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Aldingar ancient awaye ballad banyshed beggar bonny bonny lasse bower Braes of Yarrow brave busk copy cowe-hide dame daye death doth Dub a dub Earl earl marshall Earl of Surrey edition Editor Editor's folio Edward England English entitled fair father fight frae gallant George Gascoigne Godstow gold grace grene Hardyknute hath heart heire of Linne King Henry King of Scots knight kyng lady ladye land Lilli little John live lord of Linne luve Makyne Mary Ambree metre never noble Pepys collection poem poets pray pretty Bessee prince printed Prol queene quoth reign Rosamond sayd sayes Scotland Scots Scottish shee shold sir Aldingar Sir Andrew song sonnet sorrow stanza sweet sword Synge tanner tell thay thee ther thou art thou hast thou shalt twentye unto verse wold word writer written wyll
第370页 - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
第336页 - An old song, made by an aged old pate, Of an old worshipful gentleman who had a great estate, That kept a brave old house at a bountiful rate, And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate...
第332页 - The first is to tell him there in that stead, With his crowne of golde so fair on his head, Among all his liege-men so noble of birth, To within one penny of what he is worth. " The seconde, to tell him, without any doubt, How soone he may ride this whole world about.
第345页 - Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, Know no such liberty. Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty.
第85页 - Till quite dejected with my scorn, He left me to my pride ; And sought a solitude forlorn, In secret, where he died. " But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, And well my life shall pay ; I'll seek the solitude he sought, And stretch me where he lay.
第396页 - But who the expected husband husband is ? His hands, methinks, are bath'd in slaughter : Ah me ! what ghastly spectre's yon Comes in his pale shroud, bleeding after ? Pale as he is, here lay him, lay him down, O lay his cold head on my pillow ; Take aff, take aff, these bridal weids, And crown my careful head with willow. Pale tho...
第330页 - Abbot of Canterburye ; How for his house-keeping, and high renowne, They rode poste for him to fair London towne. An hundred men, the king did heare say, The abbot kept in his house every day ; And fifty golde chaynes, without any doubt, In velvet coates waited the abbot about.