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Her eyes like angels watch them still;
Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill
All that approach with eye or hand
These sacred cherries to come nigh,
Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry.

Robin Goodfellow.

[Attributed, upon supposition only, to Ben Jonson.]

From Oberon, in fairy land,

The king of ghosts and shadows there,
Mad Robin I, at his command,

Am sent to view the night-sports here.
What revel rout

Is kept about,

In every corner where I go,

I will o'ersee,

And merry be,

And make good sport, with ho, ho, ho!

More swift than lightning can I fly
About this airy welkin soon,
And, in a minute's space, descry

Each thing that's done below the moon.
There's not a hag

Or ghost shall wag,

Or cry, 'ware goblins ! where I go;
But Robin I

Their feats will spy,

And send them home with ho, ho, ho!

Whene'er such wanderers I meet,

As from their night-sports they trudge home, With counterfeiting voice I greet,

And call them on with me to roam :

Through woods, through lakes;
Through bogs, through brakes;
Or else, unseen, with them I go,
All in the nick,

To play some trick,

And frolic it, with ho, ho, ho!

Sometimes I meet them like a man,

Sometimes an ox, sometimes a hound;
And to a horse I turn me can,

To trip and trot about them round.
But if to ride

My back they stride,

More swift than wind away I go,
O'er hedge and lands,
Through pools and ponds,
I hurry, laughing, ho, ho, ho!

When lads and lasses merry be,

With possets and with junkets fine;
Unseen of all the company,

I eat their cakes and sip their wine!
And, to make sport,

I puff and snort:

And out the candles I do blow:
The maids I kiss,

They shriek-Who's this?

I answer nought but ho, ho, ho!

Yet now and then, the maids to please,
At midnight I card up their wool;
And, while they sleep and take their ease,
With wheel to threads their flax I pull.
I grind at mill

Their malt up still;

I dress their hemp; I spin their tow; If any wake,

And would me take,

I wend me, laughing, ho, ho, ho!

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Away we fling;

And babes new born steal as we go;
And elf in bed

We leave in stead,

And wend us laughing, ho, ho, ho!

From hag-bred Merlin's time, have I
Thus nightly revelled to and fro;
And for my pranks men call me by
The name of Robin Good-fellow.
Fiends, ghosts, and sprites,
Who haunt the nights,

The hags and goblins do me know;
And beldames old

My feats have told,

So vale, vale; ho, ho, ho!

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With an old buttery hatch worn quite off the hooks, And an old kitchen, that maintain'd half a dozen old cooks;

Like an old courtier, &c.

With an old hall, hung about with pikes, guns, and bows,

With old swords and bucklers, that had borne many shrewd blows,

And an old frieze coat, to cover his worship's trunk hose,

And a cup of old sherry, to comfort his copper nose; Like an old courtier, &c.

With a good old fashion, when Christmas was come, To call in all his old neighbours with bagpipe and drum,

With good cheer enough to furnish every old room, And old liquor able to make a cat speak, and man dumb;

Like an old courtier, &c.

With an old falconer, huntsmen, and a kennel of hounds,

That never hawk'd, nor hunted, but in his own grounds;

Who, like a wise man, kept himself within his own bounds,

And when he died, gave every child a thousand good pounds;

Like an old courtier, &c.

But to his eldest son his house and lands he assign'd, Charging him in his will to keep the old bountiful mind,

To be good to his old tenants, and to his neighbours be kind:

But in the ensuing ditty you shall hear how he was inclined;

Like a young courtier of the king's,

And the king's young courtier.

Like a flourishing young gallant, newly come to his land,

Who keeps a brace of painted madams at his command,

And takes up a thousand pounds upon his father's land,

And gets drunk in a tavern till he can neither go nor stand:

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When this old cap was new,

"Tis since two hundred year; No malice then we knew,

But all things plenty were: All friendship now decays

(Believe me this is true); Which was not in those days, When this old cap was new. The nobles of our land,

Were much delighted then, To have at their command A crew of lusty men, Which by their coats were known, Of tawny, red, or blue, With crests on their sleeves shown, When this old cap was new.

Now pride hath banish'd all,

Unto our land's reproach, When he whose means is small, Maintains both horse and coach: Instead of a hundred men,

The coach allows but two; This was not thought on then, When this old cap was new.

Good hospitality

Was cherish'd then of many; Now poor men starve and die, And are not help'd by any: For charity waxeth cold,

And love is found in few; This was not in time of old,

When this old cap was new. Where'er you travelled then,

You might meet on the way Brave knights and gentlemen,

Clad in their country grey; That courteous would appear, And kindly welcome you; No puritans then were,

When this old cap was new. Our ladies in those days

In civil habit went ; Broad cloth was then worth praise, And gave the best content:

A

French fashions then were scorn'd;
Fond fangles then none knew;
Then modesty women adorn'd,
When this old cap was new.
A man might then behold,

At Christmas, in each hall,
Good fires to curb the cold,

And meat for great and small : The neighbours were friendly bidden,

And all had welcome true;

The poor from the gates were not chidden, When this old cap was new.

Black jacks to every man

Were fill'd with wine and beer;
No pewter pot nor can

In those days did appear:
Good cheer in a nobleman's house
Was counted a seemly show;
We wanted no brawn nor souse,
When this old cap was new.

We took not such delight

In cups of silver fine;

None under the degree of a knight
In plate drank beer or wine:

Now each mechanical man

Hath a cupboard of plate for a show; Which was a rare thing then,

When this old cap was new.

Then bribery was unborn,
No simony men did use;
Christians did usury scorn,
Devis'd among the Jews.
The lawyers to be fee'd

At that time hardly knew ;
For man with man agreed,

When this old cap was new. No captain then caroused,

Nor spent poor soldier's pay;
They were not so abused

As they are at this day:
Of seven days they make eight,
To keep from them their due;
Poor soldiers had their right,

When this old cap was new:
Which made them forward still
To go, although not prest;
And going with good will,

Their fortunes were the best.
Our English then in fight
Did foreign foes subdue,
And forced them all to flight,
When this old cap was new.
God save our gracious king,

And send him long to live:
Lord, mischief on them bring
That will not their alms give,
But seek to rob the poor

Of that which is their due: This was not in time of yore, When this old cap was new.

Loyalty Confined.

[Supposed to have been written by Sir Roger L'Estrange, while in confinement on account of his adherence to Charles I.] Beat on, proud billows; Boreas, blow; Swell, curl'd waves, high as Jove's roof; Your incivility doth show

That innocence is tempest-proof;

Though surly Nereus frown, my thoughts are calm; Then strike, affliction, for thy wounds are balm.

That which the world miscalls a jail,
A private closet is to me:
Whilst a good conscience is my bail,
And innocence my liberty:
Locks, bars, and solitude, together met,
Make me no prisoner, but an anchoret.
I, whilst I wish'd to be retired,

Into this private room was turned;
As if their wisdoms had couspir'd

The salamander should be burned;
Or like those sophists, that would drown a fish,
I am constrain'd to suffer what I wish.
The cynic loves his poverty,

The pelican her wilderness,
And 'tis the Indian's pride to be
Naked on frozen Caucasus :
Contentment cannot smart, stoics we see
Make torments easy to their apathy.
These manacles upon my arm

I, as my mistress' favours, wear;
And for to keep my ankles warm,

I have some iron shackles there:
These walls are but my garrison; this cell,
Which men call jail, doth prove my citadel.
I'm in the cabinet lock'd up

Like some high-prized margarite;
Or like the great Mogul or Pope,

Am cloister'd up from public sight:
Retiredness is a piece of majesty,

And thus, proud sultan, I'm as great as thee.
Here sin for want of food must starve,
Where tempting objects are not seen;
And these strong walls do only serve
To keep vice out, and keep me in:
Malice of late 's grown charitable sure;
I'm not committed, but am kept secure.
So he that struck at Jason's life,
Thinking t' have made his purpose sure,
By a malicious friendly knife

Did only wound him to a cure:
Malice, I see, wants wit; for what is meant
Mischief, ofttimes proves favour by th' event.

When once my prince affliction hath,
Prosperity doth treason seem;
And to make smooth so rough a path,
I can learn patience from him:

Now not to suffer shows no loyal heart-
When kings want ease, subjects must bear a part.
What though I cannot see my king,
Neither in person, or in coin;
Yet contemplation is a thing

That renders what I have not, mine:
My king from me what adamant can part,
Whom I do wear engraven on my heart.

Have you not seen the nightingale
A prisoner like, coop'd in a cage,
How doth she chant her wonted tale,
In that her narrow hermitage!
Even then her charming melody doth prove
That all her bars are trees, her cage a grove.
I am that bird whom they combine
Thus to deprive of liberty;

But though they do my corpse confine,
Yet, maugre hate, my soul is free:
And, though immur'd, yet can I chirp and sing
Disgrace to rebels, glory to my king.

My soul is free as ambient air,
Although my baser part's immew'd;
Whilst loyal thoughts do still repair
T'accompany my solitude;
Although rebellion do my body bind,
My king alone can captivate my mind.

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ENGLISH LITERATURE.

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* Essays Illustrative of the Tatler, Spectator, &c., ii. 9.
† Lectures on the Dramatic Literature of the Age of Eliza
beth, p. 263.

Then went they together abroad, the good Kalander entertaining them with pleasant discoursing-how well he loved the sport of hunting when he was a disdained all chamber-delights, that the sun (how young man, how much in the comparison thereof he great a journey soever he had to make) could never prevent him with earliness, nor the moon, with her never live to my age, without you keep yourself in sober countenance, dissuade him from watching till midnight for the deers feeding. O, said he, you will breath with exercise, and in heart with joyfulness too much thinking doth consume the spirits; and oft doing, he leaves to do the effect of his thinking. Then it falls out, that, while one thinks too much of his spared he not to remember, how much Arcadia was changed since his youth; activity and good fellowbut, according to the nature of the old-growing world, ship being nothing in the price it was then held in;

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