[But 63] But that his bellye it is soe bigge,

25

It is more meete for a little foot page,
That has run throughe mosse and myre,

110

To take his supper upon his knee,
And lye by the kitchen fyre.

30

Now when they had supped every one,
To bedd they tooke theyr waye:

He sayd, come hither, my little foot-page,
And hearken what I saye.

115

Goe thee downe into yonder towne,
And lowe into the streete;

35

The fayrest ladye that thou canst finde,
Hyre in mine armes to sleepe,

120

2

125

And take her up in thine armes twaine,

*

For filing of her feete.

Ellen is gone into the towne,

And lowe into the streete:

[The 64] The fayrest ladye that shee colde finde,
She hyred in his armes to sleepe;

And tooke her up in her armes twayne,
For filing of her feete.

130

I praye you nowe, good Childe Watèrs,
Let mee lye at your feete:

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10

For there is noe place about this house,
Where I may saye a sleepe.

'He gave her leave, and faire Ellèn
'Down at his beds feet laye:

This done the nighte drove on a pace (l. apace corr.), 15
And when it was neare the daye,

135

Hee sayd, Rise up, my little foot-page,
Give my steede corne and haye;

140

145

150

And give him nowe the good black oats,
To carry mee better awaye.

Up then rose the fayre Ellèn

And gave his steede corne and haye:
And soe shee did the good black oates,
To carry him the better awaye.

She leaned her back to the manger side,

And grievouslye did groane:

Shee leaned her back to the manger side,
And there shee made her moane.

[And 65] And that beheard his mother deare,
Shee heard 'her woefull woe.'

Shee sayd, Rise up, thou Childe Watèrs,
And into thy stable goe.

For in thy stable is a ghost,
That grievouslye doth grone:

Or else some woman laboures with childe,
Shee is so woe-begone.

155

Shee sayd, Lullabye, mine own dear childe,
Lullabye, deare childe, deare:

165

I wolde thy father were a kinge,

Thy mothere layd on a biere.

15

Peace nowe, hee sayd, good faire Ellèn,
Bee of good cheere, I praye;

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And the bridall and the churchinge bothe
Shall bee upon one daye.

[XI. PHIL- 66]

XI.

PHILLIDA AND CORYDON.

170

F

From a small quarto MS in the editor's possession, written in the time of Q. Elizabeth: It's author unknown.

N the merrie moneth of Maye,
In a morne by break of daye,
With a troope of damselles playing
Forthe 'I yode' forsooth a maying:
When anon by a wood side,
Where that Maye was in his pride,
I espied all alone

Phillida and Corydon.

Ver. 164. i. e. moaning, bemoaning, &c.

*

5

Ver. 4. the wode. MS. F

* [Vgl. hiezu ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS in Vol. III. p. 343.]

10

15

Much adoe there was, god wot:
He wold love, and she wold not.
She sayde, never man was trewe:
He sayes, never false to you.

He sayde, hee had lovde her longe:
She sayes, love cold have no wronge.
[Corydon 67] Corydon wold kisse her then:
She sayes, maydes must kisse no men,

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10

20

This ballad is ancient, and has been popular: we find it F 2 quoted in many old plays. See Beaum. and Fletcher's Knight [of 68] of the Burning Pestle. 4to. 1613. Act. 5. 25 The Varietie, a comedy, 12mo. 1649. Act. 4. &c. In Sir William Davenant's play, The Witts, A. 3, a gallant thus boasts of himself,

"Limber and sound! besides I sing Musgrave, "And for Chevy-chace no lark comes near me. In the Pepys Collection is an imitation of this old song,

Ver. 28. Was the. MS.

30

5

in a different measure, by a more modern pen, with many alterations, but evidently for the worse.

This is given from an old printed copy corrected in part by the Editor's folio manuscript.

S

As it fell out on a highe holye daye,

Α

As many bee in the yeare,

When yong men and maides together do goe
Their masses and mattins to heare,

10

Little Musgrave came to the church door,
The priest was at the mass,

5

But he bad more mind of the fine womèn
Then he had of our Ladyes grace.

And some of them were clad in greene,

And others were clad in pall,

10

15

And then came in my lord Barnardes wife,
The fairest among them all.

Shee cast an eye on little Musgràve,
As bright as the summer sunne:

O then bethought him little Musgrave,

This ladyes heart I have wonne.

15

[Quoth 69] Quoth she, I have loved thee, little Musgràve,
Fulle long and manye a daye.

So have I loved you, ladye faire,
Yet word I never durst saye.

I have a bower at Bucklesford-Bury,
Full daintilye bedight,

If thoult wend thither, my little Musgràve,
Thoust lig in mine armes all night.

Quoth hee, I thanke yee, ladye faire,
This kindness yee shew to mee;
And whether it be to my weale or woe,
This night will I lig with thee.

All this beheard a tiney foot-page,
By his ladyes coach as he ranne:
Quoth he, thoughe I am my ladyes page,
Yet Ime my lord Barnardes manne.

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30