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O Yarrow fields, may never, never rain, Queene; and the son of a king is in the same poem Nor dew thy tender blossoms cover!
called “Child Tristram.” And it ought to be obFor there was basely slain my luve,
served that the word child or chield is still used in My luve, as he had not been a luver!
North Britain to denominate a man, commonly
with some contemptuous character affixed to him, The boy pnt on his robes, his robes of green,
but sometimes to denote man in general.
And stroakt his milke-white steede :
To him a fayre yonge ladye came The boy took out his milk-white, milk- |
| As ever ware womans weede. white steed, Unheedful of my dule and sorrow; Sayes, Christ you save! good Childe Waters, But, ere the dew fall of the night,
Sayes, Christ you save! and see,
Is now too short for mee.
That slew my luve, and left me mourning. My gowne of greene it is too strait;
But with his cruel rage pursue me? My luver's blood is on thy spear!
If the childe be mine, faire Ellen, he sayd, How canst thou, barbarous man! then
Be mine, as you tell mee; wooe me?
Then take you Cheshire and Lancashire both,
Take them your owne to bee.
If the childe be mine, faire Ellen, he sayd, May bid me seek on Yarrow's Braes
Be mine, as you doe sweare; My luver nailed in his coffin :
Then take you Cheshire and Lancashire both, My brother Douglas may upbraid, upbraid, And make that childe your heyre. And strive with threatning words to muve me;
Shee sayes, I had rather have one kine, My luver's blood is on thy spear!
Childe Waters, of thy mouth;
Than I wolde have Cheshire and Lancashire How canst thou ever bid me lure thee?
That lye by north and southe. (both, Yes, yes, prepare the bed, the bed of luve,
With bridal sheets my body cuver : And I had rather have one twinkling, Unbar, ye bridal maids, the door,
Childe Waters, of thine ee; Let in the expected husbande luver. | Then I wolde have Cheshire and Lancashire But who the expected husband, husband is ?
To take thein mine owne to bee. [both, His hands, methinks, are bath'd in slaugh- | To-morrow. Ellen. I must forth ryde ter:
Farr into the north countree; Ah me! what ghastly spectre's yon
The fayrest ladye that I can finde,
Ellen, must go with mee.
Yet let me goe with thee:
And ever, I pray you, Childe Waters, And crown my careful head with willow.
• Your foot-page let me bee. Pale though thou art, yet best, yet best beluv'd,
| If you will my foot-page bee, Ellen, O could my warmth to life restore thee!
| As you doe tell to mee; Yet lye all night between my briests,
Then you must cut your gowne of greene
An inch above your knee.
Soe must you doe your yellowe lockes,
An inch above your ee : And lye all night between my briests,
You must tell no man what is my name; No youth shall ever lye there after.
My foot-page then you shall bee. ! Return, return, Omournful mournful bride,
Return, and dry thy useless sorrowe; Shee, all the long daye Childe Waters rode, Thy luver heeds nought of thy sighs,
Ran barefoot by his syde;
To say, Ellen will you ryde?
Shee, all the long daye Childe Waters rode, $ 122. Childe Waters.
Ran barefoote thorow the broome; HILD is frequently used by our old writers as a title. Yet was he never soe courteous a knighte, It is repeatedly given to Prince Arthur in the Faerie To say, Put on your shoone.
Ride softlye, shee sayd, O Childe Waters, | It is more meete for a little foot-page,
That has run throughe mosse and myre,
And lye by the kitchen fyre. Hee sayth, Seest thou yond water, Ellen,
Now when they had supped every one, Thai Aows from banke or brimme?
To bedd they tooke theyre waye : I trust in God, O Childe Waters,
He sayd, Come hither, my little foot-page,
And hearken what I saye: You never will see * ine swimine !
Goe thee downe unto yonder towne, But when shee came to the water syde,
And lowe into the streete; She sayled to the chinne :
The fayrest ladye that thou canst finde Nowe the Lorde of Heaven be my speede,
Hyre, in mine armes to sleepe; For I must learne to swimme!
And take her up in thine armes twaine, The salt waters bare up her clothes;
For filing of her feete. Our Ladye bare up her chinne:
Ellen is gone into the towne, Childe Waters was a woe man, good Lord, And lowe into the streete ; To see faire Ellen swimme!
The fayrest ladye that she colde finde,
She hyred in his armes to sleepe ; And when shee over the water was,
And took her up in her armes twayne,
For filing of her feete.
I pray you nowe, good Childe Waters,
Let me lye at your feete: Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?
For there is noe place about this house Of red gold shines the yate :
Where i may saye I a sleepe. Of twenty-four faire ladyes there,
He gave her leave, and faire Ellen The fairest is my mate.
Down at his beds feet laye : Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?
This done, the night drove on apace; Of red gold shines the towre:
And, when it was near the daye, There are twenty-four fayre ladyes there, Hee sayd, Rise up, my little foot-page! The fayrest is my paramoure.
Give my steede corne and haye;
And give him nowe the good black oates, I see the hall now, Childe Waters,
To carry mee better awaye. Of red gold shines the gate :
Up then rose the fayre Ellen, God give you good now of yourselfe,
And gave his steede corne and haye ; And of your worthy mate.
And soe shee did the good black oates, I see the hall now, Childe Waters,
To carry him better awaye. Of red gold shines the towre:
She leaned her back to the manger side, God give you good now of yourself,
And grievouslye did groane: And of your paramoure.
Shee leaned her back to the manger side, There twenty-four fayre ladyes were
And there she made her moane. A playing at the ball;
And that beheard his mother deare, And Ellen, the fayrest ladye there,
She heard her woeful woe, Must bring his steed to ihe stall.
She sayd, Rise up, thou Childe Waters,
And into thy stable goe;
For in thy stable is a ghost,
That grievouslye doth grone:
Or else some woman laboures with childe, Must bring his horse to gresse.
She is so woe-begone. And then bespake Childe Waters sistèr,
Up then rose Childe Waters soone, These were the wordes sayd shee :
And did on his shirte of silke; You have the prettyest page, brother,
And then he put on his other clothes, That ever I did see.
On his bodye as white as milke. But that his bellye it is soe bigge,
And when he came to the stable dore, His girdle stands soe hye:
Full still there hee did stand, And ever, I pray you, Childe Waters,
That he might heare his fayre Elleo, Let him in my chamber lye.
Howe shee made her monand 6. It is not fit for a little foot-page,
She sayd, Lullabye, mine owne deare chude, That has run thro mosse and myre
Lullabye, deare childe, dear: To lye in the chamber of any ladye
| I wolde thy father were a kinge, That wears so rich attyre.
| Thy mother layd on a biere!
• Permit, suffer.
Peace nowe, hee sayd, good faire Ellen, Better I 'll know thee, ere hands we will shake; Bee of good cheere, I praye!
With none but honest men hands will I take. And the bridale and the churchinge bọthe
Thus they went all along unto the miller's Shall be upon one daye.
(souse: Where they were seething of puddings and
The miller first entered in, after him went the $123. The King and the Miller of Mansfield."
king, It has been a favourite subject with our English ballad- Never came hee in soe smoakye a house. makers, to represent our kings conversing either by | Now, quoth he, let me see here what you are. accident or design with the meanest of their subjects. Quoth our king, Look your fill, and do not spare, Of the former kind, besides this song of the King and the Miller, we have King Henry and the Soldier ;
I like well thy countenance, thou hast an hoKing James I. and the Tinker; K. William III. and
(lye, the Forester, &c. Of the latter sort are K. Alfred With my son Richard this night thou shalt and the Shepherd; K. Edward IV. and the Tanner; Quoth his wife, By my troth, it is a handsome K. Henry VIII. and the Cobbler, &c.--This is youth, a piece of great antiquity, being written before the Yet its best, husband, to deal warilye. time of Edward IV.; and for its genuine humour, Art thou no runaway, prythee, youth, tell ? diverting incidents, and faithful picture of rustic Shew me thy passport, and all shal be well. manners, is infinitely superior to all that have been since written in imitation of it.
Then our king presentlye, making lowe cour
tesye Part the First.
With his hatt in his hand, thus he did say: HENRY, our royall kiny, would ride a hunting I have no passport, nor never was servitor,
To the greene forest so pleasant and faire, J But a poor courtyer rode out of my way : To see the harts skipping, and dainty does And for your kindness here offered to mee, tripping:
I will requite you in everye degree.
has Then to the miller his wife whispered secretlye,
Saying, It seemeth this youth's of good kin, For the game, in the same, with good regard. Allalong summers day rode the king pleasantly, | Yea, quoth hee, you may see, he hath somegrace,
To turne bimout, certainlye, were a great sin. With all his prices and nobles eche one; Whe
When he doth speake to his betters in place. Chasing the hart and hind, and the bucke galJantlye,
[home. Well, quo' the miller's wife, young man, ye're Till the darke evening forced all to turne welcome here; Then, at last, riding fast, he had lost quite And, though I say it, well lodged shall be: All his lords in the wood, late in the night. Fresh straw will I have laid on thy bed so brave, Wandering thus wearilye, all alone, up and
one. up and And good brown hempen sheets likewise,
And go downe,
quoth shee. With a rude miller he mett at the last :
Aye, quioth the good man, and when that is
done, Asking the ready way unto faire Nottingham :
[sonne. Sir, quoth the miller, I mean not to jest,
Thou shalt lye with no worse than our own Yet I think, what I thinke sooth for to say, Nay, first, quoth Richard, goode-fellowe, tell You doe not lightlye ride out of your way."
me true, Why, what dost thou think of me, quoth our last thou noe creepers within thy gay hose? king merrily,
Or art thou not troubled with the scabbado? Passing thy judgment on me so briefe ? I pray, quoth the king, what creatures are Good faith, said the miller, I mean not to
those ? flatter thee;
| Art thou not lowsy, nor scabby? quoth he: I guess thee to be but some gentleman thiefe; If thou beest, surely thou lyest not with mee. Stand thee backe, in the darke; light notadowne, This caus'd the king suddenlye to laugh most Lest I presently cracke thy kraves crowne.
heartilye, Thou dost abuse me much, quoth the king, say. Till the tears trickled fast downe from his eyes.
I am a gentleman; lodging I lacke. [ing thus; 1 Then to their supper were they set orderlye, Thou hast not, quoth the miller, one groat in With hot bag-puddings, and good apple-pyes, thy purse;
Nappy ale, good and stale, in a brown bowle, All thy inheritance hanges on thy backe. Which did about the board merrily trowle. I have gold to discharge all that I call;
Here, quoth the miller, good fellow, I drink If it be forty pence, I will pay all.
to thee, . If thou beest a true man, then quoth the miller, And to all cuckolds, wherever they bee: I sweare by my toll-dish I'll lodge thee all I pledge thee, quoth our king, and thanke thee night,
heartilye Here's my hand, quoth the king, that was I ever. For my good welcome in every degree: Nay, soft, quoih the miller, thou mayst be a And here, in like manner, I drink to thy sonne. sprite.
Do then, quoth Richard, and quicke let it coine. Wife, quoth the miller, fetch me forth Light- / Whenas the noble lords sawe the kinges pleafoote,
santness, And of his sweetnesse a little we'll taste. They were right joyfull and glad in their A faire ven'son pastye brought she out pre
swaste : A pursuivante there was sent straight on the Eate, quoth the miller, but, sir, make no! The which had oftentimes been in those parts. Here's dainty Lightfoote! In faith, said the When he came to the place where they did dwell, I never before eate so dainty a thing. [king, His message orderlye then gan he tell. I wis, quoth Richard, no dainty at all it is, God save your worshippe, then said the me
For we do eat of it everye day. Slike to this? senger, In what place, sayd our king, may be bought And grant yourladye her owne hearts desire;
We never pay pennye for itt, by my fay: And to your sonne Richard good fortune and From inerry Sherwood we fetch it home here; happiness; Now and then we inake bold with our king's That sweet, gentle, and gallant young sqaire! deer.
Our king greets you well, and thus he doth set, Then I thinke, savd our king, that it is venison. You must come to the court on St. Georges day. Eche foole, quoth Richard, full well may Therefore, in any case, faile not to be in place. know that:
I wis, quoth the miller, this is an odd jest: Never are we without two or three in the roof, What should we doe there? faith, I am hale Very well fleshed, and excellent fat:
afraid. But prythee, say nothing wherever thou goe; I doubt, quoth Richard, to be hang'd at the We would not for lwo pence the king should Nay, quoth the messenger, you doe mistake; it knowe.
Our king he provides a great feast for your sale Doubt not, then sayd the king, my' promised | Then sayd the miller, By my troth, messenger, secresye:
Thou hast contented my worshippe full well. The king shall never know more on't for me. | Hold, here are three farthings, to quite thy geA cup of lambs-wool they dranke unto him 1 tleness
And to their beds they past presentlie. [then, For these happy tydings which thou dost le.. The nobles, next morning, went all up and Let me see, heare thou mee; tell to our Ling, downe,
We'll wait on his mastershipp in everye thing For to seeke out the king in every towne.
The pursuivant smiled at their simplicite, At last, at the millers cott, soone they espy'd And, making many leggs, tooke their reward, him out,
And his leave taking with great humilitye. As he was mounting upon his faire steede ; To the kings court againe he repair'd; To whom they came presently, falling down Shewing unto his grace, merry and free, on their knee;
The knightes most liberall gift and bountie. Which made the millers heart wofully bleede: Shaking and quaking, before him he stood,
When he was gone away, thus gan thereiltest: Thinking he should have been hang’d by the
| Here come expences and charges inderd:
Now must we needs be brave, ibo' we spead rood.
all we have; The king perceiving him fearfully trembling,
For of new garments we have great peed: Drew forthe his sword, but nothing he sed. Of horses and serving-men we must have store, The miller downe did fall, crying before them with bridles and saddles, and twenty thine all,
more. Doubting the king would have cut off his But he, his kind courtesy for to requite,
Tushe! sir John, quoth his wise, why shunday
you frett or frown? Gave him great living, and dubb'd him aknight.
You shall ne'er be alt no charges for tee,
For I will turn and trim up my old russet goxx. Part the Second.
With every thing else as fine as may best WHENAs our royall king was come home from And on our mill-horses swift we will ride, Nottingham,
With pillowes and pannells as we shall prove And with his nobles at Westminster lay; In this most stately sort rode they unto the cor. Recounting the sports and pastimes they had Their jolly son Richard rode foremost of..
In this late progress along on the way; (taken | Who set up, for good hap, a cocks feala. Of them all, great and small, he did protest, I his cap, The miller of Mansfield's sport liked him best. And so they jetted downe to the king'a . And now, my lords, quoth the king, I am de
The merry old miller with hands on hone
| His wifelikemaid Marian did mince at tlult. terinined; Against St. George's next sumptuous feast, The king and his nobles, that leard of That this old miller, our new-confirmed knight,
coming, With his son Richard, shall here be my guest: Meeting this gallant knight with his bar For, in this merriment, 'tis my desire
traine; To talke with the jolly knight, and the young Welcome, sir knighte, quoth he, with your Aquire.
| Good sir John Cockle, once welcome a
And soe is the squire, of courage so free. Then sir John Cockle the king called unto him, Quoth Dicke, A bots on you! do you know me? And of merry Sherwood made him o'erseer; Õuoth our king gentlve. How should I forget And gave him out of hand three hundred pound thee?
yearlye; That wast my own bed-fellowe, well it I wot.
I wor Take heed now you steal no more of my deer; Yea, sir, quoth Richard, and by the same token,
And once a quarter let's here have your view; Thou with thy farting didst make the bed hot.
And now, sir John Cockle, I bid you adieu. Thou whoreson unhappy knave, then quoth
the knight, Speak cleanly to our king, or else go sh*1*.
$ 124. Tke Witches' Song. The king and his courtiers laugh at this heartily, From Ben Jonson's Masque of Queens, presented at While the kingtaketh them both by the hand;
Whitehall, Feb. 29, 1609. With the court dames' and maids, like to the It is true, this song of the Witches, falling from the queen of spades,
learned pen of Ben Jonson, is rather an extract from The miller's wife did sa orderly stand,
the various incantations of classic antiquity, than a A milkmaids courtesye at every word;
display of the opinions of our own vulgar. But let it And downe all the folkes were set to the board.
be observed, that a parcel of learned wiseacres had just
before busied themselves on this subject, with our Bri There the king royally, in princelye majestye, tish Solomon, James I., at their heal; and these had
Sate at his dinner with joy and delight; so ransacked all writers, ancient and modern, and When they had eaten well, then he tojesting fell,
so blended and kneaded together the several superstiAnd in a bowle of wine dranke to the knight:
tions of different times and nations, that those of Here's to you both, in wine, ale, and beer;
genuine English growth could no longer be traced out
and distinguished. Thanking you heartilye for my good cheer.
By good luck the whimsical belief of fairies and goblins Quoth sir John Cockle, I'll pledge you a pottle,
could furnish no pretences for torturing our fellowWere it the best ale in Nottinghamshire.
creatures, and therefore we have this banded down to But then, said our king, now I think of a thing,
us pure and unsophisticated. Some of your Lightfoot I would we had here.
i Witch. Ho! ho! quoth Richard, full well I may say it. 1 I have beene all day looking after *Tis knavery to eate it, and then to betray it." A raven feeding upon a quarter; Why art thou angry? quoth our king merrilye; I snatch'd this morsell out of her mouth.
And, soone as she turn'd her back to the south; In faith, I take it now very unkind : I thought thou wouldst pledge me in ale and
2 Witch wine heartily.
I have beene gathering wolves haires, Quoth Dicke, You are like to stay till I have The mad dogges foame, and adders eares; din'd:
The spurging of a dead man's eyes:
3 Witch. Aye, marry, quoth our king, that were a daintye | I last night lay all alone thing,
O'the ground, to heare the mandrake grone; Could a man get but one here for to eat. And pluckt bin up, though he grew full low: With that Dick straight arose, and pluck'd one And, as I had done, the cocke did crow.
from his hose, Which with heat of his breech gan for to
4 Witch. sweate.
And Ih' beene chusing out this scull, The king made a proffer to snatch it away. From charnel houses that were full, "Tis meat for your master, good sir, you must stay. From private grots and publike pits :
And frighted a sexton out of his wits. Thus in great merriment was the time wholly spent;
5 Witch. And then the ladyes prepared to dance: Under a cradle I did creepe Old sir John Cockle and Richard incontinent By day, and when the childe was a-sleepe
Unto their places the king did advance : At night, I suck'd the breath; and rose, Here with the ladyes such sport they did make, And pluck'd the nodding nurse by the nose. The nobles with laughing did make their sides
6 Witch. ake. Many thanks for their pains did the king give
I had a dagger : what did I with that?
killed an infant to have his fat: them, Asking young Richard then if he would wed. A piper it got, at a church-ale :
| I bade him again blow wind i' the taile. Among these ladyes free, tell me which liketh thee?
7 Witch. Quoth he, Jugg Grumball, sir, with the red A murderer yonder was hung in chaines ; head :
The sunne and the wind had shrunke his reines : She's my love, she's my life, her will I wed; I bit off a sinew; I clipp'd his haire; She hath sworn I shall have her maidenhead. I brought off his ragges, that danc'd i the agre