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THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON.

179

And when he had been seven long yeares,

And never his love could see:
Many a teare have I shed for her sake,

When she little thought of mee.

15

Then all the maids of Islington

Went forth to sport and playe,
All but the bayliffes daughter deare;

She secretly stole awaye.

20

She pulled off her

gowne

of

greene, And put on ragged attire, And to faire London she would go

Her true love to enquire.

25

And as she went along the high road,

The weather being hot and drye, She sat her downe upon a green bank,

And her true love came riding bye.

30

She started up, with a colour soe redd,

Catching hold of his bridle-reine; One penny, one

penny,

kind sir, she sayd, Will ease me of much paine.

Before I give you one penny, sweet-heart,

Praye tell me where you were borne. At Islington, kind sir, sayd shee,

35 Where I have had many a scorne. N 2

I prythee, I prythee, sweet-heart, then tell to mee,

O tell me, whether you knowe The bayliffes daughter of Islington.

She is dead, sir, long agoe.

40

If she be dead, then take my horse,

My saddle and bridle also;
For I will into some farr countrye,

Where noe man shall me knowe.

45

O staye, O staye, thou goodlye youthe,

She standeth by thy side ;
She is here alive, she is not dead,

And readye to be thy bride.

50.

O farewell griefe, and welcome joye,

Ten thousand times therefore;
For nowe I have founde mine owne true love,

Whom I thought I should never see more.

IX.

THE WILLOW TREE.

A PASTORAL DIALOGUE.

From the small black-letter collection, intitled, *The Golden Garland of princely Delights,” collated with two other copies, and corrected by conjecture.

WILLY.
How

w now, shepherde, what meanes that?
Why that willowe in thy hat?
Why thy scarffes of red and yellowe
Turn'd to branches of greene willowe?

CUDDY.

They are chang'd, and so am I;
Sorrowes live, but pleasures die :
Phillis hath forsaken mee,
Which makes me weare the willowe-tree.

WILLY.

10

Phillis ! shee that lov'd thee long?
Is shee the lass hath done thee wrong?
Shee that lov'd thee long and best,
Is her love turned to a jest?

CUDDY. CUDDY.

Shee that long true love profest,
She hath robb’d my heart of rest:
For she a new love loves, not mee;
Which makes me wear the willowe-tree.

15

WILLY.

Come then, shepherde, let us joine,
Since thy happ is like to mine:
For the maid I thought most true
Mee hath also bid adieu.

20

CUDDY.

Thy hard happ doth mine appease,
Companye doth sorrowe ease :
Yet, Phillis, still I pine for thee,
And still must weare the willowe-tree.

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is given (with corrections) from the editor's ancient folio MS. collated with two printed copies in black-letter; one in the British Museum, the other in the Pepys Collection. Its old title is, “A lamentable “ballad of the Lady's fall.” To the tune of “In Pescod “Time, &c.”—The ballad here referred to is preserved in the Muses LIBRARY, 8vo. p. 281. It is an allegory or vision, intitled, “The SHEPHERD'S SLUMBER;" and opens with some pretty rural images, viz.

“In pescod time when hound to horn

“ Gives eare till buck be kild,
"And little lads with pipes of corne

“ Sate keeping beasts a-field.

“I went to gather strawberries
“By woods and groves full fair, &c.”

Marke well my heavy dolefull tale,

You loyall lovers all,
And heedfully beare in your brest

A gallant ladyes fall.
Long was she wooed, ere shee was wonne,

To lead a wedded life,
But folly wrought her overthrowe

Before shee was a wife,

5

Too

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