Untill at last in famous France

She gentler fortunes found;

Though poor and bare, yet she was deem'd
The fairest on the ground:

Where, when the king her virtues heard,
And this fair lady seen,

With full consent of all his court

He made his wife and queen.

Her father king Leir this while
With his two daughters staid :
Forgetful of their promis'd loves,
Full soon the same decay'd;
And living in queen Ragan's court,
The eldest of the twain,

She took from him his chiefest means,
And most of all his train.

For whereas twenty men were wont
To wait with bended knee:

She gave allowance but to ten,
And after scarce to three :

Nay, one she thought too much for him;
So took she all away,

In hope that in her court, good king,
He would no longer stay.

"Am I rewarded thus," quoth he,

"In giving all I have

Unto my children, and to beg

For what I lately gave?

I'll go unto my Gonorell:
My second child, I know,

Will be more kind and pitiful,
And will relieve my woe."

Full fast he hies then to her court;
Where, when she heard his moan,

Return'd him answer, That "she griev'd
That all his means were gone :

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But no way could relieve his wants;

Yet, if that he would stay,

Within her kitchen, he should have
What scullions gave away."

Where, when he came, she gave command

To drive him thence away:

When he was well within her court

(She said) he would not stay.

Then back again to Gonorell,
The woeful king did hie,

That in her kitchen he might have
What scullion boys set by.

But there of that he was deny'd,
Which she had promis'd late :
For once refusing, he should not
Come after to her gate.

Thus twixt his daughters, for relief
He wandred up and down;
Being glad to feed on beggars food,
That lately wore a crown.

And calling to remembrance then
His youngest daughters words,

That said the duty of a child
Was all that love affords :

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But doubting to repair to her,
Whom he had banish'd so,

Grew frantick mad; for in his mind
He bore the wounds of woe:

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Which made him rend his milk-white locks,
And tresses from his head,

And all with blood bestain his cheeks,

With age and honour spread.

To hills and woods and watry founts,
He made his hourly moan,

Till hills and woods, and sensless things,
Did seem to sigh and groan.

And so to England came with speed,

To repossesse king Leir,

And drive his daughters from their thrones

By his Cordelia dear.

Where she, true-hearted noble queen,

Was in the battel slain :

Yet he, good king, in his old days,

Possest his crown again.

But when he heard Cordelia's death,
Who died indeed for love

Of her dear father, in whose cause
She did this battle move;

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He swooning fell upon her breast,
From whence he never parted:
But on her bosom left his life,

That was so truly hearted.

The lords and nobles when they saw
The end of these events,

The other sisters unto death

They doomed by consents;

And, being dead, their crowns they left
Unto the next of kin :

Thus have you seen the fall of pride,
And disobedient sin.

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XVI.

YOUTH AND AGE,

-is found in the little collection of Shakespeare's Sonnets, intitled "the Passionate Pilgrime",* the greatest part of which seems to relate to the amours of Venus and Adonis, being little effusions of fancy, probably written while he was composing his larger Poem on that subject. The following seems intended for the mouth of Venus, weighing the comparative merits of youthful Adonis and aged Vulcan. In the "Garland of Good Will" it is reprinted, with the addition of iv. more such stanzas, but evidently written by a meaner pen.

Youth is full of sport,

Ages breath is short;

Youth is nimble, Age is lame :
Youth is hot and bold,

Age is weak and cold;

Youth is wild, and Age is tame.
Age, I do abhor thee,
Youth, I do adore thee;

O, my love, my love is young:
Age, I do defie thee;

Oh sweet shepheard, hie thee,
For methinks thou stayst too long.

See Malone's Shakesp. Vol. x. p. 325.

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XVII.

THE FROLICKSOME DUKE, OR THE
TINKER'S GOOD FORTUNE.

THE following ballad is upon the same subject, as the "Induction" to Shakespeare's "Taming of the Shrew: " whether it may be thought to have suggested the hint to the Dramatic poet, or is not rather of later date, the reader must determine.

The story is told * of Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy; and is thus related by an old English writer: "The said Duke, at the marriage of Eleonora, sister to the king of Portugall, at Bruges in Flanders, which was solemnised in the deepe of winter; when as by reason of unseasonable weather he could neither hawke nor hunt, and was now tired with cards, dice, &c. and such other domestick sports, or to see ladies dance: with some of his courtiers, he would in the evening walke disguised all about the towne. It so fortuned, as he was walking late one night, he found a countrey fellow dead drunke, snorting on a bulke; he caused his followers to bring him to his palace, and

By Ludov. Vives in Epist. and by Pont. Heuter. Rerum Burgund. 1. 4.