànts they cold not bee:
+  "To France nor Flanders dare we pass:
+    Nor Bourdeaux voyage dare we fare;
+  And all for a rover that lyes on the seas,
+    Who robbs us of our merchant ware."
+
+  King Henrye frowned, and turned him rounde,
+    And swore by the Lord, that was mickle of might,
+  "I thought he had not beene in the world,
+    Durst have wrought England such unright."
+  The merchants sighed, and said, alas!
+    And thus they did their answer frame,
+  He is a proud Scott, that robbs on the seas,
+    And Sir Andrewe Barton is his name.
+
+  The king lookt over his left shoulder,
+    And an angrye look then looked hee:
+  "Have I never a lorde in all my realme,
+    Will feitch yond tray tor unto me?"
+  Yea, that dare I; Lord Howard sayes;
+    Yea, that dare I with heart and hand;
+  If it please your grace to give me leave,
+    Myselfe wil be the only man.
+
+  Thou art but yong; the kyng replyed:
+    Yond Scott hath numbered manye a yeare.
+  "Trust me, my liege, lie make him quail,
+    Or before my prince I will never appeare."
+  Then bowemen and gunners thou shalt have,
+    And chuse them over my realme so free;
+  Besides good mariners, and shipp-boyes,
+    To guide the great shipp on the sea.
+
+  The first man, that Lord Howard chose,
+    Was the ablest gunner in all the realm,
+  Thoughe he was three score yeeres and ten;
+    Good Peter Simon was his name.
+  Peter, sais hee, I must to the sea,
+    To bring home a traytor live or dead:
+  Before all others I have chosen thee;
+    Of a hundred gunners to be the head.
+
+  If you, my lord, have chosen mee
+    Of a hundred gunners to be the head,
+  Then hang me up on your maine-mast tree,
+    If I misse my marke one shilling bread.
+  My lord then chose a boweman rare,
+    "Whose active hands had gained fame."
+  In Yorkshire was this gentleman borne,
+    And William Horseley was his name.
+
+  Horseley, said he, I must with speede
+    Go seeke a traytor on the sea,
+  And now of a hundred bowemen brave
+    To be the head I have chosen thee.
+  If you, quoth hee, have chosen mee
+    Of a hundred bowemen to be the head
+  On your main-mast He hanged bee,
+    If I miss twelvescore one penny bread.
+
+  With pikes and gunnes, and bowemen bold,
+    This noble Howard is gone to the sea;
+  With a valyant heart and a pleasant cheare,
+    Out at Thames mouth sayled he.
+  And days he scant had sayled three,
+    Upon the 'voyage,' he tooke in hand,
+  But there he mett with a noble shipp,
+    And stoutely made itt stay and stand.
+
+  Thou must tell me, Lord Howard said,
+    Now who thou art, and what's thy name;
+  And shewe me where they dwelling is:
+    And whither bound, and whence thou came.
+  My name is Henry Hunt, quoth hee
+    With a heavye heart, and a carefull mind;
+  I and my shipp doe both belong
+    To the Newcastle, that stands upon Tyne.
+
+  Hast thou not heard, nowe, Henrye Hunt,
+    As thou hast sayled by daye and by night,
+  Of a Scottish rover on the seas;
+    Men call him Sir Andrew Barton, knight!
+  Then ever he sighed, and said alas!
+    With a grieved mind, and well away!
+  But over-well I knowe that wight,
+    I was his prisoner yesterday.
+
+  As I was sayling uppon the sea,
+    A Burdeaux voyage for to fare;
+  To his hach-borde he clasped me,
+    And robd me of all my merchant ware:
+  And mickle debts, God wot, I owe,
+    And every man will have his owne;
+  And I am nowe to London bounde,
+    Of our gracious king to beg a boone.
+
+  That shall not need, Lord Howard sais;
+    Lett me but once that robber see,
+  For every penny tane thee froe
+    It shall be doubled shillings three.
+  Nowe God forefend, the merchant said,
+    That you should seek soe far amisse!
+  God keepe you out of that traitors hands!
+    Full litle ye wott what a man hee is.
+
+  Hee is brasse within, and steele without,
+    With beames on his topcastle stronge;
+  And eighteen pieces of ordinance
+    He carries on each side along:
+  And he hath a pinnace deerlye dight,
+    St. Andrewes crosse that is his guide;
+  His pinnace beareth ninescore men,
+    And fifteen canons on each side.
+
+  Were ye twentye shippes, and he but one;
+    I sweare by kirke, and bower, and hall;
+  He wold overcome them everye one,
+    If once his beames they doe downe fall.
+  This is cold comfort, sais my lord,
+    To wellcome a stranger thus to the sea:
+  Yet He bring him and his ship to shore,
+    Or to Scottland hee shall carrye mee.
+
+  Then a noble gunner you must have,
+    And he must aim well with his ee,
+  And sinke his pinnace into the sea,
+    Or else hee never orecome will bee:
+  And if you chance his shipp to borde,
+    This counsel I must give withall,
+  Let no man to his topcastle goe
+    To strive to let his beams downe fall.
+
+  And seven pieces of ordinance,
+    I pray your honour lend to mee,
+  On each side of my shipp along,
+    And I will lead you on the sea.
+  A glasse He sett, that may be seene
+    Whether you sail by day or night;
+  And to-morrowe, I sweare, by nine of the clocke
+    You shall meet with Sir Andrewe Barton knight.
+
+
+
+  THE SECOND PART
+
+  The merchant sett my lorde a glasse
+    Soe well apparent in his sight,
+  And on the morrowe, by nine of the clocke,
+    He shewed him Sir Andrewe Barton knight.
+  His hachebord it was 'gilt' with gold,
+    Soe deerlye dight it dazzled the ee:
+  Nowe by my faith, Lord Howarde sais,
+    This is a gallant sight to see.
+
+  Take in your ancyents, standards eke,
+    So close that no man may them see;
+  And put me forth a white willowe wand,
+    As merchants use to sayle the sea.
+  But they stirred neither top, nor mast;
+    Stoutly they past Sir Andrew by.
+  What English churles are yonder, he sayd,
+    That can soe little curtesye?
+
+  Now by the roode, three yeares and more
+    I have beene admirall over the sea;
+  And never an English nor Portingall
+    Without my leave can passe this way.
+  Then called he forth his stout pinnace;
+    "Fetch backe yond pedlars nowe to mee:
+  I sweare by the masse, yon English churles
+    Shall all hang att my maine-mast tree."
+
+  With that the pinnace itt shot off,
+    Full well Lord Howard might it ken;
+  For itt stroke down my lord's fore mast,
+    And killed fourteen of his men.
+  Come hither, Simon, sayes my lord,
+    Looke that thy word be true, thou said;
+  For at my maine-mast thou shalt hang,
+    If thou misse thy marke one shilling bread.
+
+  Simon was old, but his heart itt was bold;
+    His ordinance he laid right lowe;
+  He put in chaine full nine yardes long,
+    With other great shott lesse, and moe;
+  And he lette goe his great gunnes shott:
+    Soe well he settled itt with his ee,
+  The first sight that Sir Andrew sawe,
+    He see his pinnace sunke in the sea.
+
+  And when he saw his pinnace sunke,
+    Lord, how his heart with rage did swell!
+  "Nowe cutt my ropes, itt is time to be gon;
+    Ile fetch yond pedlars backe mysell."
+  When my lord sawe Sir Andrewe loose,
+    Within his heart he was full faine:
+  "Now spread your ancyents, strike up your drummes,
+    Sound all your trumpetts out amaine."
+
+  Fight on, my men, Sir Andrewe sais,
+    Weale howsoever this geere will sway;
+  Itt is my Lord Admirall of England,
+    Is come to seeke mee on the sea.
+  Simon had a sonne, who shott right well,
+    That did Sir Andrewe mickle scare;
+  In att his decke he gave a shott,
+    Killed threescore of his men of warre.
+
+  Then Henrye Hunt with rigour hott
+    Came bravely on the other side,
+  Soone he drove downe his fore-mast tree,
+    And killed fourscore men beside.
+  Nowe, out alas! Sir Andrewe cryed,
+    What may a man now thinke, or say?
+  Yonder merchant theefe, that pierceth mee,
+    He was my prisoner yesterday.
+
+  Come hither to me, thou Gordon good,
+    That aye wast readye att my call:
+  I will give thee three hundred markes,
+    If thou wilt let my beames downe fall.
+  Lord Howard hee then calld in haste,
+    "Horseley see thou be true in stead;
+  For thou shalt at the maine-mast hang,
+    If thou misse twelvescore one penny bread."
+
+  Then Gordon swarved the maine-mast tree,
+    He swarved it with might and maine;
+  But Horseley with a bearing arrowe,
+    Stroke the Gordon through the braine;
+  And he fell unto the haches again,
+    And sore his deadlye wounde did bleed:
+  Then word went through Sir Andrews men,
+    How that the Gordon hee was dead.
+
+  Come hither to mee, James Hambilton,
+    Thou art my only sisters sonne,
+  If thou wilt let my beames downe fall
+    Six hundred nobles thou hast wonne.
+  With that he swarved the maine-mast tree,
+    He swarved it with nimble art;
+  But Horseley with a broad arròwe
+    Pierced the Hambilton thorough the heart:
+
+  And downe he fell upon the deck,
+    That with his blood did streame amaine:
+  Then every Scott cryed, Well-away!
+    Alas! a comelye youth is slaine.
+  All woe begone was Sir Andrew then,
+    With griefe and rage his heart did swell:
+  "Go fetch me forth my armour of proofe,
+    For I will to the topcastle mysell."
+
+  "Goe fetch me forth my armour of proofe;
+    That gilded is with gold soe cleare:
+  God be with my brother John of Barton!
+    Against the Portingalls hee it ware;
+  And when he had on this armour of proofe,
+    He was a gallant sight to see:
+  Ah! nere didst thou meet with living wight,
+    My deere brother, could cope with thee."
+
+  Come hither Horseley, sayes my lord,
+    And looke your shaft that itt goe right,
+  Shoot a good shoote in time of need,
+    And for it thou shalt be made a knight.
+  Ile shoot my best, quoth Horseley then,
+    Your honour shall see, with might and maine;
+  But if I were hanged at your maine-mast,
+    I have now left but arrowes twaine.
+
+  Sir Andrew he did swarve the tree,
+   With right good will he swarved then:
+  Upon his breast did Horseley hitt,
+    But the arrow bounded back agen.
+  Then Horseley spyed a privye place
+    With a perfect eye in a secrette part;
+  Under the spole of his right arme
+    He smote Sir Andrew to the heart.
+
+  "Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes,
+    "A little Ime hurt, but yett not slaine;
+  He but lye downe and bleede a while,
+    And then He rise and fight againe.
+  Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes,
+    "And never flinch before the foe;
+  And stand fast by St. Andrewes crosse
+    Until you heare my whistle blowe."
+
+  They never heard his whistle blow--
+    Which made their hearts waxe sore adread:
+  Then Horseley sayd, Aboard, my lord,
+    For well I wott Sir Andrew's dead.
+  They boarded then his noble shipp,
+    They boarded it with might and maine;
+  Eighteen score Scots alive they found,
+    The rest were either maimed or slaine.
+
+  Lord Howard tooke a sword in hand,
+    And off he smote Sir Andrewes head,
+  "I must have left England many a daye,
+    If thou wert alive as thou art dead."
+  He caused his body to be cast
+    Over the hatchboard into the sea,
+  And about his middle three hundred crownes:
+    "Wherever thou land this will bury thee."
+
+  Thus from the warres Lord Howard came,
+    And backe he sayled ore the maine,
+  With mickle joy and triumphing
+    Into Thames mouth he came againe.
+  Lord Howard then a letter wrote,
+    And sealed it with scale and ring;
+  "Such a noble prize have I brought to your grace,
+    As never did subject to a king:
+
+  "Sir Andrewes shipp I bring with mee;
+    A braver shipp was never none:
+  Nowe hath your grace two shipps of warr,
+    Before in England was but one."
+  King Henryes grace with royall cheere
+    Welcomed the noble Howard home,
+  And where, said he, is this rover stout,
+   That I myselfe may give the doome?
+
+  "The rover, he is safe, my liege,
+    Full many a fadom in the sea;
+  If he were alive as he is dead,
+    I must have left England many a day:
+  And your grace may thank four men i' the ship
+    For the victory wee have wonne,
+  These are William Horseley, Henry Hunt,
+    And Peter Simon, and his sonne."
+
+  To Henry Hunt, the king then sayd,
+    In lieu of what was from thee tane,
+  A noble a day now thou shalt have,
+    Sir Andrewes jewels and his chayne.
+  And Horseley thou shalt be a knight,
+    And lands and livings shalt have store;
+  Howard shall be erle Surrye hight,
+    As Howards erst have beene before.
+
+  Nowe, Peter Simon, thou art old,
+    I will maintaine thee and thy sonne:
+  And the men shall have five hundred markes
+    For the good service they have done.
+  Then in came the queene with ladyes fair
+    To see Sir Andrewe Barton knight:
+  They weend that hee were brought on shore,
+    And thought to have seen a gallant sight.
+
+  But when they see his deadlye face,
+    And eyes soe hollow in his head,
+  I wold give, quoth the king, a thousand markes,
+    This man were alive as hee is dead:
+  Yett for the manfull part hee playd,
+    Which fought soe well with heart and hand,
+  His men shall have twelvepence a day,
+    Till they come to my brother kings high land.
+
+
+
+
+MAY COLLIN
+
+[Illustration: May Collin headpiece]
+
+[Illustration: May Collin]
+
+  May Collin ...
+    ... was her father's heir,
+  And she fell in love with a false priest,
+    And she rued it ever mair.
+
+  He followd her butt, he followd her benn,
+    He followd her through the hall,
+  Till she had neither tongue nor teeth
+    Nor lips to say him naw.
+
+  "We'll take the steed out where he is,
+    The gold where eer it be,
+  And we'll away to some unco land,
+    And married we shall be."
+
+  They had not riden a mile, a mile,
+    A mile but barely three,
+  Till they came to a rank river,
+    Was raging like the sea.
+
+  "Light off, light off now, May Collin,
+    It's here that you must die;
+  Here I have drownd seven king's daughters,
+    The eight now you must be.
+
+  "Cast off, cast off now, May Collin,
+    Your gown that's of the green;
+  For it's oer good and oer costly
+    To rot in the sea-stream.
+
+  "Cast off, cast off now, May Collin,
+    Your coat that's of the black;
+  For it's oer good and oer costly
+    To rot in the sea-wreck.
+
+  "Cast off, cast off now, May Collin,
+    Your stays that are well laced;
+  For thei'r oer good and costly
+    In the sea's ground to waste.
+
+  "Cast [off, cast off now, May Collin,]
+    Your sark that's of the holland;
+  For [it's oer good and oer costly]
+    To rot in the sea-bottom."
+
+  "Turn you about now, falsh Mess John,
+    To the green leaf of the tree;
+  It does not fit a mansworn man
+    A naked woman to see."
+
+  He turnd him quickly round about,
+    To the green leaf of the tree;
+  She took him hastly in her arms
+    And flung him in the sea.
+
+  "Now lye you there, you falsh Mess John,
+    My mallasin go with thee!
+  You thought to drown me naked and bare,
+    But take your cloaths with thee,
+  And if there be seven king's daughters there
+    Bear you them company"
+
+  She lap on her milk steed
+    And fast she bent the way,
+  And she was at her father's yate
+    Three long hours or day.
+
+  Up and speaks the wylie parrot,
+    So wylily and slee:
+  "Where is the man now, May Collin,
+    That gaed away wie thee?"
+
+  "Hold your tongue, my wylie parrot,
+    And tell no tales of me,
+  And where I gave a pickle befor
+    It's now I'll give you three."
+
+[Illustration: May Collin tailpiece]
+
+
+
+
+THE BLIND BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL GREEN
+
+[Illustration: The Blind Beggar's Daughter of Bednall Green headpiece]
+
+
+  PART THE FIRST
+
+  Itt was a blind beggar, had long lost his sight,
+  He had a faire daughter of bewty most bright;
+  And many a gallant brave suiter had shee,
+  For none was soe comelye as pretty Bessee.
+
+  And though shee was of favour most faire,
+  Yett seeing shee was but a poor beggars heyre,
+  Of ancyent housekeepers despised was shee,
+  Whose sonnes came as suitors to prettye Bessee.
+
+  Wherefore in great sorrow faire Bessy did say,
+  Good father, and mother, let me goe away
+  To seeke out my fortune, whatever itt bee.
+  This suite then they granted to prettye Bessee.
+
+  Then Bessy, that was of bewtye soe bright,
+  All cladd in gray russett, and late in the night
+  From father and mother alone parted shee;
+  Who sighed and sobbed for prettye Bessee.
+
+  Shee went till shee came to Stratford-le-Bow;
+  Then knew shee not whither, nor which way to goe:
+  With teares shee lamented her hard destinie,
+  So sadd and soe heavy was pretty Bessee.
+
+  Shee kept on her journey untill it was day,
+  And went unto Rumford along the hye way;
+  Where at the Queenes armes entertained was shee;
+  Soe faire and wel favoured was pretty Bessee.
+
+  Shee had not beene there a month to an end,
+  But master and mistress and all was her friend:
+  And every brave gallant, that once did her see,
+  Was straight-way enamoured of pretty Bessee.
+
+  Great gifts they did send her of silver and gold,
+  And in their songs daylye her love was extold;
+  Her beawtye was blazed in every degree;
+  Soe faire and soe comelye was pretty Bessee.
+
+  The young men of Rumford in her had their joy;
+  Shee shewed herself curteous, and modestlye coye;
+  And at her commandment still wold they bee;
+  Soe fayre and soe comlye was pretty Bessee.
+
+  Foure suitors att once unto her did goe;
+  They craved her favor, but still she sayd noe;
+  I wold not wish gentles to marry with mee.
+  Yett ever they honored prettye Bessee.
+
+  The first of them was a gallant young knight,
+  And he came unto her disguisde in the night;
+  The second a gentleman of good degree,
+  Who wooed and sued for prettye Bessee.
+
+  A merchant of London, whose wealth was not small,
+  He was the third suiter, and proper withall:
+  Her masters own sonne the fourth man must bee,
+  Who swore he would dye for pretty Bessee.
+
+  And, if thou wilt marry with mee, quoth the knight,
+  Ile make thee a ladye with joy and delight;
+  My hart's so inthralled by thy bewtle,
+  That soone I shall dye for prettye Bessee.
+
+  The gentleman sayd, Come, marry with mee,
+  As fine as a ladye my Bessy shal bee:
+  My life is distressed: O heare me, quoth hee;
+  And grant me thy love, my prettye Bessee.
+
+  Let me bee thy husband, the merchant cold say,
+  Thou shalt live in London both gallant and gay;
+  My shippes shall bring home rych jewells for thee,
+  And I will for ever love pretty Bessee.
+
+  Then Bessy shee sighed, and thus she did say,
+  My father and mother I meane to obey;
+  First gett their good will, and be faithfull to mee,
+  And you shall enjoye your prettye Bessee.
+
+  To every one this answer shee made,
+  Wherfore unto her they joyfullye sayd,
+  This thing to fulfill wee all doe agree;
+  But where dwells thy father, my prettye Bessee?
+
+  My father, shee said, is soone to be seene:
+  The seely blind beggar of Bednall-greene,
+  That daylye sits begging for charitie,
+  He is the good father of pretty Bessee.
+
+  His markes and his tokens are knowen very well;
+  He alwayes is led with a dogg and a bell:
+  A seely olde man, God knoweth, is hee,
+  Yett hee is the father of pretty Bessee.
+
+  Nay then, quoth the merchant, thou art not for mee:
+  Nor, quoth the innholder, my wiffe thou shalt bee:
+  I lothe, sayd the gentle, a beggars degree,
+  And therefore, adewe, my pretty Bessee!
+
+  Why then, quoth the knight, hap better or worse,
+  I waighe not true love by the waight of my pursse,
+  And bewtye is bewtye in every degree;
+  Then welcome unto me, my prettye Bessee.
+
+  With thee to thy father forthwith I will goe.
+  Nay soft, quoth his kinsmen, it must not be soe;
+  A poor beggars daughter noe ladye shal bee,
+  Then take thy adew of pretty Bessee.
+
+  But soone after this, by breake of the day,
+  The knight had from Rumford stole Bessy away.
+  The younge men of Rumford, as thicke might bee,
+  Rode after to feitch againe pretty Bessee.
+
+  As swifte as the winde to ryde they were scene,
+  Untill they came neare unto Bednall-greene;
+  And as the knight lighted most courteouslèe,
+  They all fought against him for pretty Bessee.
+
+  But rescew came speedilye over the plaine,
+  Or else the young knight for his love had been slaine.
+  This fray being ended, then straitway he see
+  His kinsmen come rayling at pretty Bessee.
+
+  Then spake the blind beggar, Although I bee poore,
+  Yett rayle not against my child at my own doore:
+  Though shee be not decked in velvett and pearle,
+  Yett will I dropp angells with you for my girle.
+
+  And then, if my gold may better her birthe,
+  And equall the gold that you lay on the earth,
+  Then neyther rayle nor grudge you to see
+  The blind beggars daughter a lady to bee.
+
+  But first you shall promise, and have it well knowne,
+  The gold that you drop shall all be your owne.
+  With that they replyed, Contented bee wee.
+  Then here's, quoth the beggar, for pretty Bessee.
+
+  With that an angell he cast on the ground,
+  And dropped in angels full three thousand pound;
+  And oftentime itt was proved most plaine,
+  For the gentlemens one the beggar droppt twayne:
+
+  Soe that the place, wherin they did sitt,
+  With gold it was covered every whitt.
+  The gentlemen then having dropt all their store,
+  Sayd, Now, beggar, hold, for wee have noe more.
+
+  Thou hast fulfilled thy promise arright.
+  Then marry, quoth he, my girle to this knight;
+  And heere, added hee, I will now throwe you downe
+  A hundred pounds more to buy her a gowne.
+
+  The gentlemen all, that this treasure had seene,
+  Admired the beggar of Bednall-greene:
+  And all those, that were her suitors before,
+  Their fleshe for very anger they tore.
+
+  Thus was faire Besse matched to the knight,
+  And then made a ladye in others despite:
+  A fairer ladye there never was seene,
+  Than the blind beggars daughter of Bednall-greene.
+
+  But of their sumptuous marriage and feast,
+  What brave lords and knights thither were prest,
+  The SECOND FITT shall set forth to your sight
+  With marveilous pleasure, and wished delight.
+
+
+  PART THE SECOND
+
+  Off a blind beggars daughter most bright,
+  That late was betrothed unto a younge knight;
+  All the discourse therof you did see;
+  But now comes the wedding of pretty Bessee.
+
+  Within a gorgeous palace most brave,
+  Adorned with all the cost they cold have,
+  This wedding was kept most sumptuouslèe,
+  And all for the credit of pretty Bessee.
+
+  All kind of dainties, and delicates sweete
+  Were bought for the banquet, as it was most meete;
+  Partridge, and plover, and venison most free,
+  Against the brave wedding of pretty Bessee.
+
+  This marriage through England was spread by report,
+  Soe that a great number therto did resort
+  Of nobles and gentles in every degree;
+  And all for the fame of prettye Bessee.
+
+  To church then went this gallant younge knight;
+  His bride followed after, an angell most bright,
+  With troopes of ladyes, the like nere was scene
+  As went with sweete Bessy of Bednall-greene.
+
+  This marryage being solempnized then,
+  With musicke performed by the skilfullest men,
+  The nobles and gentles sate downe at that tyde,
+  Each one admiring the beautiful bryde.
+
+  Now, after the sumptuous dinner was done,
+  To talke, and to reason a number begunn:
+  They talkt of the blind beggars daughter most bright,
+  And what with his daughter he gave to the knight.
+
+  Then spake the nobles, "Much marveil have wee,
+  This jolly blind beggar wee cannot here see."
+  My lords, quoth the bride, my father's so base,
+  He is loth with his presence these states to disgrace.
+
+  "The prayse of a woman in question to bringe
+  Before her own face, were a flattering thinge;
+  But wee thinke thy father's baseness," quoth they,
+  "Might by thy bewtye be cleane put awaye."
+
+  They had noe sooner these pleasant words spoke,
+  But in comes the beggar cladd in a silke cloke;
+  A faire velvet capp, and a fether had hee,
+  And now a musicyan forsooth he wold bee.
+
+  He had a daintye lute under his arme,
+  He touched the strings, which made such a charme,
+  Saies, Please you to heare any musicke of mee,
+  Ile sing you a song of pretty Bessee.
+
+  With that his lute he twanged straightway,
+  And thereon begann most sweetlye to play;
+  And after that lessons were playd two or three,
+  He strayn'd out this song most delicatelèe.
+
+  "A poore beggars daughter did dwell on a greene,
+  Who for her fairenesse might well be a queene:
+  A blithe bonny lasse, and a daintye was shee,
+  And many one called her pretty Bessee.
+
+  "Her father hee had noe goods, nor noe land,
+  But begged for a penny all day with his hand;
+  And yett to her marriage he gave thousands three,
+  And still he hath somewhat for pretty Bessee.
+
+  "And if any one here her birth doe disdaine,
+  Her father is ready, with might and with maine,
+  To proove shee is come of noble degree:
+  Therfore never flout att prettye Bessee."
+
+  With that the lords and the companye round
+  With harty laughter were readye to swound;
+  Att last said the lords, Full well wee may see,
+  The bride and the beggar's behoulden to thee.
+
+  On this the bride all blushing did rise,
+  The pearlie dropps standing within her faire eyes,
+  O pardon my father, grave nobles, quoth shee,
+  That throughe blind affection thus doteth on mee.
+
+  If this be thy father, the nobles did say,
+  Well may he be proud of this happy day;
+  Yett by his countenance well may wee see,
+  His birth and his fortune did never agree:
+
+  And therefore, blind man, we pray thee bewray,
+  (and looke that the truth thou to us doe say)
+  Thy birth and thy parentage, whatt itt may bee;
+  For the love that thou bearest to pretty Bessee.
+
+  "Then give me leave, nobles and gentles, each one,
+  One song more to sing, and then I have done;
+  And if that itt may not winn good report,
+  Then doe not give me a GROAT for my sport.
+
+  "Sir Simon de Montfort my subject shal bee;
+  Once chiefe of all the great barons was hee,
+  Yet fortune so cruelle this lorde did abase,
+  Now loste and forgotten are hee and his race.
+
+  "When the barons in armes did King Henrye oppose,
+  Sir Simon de Montfort their leader they chose;
+  A leader of courage undaunted was hee,
+  And oft-times he made their enemyes flee.
+
+  "At length in the battle on Eveshame plaine
+  The barons were routed, and Montford was slaine;
+  Moste fatall that battel did prove unto thee,
+  Thoughe thou wast not borne then, my prettye Bessee!
+
+  "Along with the nobles, that fell at that tyde,
+  His eldest son Henrye, who fought by his side,
+  Was fellde by a blowe, he receivde in the fight!
+  A blowe that deprivde him for ever of sight.
+
+  "Among the dead bodyes all lifeless he laye,
+  Till evening drewe on of the following daye,
+  When by a yong ladye discovered was hee;
+  And this was thy mother, my prettye Bessee!
+
+  "A barons faire daughter stept forth in the nighte
+  To search for her father, who fell in the fight,
+  And seeing young Montfort, where gasping he laye,
+  Was moved with pitye, and brought him awaye.
+
+  "In secrette she nurst him, and swaged his paine,
+  While he throughe the realme was beleeved to be slaine
+  At lengthe his faire bride she consented to bee,
+  And made him glad father of prettye Bessee.
+
+  "And nowe lest oure foes our lives sholde betraye,
+  We clothed ourselves in beggars arraye;
+  Her jewelles shee solde, and hither came wee:
+  All our comfort and care was our prettye Bessee.
+
+  "And here have we lived in fortunes despite,
+  Thoughe poore, yet contented with humble delighte:
+  Full forty winters thus have I beene
+  A silly blind beggar of Bednall-greene.
+
+  "And here, noble lordes, is ended the song
+  Of one, that once to your own ranke did belong:
+  And thus have you learned a secrette from mee,
+  That ne'er had been knowne, but for prettye Bessee."
+
+  Now when the faire companye everye one,
+  Had heard the strange tale in the song he had showne,
+  They all were amazed, as well they might bee,
+  Both at the blinde beggar, and pretty Bessee.
+
+  With that the faire bride they all did embrace,
+  Saying, Sure thou art come of an honourable race,
+  Thy father likewise is of noble degree,
+  And thou art well worthy a lady to bee.
+
+  Thus was the feast ended with joye and delighte,
+  A bridegroome most happy then was the younge knighte,
+  In joy and felicitie long lived hee,
+  All with his faire ladye, the pretty Bessee.
+
+
+[Illustration: The Blind Beggar's Daughter of Bednall Green tailpiece]
+
+
+
+
+THOMAS THE RHYMER
+
+[Illustration: Thomas the Rhymer headpiece]
+
+[Illustration: Thomas the Rhymer]
+
+  Thomas lay on the Huntlie bank,
+    A spying ferlies wi his eee,
+  And he did spy a lady gay,
+    Come riding down by the lang lee.
+
+  Her steed was o the dapple grey,
+    And at its mane there hung bells nine;
+  He thought he heard that lady say,
+    "They gowden bells sall a' be thine."
+
+  Her mantle was o velvet green,
+    And a' set round wi jewels fine;
+  Her hawk and hounds were at her side,
+    And her bugle-horn wi gowd did shine.
+
+  Thomas took aff baith cloak and cap,
+    For to salute this gay lady:
+  "O save ye, save ye, fair Queen o Heavn,
+    And ay weel met ye save and see!"
+
+  "I'm no the Queen o Heavn, Thomas;
+    I never carried my head sae hee;
+  For I am but a lady gay,
+    Come out to hunt in my follee.
+
+  "Now gin ye kiss my mouth, Thomas,
+    Ye mauna miss my fair bodee;
+  Then ye may een gang hame and tell
+    That ye've lain wi a gay ladee."
+
+  "O gin I loe a lady fair,
+    Nae ill tales o her wad I tell,
+  And it's wi thee I fain wad gae,
+    Tho it were een to heavn or hell."
+
+  "Then harp and carp, Thomas," she said,
+    "Then harp and carp alang wi me;
+  But it will be seven years and a day
+    Till ye win back to yere ain countrie."
+
+  The lady rade, True Thomas ran,
+    Until they cam to a water wan;
+  O it was night, and nae delight,
+    And Thomas wade aboon the knee.
+
+  It was dark night, and nae starn-light,
+    And on they waded lang days three,
+  And they heard the roaring o a flood,
+    And Thomas a waefou man was he.
+
+  Then they rade on, and farther on,
+    Untill they came to a garden green;
+  To pu an apple he put up his hand,
+    For the lack o food he was like to tyne.
+
+  "O haud yere hand, Thomas," she cried,
+    "And let that green flourishing be;
+  For it's the very fruit o hell,
+    Beguiles baith man and woman o yere countrie.
+
+  "But look afore ye, True Thomas,
+    And I shall show ye ferlies three;
+  Yon is the gate leads to our land,
+    Where thou and I sae soon shall be.
+
+  "And dinna ye see yon road, Thomas,
+    That lies out-owr yon lilly lee?
+  Weel is the man yon gate may gang,
+    For it leads him straight to the heavens hie.
+
+  "But do you see yon road, Thomas,
+    That lies out-owr yon frosty fell?
+  Ill is the man yon gate may gang,
+    For it leads him straight to the pit o hell.
+
+  "Now when ye come to our court, Thomas,
+    See that a weel-learned man ye be;
+  For they will ask ye, one and all,
+    But ye maun answer nane but me.
+
+  "And when nae answer they obtain,
+    Then will they come and question me,
+  And I will answer them again
+    That I gat yere aith at the Eildon tree.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  "Ilka seven years, Thomas,
+    We pay our teindings unto hell,
+  And ye're sae leesome and sae strang
+    That I fear, Thomas, it will be yeresell."
+
+
+
+
+YOUNG BEICHAN
+
+[Illustration: Young Beichan headpiece]
+
+[Illustration: Young Beichan]
+
+  In London city was Bicham born,
+    He longd strange countries for to see,
+  But he was taen by a savage Moor,
+    Who handld him right cruely.
+
+  For thro his shoulder he put a bore,
+    An thro the bore has pitten a tree,
+  An he's gard him draw the carts o wine,
+    Where horse and oxen had wont to be.
+
+  He's casten [him] in a dungeon deep,
+    Where he coud neither hear nor see;
+  He's shut him up in a prison strong,
+    An he's handld him right cruely.
+
+  O this Moor he had but ae daughter,
+    I wot her name was Shusy Pye;
+  She's doen her to the prison-house,
+    And she's calld Young Bicham one word
+
+  "O hae ye ony lands or rents,
+    Or citys in your ain country,
+  Coud free you out of prison strong,
+    An coud mantain a lady free?"
+
+  "O London city is my own,
+    An other citys twa or three,
+  Coud loose me out o prison strong,
+    An coud mantain a lady free."
+
+  O she has bribed her father's men
+    Wi meikle goud and white money,
+  She's gotten the key o the prison doors,
+    An she has set Young Bicham free.
+
+  She's g'in him a loaf o good white bread,
+    But an a flask o Spanish wine,
+  An she bad him mind on the ladie's love
+    That sae kindly freed him out o pine.
+
+  "Go set your foot on good ship-board,
+    An haste you back to your ain country,
+  An before that seven years has an end,
+    Come back again, love, and marry me."
+
+  It was long or seven years had an end
+    She longd fu sair her love to see;
+  She's set her foot on good ship-board,
+    And turnd her back on her ain country.
+
+  She's saild up, so has she doun,
+    Till she came to the other side;
+  She's landed at Young Bicham's gates,
+    An I hop this day she sal be his bride.
+
+  "Is this Young Bicham's gates?" says she,
+    "Or is that noble prince within?"
+  "He's up the stairs wi his bonny bride,
+    An monny a lord and lady wi him."
+
+  "O has he taen a bonny bride,
+    An has he clean forgotten me!"
+  An sighing said that gay lady,
+    I wish I were in my ain country!
+
+  But she's pitten her han in her pocket,
+    An gin the porter guineas three;
+  Says, Take ye that, ye proud porter,
+    An bid the bridegroom speak to me.
+
+  O whan the porter came up the stair,
+    He's fa'n low down upon his knee:
+  "Won up, won up, ye proud porter,
+    An what makes a' this courtesy?"
+
+  "O I've been porter at your gates
+    This mair nor seven years an three,
+  But there is a lady at them now
+    The like of whom I never did see.
+
+  "For on every finger she has a ring,
+    An on the mid-finger she has three,
+  An there's a meikle goud aboon her brow
+    As woud buy an earldome o lan to me."
+
+  Then up it started Young Bicham,
+    An sware so loud by Our Lady,
+  "It can be nane but Shusy Pye,
+    That has come oer the sea to me."
+
+  O quickly ran he down the stair,
+    O fifteen steps he has made but three;
+  He's tane his bonny love in his arms,
+    An a wot he kissd her tenderly.
+
+  "O hae you tane a bonny bride?
+    An hae you quite forsaken me?
+  An hae ye quite forgotten her
+    That gae you life an liberty?"
+
+ She's lookit oer her left shoulder
+    To hide the tears stood in her ee;
+  "Now fare thee well, Young Bicham," she says,
+    "I'll strive to think nae mair on thee."
+
+  "Take back your daughter, madam," he says,
+    "An a double dowry I'll gi her wi;
+  For I maun marry my first true love,
+    That's done and suffered so much for me."
+
+  He's take his bonny love by the ban,
+    And led her to yon fountain stane;
+  He's changd her name frae Shusy Pye,
+    An he's cald her his bonny love, Lady Jane.
+
+
+
+
+BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBEY
+
+[Illustration: Brave Lord Willoughbey headpiece]
+
+
+  The fifteenth day of July,
+    With glistering spear and shield,
+  A famous fight in Flanders
+    Was foughten in the field:
+  The most couragious officers
+    Were English captains three;
+  But the bravest man in battel
+    Was brave Lord Willoughbèy.
+
+  The next was Captain Norris,
+    A valiant man was hee:
+  The other Captain Turner,
+    From field would never flee.
+  With fifteen hundred fighting men,
+    Alas! there were no more,
+  They fought with fourteen thousand then,
+    Upon the bloody shore.
+
+  Stand to it, noble pikemen,
+    And look you round about:
+  And shoot you right, you bow-men,
+    And we will keep them out:
+  You musquet and callèver men,
+    Do you prove true to me,
+  I'le be the formost man in fight,
+    Says brave Lord Willoughbèy.
+
+  And then the bloody enemy
+    They fiercely did assail,
+  And fought it out most furiously,
+    Not doubting to prevail:
+  The wounded men on both sides fell
+    Most pitious for to see,
+  Yet nothing could the courage quell
+    Of brave Lord Willoughbèy.
+
+  For seven hours to all mens view
+    This fight endured sore,
+  Until our men so feeble grew
+    That they could fight no more;
+  And then upon dead horses
+    Full savourly they eat,
+  And drank the puddle water,
+    They could no better get.
+
+  When they had fed so freely,
+    They kneeled on the ground,
+  And praised God devoutly
+    For the favour they had found;
+  And beating up their colours,
+    The fight they did renew,
+  And turning tow'rds the Spaniard,
+    A thousand more they slew.
+
+  The sharp steel-pointed arrows,
+    And bullets thick did fly,
+  Then did our valiant soldiers
+    Charge on most furiously;
+  Which made the Spaniards waver,
+    They thought it best to flee,
+  They fear'd the stout behaviour
+    Of brave Lord Willoughbey.
+
+  Then quoth the Spanish general,
+    Come let us march away,
+  I fear we shall be spoiled all
+    If here we longer stay;
+  For yonder comes Lord Willoughbey
+    With courage fierce and fell,
+  He will not give one inch of way
+    For all the devils in hell.
+
+  And then the fearful enemy
+    Was quickly put to flight,
+  Our men persued couragiously,
+    And caught their forces quite;
+  But at last they gave a shout,
+    Which ecchoed through the sky,
+  God, and St. George for England!
+    The conquerors did cry.
+
+  This news was brought to England
+    With all the speed might be,
+  And soon our gracious queen was told
+    Of this same victory.
+  O this is brave Lord Willoughbey,
+    My love that ever won,
+  Of all the lords of honour
+    'Tis he great deeds hath done.
+
+  To the souldiers that were maimed,
+    And wounded in the fray,
+  The queen allowed a pension
+    Of fifteen pence a day;
+  And from all costs and charges
+    She quit and set them free:
+  And this she did all for the sake
+    Of brave Lord Willoughbey.
+
+  Then courage, noble Englishmen,
+    And never be dismaid;
+  If that we be but one to ten,
+    We will not be afraid
+  To fight with foraign enemies,
+    And set our nation free.
+  And thus I end the bloody bout
+    Of brave Lord Willoughbey.
+
+
+
+
+THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE
+
+[Illustration: The Spanish Lady's Love headpiece]
+
+
+  Will you hear a Spanish lady,
+    How shed wooed an English man?
+  Garments gay and rich as may be
+    Decked with jewels she had on.
+  Of a comely countenance and grace was she,
+  And by birth and parentage of high degree.
+
+  As his prisoner there he kept her,
+    In his hands her life did lye!
+  Cupid's bands did tye them faster
+    By the liking of an eye.
+  In his courteous company was all her joy,
+  To favour him in any thing she was not coy.
+
+  But at last there came commandment
+    For to set the ladies free,
+  With their jewels still adorned,
+    None to do them injury.
+  Then said this lady mild, Full woe is me;
+  O let me still sustain this kind captivity!
+
+  Gallant captain, shew some pity
+    To a ladye in distresse;
+  Leave me not within this city,
+    For to dye in heavinesse:
+  Thou hast this present day my body free,
+  But my heart in prison still remains with thee.
+
+  "How should'st thou, fair lady, love me,
+    Whom thou knowest thy country's foe?
+  Thy fair wordes make me suspect thee:
+    Serpents lie where flowers grow."
+  All the harme I wishe to thee, most courteous knight,
+  God grant the same upon my head may fully light.
+
+  Blessed be the time and season,
+    That you came on Spanish ground;
+  If our foes you may be termed,
+    Gentle foes we have you found:
+  With our city, you have won our hearts eche one,
+  Then to your country bear away, that is your owne.
+
+  "Rest you still, most gallant lady;
+    Rest you still, and weep no more;
+  Of fair lovers there is plenty,
+    Spain doth yield a wonderous store."
+  Spaniards fraught with jealousy we often find,
+  But Englishmen through all the world are counted kind.
+
+  Leave me not unto a Spaniard,
+    You alone enjoy my heart:
+  I am lovely, young, and tender,
+    Love is likewise my desert:
+  Still to serve thee day and night my mind is prest;
+  The wife of every Englishman is counted blest.
+
+  "It wold be a shame, fair lady,
+    For to bear a woman hence;
+  English soldiers never carry
+    Any such without offence."
+  I'll quickly change myself, if it be so,
+  And like a page He follow thee, where'er thou go.
+
+  "I have neither gold nor silver
+    To maintain thee in this case,
+  And to travel is great charges,
+    As you know in every place."
+  My chains and jewels every one shal be thy own,
+  And eke five hundred pounds in gold that lies unknown.
+
+  "On the seas are many dangers,
+    Many storms do there arise,
+  Which wil be to ladies dreadful,
+    And force tears from watery eyes."
+  Well in troth I shall endure extremity,
+  For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee.
+
+  "Courteous ladye, leave this fancy,
+    Here comes all that breeds the strife;
+  I in England have already
+    A sweet woman to my wife:
+  I will not falsify my vow for gold nor gain,
+  Nor yet for all the fairest dames that live in Spain."
+
+  O how happy is that woman
+    That enjoys so true a friend!
+  Many happy days God send her;
+    Of my suit I make an end:
+  On my knees I pardon crave for my offence,
+  Which did from love and true affection first commence.
+
+  Commend me to thy lovely lady,
+    Bear to her this chain of gold;
+  And these bracelets for a token;
+    Grieving that I was so bold:
+  All my jewels in like sort take thou with thee,
+  For they are fitting for thy wife, but not for me.
+
+  I will spend my days in prayer,
+    Love and all her laws defye;
+  In a nunnery will I shroud mee
+    Far from any companye:
+  But ere my prayers have an end, be sure of this,
+  To pray for thee and for thy love I will not miss.
+
+  Thus farewell, most gallant captain!
+    Farewell too my heart's content!
+  Count not Spanish ladies wanton,
+    Though to thee my love was bent:
+  Joy and true prosperity goe still with thee!
+   "The like fall ever to thy share, most fair ladie."
+
+
+
+
+THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY
+
+[Illustration: The Friar of Orders Gray headpiece]
+
+
+  It was a friar of orders gray
+   Walkt forth to tell his beades;
+  And he met with a lady faire,
+    Clad in a pilgrime's weedes.
+
+  Now Christ thee save, thou reverend friar,
+    I pray thee tell to me,
+  If ever at yon holy shrine
+    My true love thou didst see.
+
+  And how should I know your true love
+    From many another one?
+  O by his cockle hat, and staff,
+    And by his sandal shoone.
+
+  But chiefly by his face and mien,
+    That were so fair to view;
+  His flaxen locks that sweetly curl'd,
+    And eyne of lovely blue.
+
+  O lady, he is dead and gone!
+    Lady, he's dead and gone!
+  And at his head a green grass turfe,
+    And at his heels a stone.
+
+  Within these holy cloysters long
+    He languisht, and he dyed,
+  Lamenting of a ladyes love,
+    And 'playning of her pride.
+
+  Here bore him barefac'd on his bier
+    Six proper youths and tall,
+  And many a tear bedew'd his grave
+    Within yon kirk-yard wall.
+
+  And art thou dead, thou gentle youth!
+    And art thou dead and gone!
+  And didst thou die for love of me!
+    Break, cruel heart of stone!
+
+  O weep not, lady, weep not soe;
+    Some ghostly comfort seek:
+  Let not vain sorrow rive thy heart,
+    Ne teares bedew thy cheek.
+
+  O do not, do not, holy friar,
+    My sorrow now reprove;
+  For I have lost the sweetest youth,
+    That e'er wan ladyes love.
+
+  And nowe, alas! for thy sad losse,
+    I'll evermore weep and sigh;
+  For thee I only wisht to live,
+    For thee I wish to dye.
+
+  Weep no more, lady, weep no more,
+    Thy sorrowe is in vaine:
+  For violets pluckt the sweetest showers
+    Will ne'er make grow againe.
+
+  Our joys as winged dreams doe flye,
+    Why then should sorrow last?
+  Since grief but aggravates thy losse,
+    Grieve not for what is past.
+
+  O say not soe, thou holy friar;
+    I pray thee, say not soe:
+  For since my true-love dyed for mee,
+    'Tis meet my tears should flow.
+
+  And will he ne'er come again?
+    Will he ne'er come again?
+  Ah! no, he is dead and laid in his grave,
+    For ever to remain.
+
+  His cheek was redder than the rose;
+    The comliest youth was he!
+  But he is dead and laid in his grave:
+    Alas, and woe is me!
+
+  Sigh no more, lady, sigh no more,
+    Men were deceivers ever:
+  One foot on sea and one on land,
+    To one thing constant never.
+
+  Hadst thou been fond, he had been false,
+    And left thee sad and heavy;
+  For young men ever were fickle found,
+    Since summer trees were leafy.
+
+  Now say not so, thou holy friar,
+    I pray thee say not soe;
+  My love he had the truest heart:
+    O he was ever true!
+
+  And art thou dead, thou much-lov'd youth,
+    And didst thou dye for mee?
+  Then farewell home; for ever-more
+    A pilgrim I will bee.
+
+  But first upon my true-loves grave
+    My weary limbs I'll lay,
+  And thrice I'll kiss the green-grass turf,
+    That wraps his breathless clay.
+
+  Yet stay, fair lady; rest awhile
+    Beneath this cloyster wall:
+  See through the hawthorn blows the cold wind,
+    And drizzly rain doth fall.
+
+  O stay me not, thou holy friar;
+    O stay me not, I pray;
+  No drizzly rain that falls on me,
+    Can wash my fault away.
+
+  Yet stay, fair lady, turn again,
+    And dry those pearly tears;
+  For see beneath this gown of gray
+    Thy own true-love appears.
+
+  Here forc'd by grief, and hopeless love,
+    These holy weeds I sought;
+  And here amid these lonely walls
+    To end my days I thought.
+
+  But haply for my year of grace
+    Is not yet past away,
+  Might I still hope to win thy love,
+    No longer would I stay.
+
+  Now farewell grief, and welcome joy
+    Once more unto my heart;
+  For since I have found thee, lovely youth,
+    We never more will part.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Book of Ballads, Volume 2, by Various
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diff --git a/old/7532-8.zip b/old/7532-8.zip
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Book of Ballads, Volume 2, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Book of Ballads, Volume 2
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Beverly Nichols
+
+Posting Date: April 29, 2014 [EBook #7532]
+Release Date: February, 2005
+First Posted: May 15, 2003
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BOOK OF BALLADS, VOLUME 2 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger, Juliet Sutherland, Phil McLaury,
+Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading
+Team. Text version by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A BOOK OF OLD BALLADS
+
+Selected and with an Introduction
+
+by
+
+BEVERLEY NICHOLS
+
+
+[Illustration: Title page art]
+
+
+
+
+
+  CONTENTS
+
+  THE HEIR OF LINNE
+  KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID
+  SIR ANDREW BARTON
+  MAY COLLIN
+  THE BLIND BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL GREEN
+  THOMAS THE RHYMER
+  YOUNG BEICHAN
+  BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBEY
+  THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE
+  THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY
+
+
+
+  LIST OF COLOUR PLATES
+
+  KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID
+  MAY COLLIN
+  THOMAS THE RHYMER
+  YOUNG BEICHAN
+
+
+
+
+THE HEIR OF LINNE
+
+[Illustration: The Heir of Linne headpiece]
+
+  PART THE FIRST
+
+  Lithe and listen, gentlemen,
+    To sing a song I will beginne:
+  It is of a lord of faire Scotland,
+    Which was the unthrifty heire of Linne.
+
+  His father was a right good lord,
+    His mother a lady of high degree;
+  But they, alas! were dead, him froe,
+    And he lov'd keeping companie.
+
+  To spend the daye with merry cheare,
+    To drinke and revell every night,
+  To card and dice from eve to morne,
+    It was, I ween, his hearts delighte.
+
+  To ride, to runne, to rant, to roare,
+    To alwaye spend and never spare,
+  I wott, an' it were the king himselfe,
+    Of gold and fee he mote be bare.
+
+  Soe fares the unthrifty lord of Linne
+    Till all his gold is gone and spent;
+  And he maun sell his landes so broad,
+    His house, and landes, and all his rent.
+
+  His father had a keen stewarde,
+    And John o' the Scales was called hee:
+  But John is become a gentel-man,
+    And John has gott both gold and fee.
+
+  Sayes, Welcome, welcome, lord of Linne,
+    Let nought disturb thy merry cheere;
+  Iff thou wilt sell thy landes soe broad,
+    Good store of gold Ile give thee heere,
+
+  My gold is gone, my money is spent;
+    My lande nowe take it unto thee:
+  Give me the golde, good John o' the Scales,
+    And thine for aye my lande shall bee.
+
+  Then John he did him to record draw,
+    And John he cast him a gods-pennie;
+  But for every pounde that John agreed,
+    The lande, I wis, was well worth three.
+
+  He told him the gold upon the borde,
+    He was right glad his land to winne;
+  The gold is thine, the land is mine,
+    And now Ile be the lord of Linne.
+
+  Thus he hath sold his land soe broad,
+    Both hill and holt, and moore and fenne,
+  All but a poore and lonesome lodge,
+    That stood far off in a lonely glenne.
+
+  For soe he to his father hight.
+    My sonne, when I am gonne, sayd hee,
+  Then thou wilt spend thy land so broad,
+    And thou wilt spend thy gold so free:
+
+  But sweare me nowe upon the roode,
+    That lonesome lodge thou'lt never spend;
+  For when all the world doth frown on thee,
+    Thou there shalt find a faithful friend.
+
+  The heire of Linne is full of golde:
+    And come with me, my friends, sayd hee,
+  Let's drinke, and rant, and merry make,
+    And he that spares, ne'er mote he thee.
+
+  They ranted, drank, and merry made,
+    Till all his gold it waxed thinne;
+  And then his friendes they slunk away;
+    They left the unthrifty heire of Linne.
+
+  He had never a penny in his purse,
+    Never a penny left but three,
+  And one was brass, another was lead,
+    And another it was white money.
+
+  Nowe well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne,
+    Nowe well-aday, and woe is mee,
+  For when I was the lord of Linne,
+    I never wanted gold nor fee.
+
+  But many a trustye friend have I,
+    And why shold I feel dole or care?
+  Ile borrow of them all by turnes,
+    Soe need I not be never bare.
+
+  But one, I wis, was not at home;
+    Another had payd his gold away;
+  Another call'd him thriftless loone,
+    And bade him sharpely wend his way.
+
+  Now well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne,
+    Now well-aday, and woe is me;
+  For when I had my landes so broad,
+    On me they liv'd right merrilee.
+
+  To beg my bread from door to door
+    I wis, it were a brenning shame:
+  To rob and steale it were a sinne:
+    To worke my limbs I cannot frame.
+
+  Now Ile away to lonesome lodge,
+    For there my father bade me wend;
+  When all the world should frown on mee
+    I there shold find a trusty friend.
+
+
+  PART THE SECOND
+
+  Away then hyed the heire of Linne
+    Oer hill and holt, and moor and fenne,
+  Untill he came to lonesome lodge,
+    That stood so lowe in a lonely glenne.
+
+  He looked up, he looked downe,
+    In hope some comfort for to winne:
+  But bare and lothly were the walles.
+    Here's sorry cheare, quo' the heire of Linne.
+
+  The little windowe dim and darke
+    Was hung with ivy, brere, and yewe;
+  No shimmering sunn here ever shone;
+    No halesome breeze here ever blew.
+
+  No chair, ne table he mote spye,
+    No cheerful hearth, ne welcome bed,
+  Nought save a rope with renning noose,
+    That dangling hung up o'er his head.
+
+  And over it in broad letters,
+    These words were written so plain to see:
+  "Ah! gracelesse wretch, hast spent thine all,
+    And brought thyselfe to penurie?
+
+  "All this my boding mind misgave,
+    I therefore left this trusty friend:
+  Let it now sheeld thy foule disgrace,
+    And all thy shame and sorrows end."
+
+  Sorely shent wi' this rebuke,
+    Sorely shent was the heire of Linne,
+  His heart, I wis, was near to brast
+    With guilt and sorrowe, shame and sinne.
+
+  Never a word spake the heire of Linne,
+    Never a word he spake but three:
+  "This is a trusty friend indeed,
+    And is right welcome unto mee."
+
+  Then round his necke the corde he drewe,
+    And sprung aloft with his bodie:
+  When lo! the ceiling burst in twaine,
+    And to the ground came tumbling hee.
+
+  Astonyed lay the heire of Linne,
+    Ne knewe if he were live or dead:
+  At length he looked, and saw a bille,
+    And in it a key of gold so redd.
+
+  He took the bill, and lookt it on,
+    Strait good comfort found he there:
+  It told him of a hole in the wall,
+    In which there stood three chests in-fere.
+
+  Two were full of the beaten golde,
+   The third was full of white money;
+  And over them in broad letters
+   These words were written so plaine to see:
+
+  "Once more, my sonne, I sette thee clere;
+   Amend thy life and follies past;
+  For but thou amend thee of thy life,
+   That rope must be thy end at last."
+
+  And let it bee, sayd the heire of Linne;
+   And let it bee, but if I amend:
+  For here I will make mine avow,
+   This reade shall guide me to the end.
+
+  Away then went with a merry cheare,
+   Away then went the heire of Linne;
+  I wis, he neither ceas'd ne blanne,
+   Till John o' the Scales house he did winne.
+
+  And when he came to John o' the Scales,
+   Upp at the speere then looked hee;
+  There sate three lords upon a rowe,
+   Were drinking of the wine so free.
+
+  And John himself sate at the bord-head,
+   Because now lord of Linne was hee.
+  I pray thee, he said, good John o' the Scales,
+   One forty pence for to lend mee.
+
+  Away, away, thou thriftless loone;
+    Away, away, this may not bee:
+  For Christs curse on my head, he sayd,
+    If ever I trust thee one pennee.
+
+  Then bespake the heire of Linne,
+    To John o' the Scales wife then spake he:
+  Madame, some almes on me bestowe,
+    I pray for sweet Saint Charitee.
+
+  Away, away, thou thriftless loone,
+    I swear thou gettest no almes of mee;
+  For if we shold hang any losel heere,
+    The first we wold begin with thee.
+
+  Then bespake a good fellowe,
+    Which sat at John o' the Scales his bord
+  Sayd, Turn againe, thou heire of Linne;
+    Some time thou wast a well good lord;
+
+  Some time a good fellow thou hast been,
+    And sparedst not thy gold nor fee;
+  Therefore He lend thee forty pence,
+    And other forty if need bee.
+
+  And ever, I pray thee, John o' the Scales,
+    To let him sit in thy companie:
+  For well I wot thou hadst his land,
+    And a good bargain it was to thee.
+
+  Up then spake him John o' the Scales,
+    All wood he answer'd him againe:
+  Now Christs curse on my head, he sayd,
+    But I did lose by that bargaine.
+
+  And here I proffer thee, heire of Linne,
+    Before these lords so faire and free,
+  Thou shalt have it backe again better cheape,
+    By a hundred markes, than I had it of thee.
+
+  I draw you to record, lords, he said.
+    With that he cast him a gods pennie:
+  Now by my fay, sayd the heire of Linne,
+    And here, good John, is thy money.
+
+  And he pull'd forth three bagges of gold,
+    And layd them down upon the bord:
+  All woe begone was John o' the Scales,
+    Soe shent he cold say never a word.
+
+  He told him forth the good red gold,
+    He told it forth with mickle dinne.
+  The gold is thine, the land is mine,
+    And now Ime againe the lord of Linne.
+
+  Sayes, Have thou here, thou good fellowe,
+    Forty pence thou didst lend me:
+  Now I am againe the lord of Linne,
+    And forty pounds I will give thee.
+
+  He make the keeper of my forrest,
+    Both of the wild deere and the tame;
+  For but I reward thy bounteous heart,
+    I wis, good fellowe, I were to blame.
+
+  Now welladay! sayth Joan o' the Scales:
+    Now welladay! and woe is my life!
+  Yesterday I was lady of Linne,
+    Now Ime but John o' the Scales his wife.
+
+  Now fare thee well, sayd the heire of Linne;
+    Farewell now, John o' the Scales, said hee:
+  Christs curse light on me, if ever again
+    I bring my lands in jeopardy.
+
+[Illustration: The Heir of Linne tailpiece]
+
+
+
+
+KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID
+
+[Illustration: The King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid headpiece]
+
+
+[Illustration: The King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid]
+
+  I Read that once in Affrica
+    A princely wight did raine,
+  Who had to name Cophetua,
+    As poets they did faine:
+  From natures lawes he did decline,
+  For sure he was not of my mind.
+  He cared not for women-kinde,
+    But did them all disdaine.
+  But, marke, what hapened on a day,
+  As he out of his window lay,
+  He saw a beggar all in gray,
+    The which did cause his paine.
+
+  The blinded boy, that shootes so trim,
+    From heaven downe did hie;
+  He drew a dart and shot at him,
+    In place where he did lye:
+  Which soone did pierse him to the quicke.
+  And when he felt the arrow pricke,
+  Which in his tender heart did sticke,
+    He looketh as he would dye.
+  What sudden chance is this, quoth he,
+  That I to love must subject be,
+  Which never thereto would agree,
+    But still did it defie?
+
+  Then from the window he did come,
+    And laid him on his bed,
+  A thousand heapes of care did runne
+    Within his troubled head:
+  For now he meanes to crave her love,
+  And now he seekes which way to proove
+  How he his fancie might remoove,
+    And not this beggar wed.
+  But Cupid had him so in snare,
+  That this poor begger must prepare
+  A salve to cure him of his care,
+    Or els he would be dead.
+
+  And, as he musing thus did lye,
+    He thought for to devise
+  How he might have her companye,
+    That so did 'maze his eyes.
+  In thee, quoth he, doth rest my life;
+  For surely thou shalt be my wife,
+  Or else this hand with bloody knife
+    The Gods shall sure suffice.
+  Then from his bed he soon arose,
+  And to his pallace gate he goes;
+  Full little then this begger knowes
+    When she the king espies.
+
+  The Gods preserve your majesty,
+    The beggers all gan cry:
+  Vouchsafe to give your charity
+    Our childrens food to buy.
+  The king to them his pursse did cast,
+    And they to part it made great haste;
+  This silly woman was the last
+    That after them did hye.
+  The king he cal'd her back againe,
+  And unto her he gave his chaine;
+  And said, With us you shal remaine
+    Till such time as we dye:
+
+  For thou, quoth he, shalt be my wife,
+    And honoured for my queene;
+  With thee I meane to lead my life,
+    As shortly shall be seene:
+  Our wedding shall appointed be,
+  And every thing in its degree:
+  Come on, quoth he, and follow me,
+    Thou shalt go shift thee cleane.
+  What is thy name, faire maid? quoth he.
+  Penelophon, O king, quoth she;
+  With that she made a lowe courtsey;
+    A trim one as I weene.
+
+  Thus hand in hand along they walke
+    Unto the king's pallace:
+  The king with curteous comly talke
+    This beggar doth imbrace:
+  The begger blusheth scarlet red,
+  And straight againe as pale as lead,
+  But not a word at all she said,
+    She was in such amaze.
+  At last she spake with trembling voyce,
+  And said, O king, I doe rejoyce
+  That you wil take me from your choyce,
+    And my degree's so base.
+
+  And when the wedding day was come,
+    The king commanded strait
+  The noblemen both all and some
+    Upon the queene to wait.
+  And she behaved herself that day,
+  As if she had never walkt the way;
+  She had forgot her gown of gray,
+    Which she did weare of late.
+  The proverbe old is come to passe,
+  The priest, when he begins his masse,
+  Forgets that ever clerke he was;
+    He knowth not his estate.
+
+  Here you may read, Cophetua,
+    Though long time fancie-fed,
+  Compelled by the blinded boy
+    The begger for to wed:
+  He that did lovers lookes disdaine,
+  To do the same was glad and faine,
+  Or else he would himselfe have slaine,
+  In storie, as we read.
+    Disdaine no whit, O lady deere,
+    But pitty now thy servant heere,
+    Least that it hap to thee this yeare,
+      As to that king it did.
+
+  And thus they led a quiet life
+    Duringe their princely raigne;
+  And in a tombe were buried both,
+    As writers sheweth plaine.
+  The lords they tooke it grievously,
+  The ladies tooke it heavily,
+  The commons cryed pitiously,
+    Their death to them was paine,
+    Their fame did sound so passingly,
+    That it did pierce the starry sky,
+    And throughout all the world did flye
+      To every princes realme.
+
+
+[Illustration: The King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid tailpiece]
+
+
+
+SIR ANDREW BARTON
+
+
+[Illustration: Sir Andrew Barton headpiece]
+
+
+
+  'When Flora with her fragrant flowers
+    Bedeckt the earth so trim and gaye,
+  And Neptune with his daintye showers
+    Came to present the monthe of Maye;'
+  King Henrye rode to take the ayre,
+    Over the river of Thames past hee;
+  When eighty merchants of London came,
+    And downe they knelt upon their knee.
+
+  "O yee are welcome, rich merchants;
+    Good saylors, welcome unto mee."
+  They swore by the rood, they were saylors good,
+    But rich merchants they cold not bee:
+  "To France nor Flanders dare we pass:
+    Nor Bourdeaux voyage dare we fare;
+  And all for a rover that lyes on the seas,
+    Who robbs us of our merchant ware."
+
+  King Henrye frowned, and turned him rounde,
+    And swore by the Lord, that was mickle of might,
+  "I thought he had not beene in the world,
+    Durst have wrought England such unright."
+  The merchants sighed, and said, alas!
+    And thus they did their answer frame,
+  He is a proud Scott, that robbs on the seas,
+    And Sir Andrewe Barton is his name.
+
+  The king lookt over his left shoulder,
+    And an angrye look then looked hee:
+  "Have I never a lorde in all my realme,
+    Will feitch yond tray tor unto me?"
+  Yea, that dare I; Lord Howard sayes;
+    Yea, that dare I with heart and hand;
+  If it please your grace to give me leave,
+    Myselfe wil be the only man.
+
+  Thou art but yong; the kyng replyed:
+    Yond Scott hath numbered manye a yeare.
+  "Trust me, my liege, lie make him quail,
+    Or before my prince I will never appeare."
+  Then bowemen and gunners thou shalt have,
+    And chuse them over my realme so free;
+  Besides good mariners, and shipp-boyes,
+    To guide the great shipp on the sea.
+
+  The first man, that Lord Howard chose,
+    Was the ablest gunner in all the realm,
+  Thoughe he was three score yeeres and ten;
+    Good Peter Simon was his name.
+  Peter, sais hee, I must to the sea,
+    To bring home a traytor live or dead:
+  Before all others I have chosen thee;
+    Of a hundred gunners to be the head.
+
+  If you, my lord, have chosen mee
+    Of a hundred gunners to be the head,
+  Then hang me up on your maine-mast tree,
+    If I misse my marke one shilling bread.
+  My lord then chose a boweman rare,
+    "Whose active hands had gained fame."
+  In Yorkshire was this gentleman borne,
+    And William Horseley was his name.
+
+  Horseley, said he, I must with speede
+    Go seeke a traytor on the sea,
+  And now of a hundred bowemen brave
+    To be the head I have chosen thee.
+  If you, quoth hee, have chosen mee
+    Of a hundred bowemen to be the head
+  On your main-mast He hanged bee,
+    If I miss twelvescore one penny bread.
+
+  With pikes and gunnes, and bowemen bold,
+    This noble Howard is gone to the sea;
+  With a valyant heart and a pleasant cheare,
+    Out at Thames mouth sayled he.
+  And days he scant had sayled three,
+    Upon the 'voyage,' he tooke in hand,
+  But there he mett with a noble shipp,
+    And stoutely made itt stay and stand.
+
+  Thou must tell me, Lord Howard said,
+    Now who thou art, and what's thy name;
+  And shewe me where they dwelling is:
+    And whither bound, and whence thou came.
+  My name is Henry Hunt, quoth hee
+    With a heavye heart, and a carefull mind;
+  I and my shipp doe both belong
+    To the Newcastle, that stands upon Tyne.
+
+  Hast thou not heard, nowe, Henrye Hunt,
+    As thou hast sayled by daye and by night,
+  Of a Scottish rover on the seas;
+    Men call him Sir Andrew Barton, knight!
+  Then ever he sighed, and said alas!
+    With a grieved mind, and well away!
+  But over-well I knowe that wight,
+    I was his prisoner yesterday.
+
+  As I was sayling uppon the sea,
+    A Burdeaux voyage for to fare;
+  To his hach-borde he clasped me,
+    And robd me of all my merchant ware:
+  And mickle debts, God wot, I owe,
+    And every man will have his owne;
+  And I am nowe to London bounde,
+    Of our gracious king to beg a boone.
+
+  That shall not need, Lord Howard sais;
+    Lett me but once that robber see,
+  For every penny tane thee froe
+    It shall be doubled shillings three.
+  Nowe God forefend, the merchant said,
+    That you should seek soe far amisse!
+  God keepe you out of that traitors hands!
+    Full litle ye wott what a man hee is.
+
+  Hee is brasse within, and steele without,
+    With beames on his topcastle stronge;
+  And eighteen pieces of ordinance
+    He carries on each side along:
+  And he hath a pinnace deerlye dight,
+    St. Andrewes crosse that is his guide;
+  His pinnace beareth ninescore men,
+    And fifteen canons on each side.
+
+  Were ye twentye shippes, and he but one;
+    I sweare by kirke, and bower, and hall;
+  He wold overcome them everye one,
+    If once his beames they doe downe fall.
+  This is cold comfort, sais my lord,
+    To wellcome a stranger thus to the sea:
+  Yet He bring him and his ship to shore,
+    Or to Scottland hee shall carrye mee.
+
+  Then a noble gunner you must have,
+    And he must aim well with his ee,
+  And sinke his pinnace into the sea,
+    Or else hee never orecome will bee:
+  And if you chance his shipp to borde,
+    This counsel I must give withall,
+  Let no man to his topcastle goe
+    To strive to let his beams downe fall.
+
+  And seven pieces of ordinance,
+    I pray your honour lend to mee,
+  On each side of my shipp along,
+    And I will lead you on the sea.
+  A glasse He sett, that may be seene
+    Whether you sail by day or night;
+  And to-morrowe, I sweare, by nine of the clocke
+    You shall meet with Sir Andrewe Barton knight.
+
+
+
+  THE SECOND PART
+
+  The merchant sett my lorde a glasse
+    Soe well apparent in his sight,
+  And on the morrowe, by nine of the clocke,
+    He shewed him Sir Andrewe Barton knight.
+  His hachebord it was 'gilt' with gold,
+    Soe deerlye dight it dazzled the ee:
+  Nowe by my faith, Lord Howarde sais,
+    This is a gallant sight to see.
+
+  Take in your ancyents, standards eke,
+    So close that no man may them see;
+  And put me forth a white willowe wand,
+    As merchants use to sayle the sea.
+  But they stirred neither top, nor mast;
+    Stoutly they past Sir Andrew by.
+  What English churles are yonder, he sayd,
+    That can soe little curtesye?
+
+  Now by the roode, three yeares and more
+    I have beene admirall over the sea;
+  And never an English nor Portingall
+    Without my leave can passe this way.
+  Then called he forth his stout pinnace;
+    "Fetch backe yond pedlars nowe to mee:
+  I sweare by the masse, yon English churles
+    Shall all hang att my maine-mast tree."
+
+  With that the pinnace itt shot off,
+    Full well Lord Howard might it ken;
+  For itt stroke down my lord's fore mast,
+    And killed fourteen of his men.
+  Come hither, Simon, sayes my lord,
+    Looke that thy word be true, thou said;
+  For at my maine-mast thou shalt hang,
+    If thou misse thy marke one shilling bread.
+
+  Simon was old, but his heart itt was bold;
+    His ordinance he laid right lowe;
+  He put in chaine full nine yardes long,
+    With other great shott lesse, and moe;
+  And he lette goe his great gunnes shott:
+    Soe well he settled itt with his ee,
+  The first sight that Sir Andrew sawe,
+    He see his pinnace sunke in the sea.
+
+  And when he saw his pinnace sunke,
+    Lord, how his heart with rage did swell!
+  "Nowe cutt my ropes, itt is time to be gon;
+    Ile fetch yond pedlars backe mysell."
+  When my lord sawe Sir Andrewe loose,
+    Within his heart he was full faine:
+  "Now spread your ancyents, strike up your drummes,
+    Sound all your trumpetts out amaine."
+
+  Fight on, my men, Sir Andrewe sais,
+    Weale howsoever this geere will sway;
+  Itt is my Lord Admirall of England,
+    Is come to seeke mee on the sea.
+  Simon had a sonne, who shott right well,
+    That did Sir Andrewe mickle scare;
+  In att his decke he gave a shott,
+    Killed threescore of his men of warre.
+
+  Then Henrye Hunt with rigour hott
+    Came bravely on the other side,
+  Soone he drove downe his fore-mast tree,
+    And killed fourscore men beside.
+  Nowe, out alas! Sir Andrewe cryed,
+    What may a man now thinke, or say?
+  Yonder merchant theefe, that pierceth mee,
+    He was my prisoner yesterday.
+
+  Come hither to me, thou Gordon good,
+    That aye wast readye att my call:
+  I will give thee three hundred markes,
+    If thou wilt let my beames downe fall.
+  Lord Howard hee then calld in haste,
+    "Horseley see thou be true in stead;
+  For thou shalt at the maine-mast hang,
+    If thou misse twelvescore one penny bread."
+
+  Then Gordon swarved the maine-mast tree,
+    He swarved it with might and maine;
+  But Horseley with a bearing arrowe,
+    Stroke the Gordon through the braine;
+  And he fell unto the haches again,
+    And sore his deadlye wounde did bleed:
+  Then word went through Sir Andrews men,
+    How that the Gordon hee was dead.
+
+  Come hither to mee, James Hambilton,
+    Thou art my only sisters sonne,
+  If thou wilt let my beames downe fall
+    Six hundred nobles thou hast wonne.
+  With that he swarved the maine-mast tree,
+    He swarved it with nimble art;
+  But Horseley with a broad arrowe
+    Pierced the Hambilton thorough the heart:
+
+  And downe he fell upon the deck,
+    That with his blood did streame amaine:
+  Then every Scott cryed, Well-away!
+    Alas! a comelye youth is slaine.
+  All woe begone was Sir Andrew then,
+    With griefe and rage his heart did swell:
+  "Go fetch me forth my armour of proofe,
+    For I will to the topcastle mysell."
+
+  "Goe fetch me forth my armour of proofe;
+    That gilded is with gold soe cleare:
+  God be with my brother John of Barton!
+    Against the Portingalls hee it ware;
+  And when he had on this armour of proofe,
+    He was a gallant sight to see:
+  Ah! nere didst thou meet with living wight,
+    My deere brother, could cope with thee."
+
+  Come hither Horseley, sayes my lord,
+    And looke your shaft that itt goe right,
+  Shoot a good shoote in time of need,
+    And for it thou shalt be made a knight.
+  Ile shoot my best, quoth Horseley then,
+    Your honour shall see, with might and maine;
+  But if I were hanged at your maine-mast,
+    I have now left but arrowes twaine.
+
+  Sir Andrew he did swarve the tree,
+   With right good will he swarved then:
+  Upon his breast did Horseley hitt,
+    But the arrow bounded back agen.
+  Then Horseley spyed a privye place
+    With a perfect eye in a secrette part;
+  Under the spole of his right arme
+    He smote Sir Andrew to the heart.
+
+  "Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes,
+    "A little Ime hurt, but yett not slaine;
+  He but lye downe and bleede a while,
+    And then He rise and fight againe.
+  Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes,
+    "And never flinch before the foe;
+  And stand fast by St. Andrewes crosse
+    Until you heare my whistle blowe."
+
+  They never heard his whistle blow--
+    Which made their hearts waxe sore adread:
+  Then Horseley sayd, Aboard, my lord,
+    For well I wott Sir Andrew's dead.
+  They boarded then his noble shipp,
+    They boarded it with might and maine;
+  Eighteen score Scots alive they found,
+    The rest were either maimed or slaine.
+
+  Lord Howard tooke a sword in hand,
+    And off he smote Sir Andrewes head,
+  "I must have left England many a daye,
+    If thou wert alive as thou art dead."
+  He caused his body to be cast
+    Over the hatchboard into the sea,
+  And about his middle three hundred crownes:
+    "Wherever thou land this will bury thee."
+
+  Thus from the warres Lord Howard came,
+    And backe he sayled ore the maine,
+  With mickle joy and triumphing
+    Into Thames mouth he came againe.
+  Lord Howard then a letter wrote,
+    And sealed it with scale and ring;
+  "Such a noble prize have I brought to your grace,
+    As never did subject to a king:
+
+  "Sir Andrewes shipp I bring with mee;
+    A braver shipp was never none:
+  Nowe hath your grace two shipps of warr,
+    Before in England was but one."
+  King Henryes grace with royall cheere
+    Welcomed the noble Howard home,
+  And where, said he, is this rover stout,
+   That I myselfe may give the doome?
+
+  "The rover, he is safe, my liege,
+    Full many a fadom in the sea;
+  If he were alive as he is dead,
+    I must have left England many a day:
+  And your grace may thank four men i' the ship
+    For the victory wee have wonne,
+  These are William Horseley, Henry Hunt,
+    And Peter Simon, and his sonne."
+
+  To Henry Hunt, the king then sayd,
+    In lieu of what was from thee tane,
+  A noble a day now thou shalt have,
+    Sir Andrewes jewels and his chayne.
+  And Horseley thou shalt be a knight,
+    And lands and livings shalt have store;
+  Howard shall be erle Surrye hight,
+    As Howards erst have beene before.
+
+  Nowe, Peter Simon, thou art old,
+    I will maintaine thee and thy sonne:
+  And the men shall have five hundred markes
+    For the good service they have done.
+  Then in came the queene with ladyes fair
+    To see Sir Andrewe Barton knight:
+  They weend that hee were brought on shore,
+    And thought to have seen a gallant sight.
+
+  But when they see his deadlye face,
+    And eyes soe hollow in his head,
+  I wold give, quoth the king, a thousand markes,
+    This man were alive as hee is dead:
+  Yett for the manfull part hee playd,
+    Which fought soe well with heart and hand,
+  His men shall have twelvepence a day,
+    Till they come to my brother kings high land.
+
+
+
+
+MAY COLLIN
+
+[Illustration: May Collin headpiece]
+
+[Illustration: May Collin]
+
+  May Collin ...
+    ... was her father's heir,
+  And she fell in love with a false priest,
+    And she rued it ever mair.
+
+  He followd her butt, he followd her benn,
+    He followd her through the hall,
+  Till she had neither tongue nor teeth
+    Nor lips to say him naw.
+
+  "We'll take the steed out where he is,
+    The gold where eer it be,
+  And we'll away to some unco land,
+    And married we shall be."
+
+  They had not riden a mile, a mile,
+    A mile but barely three,
+  Till they came to a rank river,
+    Was raging like the sea.
+
+  "Light off, light off now, May Collin,
+    It's here that you must die;
+  Here I have drownd seven king's daughters,
+    The eight now you must be.
+
+  "Cast off, cast off now, May Collin,
+    Your gown that's of the green;
+  For it's oer good and oer costly
+    To rot in the sea-stream.
+
+  "Cast off, cast off now, May Collin,
+    Your coat that's of the black;
+  For it's oer good and oer costly
+    To rot in the sea-wreck.
+
+  "Cast off, cast off now, May Collin,
+    Your stays that are well laced;
+  For thei'r oer good and costly
+    In the sea's ground to waste.
+
+  "Cast [off, cast off now, May Collin,]
+    Your sark that's of the holland;
+  For [it's oer good and oer costly]
+    To rot in the sea-bottom."
+
+  "Turn you about now, falsh Mess John,
+    To the green leaf of the tree;
+  It does not fit a mansworn man
+    A naked woman to see."
+
+  He turnd him quickly round about,
+    To the green leaf of the tree;
+  She took him hastly in her arms
+    And flung him in the sea.
+
+  "Now lye you there, you falsh Mess John,
+    My mallasin go with thee!
+  You thought to drown me naked and bare,
+    But take your cloaths with thee,
+  And if there be seven king's daughters there
+    Bear you them company"
+
+  She lap on her milk steed
+    And fast she bent the way,
+  And she was at her father's yate
+    Three long hours or day.
+
+  Up and speaks the wylie parrot,
+    So wylily and slee:
+  "Where is the man now, May Collin,
+    That gaed away wie thee?"
+
+  "Hold your tongue, my wylie parrot,
+    And tell no tales of me,
+  And where I gave a pickle befor
+    It's now I'll give you three."
+
+[Illustration: May Collin tailpiece]
+
+
+
+
+THE BLIND BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL GREEN
+
+[Illustration: The Blind Beggar's Daughter of Bednall Green headpiece]
+
+
+  PART THE FIRST
+
+  Itt was a blind beggar, had long lost his sight,
+  He had a faire daughter of bewty most bright;
+  And many a gallant brave suiter had shee,
+  For none was soe comelye as pretty Bessee.
+
+  And though shee was of favour most faire,
+  Yett seeing shee was but a poor beggars heyre,
+  Of ancyent housekeepers despised was shee,
+  Whose sonnes came as suitors to prettye Bessee.
+
+  Wherefore in great sorrow faire Bessy did say,
+  Good father, and mother, let me goe away
+  To seeke out my fortune, whatever itt bee.
+  This suite then they granted to prettye Bessee.
+
+  Then Bessy, that was of bewtye soe bright,
+  All cladd in gray russett, and late in the night
+  From father and mother alone parted shee;
+  Who sighed and sobbed for prettye Bessee.
+
+  Shee went till shee came to Stratford-le-Bow;
+  Then knew shee not whither, nor which way to goe:
+  With teares shee lamented her hard destinie,
+  So sadd and soe heavy was pretty Bessee.
+
+  Shee kept on her journey untill it was day,
+  And went unto Rumford along the hye way;
+  Where at the Queenes armes entertained was shee;
+  Soe faire and wel favoured was pretty Bessee.
+
+  Shee had not beene there a month to an end,
+  But master and mistress and all was her friend:
+  And every brave gallant, that once did her see,
+  Was straight-way enamoured of pretty Bessee.
+
+  Great gifts they did send her of silver and gold,
+  And in their songs daylye her love was extold;
+  Her beawtye was blazed in every degree;
+  Soe faire and soe comelye was pretty Bessee.
+
+  The young men of Rumford in her had their joy;
+  Shee shewed herself curteous, and modestlye coye;
+  And at her commandment still wold they bee;
+  Soe fayre and soe comlye was pretty Bessee.
+
+  Foure suitors att once unto her did goe;
+  They craved her favor, but still she sayd noe;
+  I wold not wish gentles to marry with mee.
+  Yett ever they honored prettye Bessee.
+
+  The first of them was a gallant young knight,
+  And he came unto her disguisde in the night;
+  The second a gentleman of good degree,
+  Who wooed and sued for prettye Bessee.
+
+  A merchant of London, whose wealth was not small,
+  He was the third suiter, and proper withall:
+  Her masters own sonne the fourth man must bee,
+  Who swore he would dye for pretty Bessee.
+
+  And, if thou wilt marry with mee, quoth the knight,
+  Ile make thee a ladye with joy and delight;
+  My hart's so inthralled by thy bewtle,
+  That soone I shall dye for prettye Bessee.
+
+  The gentleman sayd, Come, marry with mee,
+  As fine as a ladye my Bessy shal bee:
+  My life is distressed: O heare me, quoth hee;
+  And grant me thy love, my prettye Bessee.
+
+  Let me bee thy husband, the merchant cold say,
+  Thou shalt live in London both gallant and gay;
+  My shippes shall bring home rych jewells for thee,
+  And I will for ever love pretty Bessee.
+
+  Then Bessy shee sighed, and thus she did say,
+  My father and mother I meane to obey;
+  First gett their good will, and be faithfull to mee,
+  And you shall enjoye your prettye Bessee.
+
+  To every one this answer shee made,
+  Wherfore unto her they joyfullye sayd,
+  This thing to fulfill wee all doe agree;
+  But where dwells thy father, my prettye Bessee?
+
+  My father, shee said, is soone to be seene:
+  The seely blind beggar of Bednall-greene,
+  That daylye sits begging for charitie,
+  He is the good father of pretty Bessee.
+
+  His markes and his tokens are knowen very well;
+  He alwayes is led with a dogg and a bell:
+  A seely olde man, God knoweth, is hee,
+  Yett hee is the father of pretty Bessee.
+
+  Nay then, quoth the merchant, thou art not for mee:
+  Nor, quoth the innholder, my wiffe thou shalt bee:
+  I lothe, sayd the gentle, a beggars degree,
+  And therefore, adewe, my pretty Bessee!
+
+  Why then, quoth the knight, hap better or worse,
+  I waighe not true love by the waight of my pursse,
+  And bewtye is bewtye in every degree;
+  Then welcome unto me, my prettye Bessee.
+
+  With thee to thy father forthwith I will goe.
+  Nay soft, quoth his kinsmen, it must not be soe;
+  A poor beggars daughter noe ladye shal bee,
+  Then take thy adew of pretty Bessee.
+
+  But soone after this, by breake of the day,
+  The knight had from Rumford stole Bessy away.
+  The younge men of Rumford, as thicke might bee,
+  Rode after to feitch againe pretty Bessee.
+
+  As swifte as the winde to ryde they were scene,
+  Untill they came neare unto Bednall-greene;
+  And as the knight lighted most courteouslee,
+  They all fought against him for pretty Bessee.
+
+  But rescew came speedilye over the plaine,
+  Or else the young knight for his love had been slaine.
+  This fray being ended, then straitway he see
+  His kinsmen come rayling at pretty Bessee.
+
+  Then spake the blind beggar, Although I bee poore,
+  Yett rayle not against my child at my own doore:
+  Though shee be not decked in velvett and pearle,
+  Yett will I dropp angells with you for my girle.
+
+  And then, if my gold may better her birthe,
+  And equall the gold that you lay on the earth,
+  Then neyther rayle nor grudge you to see
+  The blind beggars daughter a lady to bee.
+
+  But first you shall promise, and have it well knowne,
+  The gold that you drop shall all be your owne.
+  With that they replyed, Contented bee wee.
+  Then here's, quoth the beggar, for pretty Bessee.
+
+  With that an angell he cast on the ground,
+  And dropped in angels full three thousand pound;
+  And oftentime itt was proved most plaine,
+  For the gentlemens one the beggar droppt twayne:
+
+  Soe that the place, wherin they did sitt,
+  With gold it was covered every whitt.
+  The gentlemen then having dropt all their store,
+  Sayd, Now, beggar, hold, for wee have noe more.
+
+  Thou hast fulfilled thy promise arright.
+  Then marry, quoth he, my girle to this knight;
+  And heere, added hee, I will now throwe you downe
+  A hundred pounds more to buy her a gowne.
+
+  The gentlemen all, that this treasure had seene,
+  Admired the beggar of Bednall-greene:
+  And all those, that were her suitors before,
+  Their fleshe for very anger they tore.
+
+  Thus was faire Besse matched to the knight,
+  And then made a ladye in others despite:
+  A fairer ladye there never was seene,
+  Than the blind beggars daughter of Bednall-greene.
+
+  But of their sumptuous marriage and feast,
+  What brave lords and knights thither were prest,
+  The SECOND FITT shall set forth to your sight
+  With marveilous pleasure, and wished delight.
+
+
+  PART THE SECOND
+
+  Off a blind beggars daughter most bright,
+  That late was betrothed unto a younge knight;
+  All the discourse therof you did see;
+  But now comes the wedding of pretty Bessee.
+
+  Within a gorgeous palace most brave,
+  Adorned with all the cost they cold have,
+  This wedding was kept most sumptuouslee,
+  And all for the credit of pretty Bessee.
+
+  All kind of dainties, and delicates sweete
+  Were bought for the banquet, as it was most meete;
+  Partridge, and plover, and venison most free,
+  Against the brave wedding of pretty Bessee.
+
+  This marriage through England was spread by report,
+  Soe that a great number therto did resort
+  Of nobles and gentles in every degree;
+  And all for the fame of prettye Bessee.
+
+  To church then went this gallant younge knight;
+  His bride followed after, an angell most bright,
+  With troopes of ladyes, the like nere was scene
+  As went with sweete Bessy of Bednall-greene.
+
+  This marryage being solempnized then,
+  With musicke performed by the skilfullest men,
+  The nobles and gentles sate downe at that tyde,
+  Each one admiring the beautiful bryde.
+
+  Now, after the sumptuous dinner was done,
+  To talke, and to reason a number begunn:
+  They talkt of the blind beggars daughter most bright,
+  And what with his daughter he gave to the knight.
+
+  Then spake the nobles, "Much marveil have wee,
+  This jolly blind beggar wee cannot here see."
+  My lords, quoth the bride, my father's so base,
+  He is loth with his presence these states to disgrace.
+
+  "The prayse of a woman in question to bringe
+  Before her own face, were a flattering thinge;
+  But wee thinke thy father's baseness," quoth they,
+  "Might by thy bewtye be cleane put awaye."
+
+  They had noe sooner these pleasant words spoke,
+  But in comes the beggar cladd in a silke cloke;
+  A faire velvet capp, and a fether had hee,
+  And now a musicyan forsooth he wold bee.
+
+  He had a daintye lute under his arme,
+  He touched the strings, which made such a charme,
+  Saies, Please you to heare any musicke of mee,
+  Ile sing you a song of pretty Bessee.
+
+  With that his lute he twanged straightway,
+  And thereon begann most sweetlye to play;
+  And after that lessons were playd two or three,
+  He strayn'd out this song most delicatelee.
+
+  "A poore beggars daughter did dwell on a greene,
+  Who for her fairenesse might well be a queene:
+  A blithe bonny lasse, and a daintye was shee,
+  And many one called her pretty Bessee.
+
+  "Her father hee had noe goods, nor noe land,
+  But begged for a penny all day with his hand;
+  And yett to her marriage he gave thousands three,
+  And still he hath somewhat for pretty Bessee.
+
+  "And if any one here her birth doe disdaine,
+  Her father is ready, with might and with maine,
+  To proove shee is come of noble degree:
+  Therfore never flout att prettye Bessee."
+
+  With that the lords and the companye round
+  With harty laughter were readye to swound;
+  Att last said the lords, Full well wee may see,
+  The bride and the beggar's behoulden to thee.
+
+  On this the bride all blushing did rise,
+  The pearlie dropps standing within her faire eyes,
+  O pardon my father, grave nobles, quoth shee,
+  That throughe blind affection thus doteth on mee.
+
+  If this be thy father, the nobles did say,
+  Well may he be proud of this happy day;
+  Yett by his countenance well may wee see,
+  His birth and his fortune did never agree:
+
+  And therefore, blind man, we pray thee bewray,
+  (and looke that the truth thou to us doe say)
+  Thy birth and thy parentage, whatt itt may bee;
+  For the love that thou bearest to pretty Bessee.
+
+  "Then give me leave, nobles and gentles, each one,
+  One song more to sing, and then I have done;
+  And if that itt may not winn good report,
+  Then doe not give me a GROAT for my sport.
+
+  "Sir Simon de Montfort my subject shal bee;
+  Once chiefe of all the great barons was hee,
+  Yet fortune so cruelle this lorde did abase,
+  Now loste and forgotten are hee and his race.
+
+  "When the barons in armes did King Henrye oppose,
+  Sir Simon de Montfort their leader they chose;
+  A leader of courage undaunted was hee,
+  And oft-times he made their enemyes flee.
+
+  "At length in the battle on Eveshame plaine
+  The barons were routed, and Montford was slaine;
+  Moste fatall that battel did prove unto thee,
+  Thoughe thou wast not borne then, my prettye Bessee!
+
+  "Along with the nobles, that fell at that tyde,
+  His eldest son Henrye, who fought by his side,
+  Was fellde by a blowe, he receivde in the fight!
+  A blowe that deprivde him for ever of sight.
+
+  "Among the dead bodyes all lifeless he laye,
+  Till evening drewe on of the following daye,
+  When by a yong ladye discovered was hee;
+  And this was thy mother, my prettye Bessee!
+
+  "A barons faire daughter stept forth in the nighte
+  To search for her father, who fell in the fight,
+  And seeing young Montfort, where gasping he laye,
+  Was moved with pitye, and brought him awaye.
+
+  "In secrette she nurst him, and swaged his paine,
+  While he throughe the realme was beleeved to be slaine
+  At lengthe his faire bride she consented to bee,
+  And made him glad father of prettye Bessee.
+
+  "And nowe lest oure foes our lives sholde betraye,
+  We clothed ourselves in beggars arraye;
+  Her jewelles shee solde, and hither came wee:
+  All our comfort and care was our prettye Bessee.
+
+  "And here have we lived in fortunes despite,
+  Thoughe poore, yet contented with humble delighte:
+  Full forty winters thus have I beene
+  A silly blind beggar of Bednall-greene.
+
+  "And here, noble lordes, is ended the song
+  Of one, that once to your own ranke did belong:
+  And thus have you learned a secrette from mee,
+  That ne'er had been knowne, but for prettye Bessee."
+
+  Now when the faire companye everye one,
+  Had heard the strange tale in the song he had showne,
+  They all were amazed, as well they might bee,
+  Both at the blinde beggar, and pretty Bessee.
+
+  With that the faire bride they all did embrace,
+  Saying, Sure thou art come of an honourable race,
+  Thy father likewise is of noble degree,
+  And thou art well worthy a lady to bee.
+
+  Thus was the feast ended with joye and delighte,
+  A bridegroome most happy then was the younge knighte,
+  In joy and felicitie long lived hee,
+  All with his faire ladye, the pretty Bessee.
+
+
+[Illustration: The Blind Beggar's Daughter of Bednall Green tailpiece]
+
+
+
+
+THOMAS THE RHYMER
+
+[Illustration: Thomas the Rhymer headpiece]
+
+[Illustration: Thomas the Rhymer]
+
+  Thomas lay on the Huntlie bank,
+    A spying ferlies wi his eee,
+  And he did spy a lady gay,
+    Come riding down by the lang lee.
+
+  Her steed was o the dapple grey,
+    And at its mane there hung bells nine;
+  He thought he heard that lady say,
+    "They gowden bells sall a' be thine."
+
+  Her mantle was o velvet green,
+    And a' set round wi jewels fine;
+  Her hawk and hounds were at her side,
+    And her bugle-horn wi gowd did shine.
+
+  Thomas took aff baith cloak and cap,
+    For to salute this gay lady:
+  "O save ye, save ye, fair Queen o Heavn,
+    And ay weel met ye save and see!"
+
+  "I'm no the Queen o Heavn, Thomas;
+    I never carried my head sae hee;
+  For I am but a lady gay,
+    Come out to hunt in my follee.
+
+  "Now gin ye kiss my mouth, Thomas,
+    Ye mauna miss my fair bodee;
+  Then ye may een gang hame and tell
+    That ye've lain wi a gay ladee."
+
+  "O gin I loe a lady fair,
+    Nae ill tales o her wad I tell,
+  And it's wi thee I fain wad gae,
+    Tho it were een to heavn or hell."
+
+  "Then harp and carp, Thomas," she said,
+    "Then harp and carp alang wi me;
+  But it will be seven years and a day
+    Till ye win back to yere ain countrie."
+
+  The lady rade, True Thomas ran,
+    Until they cam to a water wan;
+  O it was night, and nae delight,
+    And Thomas wade aboon the knee.
+
+  It was dark night, and nae starn-light,
+    And on they waded lang days three,
+  And they heard the roaring o a flood,
+    And Thomas a waefou man was he.
+
+  Then they rade on, and farther on,
+    Untill they came to a garden green;
+  To pu an apple he put up his hand,
+    For the lack o food he was like to tyne.
+
+  "O haud yere hand, Thomas," she cried,
+    "And let that green flourishing be;
+  For it's the very fruit o hell,
+    Beguiles baith man and woman o yere countrie.
+
+  "But look afore ye, True Thomas,
+    And I shall show ye ferlies three;
+  Yon is the gate leads to our land,
+    Where thou and I sae soon shall be.
+
+  "And dinna ye see yon road, Thomas,
+    That lies out-owr yon lilly lee?
+  Weel is the man yon gate may gang,
+    For it leads him straight to the heavens hie.
+
+  "But do you see yon road, Thomas,
+    That lies out-owr yon frosty fell?
+  Ill is the man yon gate may gang,
+    For it leads him straight to the pit o hell.
+
+  "Now when ye come to our court, Thomas,
+    See that a weel-learned man ye be;
+  For they will ask ye, one and all,
+    But ye maun answer nane but me.
+
+  "And when nae answer they obtain,
+    Then will they come and question me,
+  And I will answer them again
+    That I gat yere aith at the Eildon tree.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  "Ilka seven years, Thomas,
+    We pay our teindings unto hell,
+  And ye're sae leesome and sae strang
+    That I fear, Thomas, it will be yeresell."
+
+
+
+
+YOUNG BEICHAN
+
+[Illustration: Young Beichan headpiece]
+
+[Illustration: Young Beichan]
+
+  In London city was Bicham born,
+    He longd strange countries for to see,
+  But he was taen by a savage Moor,
+    Who handld him right cruely.
+
+  For thro his shoulder he put a bore,
+    An thro the bore has pitten a tree,
+  An he's gard him draw the carts o wine,
+    Where horse and oxen had wont to be.
+
+  He's casten [him] in a dungeon deep,
+    Where he coud neither hear nor see;
+  He's shut him up in a prison strong,
+    An he's handld him right cruely.
+
+  O this Moor he had but ae daughter,
+    I wot her name was Shusy Pye;
+  She's doen her to the prison-house,
+    And she's calld Young Bicham one word
+
+  "O hae ye ony lands or rents,
+    Or citys in your ain country,
+  Coud free you out of prison strong,
+    An coud mantain a lady free?"
+
+  "O London city is my own,
+    An other citys twa or three,
+  Coud loose me out o prison strong,
+    An coud mantain a lady free."
+
+  O she has bribed her father's men
+    Wi meikle goud and white money,
+  She's gotten the key o the prison doors,
+    An she has set Young Bicham free.
+
+  She's g'in him a loaf o good white bread,
+    But an a flask o Spanish wine,
+  An she bad him mind on the ladie's love
+    That sae kindly freed him out o pine.
+
+  "Go set your foot on good ship-board,
+    An haste you back to your ain country,
+  An before that seven years has an end,
+    Come back again, love, and marry me."
+
+  It was long or seven years had an end
+    She longd fu sair her love to see;
+  She's set her foot on good ship-board,
+    And turnd her back on her ain country.
+
+  She's saild up, so has she doun,
+    Till she came to the other side;
+  She's landed at Young Bicham's gates,
+    An I hop this day she sal be his bride.
+
+  "Is this Young Bicham's gates?" says she,
+    "Or is that noble prince within?"
+  "He's up the stairs wi his bonny bride,
+    An monny a lord and lady wi him."
+
+  "O has he taen a bonny bride,
+    An has he clean forgotten me!"
+  An sighing said that gay lady,
+    I wish I were in my ain country!
+
+  But she's pitten her han in her pocket,
+    An gin the porter guineas three;
+  Says, Take ye that, ye proud porter,
+    An bid the bridegroom speak to me.
+
+  O whan the porter came up the stair,
+    He's fa'n low down upon his knee:
+  "Won up, won up, ye proud porter,
+    An what makes a' this courtesy?"
+
+  "O I've been porter at your gates
+    This mair nor seven years an three,
+  But there is a lady at them now
+    The like of whom I never did see.
+
+  "For on every finger she has a ring,
+    An on the mid-finger she has three,
+  An there's a meikle goud aboon her brow
+    As woud buy an earldome o lan to me."
+
+  Then up it started Young Bicham,
+    An sware so loud by Our Lady,
+  "It can be nane but Shusy Pye,
+    That has come oer the sea to me."
+
+  O quickly ran he down the stair,
+    O fifteen steps he has made but three;
+  He's tane his bonny love in his arms,
+    An a wot he kissd her tenderly.
+
+  "O hae you tane a bonny bride?
+    An hae you quite forsaken me?
+  An hae ye quite forgotten her
+    That gae you life an liberty?"
+
+ She's lookit oer her left shoulder
+    To hide the tears stood in her ee;
+  "Now fare thee well, Young Bicham," she says,
+    "I'll strive to think nae mair on thee."
+
+  "Take back your daughter, madam," he says,
+    "An a double dowry I'll gi her wi;
+  For I maun marry my first true love,
+    That's done and suffered so much for me."
+
+  He's take his bonny love by the ban,
+    And led her to yon fountain stane;
+  He's changd her name frae Shusy Pye,
+    An he's cald her his bonny love, Lady Jane.
+
+
+
+
+BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBEY
+
+[Illustration: Brave Lord Willoughbey headpiece]
+
+
+  The fifteenth day of July,
+    With glistering spear and shield,
+  A famous fight in Flanders
+    Was foughten in the field:
+  The most couragious officers
+    Were English captains three;
+  But the bravest man in battel
+    Was brave Lord Willoughbey.
+
+  The next was Captain Norris,
+    A valiant man was hee:
+  The other Captain Turner,
+    From field would never flee.
+  With fifteen hundred fighting men,
+    Alas! there were no more,
+  They fought with fourteen thousand then,
+    Upon the bloody shore.
+
+  Stand to it, noble pikemen,
+    And look you round about:
+  And shoot you right, you bow-men,
+    And we will keep them out:
+  You musquet and callever men,
+    Do you prove true to me,
+  I'le be the formost man in fight,
+    Says brave Lord Willoughbey.
+
+  And then the bloody enemy
+    They fiercely did assail,
+  And fought it out most furiously,
+    Not doubting to prevail:
+  The wounded men on both sides fell
+    Most pitious for to see,
+  Yet nothing could the courage quell
+    Of brave Lord Willoughbey.
+
+  For seven hours to all mens view
+    This fight endured sore,
+  Until our men so feeble grew
+    That they could fight no more;
+  And then upon dead horses
+    Full savourly they eat,
+  And drank the puddle water,
+    They could no better get.
+
+  When they had fed so freely,
+    They kneeled on the ground,
+  And praised God devoutly
+    For the favour they had found;
+  And beating up their colours,
+    The fight they did renew,
+  And turning tow'rds the Spaniard,
+    A thousand more they slew.
+
+  The sharp steel-pointed arrows,
+    And bullets thick did fly,
+  Then did our valiant soldiers
+    Charge on most furiously;
+  Which made the Spaniards waver,
+    They thought it best to flee,
+  They fear'd the stout behaviour
+    Of brave Lord Willoughbey.
+
+  Then quoth the Spanish general,
+    Come let us march away,
+  I fear we shall be spoiled all
+    If here we longer stay;
+  For yonder comes Lord Willoughbey
+    With courage fierce and fell,
+  He will not give one inch of way
+    For all the devils in hell.
+
+  And then the fearful enemy
+    Was quickly put to flight,
+  Our men persued couragiously,
+    And caught their forces quite;
+  But at last they gave a shout,
+    Which ecchoed through the sky,
+  God, and St. George for England!
+    The conquerors did cry.
+
+  This news was brought to England
+    With all the speed might be,
+  And soon our gracious queen was told
+    Of this same victory.
+  O this is brave Lord Willoughbey,
+    My love that ever won,
+  Of all the lords of honour
+    'Tis he great deeds hath done.
+
+  To the souldiers that were maimed,
+    And wounded in the fray,
+  The queen allowed a pension
+    Of fifteen pence a day;
+  And from all costs and charges
+    She quit and set them free:
+  And this she did all for the sake
+    Of brave Lord Willoughbey.
+
+  Then courage, noble Englishmen,
+    And never be dismaid;
+  If that we be but one to ten,
+    We will not be afraid
+  To fight with foraign enemies,
+    And set our nation free.
+  And thus I end the bloody bout
+    Of brave Lord Willoughbey.
+
+
+
+
+THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE
+
+[Illustration: The Spanish Lady's Love headpiece]
+
+
+  Will you hear a Spanish lady,
+    How shed wooed an English man?
+  Garments gay and rich as may be
+    Decked with jewels she had on.
+  Of a comely countenance and grace was she,
+  And by birth and parentage of high degree.
+
+  As his prisoner there he kept her,
+    In his hands her life did lye!
+  Cupid's bands did tye them faster
+    By the liking of an eye.
+  In his courteous company was all her joy,
+  To favour him in any thing she was not coy.
+
+  But at last there came commandment
+    For to set the ladies free,
+  With their jewels still adorned,
+    None to do them injury.
+  Then said this lady mild, Full woe is me;
+  O let me still sustain this kind captivity!
+
+  Gallant captain, shew some pity
+    To a ladye in distresse;
+  Leave me not within this city,
+    For to dye in heavinesse:
+  Thou hast this present day my body free,
+  But my heart in prison still remains with thee.
+
+  "How should'st thou, fair lady, love me,
+    Whom thou knowest thy country's foe?
+  Thy fair wordes make me suspect thee:
+    Serpents lie where flowers grow."
+  All the harme I wishe to thee, most courteous knight,
+  God grant the same upon my head may fully light.
+
+  Blessed be the time and season,
+    That you came on Spanish ground;
+  If our foes you may be termed,
+    Gentle foes we have you found:
+  With our city, you have won our hearts eche one,
+  Then to your country bear away, that is your owne.
+
+  "Rest you still, most gallant lady;
+    Rest you still, and weep no more;
+  Of fair lovers there is plenty,
+    Spain doth yield a wonderous store."
+  Spaniards fraught with jealousy we often find,
+  But Englishmen through all the world are counted kind.
+
+  Leave me not unto a Spaniard,
+    You alone enjoy my heart:
+  I am lovely, young, and tender,
+    Love is likewise my desert:
+  Still to serve thee day and night my mind is prest;
+  The wife of every Englishman is counted blest.
+
+  "It wold be a shame, fair lady,
+    For to bear a woman hence;
+  English soldiers never carry
+    Any such without offence."
+  I'll quickly change myself, if it be so,
+  And like a page He follow thee, where'er thou go.
+
+  "I have neither gold nor silver
+    To maintain thee in this case,
+  And to travel is great charges,
+    As you know in every place."
+  My chains and jewels every one shal be thy own,
+  And eke five hundred pounds in gold that lies unknown.
+
+  "On the seas are many dangers,
+    Many storms do there arise,
+  Which wil be to ladies dreadful,
+    And force tears from watery eyes."
+  Well in troth I shall endure extremity,
+  For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee.
+
+  "Courteous ladye, leave this fancy,
+    Here comes all that breeds the strife;
+  I in England have already
+    A sweet woman to my wife:
+  I will not falsify my vow for gold nor gain,
+  Nor yet for all the fairest dames that live in Spain."
+
+  O how happy is that woman
+    That enjoys so true a friend!
+  Many happy days God send her;
+    Of my suit I make an end:
+  On my knees I pardon crave for my offence,
+  Which did from love and true affection first commence.
+
+  Commend me to thy lovely lady,
+    Bear to her this chain of gold;
+  And these bracelets for a token;
+    Grieving that I was so bold:
+  All my jewels in like sort take thou with thee,
+  For they are fitting for thy wife, but not for me.
+
+  I will spend my days in prayer,
+    Love and all her laws defye;
+  In a nunnery will I shroud mee
+    Far from any companye:
+  But ere my prayers have an end, be sure of this,
+  To pray for thee and for thy love I will not miss.
+
+  Thus farewell, most gallant captain!
+    Farewell too my heart's content!
+  Count not Spanish ladies wanton,
+    Though to thee my love was bent:
+  Joy and true prosperity goe still with thee!
+   "The like fall ever to thy share, most fair ladie."
+
+
+
+
+THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY
+
+[Illustration: The Friar of Orders Gray headpiece]
+
+
+  It was a friar of orders gray
+   Walkt forth to tell his beades;
+  And he met with a lady faire,
+    Clad in a pilgrime's weedes.
+
+  Now Christ thee save, thou reverend friar,
+    I pray thee tell to me,
+  If ever at yon holy shrine
+    My true love thou didst see.
+
+  And how should I know your true love
+    From many another one?
+  O by his cockle hat, and staff,
+    And by his sandal shoone.
+
+  But chiefly by his face and mien,
+    That were so fair to view;
+  His flaxen locks that sweetly curl'd,
+    And eyne of lovely blue.
+
+  O lady, he is dead and gone!
+    Lady, he's dead and gone!
+  And at his head a green grass turfe,
+    And at his heels a stone.
+
+  Within these holy cloysters long
+    He languisht, and he dyed,
+  Lamenting of a ladyes love,
+    And 'playning of her pride.
+
+  Here bore him barefac'd on his bier
+    Six proper youths and tall,
+  And many a tear bedew'd his grave
+    Within yon kirk-yard wall.
+
+  And art thou dead, thou gentle youth!
+    And art thou dead and gone!
+  And didst thou die for love of me!
+    Break, cruel heart of stone!
+
+  O weep not, lady, weep not soe;
+    Some ghostly comfort seek:
+  Let not vain sorrow rive thy heart,
+    Ne teares bedew thy cheek.
+
+  O do not, do not, holy friar,
+    My sorrow now reprove;
+  For I have lost the sweetest youth,
+    That e'er wan ladyes love.
+
+  And nowe, alas! for thy sad losse,
+    I'll evermore weep and sigh;
+  For thee I only wisht to live,
+    For thee I wish to dye.
+
+  Weep no more, lady, weep no more,
+    Thy sorrowe is in vaine:
+  For violets pluckt the sweetest showers
+    Will ne'er make grow againe.
+
+  Our joys as winged dreams doe flye,
+    Why then should sorrow last?
+  Since grief but aggravates thy losse,
+    Grieve not for what is past.
+
+  O say not soe, thou holy friar;
+    I pray thee, say not soe:
+  For since my true-love dyed for mee,
+    'Tis meet my tears should flow.
+
+  And will he ne'er come again?
+    Will he ne'er come again?
+  Ah! no, he is dead and laid in his grave,
+    For ever to remain.
+
+  His cheek was redder than the rose;
+    The comliest youth was he!
+  But he is dead and laid in his grave:
+    Alas, and woe is me!
+
+  Sigh no more, lady, sigh no more,
+    Men were deceivers ever:
+  One foot on sea and one on land,
+    To one thing constant never.
+
+  Hadst thou been fond, he had been false,
+    And left thee sad and heavy;
+  For young men ever were fickle found,
+    Since summer trees were leafy.
+
+  Now say not so, thou holy friar,
+    I pray thee say not soe;
+  My love he had the truest heart:
+    O he was ever true!
+
+  And art thou dead, thou much-lov'd youth,
+    And didst thou dye for mee?
+  Then farewell home; for ever-more
+    A pilgrim I will bee.
+
+  But first upon my true-loves grave
+    My weary limbs I'll lay,
+  And thrice I'll kiss the green-grass turf,
+    That wraps his breathless clay.
+
+  Yet stay, fair lady; rest awhile
+    Beneath this cloyster wall:
+  See through the hawthorn blows the cold wind,
+    And drizzly rain doth fall.
+
+  O stay me not, thou holy friar;
+    O stay me not, I pray;
+  No drizzly rain that falls on me,
+    Can wash my fault away.
+
+  Yet stay, fair lady, turn again,
+    And dry those pearly tears;
+  For see beneath this gown of gray
+    Thy own true-love appears.
+
+  Here forc'd by grief, and hopeless love,
+    These holy weeds I sought;
+  And here amid these lonely walls
+    To end my days I thought.
+
+  But haply for my year of grace
+    Is not yet past away,
+  Might I still hope to win thy love,
+    No longer would I stay.
+
+  Now farewell grief, and welcome joy
+    Once more unto my heart;
+  For since I have found thee, lovely youth,
+    We never more will part.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Book of Ballads, Volume 2, by Various
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