I dress their hemp, I spin their tow.
If any 'wake,

And would me take,

I wend me laughing, ho, ho, ho!

When house or harth doth sluttish lye,
I pinch the maidens black and blue;
The bed-clothes from the bedd pull I,
And lay them naked all to view.
'Twixt sleepe and wake,

I do them take,

And on the key-cold floor them throw.
If out they cry,
Then forth I fly,

And loudly laugh out, ho, ho, ho!

When any need to borrowe ought,
We lend them what they do require:
And for the use demand we nought;
Our owne is all we do desire.

If to repay,

They do delay,

Abroad amongst them then I go;
And night by night,

I them affright

With pinchings, dreames, and ho, ho, ho!

When lazie queans have nought to do,

But study how to cog and lye;
To make debate and mischief too,
'Twixt one another secretlye:
I wark their gloze,*

And it disclose,

* Canting, dissimulation.

To them whom they have wronged so;
When I have done,

I get me gone,

And leave them scolding, ho, ho, ho!

When men do traps and engins set

In loop holes where the vermine creepe, Who from their foldes and houses, get

Their duckes and geese, and lambes and sheepe :
I spy the gin,

And enter in,

And seeme a vermine taken so;

But when they there,

Approach

me neare,

I leap out laughing, ho, ho, ho!

And to our

By wells and rills, in meadowes greene,
We nightly dance our hey-day guise;
faerye king and queene
our moonlight minstrelsies.
When larks 'gin sing,

We chant

Away we

fling;

And babes new born steal as we go,

And elfe in bed,

We leave instead

And wend us laughing, ho, ho, ho!

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

The hags and goblins do me know;
And beldames old

My feates have told;

So, Vale, Vale; ho, ho, ho!

[This song which is attributed to Ben Jonson, I print from Percy's Reliques, vol. 3, p. 254. [Ed. 1811.]

The form of Robin Good-Fellow, Sir Joshua Reynolds has painted for us, his doings are admirably told above.]

THE FAIRY QUEEN.

Come, follow, follow me,
You, fairy elves that be:
Which circle on the greene,

Come follow Mab your queene.
Hand in hand let's dance around,
For this place is fairye ground.

When mortals are at rest,
And snoring in their nest;
Unheard and unespy'd,

Through key-holes we do glide;
Over tables, stools, and shelves,
We trip it with our fairy elves.

And, if the house be foul
With platter, dish, or bowl,
Up stairs we nimbly creep,
And find the sluts asleep :

Then we pinch their armes and thighes;
None escapes, nor none espies.

But, if the house be swept,
And from uncleanness kept,
We praise the household maid,
And duely she is paid :
For we use before we goe
To drop a tester in her shoe.

Upon a mushroomes head
Our table cloth we spread ;
A grain of rye, or wheat,
Is manchet, which we eat ;
Pearly drops of dew we drink
In acorn cups fill'd to the brink.
The brains of nightingales,
With unctuous fat of snailes,
Between two cockles stew'd,
Is meat that's easily chew'd;
Tailes of wormes, and marrow of mice
Do make a dish that's wonderous nice.

The grasshopper, gnat, and fly,
Serve for our minstrelsie;
Grace said, we dance awhile,
And so the time beguile :
And if the moon doth hide her head,
The glow-worm lights us home to bed.
On tops of dewy grass

So nimbly do we pass,
The young and tender stalk
Ne'er bends when we do walk:
Yet in the morning may be seen

Where we the night before have been.

[Printed from Percy's text. Its author has been well acquainted with the "Robin Goodfellow" in the page before.]

CLOUDS AWAY, AND WELCOME DAY.

THOMAS HEYWOOD.

Born about 1580.

Pack clouds away, and welcome day,
With night we banish sorrow;
Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft,
To give my love good morrow.
Wings from the wind to please her mind,
Notes from the lark I'll borrow;
Bird prune thy wing, nightingale sing,
To give my love good morrow,
To give my love good morrow,
Notes from them both I'll borrow.

Wake from thy nest, Robin-red-breast,
Sing birds in every furrow;

And from each hill, let music shrill,
Give my fair love good morrow.
Black bird, and thrush, in every bush,
Stare, linnet and cock-sparrow!
You pretty elves, amongst yourselves,
Sing my fair love good-morrow.
To give my love good-morrow,
Sing birds in every furrow.

[From "Pleasant Dialogues and Dramas, &c." 1607.]