Imprimis, coming home, he found Item, that he went to plough, Which whiles that he was driving, For now I mean to keep my teams, Item, that his neighbours came For fear that you be undone. Whilst that your wives are spinning, Which makes me now to drive the plough, For be it known unto you all, Therefore beware, and have more care, With a hey down, &c. Yet one more item I will add, No man to be offended ; With all my items but to save His money when 'tis gingling, Least when 'tis spent he do repent, And whistle 'stead of singing. With a hey down, &c. XLIV. "How Robin Good-Fellow went in the shape of a Fidler to a Wedding, and of the sport that he had there." [From the second part of Robin Good-Fellow, commonly called Hob Goblin. 4to. 1628.] IT To the tune of-Watton Townes end. T was a country lad, That fashions strange would see, And he came to a vaulting schoole, He lik't his sport so well, That from it he'd not part His doxey to him still did cry, Come busse thine owne sweet heart. They lik't his gold so well, That they were both content, That he that night with his sweet heart, Should passe in merry-ment: To bed they then did goe, Full well he knew his part, Where he with words, and eke with deedes, Did busse his owne sweet heart. Long were they not in bed. But one knockt at the dore, And said, Up! rise, and let me in: This vext both knave and whore ; He being sore perplext, From bed did lightly start, No longer then could he indure To busse his owne sweet heart. With tender steps he trod, The man, that did him so molest, Which he with heavy eye Had soone beheld, and said, Alas! my owne sweet heart I now doe doubt if ere we busse, At last the bawd arose And saw Discretion cloth'd in rug, Whose office hates a whore : He mounted up the stayres, Being cunning in his arte, With little search, at last he found My youth and his sweet heart. |