Then beg my life, quoth he,

And I will be thy own,

If I should seek the world for love,
More love cannot be shewn;

The people at that word,
Did give a joyful cry,

And said great pity it was

So sweet a man should die.
A sweet, &c.

I

go my love, she said,

I run, I fly for thee,

And, gentle headsman, spare awhile My lover's head for me;

Unto the Duke she went,

Who did her grief remove,

And with an hundred maidens more

She went to fetch her love.
A sweet, &c.

With music sounding sweet,

The foremost of the train,

The gallant maiden, like a bride,

Did fetch him back again;

Yea, hand in hand alway they went

Unto the church that day,

And they were married presently
In sumptuous rich array.

A sweet, &c.

To England came he then
With his fair lady bride;
A fairer woman never lay
By any merchant's side;

Where we must leave them now

In pleasure and delight.

But of their names and dwelling place
I must not here recite.

VIII.

"A FAYRE PORTION FOR A FAYRE MAID."

Now all my friends are dead and gone,

Alas what shall betide me,
For I poor maid am left alone,

Without a house to hide me :

Yet still I'll be of merry cheer,

And have kind welcome every where,
Though I have but a mark a year,

And that my mother gave me.

I scorn to think of poverty,

Or wanting food and cloathing, I'll be maintained gallantly,

And all my life want nothing, A frolick mind I'll always bear, My poverty shall not appear, Though I have but a mark a year, And that my mother gave me.

Though I am but a silly wench
Of country education,

Yet I am woo'd by Dutch and French,

And almost every nation :

Both Spaniards and Italians swear,

That with their hearts they love me dear,

Yet I have but a mark a year,

And that my mother gave me.

The Welch, the Irish, and the Scot,
Since I came to the city,

In love to me are wondrous hot,

They tell me I am pretty : Therefore to live I will not fear,

For I am sought with many a tear,

Yet I have but a mark a year,

This London is a gallant place,

To raise a lass's fortune,
For I that came of simple race,
Brave roarers do importune:

I little thought in Worcestershire,
To find such high preferment here,
For I have but a mark a year,

And that my mother

gave me.

One gives to me perfumed gloves,
The best that he can buy me,
Live where I will I have the loves
Of all that do live nigh me,
If any new toys I will wear,

I have them, cost they ne'er so dear,

And this is for a mark a year,

And that my mother gave me.

My fashions with the moon I change,
As though I were a lady;

All quaint conceits, both new and strange,
I'll have as soon as may be :

Your courtly ladies I can jeer,

In clothes but few to me come near,

Yet I have but a mark a year,

And that my mother gave me.

SECOND PART.

French gowns, with sleeves like pudding-bags,

I have at my requesting,

Now I forget my country rags,

And scorn such plain investing: My old acquaintance I cashier, And of my kin I hate to hear; Though I have but a mark a year, And that my mother gave me.

My petticoats of scarlet brave,
Of velvet, silk, and sattin,

Some students oft my love do crave,
That speak both Greek and Latin ;
The soldiers for me domineer,

And put the rest into great fear,
All this is for a mark a year,

And that my mother gave me.

The Precisian sincerely woos,

And doth protest he loves me,
He tires me out with ayes and no's,
And to impatience moves me,
Although an oath he will not swear,
To lie at no time doth he fear,
All this is for a mark a year,

And that my mother gave me.