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§ 105. To Althea from Prison. This excellent sonnet, which possessed a high degree of fame among the old cavaliers, was written by Colonel Richard Lovelace, during his confinement in the Gate-house, Westminster; to which he was committed by the House of Commons, in April, 1642, for presenting a petition from the county of Kent, requesting them to restore the king to his rights, and to settle the government. See Wood's Athenæ, vol. ii. p. 228 ; where may be seen, at large, the affecting story of this elegant writer; who, after having been distinguished for every gallant and polite accomplishment, the pattern of his own sex, and the darling of the ladies, died in the lowest wretchedness, obscurity, and want, in 1658. WHEN love, with unconfined wings,

Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings

To whisper at my grates; When I lye tangled in her haire,

And fetter'd with her eye,

The birds that wanton in the aire

Know no such libertie!

When flowing cups run swiftly round
With no allaying Thames,
Our carelesse heads with roses crown'd,
Our hearts with loyal flames;
When thirsty griefe in wine we steepe,
When healths and drafts goe free,
Fishes that tipple in the deepe,
Know no such libertie.

When, linnet-like, confined I

With shriller note shall sing
The mercye, sweetness, majestye,
And glories, of my king;

When I shall voyce aloud how good
He is, how great should be,

Th' enlarged windes that curle the flood
Know no such libertie.

Stone walls do not a prison make,

Nor iron barres 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 soare above,
Enjoy such libertie.

$106. Childe Waters.

Child is frequently used by our old writers as a title. It is repeatedly given to Prince Arthur in the Faerie Queene; and the son of a king is, in the same poem, called "Child Tristram." And it ought to be observed that the word child, or chield, is still used in North Britain to denominate a man, commonly with some contemptuous character affixed to him, but sometimes to denote man in general. CHILDE Waters in his stable stoode,

And stroakt his milke-white steede : To him a fayre yonge ladye came As ever ware womans weede. Sayes, "Christ you save! good Childe Watèrs,"

Sayes, "Christ you save! and see, My girdle of gold, that was too longe, Is now too short for mee.

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Than I wolde have Cheshire and Lancashire
To take them mine owne to bee."
"To-morrow, Ellen, I must forth ryde
Farr into the north countree;
The fayrest ladye that I can finde,
Ellen, must goe with mee."

Thoughe I am not that ladye fayre,
Yet let me goe with thee:

And ever, I pray you, Childe Waters,
Your foot-page let me bee."

"If you will my foot-page bee, Ellèn,
As you doe tell to mee,

Then you must cut your gowne of greene
An inch above your knee.

"Soe must you doe your yellowe lockes,

An inch above your ee;

You must tell no man what is my name:
My foot-page then you shall bee."

Shee, all the long daye Childe Waters rode,
Ran barefoot by his syde;

Yet was he never soe courteous a knighte,

To say, "Ellen, will you ryde ?"

Shee, all the long daye Childe Waters rode,
Ran barefoote thorow the broome;

Yet was he never soè courteous a knighte,
To say, "Put on your shoone."
"Ride softlye," shee sayd, "O, Childe Watèrs,
Why doe you ride so fast?

The childe, which is no man's but thine,
My body itt will brast.'

Hee sayth, "Seest thou yond water, Ellen,
That flows from banke or brimme ?"—
"I trust in God, O, Childe Waters,

You never will see* me swimme!"
But when shee came to the water syde,

Shee sayled to the chinne;

"Nowe the Lorde of Heaven be my speede, For I must learne to swimme!"

The salt waters bare up her clothes;

Our Ladye bare up her chinne:
Childe Waters was a woe man, good Lord,
To see fayre Ellen swimme!

* Permit, suffer.

And when shee over the water was,

Shee then came to his knee;

Hee sayd, "Come hither, thou fayre Ellèn,
Loe yonder what I see!

"Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?
Of red gold shines the yate:
Of twenty-four fayre ladyes there,
The fayrest is my mate.

"Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?

Of red gold shines the towre:
There are twenty-four fayre ladyes there,
The fayrest is my paramoure."
"I see the hall now, Childe Waters,
Of red gold shines the yate:
God give you good now of yourselfe,

And of your worthy mate.

"I see the hall now, Childe Waters,
Of red gold shines the towre:
God give you good now of yourselfe,
And of your paramoure."

There twenty-four fayre ladyes were
A playinge at the ball;
And Ellen, the fayrest ladye there,
Must bring his steed to the stall.
There twenty-four fayre ladyes were
A playinge at the chesse;
And Ellen, the fayrest ladye there,
Must bring his horse to gresse.
And then bespake Childe Waters sistèr,
These were the wordes sayd shee:
"You have the prettyest page, brother,
That ever I did see;

"But that his bellye it is soe bigge,
His girdle stands soe hye:
And ever, I pray you, Childe Watèrs,
Let him in my chamber lye."
"It is not fit for a little foot-page,

That has run through mosse and myre,
To lye in the chamber of any ladye

That wears so rich attyre.

"It is more meete for a little foot-page, That has run through mosse and myre, To take his supper upon his knee,

And lye by the kitchen fyre."

Now when they had supped every one,

To bed they tooke theyre waye:

He sayd, "Come hither, my little foot-page, And hearken what I saye :

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

The fayrest ladye that thou canst finde
Hyre, in mine armes to sleepe;
And take her up in thine armes twayne,
For filing* of her feete."
Ellen is gone into the towne,
And lowe into the streete;
The fayrest ladye that she colde finde,
She hyred in his armes to sleepe;
And took her up in her armes twayne,
For filing of her feete.

* Defiling.

"I pray you nowe, good Childe Waters,
Let me lye at your feete :
For there is noe place about this house
Where I may saye* a sleepe."

He gave her leave, and fayre Ellèn
Downe at his beds feete laye :
This done, the night drove on apace;
And, when it was near the daye,
Hee sayd, "Rise up, my little foot-page!
Give my steede corne and haye;
And give him nowe the good black oates,
To carry mee better awaye."
Up then, rose the fayre Ellen,

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

She leaned her back to the manger side,

And grievouslye did groane:

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

And that beheard his mother deare,
She heard her woeful woe,

She sayd, "Rise up, thou Childe Waters,
And into thy stable goe;

"For in thy stable is a ghost,

That grievouslye doth

groane:
Or else some woman laboures with childe,
She is so woe-begone."

Up then rose Childe Waters soone,
And did on his shirte of silke;
And then he put on his other clothes,
On his bodye as white as milke.
And when he came to the stable dore,
Full still there hee did stand,
That he might heare his fayre Ellen,
Howe shee made her monànd.t
Shee sayd, Lullabye, mine owne deare childe.
Lullabye, deare childe, dear:

I wolde thy father were a kinge,
Thy mother layd on a biere!"
"Peace, nowe," hee said, "good faire Ellen,
Bee of good cheere, I praye!

And the bridale and the churchinge bothe
Shall be upon one daye."

107. The King and the Miller of Mansfield. It has been a favorite subject with our English ballad-makers,to represent our kings conversing, either by accident or design, with the meanest of their subjects. Of the former kind, besides this song of the King and the Miller, we have King Henry and the Soldier; King James I. and the Tinker; King William III. and the Forester, &c. Of the latter sort are King Alfred and the Shepherd; King Edward IV. and the Tanner; King Henry VIII. and the Cobbler, &c. This is a piece of great antiquity, being written before the time of Edward IV and for its genuine humor, diverting incidents, and faithful picture of rustic manners, is infinitely 30perior to all that have been since written in imitation of it.

Part the First.

HENRY, our royall king, would ride a hunting To the greene forest so pleasant and faire, * Essay, attempt. † Moaning, bemoaning

To see the harts skipping, and dainty does Then our king presentlye, making lowe courtripping:

Unto merry Sherwood his nobles repaire ;

tesye

With his hatt in his hand, thus he did say:

Hawke and hound were unbound, all things" I have no passport, nor never was servitor,

prepar'd

For the game, in the same, with good regard.
All a long summers day rode the king pleasantly,
With all his princes and nobles eche one;
Chasing the hart and hind, and the bucke gal-
lantlye,
[home.
Till the darke evening forced all to turne
Then, at last, riding fast, he had lost quite
All his lords in the wood, late in the night.
Wandering thus wearilye, all alone, up and
downe,

But a poor courtyer rode out of my way; And for your kindness here offered to mee, Then to the miller his wife whispered secretI will requite you in everye degree." lye, [kin, Saying, "It seemeth this youth's of good Both by his apparel, and eke by his manners; To turne him out, certainlye, were a great sin." [some grace, "Yea," quoth hee, "you may see, he hath When he doth speake to his betters in place." "Well," quo' the miller's wife," young man,

ye're welcome here;

Fresh straw will I have laid on thy bed sc And, though I say it, well lodged shall be: brave,

With a rude miller he mett at the last : Asking the ready way unto faire Nottingham: "Sir," quoth the miller, "I mean not to jest, Yet I think, what I thinke sooth for to say, You doe not lightlye ride out of your way." "Why, what dost thou think of me," quoth" our king merrily,

"Passing thy judgment on me so briefe ?" "Good faith," said the miller, "I mean not to flatter thee;

I guess thee to be but some gentleman thiefe; Stand thee backe, in the darke; light not adowne,

Lest I presently cracke thy knaves crowne."

"Thou dost abuse me much," quoth the king,

"saying thus ;

I am a gentleman; lodging I lacke." "Thou hast not," quoth the miller," one groat

in thy purse;

All thy inheritance hanges on thy backe." "I have gold to discharge all that I call; If it be forty pence, I will pay all.”

[quoth shee And good brown hempen sheets likewise," Aye," quoth the good man," and when that [sonne." Thou shalt lye with no worse than our own Nay, first," quoth Richard," goode-fellowe,

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is done,

tell me true,

Or art thou not troubled with the scabbado?"
Hast thou noe creepers within thy gay hose?

"I pray," quoth the king, "what creatures

are those ?"

"Art thou not lowsy, nor scabby ?" quoth he:
"If thou beest, surely thou lyest not with mee."
This caus'd the king suddenlye to laugh most
heartilye,
[eyes.

Till the tears trickled fast downe from his
Then to their supper were they set orderlye,

With hot bag-puddings, and good apple-pyes, Nappy ale, good and stale, in a brown bowle, Which did about the board merrily trowle. "Here," quoth the miller, "good fellow, I drink to thee,

"If thou beest a true man, then," quoth the miller, [night." 'I sweare by my toll-dish I'll lodge thee all "Here's my hand," quoth the king, "that was I ever." [be a sprite." "Nay, soft," quoth the miller, "thou mayst Better I'll know thee, ere hands we will shake; For my good welcome in every degree : With none but honest men hands will I take." And here, in like manner, I drink to thy

Thus they went all along unto the miller's

house;

And to all cuckolds, wherever they bee."
I pledge thee," quoth our king, “and thanke
thee heartilye

sonne."

[souse: "Do then," quoth Richard," and quicke let it

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Never came hee in soe smoakye a house. Now," quoth he, "let me see here what you are."

[spare."
Quoth our king, "Look your fill, and do not
"I like well thy countenance, thou hast an
honest face;
[lye."
With my son Richard this night thou shalt
Quoth his wife," By my troth, it is a handsome
youth,

Yet its best, husband, to deal warilye.
Art thou no runaway, prythee, youth, tell?
Shew me thy passport, and all shall be well."

A

come.

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Wife," quoth the miller, "fetch me forth

Lightfoote,

And of his sweetnesse a little we'll taste." faire ven'son pastye brought she out presentlye. [no waste : 'Eate," quoth the miller, "but, sir, make Here's dainty Lightfoote!" "In faith," said the king,

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"I never before eate so dainty a thing."
"I wis," quoth Richard, "no dainty at all it is,
For we do eate of it everye day."
"In what place," sayd our king, "may be
bought like to this?"

"We never pay pennye for itt, by my fay :

From merry Sherwood we fetch it home here ;
Now and then we make bold with our king's
deer."

"Then I thinke," sayd our king, "that it is
venison."
[may know that:
"Eche foole," quoth Richard, "full well
Never are we without two or three in the roof,
Very well fleshed, and excellent fat :
But, prythee, say nothing wherever thou goe;
We would not for two pence the king should
it knowe."

"Doubt not," then sayd the king, "my prom

ised secresye : [me." The king shall never know more on't for A cup of lambs-wool they dranke unto him then,

And to their beds they past presentlie. The nobles, next morning, went all up and downe,

For to seeke out the king in every towne.

At last, at the millers cott, soone they espy'd him out,

As he was mounting upon his faire steede ; To whom they came presently, falling down

on their knee;

Which made the millers heart wofully Shaking and quaking, before him he stood, Thinking he should have been hang'd by the rood.

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Therefore, in any case, faile not to be in
place."
[jest:
What should we doe there? faith, I am halfe
"I wis," quoth the miller, "this is an odd
[the least."
"I doubt," quoth Richard, "to be hang'd at
'Nay," quoth the messenger, "you doe mis-
take;
[sake."

afraid."

Our king he provides a great feast for your Then sayd the miller, "By my troth, messenger,

Thou hast contented my worshippe full well. Hold, here are three farthings, to quite thy gentleness

[tell.
For these happy tydings which thou dost
[bleede: Let me see, heare thou mee; tell to our king,
We'll wait on his mastershippin everye thing.”
The pursuivante smiled at their simplicitye,
And,making many leggs,tooke their reward;
And his leave taking with great humilitye,
To the king's court againe he repair'd;
Shewing unto his grace, merry and free,
The knightes most liberall gift and bountie.
When he was gone away, thus gan the miller

The king, perceiving him fearfully trembling,
Drew forthe his sword, but nothing he sed.
The miller downe did fall, crying before them
all,
[head:
Doubting the king would have cut off his
But he, his kind courtesy for to requite,

say:

Gave him great living, and dubb'd him a Now must we needs be brave, tho' we spend "Here come expences and charges indeed! knight.

Part the Second.

all we have ;

For of new garments we have great need:

WHENAS our royall king was come home from Of horses and serving-men we must have store, With bridles and saddles, and twenty things more."

Nottingham,

And with his nobles at Westminster lay; Recounting the sports and pastimes they had In this late progress along on the way; [taken Of them all, great and small, he did protest, The miller of Mansfield's sport liked him best. "And now, my lords," quoth the king, "I am

determined,

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"Tushe! sir John," quoth his wife, why should you frett or frown?

You shall ne'er be att no charges for mee; For I will turn and trim up my old russet gowne,

With every thing else as fine as may bee: And on our mill-horses swift we will ride, With pillowes and pannells as we shall pro

vide."

Against St. George's next sumptuous feast, That this old miller, our new-confirmed knight, With his son Richard, shall here be my For, in this merriment, 'tis my desire [guest: In this most stately sort rode they unto the To talke with the jolly knight, and the young

squire."

court,

Their jolly son Richard rode foremost of all; Whenas the noble lords sawe the kinges plea- Who set up, for good hap, a cocks feather in

santness,

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They were right joyfull and glad in their And so they jetted downe to the king's hall; A pursuivante there was sent straight on the The merry old miller with hands on his side;

business,

[parts.

The which had oftentimes been in those When he came to the place where they did dwell.

His message orderlye then gan he tell.

His wife like maid Marian did mince at that
tide.

The king and his nobles, that heard of their
coming,
[traine;
Meeting this gallant knight with his brave

"Welcome, sir knighte," quoth he, "with your gay lady;

Good sir John Cockle, once welcome againe; And soe is the squire, of courage so free." Quoth Dicke, "A bots on you! do you know me ?"

Here with the ladyes such sport they did make, The nobles with laughing did make their sides

ake.

Many thanks for their pains did the king give them, [wed:

Quoth our king gentlye, "How should I forget" thee?

wot."

That wast my own bed-fellowe, well it I [token, "Yea, sir," quoth Richard, "and by the same Thou with thy farting didst make the bed hot." [the knight, "Thou whoreson unhappy knave," then quoth "Speak cleanly to our king, or else go sh*t*." The king and his courtiers laugh at this heartilye, [hand; While the king taketh them both by the With the court dames' and maids, like to the queen of spades,

The miller's wife did so orderly stand, A milkmaids courtesye at every word; And downe all the folkes were set to the board. There the king royally, in princelye majestye, Sate at his dinner with joy and delight; When they had eaten well, then he to jesting fell,

And in a bowle of wine dranke to the knight: "Here's to you both, in wine, ale and beer; Thanking you heartilye for my good cheer." Quoth sir John Cockle, "I'll pledge you a pottle,

Were it the best ale in Nottinghamshire." "But then," said our king, "now I think of a thing, [here." Some of your Lightfoot I would we had "Ho! ho!" quoth Richard, "full well I may say it,

Asking young Richard then if he would Among these ladyes free, tell me which liketh thee?"

Quoth he, "Jugg Grumball, sir, with the red head:

She's my love, she's my life, her will I wed; She hath sworn I shall have her maidenhead." Then sir John Cockle the king called unto him,

And of merry Sherwood made him o'erseer; And gave him out of hand three hundred pound yearlye; [deer;

"Take heed now you steal no more of my And once a quarter let's here have your view; And now, sir John Cockle, I bid you adieu."

108. The Witches' Song. From Ben Jonson's Masque of Queens, presented at Whitehall, Feb. 2, 1609.

It is true, this song of the Witches, falling from the learned pen of Ben Jonson, is rather an extract from the various incantations of classic antiquity, than a display of the opinions of our own vulgar. But let it be observed, that a parcel of learned wiseacres had just before busied themselves on this subject, with our British Solomon, James I., at their head; and these had so ransacked all writers, ancient and modern, and so blended and kneaded together the several superstitions of different times and nations, that those of genuine English growth could no longer be traced out and distinguished.

By good luck the whimsical belief of fairies and goblins could furnish no pretences for torturing our fellow-creatures, and therefore we have this handed down to us pure and unsophisticated. 1 Witch.

"Tis knavery to eate it, and then to betray it."
“Why art thou angry?” quoth our king mer-A
rilye;

"In faith, I take it now very unkind :

I thought thou wouldst pledge me in ale and wine heartilye."

Quoth Dicke, "You are like to stay till

have din'd:

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'Aye, marry," quoth our king, "that were a daintye thing,

Could a man get but one here for to eat." With that Dick straight arose, and pluck'd one

from his hose,

Which with heat of his breech gan for to

sweate.

I HAVE beene all day looking after
raven feeding upon a quarter;

And, soone as she turn'd her back to the south;
I snatch'd this morsell out of her mouth.
2 Witch.

II have beene gathering wolves haires,
The mad dogges foame, and adders eares;
The spurging of a dead man's eyes :
And all since the evening starre did rise.
3 Witch.

I last night lay all alone

O' the ground, to heare the mandrake grone
And pluck'd him up, though he grew full low
And, as I had done, the cocke did crow.
4 Witch.

And I h' beene chusing out this scull,
From charnel houses that were full,

The king made a proffer to snatch it away.-
""Tis meat for your master, good sir; you From private grots and publike pits :

must stay."

Thus in great merriment was the time wholly spent ;

And then the ladyes prepared to dance: Old sir John Cockle and Richard incontinent Unto their places the king did advance; VOL. VI. Nos. 95 & 96.

And frighted a sexton out of his wits.
5 Witch.
Under a cradle I did creepe

By day, and, when the childe was a-sleepe
At night, I suck'd the breath; and rose,
And pluck'd the nodding nurse by the nose.

Y

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