And he has till his sister gane:
Now, sister, rede ye mee;
O sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,
And set fair Annet free ?
Ise rede ye tak fair Annet, Thomas,
And let the browne bride alane;
Lest ye sould sigh and say, Alace!
What is this we brought hame ?
No, I will tak my mither's counsel,
And marrie me owt o' hand;
And I will tak the nut-browne bride;
Fair Annet may leive the land.
Up then rose fair Annet's father
Twa hours or it wer day,
And he is gane into the bower,
Wherein fair Annet lay.
Rise up, rise up, fair Annet, he says,
Put on your silken sheene;
Let us gae to St. Marie's kirke,
And see that rich weddeen.
My maides, gae to my dressing-roome,
And dress to me my hair;
Whair-eir yee laid a plait before,
See yee lay ten times mair.
My maids, gae to my dressing-room,
And dress to me my smock;
The one half is o' the holland fine,
The other o' needle-work.
The horse fair Annet rade upon,
He amblit like the wind;
Wi' siller he was shod before,
Wi' burning gowd behind.
Four and twanty siller bells
Wer a' tyed till his mane,
And yae tift' o' the norland wind,
They tinkled ane by ane.
Four and twanty gay gude knichts
Rade by fair Annet's side,
And four and twanty fair ladies,
As gin she had bin a bride.
And whan she cam to Marie's kirk,
She sat on Marie's stean:
The cleading that fair Annet had on
It skinkled' in their een.
And whan she cam into the kirk,
She shimmer'd like the sun;
The belt that was about her waist,
Was a' wi' pearles bedone.
She sat her by the nut-browne bride,
And her een they wer sae clear,
Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride,
When fair Annet she drew near.
He had a rose into his hand,
And he gave it kisses three,
And reaching by the nut-browne bride,
Laid it on fair Annet's knee.
Up than spak the nut-browne ride;
She spak wi' meikle spite;
And whair gat ye that rose-water,
That does mak yee sae white?
OI did get the rose-water
Whair ye wull neir get nane,
For I did get that very rose-water
Into my mither's wame.3
The bride she drew a long bodkin,
Frae out her gay head-gear,
And strake fair Annet unto the heart,
That word she never spak mair.
Lord Thomas he saw fair Annet wex pale,
And marvelit what mote bee:
But whan he saw her dear heart's blude,
A' wood-wroth" wexed hee.
He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp,
That was sae sharp and meet,
And drave into the nut-browne bride,
That fell deid at his feit.
2 Shimmered-thone. • Wova-wroth-furiously enraped.
Now stay for me, dear Annet, he sed,
Now stay, my dear, he cry'd;
Then strake the dagger untill his heart,
And fell deid by her side.
Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa',
Fair Annet within the quiere;
And o' the tane thair grew a birk,
The other a bonny briere.
And ay they grew, and ay they threw,
As they wad faine be neare;
And by this ye may ken right weil,
They were twa luvers deare.
FROM Poems by Thomas Carew [b. 1589, d. 1639]. He was in the household of Charles I., and wrote some very graceful and refined verses. The third stanza is omitted, as being of unequal merit.
HEE, that loves a rosie cheeke,
Or a corall lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seeke
Fuell to maintaine his fires,
As old time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.
But a smooth and stedfast mind,
Gentle thoughts, and calme desires,
Hearts with equal love combin'd,
Kindle never-dying fires:
Where these are not, I despise
Lovely cheekes, or lips, or eyes.
THIS Ballad inspired the well-known Play, by George Lillo, first acted The narrative, which seems to be founded on fact, was
printed before the middle of the seventeenth century.
THE FIRST PART.
ALL youths of fair Englànd
That dwell both far and near,
Regard my story that I tell,
And to my song give ear.
A London lad I was,
A merchant's prentice bound;
My name George Barnwell; that did spend
My master many a pound.
Take heed of harlots then,
And their enticing trains;
For by that means I have been brought
To hang alive in chains.
As I, upon a day,
Was walking through the street
About my master's business,
A wanton I did meet.
A gallant dainty dame,
And sumptuous in attire;
With smiling look she greeted me,
And did my name require.
Which when I had declar'd,
She gave me then a kiss,
And said, if I would come to her,
I should have more than this.
Fair mistress, then quoth I,
If I the place may know,
This evening I will be with you,
For I abroad must go
To gather monies in,
That are my master's due:
And ere that I do home return,
I'll come and visit you.
Good Barnwell, then quoth she,
Do thou to Shoreditch come,
And ask for Mrs. Millwood's house,
Next door unto the Gun.
And trust me on my truth,
If thou keep touch with me,
My dearest friend, as my own heart
Thou shalt right welcome be.
Thus parted we in peace,
And home I passed right;
Then went abroad, and gathered in,
By six o'clock at night,
An hundred pound and one:
With bag under my arm
I went to Mrs. Millwood's house,
And thought on little harm;
And knocking at the door,
Straightway herself came down ;
Rustling in most brave attire,
With hood and silken gown.
Who, through her beauty bright,
So gloriously did shine,
That she amaz'd my dazzling eyes,
She seemed so divine.
She took me by the hand,
And with a modest
Welcome, sweet Barnwell, then quoth she,
Unto this homely place.
And since I have thee found
As good as thy word to be:
A homely supper, ere we part,
Thou shalt take here with me.
O pardon me, quoth I,
Fair mistress, I you pray;
For why, out of my master's house,
So long I dare not stay.
Alas, good sir, she said,
Are you so strictly ty'd,
You may not with your dearest friend
One hour or two abide ?
|