When means to get them any more, Therefore in railing sort, She thrust him out of door: Which is the just reward of those, Who spend upon a whore. "O! do me not disgrace In this my need," quoth he, She call'd him "thief" and "murderer," With all the spight might be : To the constable she sent, And shewed how far, in each degree, When Barnwell saw her drift, To sea he got straightway; Where fear and sting of conscience Unto the lord mayor then, He did a letter write; In which his own and Sarah's fault He did at large recite. Whereby she seized was, And then to Ludlow sent: Where she was judg'd, condemn'd, and hang'd, For murder incontinent. Then dyed this gallant quean, Was Barnwell hang'd in chains. Lo! here's the end of youth, That after harlots haunt; Who in the spoil of other men, About the streets do flaunt. VII. THE STEDFAST SHEPHERD. THESE beautiful Stanzas were written by George Wither, of whom some account was given in the former part of this Volume; see the song intitled, "The Shepherds Resolution," Book ii. Song xxi. In the first edition of this work only a small fragment of this Sonnet was inserted. It was afterwards rendered more complete and intire by the addition of five Stanzas more, extracted from Wither's pastoral poem, intitled, "The Mistress of Philarete," of which this Song makes a part. It is now given still more correct and perfect by comparing it with another copy, printed by the author in his improved edition of "The Shepherd's Hunting," 1620, 8vo. HENCE away, thou Syren, leave me, Pish! unclaspe these wanton armes ; Sugred words can ne'er deceive me, (Though thou prove a thousand charmes). Fie, fie, forbeare; No common snare Can ever my affection chaine : And poore deceits, 5 Are all bestowed on me in vaine. 10 I'me no slave to such, as you be ; Rowling eye, and lip of ruby Goe, goe display Thy beautie's ray To some more-soone enamour'd swaine : Those common wiles Of sighs and smiles Are all bestowed on me in vaine. 15 20 I have elsewhere vowed a dutie; Turne away thy tempting eye: Where gawdy clothes And fained othes may love obtaine : Whose looke sweares No; That all your labours will be vaine. Can he prize the tainted posies, Which on every brest are worne; That may plucke the virgin roses From their never-touched thorne ? On her sweet brest, That is the pride of Cynthia's traine : Is all bestowed on me in vaine. Hee's a foole, that basely dallies, Where each peasant mates with him : Shall I haunt the thronged vallies, I know the best can but disdaine ; So will thy love Be all bestowed on me in vaine. I doe scorne to vow a dutie, Where each lustfull lad may wooe: Give me her, whose sun-like beautie Affoords that blisse For which I would refuse no paine : Fond fooles, adieu; You seeke to captive me in vaine. 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 60 Leave me then, you Syrens, leave me ; Who am proofe against your charmes : To lead astray The heart, that constant shall remaine : Will sit and smile To see you spend your time in vaine. 65 70 IX. THE SPANISH VIRGIN, OR EFFECTS OF JEALOUSY. THE subject of this ballad is taken from a folio collection of tragical stories, intitled, "The theatre of God's judgments, by Dr. Beard and Dr. Taylor," 1642. Pt. 2. p. 89.-The text is given (with corrections) from two copies; one of them in black letter in the Pepys collection. In this every stanza is accompanied with the following distich by way of burden: "Oh jealousie! thou art nurst in hell: ALL tender hearts, that ake to hear All you, that never shed a tear, Fair Isabella's tragedy My tale doth far exceed : In female hearts should breed! In Spain a lady liv'd of late, Who was of high degree; Whose wayward temper did create 5 10 Strange jealousies so fill'd her head With many a vain surmize, She thought her lord had wrong'd her bed, A gentlewoman passing fair Did on this lady wait; With bravest dames she might compare ; Her beauty was compleat. Her lady cast a jealous eye In silence still this maiden meek In vain in humble sort she strove As well the meekness of the dove Her lord of humour light and gay, Would on the damsell smile. And oft before his lady's face, He would the maiden's modest grace All which incens'd his lady so She burnt with wrath extreame; At length the fire that long did glow, For on a day it so befell, When he was gone from home, The lady all with rage did swell, |