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Thou liest, said Daniel, on thy head,

Thy sentence is before the Lord, He bad that forth he might be lead,

And bring the other that bore record, To see how they two did agree,

For this lady, He said under a pomgranate tree,

Who lied falsely,

Said Daniel as he did before,

Behold the messenger of the Lord, Stands waiting for you at the door,

E’en to cut thee with a sword, And even with that the multitude

Aloud did cry, Give thanks to God, so to conclude

For this lady.

They dealt like with these wicked men,

According as the scripture saith, They did as with their neighbour then,

By Moses' law were put to death,
The innocent preserved was,

Lady, lady,
As God by Daniel brought to pass

For this lady.

(For John Wright, near Pye Corner.]



From the old enterlude, called “ Lusty Juventus.”

In a herber grene aslepe where as I lay,
The byrdes sange swete in the middes of the daye,
I dreamed fast of myrth and play :

In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.

Methought I walked stil to and fro,
And from her company I could not go;
But when I waked it was not so:

In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.

Therefore my hart is surely pyght
Of her alone to have a sight,
Which is my joy and hartes delyght :

In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.




a rvght pithy, pleasaunt and merie Comedie: iaseuled Gammer Gurtons Nedle, imprinted by Thomas Cudwell, 1575."

Backe and syde go bare, go bare,
Booth foote and hande


colde : But bellye God send thee good ale ynoughe,

Whether it be newe or olde.


Can not eate, but lytle meate,

My stomacke is not good;
But sure I thinke that I can drynke

With him that weares a hood.
Thoughe I go bare, take ye no care,

I am nothinge a colde :
I stuffe my skyn so full within,
Of joly good ale and olde
Back and syde go bare, go bare,

Booth foote and hand go colde :
But belly God send thee good ale inoughe,

Whether it be new or olde.

I love no rost, but a nut brown toste,

And a crab layde in the fyre, A lytle bread shall do me stead,

Much breade I not desyre :

No froste nor snow, no winde, I trowe,

Can hurt mee if I wolde,
I am so wrapt and throwly lapt
Of joly good ale and olde.

Backe and syde go bare, &c.

And Tyb my wyfe that as her lyfe

Loueth well good ale to seeke,
Full ofte drynkes shee, tyll ye may see

The teares run downe her cheekes :
Then dooth she trowle to me the bowle,

Even as a mault worm shuld,
And sayth, Sweete hart, I took my part
Of this ioly good ale and olde.

Backe and syde go bare, &c.

Now let them drynke, tyll they nod and winke,

Even as good felowes shoulde doe, They shall not mysse to have the blisse,

Good ale do h bringe men to : And all poor soules that have scowred boules,

Or have them lustely trolde, God save the lyves of them and theyr wyves, Whether they be yonge or olde.

Backe and syde go bare, &c.




Yorke, Yorke for my monie,
Of all the Cities that ever I see
For mery pastime and companie,

Except the Citie of London.”

From a black letter copy, “ Imprinted at London, by
Richard Jones, dwelling neere Holborn-bridge, 1584."
As I came through the north country,
The fashions of the world to see,
I sought for merry company,

To go to the city of London,
And when to the city of York I came,
I found good company in the same,
As well disposed to every game,
As if it had been at London.

York, York for my money,

Of all the cities that ever I see,
For merry pastime and company,

Except the city of London.

And in that city what saw I then,
Knights, squires, and gentlemen
A shooting went to matches ten,

As if it had been at London,

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