And curfed bee the mafter-cook, O curfed may he bee! I proffered him my own hearts blood, From death to fet her free. Then all in blacke this lord did mourne; And for his daughters fake, He judged her cruell step-mothèr To be burnt at a stake. 80 Likewife he judg'd the mafter-cook In boiling lead to stand; And made the fimple fcullion-boye 95 The heire of all his land. From Ben Jonson's Mafque at the marriage of lord viftount Hadington, on Shrove-Tuesday 1608. One ftanza full of dry mythology we have omitted, as we found it dropt in a copy of this song printed in a small volume called Le Prince d'amour. Lond. 1660." 8vo. EAUTIES, have yee feen a toy, Be called Love, a little boy, Almoft naked, wanton, blinde; Shee, that will but now discover Markes he hath about him plentie : And his breath a flame entire: 2 Which being shot, fike lightning, in Wings he hath, which though yee clip, And, if chance his arrow miffes, Truft him not: his words, though sweet, All his practice is deceit ; Everie gift is but a bait. 40 Not If by these yee please to know him, And that he is Venus' run-away. 50 XVII. THE KING OF FRANCE's DAUGHTER. From the Editor's ancient folio MS. collated with an old black-letter copy in the Pepys Collection, intitled, " An ex"cellent Ballad of a prince of England's courtship to the king of France's daughter, &c. To the tune of Crimson Velvet." Many breaches having been made in this old fong by the band of time, principally (as might be expected) in the quick returns of the rhime; we have attempted to repair them. IN N the dayes of old, VOL. I. M Storves |