I am not the first that hath hade a wofull daye,

For sum be robde at the land, & sum be robd at the seaye.
Sum be robde in ther howsses, in placis were thei dwell,
And sum hath been robde in ther yns, as I have hard men tell,
The chamberlayne or ostelare when the have a bowgyt* spyede,
May gyve knowleg to fals knavis, whiche way ther gest wyll
ryde,

And he himselfe wyll byd at home, & his office styll aplye,
Many a man thus hathe ben robde, & so I think was I.

Sum fals knave dyd me betray, & made my jorney knowene, Yt wold never have grevyd me so moch yf the mony had been

my own,

But nowe I am in det, whiche ys a dedly payne,

I trust to God, in this powar state I shall not long remean, I had frends the'now tyll I fell in this thrall,

But now in my povertye the be ron from me all.

Exsept yt be thos that be suar in the hafte,
Whiche in all my nessessitie thei never melaft.
My creditors, I thank God, it ys not unknowen,

Hathe geven me resonable days for to pay them their owen,
The whiche causithe me, as natur doth bynde,

Ernestly to go aboute sum honest meanes to fynde,
That thei may be payd, as reasons ys and skyll,
Concience compels me to put to my goode wyll.
And I have no othar mean but even be supplycacion,
To beg hit a browde among the congregacion.
Truth oft tymys among sum may be blamde,
But, I am sur & sartayne, it can never be shamde.
All men that loves truthe owght to be commendyd,
All thoughe sum wickede persons ther at be offendyd.
I thank God, my good Lordt & Mastar whom I sarve,
In my greatist povertie from me dyd never swarve.
But dyd weyt for me frendly, aftar a lovyng facion,
And my Lord Strang‡ also on me dyde tak compassion.
For who's sakys, I thank God, I have ben well regardyde,
And among ther lovyng freudds I have ben well rewardyd.
Ther goodness showyde to me I cannot worthely prayse,
But I am det bownden to pray for them all my lyff dayes.

*Is usually interpreted large or bulky. Its sense in this line is not apparent.

+ Probably Edward, Earl of Derby, who died in 1574, celebrated for his bounty and hospitality, and the husband of Margaret the Countess. See p. 98. + Eldest son of Lord Derby. The

Throughe ther goodness, yff the worlde mend, I am in no dispar

But I shall pay all my detts and set my selffe clear.

The occasion of thes wars hath hindred me very sor,
But yet sum thing I have gotten, & I trust to get mor.
My lovyng neabors off the towne of Tamworth, wher I dwell,
Dyd lyberally rewarde me, this ys trewe that I youe tell.
Whiche kyndnes of thers hath ryght well provyde
That among all my neabors I am well be lovyde.
For liberally with me their mony thei dyd spende,
And thos that came not themsels ther mony thei dyd sende.
My neabors dyd caus me to mak a pot of ale,

Aud, I thank God of his goodnes, I had very good sale.
For a busshell of malt I do put you out off dowte,
I had fyve pound of mony or nygh ther a bowte.
How be hit sum of my neabors ther at wear offendyde,
And sayd the mony myght moch better have ben spendyde.
But thei that so sayd themselvis wear at no coste,
For yf thei had I perseve thei wold have thought hit loste.
But the worlde nowe a days ys so full of hat & spyte,
That to speak yle off all things sum have a great delyte.
But God, I do thank him of his goodnes and grace,
That sendds me good loock wer I cum in every place.
Yt ys God that senddes me so well for to spede,

Whiche putts ynto good mens myndds to help me at my nede.

Whom God wold have holpen, he shall never waunt,

But he shall fynde relyff, though things be never so skante. God save my good Lord, for whos sayk I fynd frendds, That helpps me every whar, and thus my talk ends, Desyryng youe all to bear this tayle in mynde,

That I among your pursis nowe sum frendshipe may fynd.
Every man a lyttell wold satisfye my nede,

To helpe a poor man out of dett it ys a gracious dede.
Expliceth quoth Rychard Sheale.

Here may be added from the same collection anothe and shorter piece of doggrel by Sheale, his customary speech or song of thanks for such entertainment as he met with from his hospitable, though perhaps tasteless, neighbours. It may be contrasted with the exquisite

* Probably the Scottish wars.

farewell

farewell of the minstrel, commencing "Now B'nes, Buirdes, bolde and blythe," published by Ritson from the Vernon MS. (Ancient Songs, p. 44.) A more complete exemplification of the fallen state of minstrelsy in its latter days could hardly perhaps be found.

The Farewell of the Minstrel by Richard Sheale.

Now for the good chear that Y have had heare,

I gyve you hartte thanks, with bowyng off my shankes.
Desyryng you be petycyon to graunte me suche commission,
Becaus my name ys Sheale, that bothe hy meate & meale
To you
I maye resorte, sum tyme to mye cumforte.
For I perseive here at all tymis is good chere.
Both ale wyne & beere as hit dothe nowe apere.
I perseve wythoute fable ye kepe a good table,

Sum tyme I wyll be your geste, or els I were a beaste,
Knowynge off your mynde, yif I wolde not be so kynde,
Sumtyme to tast youre cuppe, & wyth you dyne & suppe.
I can be contente, yf hit be oute of Lente,

A peace of by ffe to take mye honger to aslake.
Bothe mutton & veile ys goode for Rycharde Sheale.
Thogge I loke so grave, I were a veri knave,
Yf I wolde thynke skorne ethar even or morne,
Beyng in hongar, of fresshe samon or konger.
I desyre youe alwaye, marke what I do saye,
Althogge I be a Ranger, to tayk me as no Stranger.
I am a yonge begynner, & when I tayk a dynner,

I can fynde yn my hart wyth my frende to tayk a part

Of such as God shal sende, & thus I mayk an ende;

Now farewel, goode myn oste, I thanke youe for yowre coste, Untyll another tyme, & thus do I ende my ryme.

R. SHEALE.

C.

APOLLONIUS TYRIUS-LEAR-B. GLANVILLE,
LORD MORLEY.

In the Notes of Mr. Douce* upon Pericles, he questions with his usual acuteness the authority upon which the Bodleian manuscript of the romantic story of "Apollonius Tyrius" (No. 1302 Cat. MSS. Ang.) is

* Illustrations of Shakspeare, 8vo. 1807, vol. 2, p. 141.

affirmed in the catalogue to be a translation from the Greek. An accurate inspection of this MS. has confirmed the suspicion of Mr. D. It is in perfect preservation, and neither at the commencement or conclusion has any notice to this effect. It is probable that the occurrence of Greek names in it induced the compiler of the catalogue to suppose it a translation from that language.

In his notes upon King Lear* Mr. D. has given from a manuscript copy of the English Gesta Romanorum, a story exactly corresponding with that of Lear, excepting in the substitution of Roman for British names, and a consequent change of places. In an English MS. apparently of the fifteenth century now before me, entitled by the transcriber "de Gestis Romanorum & Vitis Patrum," the story is given at somewhat greater length, with the original names, and in nearly the same language in which it is told in the Fructus Temporum, and the English MS. of the Brute from which that work was probably derived.

It may not perhaps be generally known that Bartholomew Glanville (from whose book de Proprietatibus Rerum, as edited and enlarged by Batman, Mr. D. shews Shakespeare to have derived much information on subjects of natural history) is himself indebted for the greater part of his compilation to the Speculum Naturale of Vincent of Beauvais, one of the most voluminous and well informed writers of the 13th century, whose Speculum Historiale is, from its subject probably, the best known in our own days, of his various productions.

The Ashmolean MS. (No. 48.) on the authority of which Chevy Chase is attributed to Richard Sheale, is that which contains the ballad of The Murder of the two Brothers Lewis & Edmund West by the Sons of the Lord Darsy, printed, with the orthography modernized, in the 4th volume of Evans's Collection. In turning over its leaves I have discovered two short poems

* Illustrations of Shakspeare, 8vo. 1807.

attributed to an author whose works had escaped the search even of the industrious Ritson, Henry Lord Morley. They have however so little of poetical merit that I transmit only the first of them.+ Its chief value I fear will be found to be its antiquity and the rank of its author, and, it may fairly be added, the moral beauty of the sentiment.

Henry Lorde Morley to hys Posteritye. Never was I lesse alone than being alone, Here in this chamber evill thought had I none, But always I thought to bryng the mynd to rest, And y' thought off all thoughts I juge it the beste. Ffor yf my coffers hade ben full of perle & golde, And Fortune hade favorde me then as y I wolde, The mynde out of quyat, so sage Senek sethe, It hade ben no felicitie, but a paynfull dethe. Love then whoo love wyll to stand in hyge degre, I blame hym not a whytte, so y' he followe me ; And take hys losse as quietly as when y' he doth wynne, Then Fortune hath no maistre of that state he ys in. But rulys & ys not rulyde, & takes the better part. O, that man is blessyd, y' lerns this gentle arte. Thys was my felicitie, my pastyme, & my game. I wisshe all my posteritie they wolde ensew the same. Written over a Chambar Dore where he was wont to lye at Hollenby rry.

Bartholomeus de Proprietatibus Rerum.

C.

MS. folio-thise translaciounes I endede at Berkeleye the sixte day of feuerer the zere of oure lorde a thousande the hundred foure score and eiztetene the zeere of kyng Richarde the secounde after the conqueste of Engelonde two and twenty. the zere of my lon des age Sive Thoms lord of Berkeley that made me make this translacion scuene and fourty.'

This is a large and very beautifully written and

Bibliographia Poet. p. 291. But see Walpole's Royal and Noble Authors, by Park, i. 313, where a poetical epitaph" on Sir Thomas West, baron of Grisley, lord Lawarre, and K. G." has been reprinted from the Accedence of Armorie, 40. 1597.

+ The other will be found in the new edition of Wood's Athena Oron. vol. 1, col. 117.

2

illuminated